#i care so much - the fleetwoods

[hideousvampire]

dare i say teddy cubba (ignore how the screenshots are dookie)cuba

[aangelinakii]

SOULMATE SCARS.

— matching wounds.

summary : ever since you were young, strange bruises and scars have been emerging all along your body. surprisingly, you weren't extremely clumsy, so you had no ideas as to where they came from. sure, a couple bruises might be okay — they don't even hurt anyway — but when you wake up with autopsy scars along your chest, it's time to tell a professional. what happens when you meet someone with the same scars as you?

note : description of blood and injury so just be aware of that if rhat stuff icks you out

when blood began dripping from your arm in the middle of drinks, your night got a little darker.

even in the darkness of the poorly-lit bar, a juke box in the corner ringing an old fleetwood mac song, one of your friends could make out the slash of a great cut peeking out of your shirt on your upper arm, a long, cool dribble of blood slipping down your flesh.

"holy shit—"

despite being used to plum-coloured bruises and scars from out of nowhere, you weren't much of a bleeder — or, at least, whatever strange power from above had cursed or blessed you with this.

someone grabbed a napkin and dabbed you up, but the damage was already done; scarlet spatters stained the white short sleeve of your shirt, and it stung to peel away the fabric from the fresh wound.

normally they didn't hurt, but something about this one was different. maybe you were asleep half the time they happened, so you only got the aftermath the next morning when you undressed for the shower.

needless to say, you weren't feeling like glasses of wine and gin and tonics anymore tonight, and bid your friends farewell before slipping into the nip of the gotham night.

as you rounded the corner down your block, after one of your shorter walks home, you glanced back down at your arm, goosebumps rippling along the flesh. now when you inspected it, beneath the illumination of the streetlamp perched above you, it almost looked as though your torn, sticky flesh was welding back together, starting with the edge of it.

no longer did it sting, but it was certainly sensitive against the biting breeze, and your pace quickened.

by the time you were opening your front door, light from the corridor spilling into your flat, the wound was only half-open. but also something was different.

in your apartment, i mean, like something had shifted.

steps careful and quiet, you slot your keys between your fingers as you edged further into your flat, turning the handle to make sure no noise came when the door met its hinges once more.

the couch had definitely inched slightly to the left, and the shading atop your lamp was crooked. perhaps the couch was less easy to notice, but when you lived here every day, you'd almost bumped into it before noticing — but the lampshade was undeniable.

something groaned from the bathroom, where, when you peered towards the door, had a sliver of white light peeking through the cracks in the hinges. the sound of like when you suck air in through the gaps of your teeth came after, and you knew then and there: someone was in your home.

for safe measures, you plucked one of your kitchen knives from its block and crept toward the bathroom; now, the scuff of a boot against the tiles.

once you were outside, but with enough distance to be able to make any split-second decisions, your voice edged up your throat, a croak at first, before you could find your footing.

"whoever's in there, show yourself," you stated as firmly as you could, though the waver in your tone was apparent to any trained ear. "or— or i'll call 911."

shit, you probably should've done that first, investigated later — but you'd already spoken, and there was no reversing it.

a pained cough came from behind the door, and your mind immediately went to the worst: there was a killer behind there, purposely staying quiet so you'd open the door and they'd jump out and kill you in your own home— oh, you're opening the door anyway.

but what you found wasn't any killer of the sort; just a guy.

a shirtless guy.

tons of supplies you didn't even realise you had in your house were scattered about the tiles around him, where a pair of thick tactical pants-clad legs lay spread apart weakly. one of his arms hung limp at his side, his hand sitting palm-up upon his thigh helplessly.

but what else you noticed... moving up his toned chest, flesh littered with scars and scratches, was one long scar you recognised all too well. the mere sight of it caused the painless mark along your own torso to throb — which it had never done in the years you'd had it.

starting just below each collarbone, sloping down to his solar plexus, and straight down his stomach to his navel.

a mirror image of what lay just below your shirt now.

but you had never had an autopsy, and, by the look of it, neither had this guy; sure, shadows curved below his eyes and grime littered his cheekbones and forearms, but this man was very much alive.

glinting in the light, your eyes caught a metal needle dangling by his limp arm. you followed a red thread up, up to the bulb of his shoulder, where a half-open wound lay, somehow simultaneously oozing with red and crusting with it.

mouth running dry, you tore your stare away, dropping the knife and taking your hand to tug at your stained sleeve.

although much less bloody, the cut you'd found at the bar was the exact same.

with shivering fingers, you took a ginger step forward and encouraged yourself to look back to the black-haired man leaning against your bath.

"you... you..."

it wasn't much, but it was all you could muster.

seemingly unaware of the connection you'd just made, the man averted his eyes, looking back to his wounded flesh. "sorry, i didn't realise you'd come home – thought the place was empty," he mumbled.

that didn't matter now.

perhaps it should've, really, but not when... well, you saw it.

similarly, the keychain dropped from your grip, and you edged closer to the man, whose expression twitched in alarm.

"can i see that? your arm?"

as you lowered down to a crouch, the man's green eyes followed warily, his previously parted lips thinning, but he didn't move away.

eyes lingering on him for a few more beats, you turned your attention to the red-hot gash embedded in his flesh. "what happened?" your fingers found the eye of the needle, conscious not to touch too much of the red that plagued it.

the man watched your careful movements, as you lined up the prick with his torn skin and slowly pushed it through. he was unflinching, apparently more glad to just be able to sit back and not worry about himself for once. "bad knife. really shitty as you can see."

"yeah, i can see." mentally, you snapped at yourself, for you'd been unable to leave the bitterness from your tone, and the man's expression only looked on quizzically.

your fingers left the needle, allowing it to swing against his arm as it had done before when you found him, specking him with little lines of his own blood. in one swift action, you tugged up your sleeve, revealing your own half-open wound, the seared edges of flesh linking miraculously together.

the man's dark eyebrows knitted together and he physically drew himself back slightly. "shit, what'd you do there?"

"i didn't," you snapped back — not mad at him, per se, but more so the situation: this man was the reason for your horrific wounds, ones you never felt, but were cursed with the burden of. "you did."

a scoff came from the man's lips. "yeah, right..."

no, he was right. he didn't need to say anything; you were crazy.

"have you ever... i don't know, woken up with a bruise you don't know how it got there?" you pushed, eager to plead your case.

he made an attempt to shrug, but winced and ceased the movement. "doesn't everybody?"

so he was one of those difficult ones.

he comes into your apartment bleeding everywhere, and has the audacity to have an attitude. he wasn't even welcome.

"my point is," you huffed, "yours are the same as mine."

you extended a finger at his chest. "this. i have this.

it was now that he finally looked convinced. well, not entirely, but that look of judgement softened into something more commonly identified as confusion.

you tugged at the hem of your shirt, and rose the fabric slightly to show where the end of your autopsy-type scar ended — just above your navel.

when he looked at you now, it was like trying to figure out if you were dead or alive. or maybe if he were dead or alive.

"what, so..." he began after a few silent beats. "so we're connected, or something? you get my scars, i get yours?"

that's certainly what it seemed, but you shrugged anyway; there was no way to know for sure.

lips pressing together, you leaned forward to resume sewing up his wound, unable to fathom the way your own scar seemed to stitch itself up, too — no thread, no needle.

what a strange way to end your night...

[yutaholic]

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[love4pascal]

I’ll Say, Will You Marry Me?

Joel Miller x F!reader.

A/n: Okay never did I think that after I posted my first fic that people would like it as much as you did. I honestly wrote the first part as a one shot and I had no intention on writing another part but I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it so much that you requested a part 2. SO HERE IT IS!

Word count: 3k+

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, fluff, pure bliss, and these two being stupidly In love.

|Part One Here| |Series Masterlist|

August 23, 2008.

Joel grabbed the last box from the moving truck, walking up the hot pavement and entering the home.

Placing the last box in Joel’s bedroom; a part of you felt like this was a dream, you were dating your best friend and now you living with him?

It felt to good to be true. The most loving and caring man you were once just friends, who now you’ll kiss goodnight.

“Who’s up for some good ol’ hamburgers and hotdogs for dinner?” Joel asked both you and sarah.

“Fine by me, dad!” She yelled from the staircase, on her way to her bedroom.

Joel turning his focus on you now.

“I’ll help you.” On your way to the kitchen to grab the hamburgers and hotdogs.

Joel stood at the back door for a few seconds more, admiring the woman he loved, before he even knew he’d loved her.

And god was he ecstatic to know that he’d get to wake up with you next to him.

-

After eating dinner outside, you, Joel, and Sarah cleaned everything up.

When done with that, Sarah suggested that there should be a ‘Miller movie night’.

Cuddled up with Joel and Sarah under a plaid blanket, watching “Twilight”, which Joel asked manny questions about.

“Wait, so you’re telling me he’s how old?!” He asked Sarah.

“He’s 104.” She says, eyes remaining on the tv.

“Oh.. so he’s just going after a seventeen year old like thats perfectly okay?” He spoke looking at you and Sarah, seeing both of you hysterically laughing at him.

“What? Why are you guys laughing??” He says sitting up.

-

An hour into the movie, Sarah was passed out. You grabbed the remote off the table and pressed the red button, the room went black.

Joel moving the blanket off of Sarah before picking her up and carrying her to bed.

Folding the blanket and placing it in the basket next to the tv stand.

Walking up the stairs to Joel’s bedroom, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt you had stole from him and pulling on black pajama pants before finding joel in the ensuite bathroom.

Bare chest and gray pajama pants, brushing his teeth. Coming up behind him and resting your cheek on his back.

“What’s wrong baby?” Running his toothbrush under the facet water before putting the protective cap over the bristles and setting it in the holder.

“Nothing, I’ve just never been this happy.” Laying a kiss on his shoulder.

You catch his smile through the mirror before he’s turning and throwing you over his shoulder.

There’s hushed laughs released from both of you.

He sets you on the bed, leaning down to capture your soft lips in his.

Your legs find themselves around his waist as your hands grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

“Can I take this off.?” He tugged at the bottom of your shirt.

“Yes.” Helping him take off your shirt, the shirt being tossed somewhere in the room.

He unclasps your bra.

He pressed a trail of hot, soft kisses to your neck, his mouth tracing over your skin and down as his mouth finds your nipple.

You moan softly as his lips meet your midriff, his tongue swirls around your skin, making you squirm in desire and need.

Joel briefly removes his lips from your midriff with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva had been left, but quickly broke when your back arched; urging for Joel to continue.

Joel’s warm hands wander down, inching closer to your heated core, you’re getting wetter by the second.

Your hands scamper around, finding solace in Joel’s hair whilst he spreads your folds through your panties. His finger slowly, rubbing up and down. You gasp at the contact.

He continues to rub circles onto your clit, sometimes back and forth — almost tauntingly.

“Honey…Please don’t tease me,” you muttered weakly, getting lost in the near pleasure he gives you.

The chuckle Joel lets out is dark, a contrast to the soft airy kisses he rested upon your plump lips.

“What’d I tell you about patience, darlin’?” Joel murmurs against your pouting lips, he kisses you again, but there’s more force behind it. Your teeth clatter against his as his fingers pick up their pace.

Joel groans as you tug on his brunette tufts of hair. Joel then inserts two lengthy digits into your hole, making you cry out. To who exactly? You’re not even sure. You can’t be, not when his beard scratches your face just right, and his fingers model a ‘come hither’ motion inside of you.

Joel nips your lips before lowering his head to your pussy. He wastes no time in absolutely devouring you. You lay your hands on his shoulders, almost trying to get him closer.

He’s licking and sucking everywhere, all you can do is mewl out to him, letting out several ‘fuck, Joel!’s and even a ‘it feels so good!’.

His nose bumps your clit as he replaces his fingers with his tongue. “H-holy shit Joel! Right there baby!” You exclaim, voice cracking due to the strain.

You tightly wrap your thighs around his head, nearly suffocating him; just the way he likes it. “Baby..Baby! I’m-I’m so…” Your voice gives out, reducing to nothing but a whimper. Joel can tell you’re close.

He then pops back up from your legs, beaming at you proudly as you’re spread out for him.

You whine due to the lack of contact, Joel bends a bit to kiss your shoulder.

“Awe,” he drags out, “Don’t worry, peaches. Y’know I’m gonna take care of ya.” His southern drawl makes you ache for him.

Joel’s hands push down his pants painfully slow, he’s toying with you on purpose, but you love every second.

His thumb hooks around his boxers, allowing him to remove his sweatpants alongside them in one go.

Seeing him completely bare takes away the cold you feel due to the slight chill of the room. He’s breathtaking, you don’t know how else to describe it.

“Yeah? You think so honey?” His grin is nothing short of a cheshire.

You gape at him, not realizing that you actually said that out loud, but before you can think about it too much, Joel’s sliding his pink tip against your folds.

Your chest is heaving, you’re antsy and Joel finds it delicious.

“Y’ready peach?”

“Always.” You reassure with a slight nod.

Then, Joel pushes his cock into you, you swear you can count every inch entering you.

He pulls out almost entirely, then slams back into you. A choked gasp leaves your throat while Joel starts to find his pace.

Your nails find their place on Joel’s back, scratching deeply in satisfaction.

“Y-Yeah..That’s it darlin’. Squeeze me just like that.” Joel manages to groan through his gritted teeth.

His hips slap against yours, and you both are chest-to-chest. He can feel your breasts bounce up and down against him due to the force, and it nearly makes his mouth water.

Joel reaches his hand up, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, murmuring, “You’re s’pretty, baby.”

“Ha-ah. I’m cumming, Joel!” Your voice remains somewhat hushed, but you can’t help but get louder as you get closer and closer.

“C’mon, peach. Joel’s gotcha, go ahead ‘n give it t’me.” Joel moans at the feeling of you clenching oh so sweetly around him.

Your back arches off the bed, Joel’s arms wrap around your frame to hold you, as you find your release.

You continue to squeeze Joel’s cock as you come down from your high, and you feel him twitch inside of you, signaling to you that he’s close as well.

His head rests in the crook of your shoulder, making it more than easy to whisper to him, “Cum for me baby.”

You feel spurts of his warm seed shoot inside of you as Joel lets out an earth-shattering groan.

He lays on you for a few minutes, regaining his bearings, before flipping down onto the bed next to you.

“You’re incredible, y’know that?” Joel slurs, moving his head slightly so he can get a good look at you. You’re both disheveled and sweaty, chests rising then falling just as quickly.

“So I’ve heard.” You smirk at him cockily, making him chuckle and shake his head playfully.

“Mhm…Let’s get you cleaned up, peach.” He kisses you again then picks you up bridal style, you giggle and hold onto him tightly as he walks you to the bathroom.

December 30, 2009.

“And you’re okay with this.?” Joel was at the edge of his seat fidgeting with the black ring box, it was important to ask Sarah for her permission about proposing to you.

Sarah was Joel’s first priority, he’d never want Sarah to be uncomfortable or unhappy in her own space.

“Dad, you know I love her like how I love you. I’m 100% okay with you asking her to marry you.” She grabs at her father’s hand.

“Plus It’d be nice to have another girl in this house.” She pokes her dad before giggling.

“I’m glad to hear that baby girl.” He pulls his chair closer to hers, engulfing his daughter into a tight embrace.

June 22, 2010.

You and Joel had been dating for 2 years and you couldn’t be anymore happier than you are now.

Your nights in the Miller residence always consisted with either a movie night in the living room, or playing board games before bed.

Tonight consisted of a certain Miller taking you to a fancy restaurant. Joel had told you earlier that morning that Tommy had offered to watch Sarah so that you two could have a nice dinner by yourselves.

.. Without hearing about a classmate who throws pencils across the classroom and is rude to their teacher.

You had gotten home before Joel so you decided to start getting dressed, you wanted time to be able to do your hair and finalize your outfit without feeling rushed.

You and Joel had waited for a reservation at this restaurant for months and you two weren’t gonna be late either.

After picking out a white floral sundress and doing your hair and makeup, you head downstairs to hangout with Sarah as you wait on Joel and Tommy.

30 minutes later Joel was walking through the front door in a new pair of jeans and a white short-sleeve linen button up and a bouquet of flowers.

Followed by the young miller brother who was the babysitter of the night.

“Hey darlin’.” he greeted you with a small smile.

You stand up to meet him halfway, taking ahold of the bouquet.

“Joel these are beautiful!” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder of dismissal of your thanks.

“I knew you said something about these flowers not too long ago, saw a guy selling them near a site I was working at. Couldn’t help but think of you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you so much, Joel Miller.” You smile, before walking to the kitchen and looking for a vase.

Placing the flowers into the vase that now sat of the dining room table, walking back to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured to you, brushing his down your arm as he glanced at the dress you had on.

You’d picked it out for this occasion, the soft white material making you feel soft and beautiful.

“Thank you! You clean up nice too..” you giggled at your tease, giving him a soft kiss to the cheek before taking his hand into yours. You were eager to get to the restaurant; you’d been waiting to try this particular place for ages and finally you had got a reservation."

Before leaving the comfort of your home, you said goodbye to both Sarah and Tommy.

“Don’t do anything irresponsible.” You pointed at Tommy. “I know you’re 26 years old but still, I’d like to come home to the house in one piece.” Before pulling him into a hug.

“Sarah, please watch uncle Tommy.” Sarah laughs at your comment about her uncle.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior!” She giggled and pulled you into a small hug.

Walking over to Joel, who’s stood at the front door.

Sarah runs over to her dad before capturing him is a tight embrace.

“Bye dad, have fun!” She said as he moved her curls behind her ear.

“I will babygirl, be on your best behavior for uncle Tommy, okay? Patting her head.

“Okay dad!” He kissed her cheek and you and Joel walked out the house.

You walked to the passenger side of Joel truck, before Joel approached you, watching as he reached down to open the passenger door for you and held it open, standing back for you to get inside.

“Well thank you.” He grinned, smiling as you got in.

“No problem darlin'. ” softly closing the truck door, walking around the baby blue truck and hoping into the driver side.

The truck engine lightly roaring as Joel started the car and pulled out of the driveway. Soft music plays as you turn the corner and enter the main road.

-

The restaurant is elegant, with dim lighting that casts a romantic glow over the patrons. Soft jazz plays in the background, creating a soothing ambiance

“Name under the reservation.?” The young blonde asked Joel.

“Uh, Joel Miller.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, rocking back and forth on his heels. Which was a nervous tic for Joel that you’d picked up on over the years.

“If you want to follow me this way, I can take you straight to your table.” She grabbed two menus and a specials menu before walking you two outside.

“Ladies first.” He motioned in front of him.

“Such a gentleman Joel miller.” Smiling softly before quickly grabbing at his hand and pulling him behind you.

Sitting down at much fancier tables than the one you and Joel had in your dining room. Beautiful black and gold menus with intricate letters, placed neatly on the table beside the spoon, knife and forks wrapped in nice fabric.

"Can I get you guys something to start with? drinks? maybe an appetizer?"

"I'll have a glass of red wine." the young waitress quickly wrote your drink down on her note pad.

"ill have a glass of water.. oh and can I have a lemon on the side?" Joel anxiously tapping his fingers on fabric covers wood.

"yeah, of course. I'll be right out with your drinks!"

“I heard they have really good steak.” he quirked his eyebrow.

“You’re gonna turn into a steak.” laughing a little too loud for this kinda restaurant, not before looking around to see if anyone was looking at you like you had two heads.

The young waitress, Brooke, which you had read from her name tag, came back with the three drinks.

“Thank you.” the both of you said reaching for the drinks.

“Are you guys ready to order, or do you need more time to think?” it was almost telepathically telling Joel that you were ready to order if he was.

“Yeah, we’re ready to order.” both telling her what you’d want off the menu.

“I'll have the steak, medium rare, with broccoli and mash potatoes.” he says as he hands the menu to the waitress.

“I'll have grilled chicken with mushrooms, and broccoli and mashed potatoes, please.” following what Joel did, and handing her the menu.

“Alright. I’ll get those right out for you both.” Joel watches as the waitress leaves, his gaze returning back to the woman sitting in front of him.

“What are you looking at?” you tease.

“What, can’t a man take a moment to admire how beautiful his girlfriend and best friend looks?”

“Joel Miller, you're a very cheesy man.”

-

After placing the order for the food, conversation engulfed the both of you.

Twenty minutes flew by and food was finally on its way to your table.

The waitress placed the meals in front of you, and waved down another waitress to refill your wine glasses.

The both of you half way done your food, feeling too to finish what was left on your plates.

“Joel this was really nice, I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”

“Well I'm glad you had a good time, my peach!” reaching for your hand from across the table.

“I got one more thing to show you tonight.” he grinned

“Oh yeah?” You watched as he flagged down the waitress for the check.

After Paying the check, you and Joel walked down what Texans called the ‘Texas boardwalk’, down to the sand to watch the sunset.

You two sat down on the soft but grainy sand, listening to the waves crash together, in blissful peace.

“I feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” Looking at the man beside you.

“That’s weird because.. I was just about to say the same thing.” His chocolate brown eyes are finally finding yours.

“Yeah, that’s so strange? It’s like we’re meant to be or something??” Letting a soft giggle out.

“I want to show you something.” Before even realizing what he said, he was standing up somewhat quickly (old man lol) and grabbing your hand to pull you up with him.

“Of course!” He was pulling you along, whatever it was he was bursting with excitement.

“Joel, baby slow down, whatever it is you want to show me will still be there in a few minutes.” You laugh at his eagerness.

“Sorry. Sorry, I’m just really excited to show you.” He slowed down a little bit and you were still kinda jogging.

“Okay we’re almost there but I need to blindfold you.?” He said nervously.

“Okay.?” Closing your eyes as the cold feeling of the blindfold covered your eyes.

Joel grabbed both of your hands to guide you to wherever he was taking you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, grabbing ahold of where he tied the blindfold.

“Yes?” He slowly pulled on the blindfold. The millions of candles were making it hard to focus on the big sign that said ‘will you marry me’.

There was Tommy and Sarah standing by the sign smiling all bright.

“You two!” You laughed pointing at them.

You walked closer, the word on the sign finally clicking.

“Are you being serious??” Shocked was the only emotion you had right now.

“Yes baby.” He smiled, getting down on one knee.

“Oh my.” Tears were forming, hands were shaking, your emotions were everywhere.

“Peach, ever since I’ve known you, you have always been the light to my darkness. You were there to help me with Sarah, you were there when I could barely keep the light on, you have been my rock for all of these years. Two years ago when we decided to take our relationship to the next level and start dating was one of the best days of my life. Not much changed, and I think that’s what amazes me everyday. So I’m asking, will you marry me, peach?” He said as he pulled the ring box out of his pocket, before opening the box and pulling out the ring.

“Yes, Joel miller I will marry you.” Tears are falling down your face as you hold your ring finger out, while he slides it on.

Not before he quickly gets up and picks you up, spinning around before pulling you into a kiss.

Joel slowly places you down as Sarah comes over and wraps her hands around both of you.

“I’m so happy for you guys!” She said tears softly falling down her cheeks.

“Thank you babygirl.” You said as you rubbed her back to comfort her.

Tommy walked over to embrace his older brother in celebration.

“Congrats brother, you're finally getting married!” He said, patting his big brother in the back.

“Thank you, I couldn't do it without you and Sarah helping me set this all up.” He smiled at his younger brother.

“Anytime.” Smiling at his brother. “Go back to your kid and your fiancée, I’m gonna load this stuff up in the truck.”

“Alright, holler if you need help!” Joel yelled towards Tommy.

-

After helping Tommy load the stuff in the back of his truck, the rest of the miller family headed home.

You, Joel and Sarah hooped into your pajamas and watch a new movie on the couch.

You cuddled up against Joel and Sarah cuddled up against you.

“Im so happy that I’m gonna be able to marry you.” You said in a hushed tone.

“Weird, I was just about to say the same thing.” He smiled.

And before you all knew it, the whole miller family was peaceful asleep on the couch.

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

Bloody Painter/Helen Otis

This bad boy is LONNGG, I included a lot of his backstory in this. Writers block is beating my ass. 💔

- Twenty one!

- 6’1. When I say this dudes lanky, I mean LANKY. Slim and naturally toned, his main exercise comes from chasing or climbing stairs.

- Both of his parents are Korean, but he was raised in Pennsylvania.

- His parents struggled with getting pregnant, most ending is miscarriages. His mom was completely batshit, so when the pregnancy stuck she swore she had some divine intuition that made her believed he’d be a girl. She didn’t even bother having an ultrasound, so when he was born and she saw that he was a boy she thought him being a girl was some sort of prophecy she needed to fulfill.

- His whole life she had always told him he was meant to be a girl and he would be going against ‘God’s will’ if he didn’t follow through. He was always dressed in feminine clothing and had an extremely girly room. His mother didn’t put him in school until he was about thirteen, since she thought the kids would taint his mind and make him think he’s a boy.

- When he was put in school he got bullied RELENTLESSLY. His name, the way he dressed, everything. After meeting Tom he slowly started to realize that all the shit he grew up with wasn’t normal and his mom was psycho, so he started borrowing his clothes and changing in the school bathrooms so he could feel less weird. Once Tom admitted to planting Judy’s watch in Helen’s bag, they argued on the roof while getting slightly physical. Tom had slipped off the edge, but Helen managed to grab him. Of course, a middle schooler isn’t necessarily strong enough to hold another off a building without going down with them, so Tom let go to save Helen. Rumors spread that Helen had pushed him, but no one cared enough to investigate.

- After that school year was over he started to dress more androgynous/ masculine and ignored his mom’s pressure, which lead to her abusing him both physically and mentally. Eventually, with his ignored mental issues and the abuse he completely snapped, killing his mom and several of his bullies right before a Halloween party. He was sent to a psychiatric hospital that Slender ended up taking him from.

- VERY polite and proper. He’s pretty soft spoken and his grammar is like never flawed, big word user. 1000% the type of guy to kiss your hand as a greeting. The most he’ll do if he doesn’t like you is give you the silent treatment or a dirty look.

- Weird little detail, but his fingers and SLIM and LONG. His nails are neatly kept. He likes to pamper himself.

- He does botany in his free time! Any flower arrangements in the mansion and the gardens outside are his doing. There’s a few residents that he brings bouquets to every other week so they can have something nice. EJ, Sally, and Jane are his usual market. Also does flower pressing.

- Used to do ballet when he was about 4-7.

- Definitely the safest driver, but that makes him a pain as a get away driver. Always goes the exact speed limit and follows every possible law.

- Mainly listens to classical music. However, he does like Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, David Bowie, even a little bit of Queen.

- His room is SO nice and very big. Long sheer curtains, velvet & silk bedding, a grand piano, flowers, tall bookshelves, chairs, a large bed with a canopy, big windows, and lots of sculptures and framed paintings done by him. He’s really into elegant things and floral patterns. Has a mural on his ceiling!

- Hangs out with EJ, Liu, Puppeteer, and Jane. Rarely does he talk to any of the proxies or any creeps he’s not close with. Awfully reserved.

- Loves the fine arts. Painting, writing, music, sculpting, all that jazz. Occasionally does poetry! Him and Liu both like to write, so sometimes they’ll get together and talk about it. He mostly reads old classic books & poetry.

- Jane has taught him how to sew, although he doesn’t find much use for it.

- He has a white persian cat named Juliette in his room no one knows about other than his close friends. She never leaves the room, but she’s content; it has enough room to have lots of things just for her. He has a MASSIVE painting of her renaissance style by her bed. (He got her one of those fancy cat beds that look like a tiny rich person couch.) Pampers her to death.

- I know in his canon design he has that denim kinda jacket on with the pin, but in my HC he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that. Usually wears jeans and baggy button ups while he’s painting, but his day to day outfits are well put together. Rich person style in clothes — turtle necks, slacks, dress shoes, almost kind of dark academia.

- Super high standards in general, but especially when it comes to food. Fine dining for sure. Usually buys only enough ingredients for a serving just for him so he doesn’t have to leave them in the fridge. He doesn’t trust the other residents at ALL.

- This guy is ROLLING in it. He has so much loose cash from victims he can do whatever the hell he wants, big reason why his cat is living like royalty.

- Drinks at least one glass of wine a day. He has an entire rack in his room of old, fine wines. A lot of them are from Europe.

- For whatever reason, he’s an amazing masseuse.

- All of his candles and soaps are very high quality and expensive. He won’t settle for anything less.

- Can play the piano and the violin! He would kill to have a harpsichord, he might.

- He’s not big on history, but he could talk for hours about the titanic. He’s done paintings of it and has watched every possible documentary on it. Thinks the movie is a work of art.

I hope you all liked this! I love this fine man.

❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎❥❤︎︎

[lilithyvenus]

how your life is changing subtly - pick a picture

hiya 🌺 i hope you're well today. i find myself very jaded about life often, particularly in regards to things not going well, despite the universe being there for me. it is normal and absolutely okay to be angry with your higher power – you are human and they know anger is a healthy emotion, we're the ones who choose to demonize it. if you couldn't be angry with someone who supposedly loves you to keep their love, that would quite literally be an abusive relationship. disillusionment is expected, but you can't let yourself dwell in it longer than necessary.

while things can feel stagnant, we all know from experience that change is a slow process. rather than dwell on why it hasn't happened yet, this reading serves to look closer at and quite frankly, to stop minimizing your small progress.

to book a reading, message me directly. for $15, i answer two questions directly with additional cards pulled for advice from your guides, as well as a playlist of channeled songs and other media.

group one

your cards: two of cups + knight of wands + ten of pentacles

your channeled songs: you make loving fun by fleetwood mac + matrimony ii by tennis + better version of me by fiona apple

you are bringing yourself closer to healthy, fulfilling love with every fuckboy you refuse to engage with further than necessary. it may seem like love is evading you, but you're strengthening your boundaries and constantly reminding yourself through not settling that real, unconditional love exists out there and even if it doesn't, you are deserving of being seen fully and not just as a sexual object. you may dismiss your efforts because you do still entangle yourself with them, and that doesn't minimize your progress. you are able to see it for what it is now, in a way you didn't before you consciously chose real love over performing for unmoving backs. you go through the inevitable heartbreak with much more ease now because you realise that it's not the end. and honestly, if you've grieved one fuckboy, the ones that come after are light work. it may be more difficult to tell when they're good people now because unfortunately, these no-good creatures evolve, so even the wittiest, smoothest person can still turn out to be awful. but you're evolving too, and it says a lot that you're dealing with better devils, so to speak.

group two

your cards: ten of pentacles + judgment + the world

your channeled songs: luxurious by gwen stefani + it's my house by diana ross + in my life by the beatles

with every conscious decision you make to prioritize your physical well being, you bring yourself closer to feeling more at home in your body. it's not that you're not feeling and seeing results of your efforts, you just feel like it's an endless road. you're learning it's a lifestyle choice and it really does mean being able to honour your humanity – you can slip up or have off days, and that doesn't undo all the work you've already done. you're learning to enjoy taking care of yourself, no longer as a euphemism for weight loss. you're much stronger than you were before, and you need to acknowledge that more often. it's a bit tricky to keep on with it as a lifestyle because the novelty of change has work off, but every conscious decision you make that prioritizes your health in the long run is genuinely you living this "new" life of comfort.

group three

your cards: ace of swords + king of swords + the empress

your channeled songs: army of me by bjork + eartha by jamila woods + defying gravity (cynthia's version. the context of daring to be vocal when you're meant to be marginalized and silent is being emphasized here. of course that's the case with the other versions, but a Black woman singing that song adds a new layer to the themes of the story)

you are making yourself feel safer with speaking up and sharing your truth. you may be unsure about your progress because it does feel uncomfortable every time you do it, but the fact that you still choose action every time IS the progress. internally, you're honouring the value of your voice and your personhood. your attempts are clumsy and aren't as effective as you'd like them to be, but you will eventually achieve grace because you're committed to trying, every chance you get. additionally, now that you're indirectly validating yourself and your thoughts by trusting your need to speak up, you are less likely to speak when it's not necessary because you're learning to listen more. you may have a path where your words and voice will heal others, and this is your practice. every time you speak up, remember that you're showing up for a version of you that thought silence would make survival easier.

[hotluncheddie]

Day 7: Daddy Steve

"Softly"

Ao3

wc: 2.5k | rated: E | tags: Sub Eddie Munson, established relationship (they're in love), soft dom Steve Harrington, anal sex, crying, pet names, Eddie Munson needs a hug

written for @subeddieweek <3

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Some days are just too much. Everything crawling up too high and burying Eddie where he stands. Days where he just can't handle it anymore. Needs a break. Some care. A little softness.

It's been one of those days. 

The car Eddie’s working on just doesn’t want to run right and he heard a customer whispering to his boss, Jimmy, about his scars. Assuming it made Eddie someone untrustworthy; ‘you really want him in your shop Jim?’. 

Jimmy set them straight but it really set Eddie’s teeth on edge. They’re not in Hawkins anymore, but sometimes, it feels like he never got away. Still a suspect. Still a freak. 

Eddie slips into their apartment, shoving off his shoes and jacket. It's not so cold out anymore but he’s still got a henley on under his overalls, he pulls those half off and ties them at his waist. He keeps the henley firmly in place though. Pulling the sleeves further down over his hands. 

The scars over his forearms aren’t even that noticeable, some of his faintest. But that guy, at the shop, he noticed. He noticed and it made Eddie’s skin crawl. 

Steve is at the stove in their tiny kitchen, stirring something and humming to a song on the radio. 

Eddie stalks over, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer. ‘Good day?’ Steve asks from his spot, eyes already trained on Eddie, on the knit of his shoulders. 

Eddie grunts, taking a pull from the can. Not looking directly at Steve, at his soft eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t deserver them.  

‘Okay then, bad day.’ Steve jokes but it rips something up in Eddie. Pulls at his sinew, makes his scars itch. Everyone seems to know everything about him already, knows all his secrets, who he is. And maybe they do, his past is already laid out all over his skin anyway. 

‘Need to talk about it?’ Steve asks, but it sounds so patronising, so, so. 

‘God, just shut up Steve!’ Eddie scoffs, slamming his can down on the counter and turning away, arms crossed. 

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. 

Steve takes Eddie's outburst in stride, slowly taking him in his arms, wrapping around his back and hooking his chin over his shoulder. ‘Steve? Not heard that one in a long time.’ A soft kiss to Eddie's temple. ‘What happened to Stevie?’ Steve rubs his cheek up against Eddies. ‘Or sweetheart?’ Buries his face in Eddie's neck. ‘Or doll, hm?’

Eddie turns so they’re facing. Letting the weight of the day, the guilt over his outburst show on his face, in the slouch of his shoulders. 

‘That bad huh?’ Steve asks, running his eyes over Eddie's expression. 

Eddie sniffs. ‘M’sorry. Don’t, please don’t shut up.’ He pleads, wishing he could rewind time 30 minutes, rewind to this morning. Do it all over. 

Steve cups Eddie’s face in his hands, holding him up and looking right into him. ‘What do you need?’ Steve asks, forcing eye contact. 

Eddie blinks, breaths in through his nose but his exhale gets choked on a sob. Fuck, it’s been such a bad fucking day. ‘I need to not fucking think for a while, don’t, don’t wanna exist anymore Stevie. Just wanna be here, be yours.’ He pleads, eyes on Steve’s soft brown ones. He feels tears sliding down his cheeks and snot filing his nose. 

Steve hushes him, pulling Eddie into his neck and Eddie sobs. He cries ugly and loud and stains Steves shirt with his tears.But he can’t stop, felt too much today. Too bad.

He can’t do it tonight, exist. Wants to hide, needs it. 

Stroking his hand over Eddie’s hair Steve hold him close, swaying them gently on the kitchen tiles and Steve statrs to hum again. Eddie thinks it’s Fleetwood Mac but he can’t really hear over the sound of his own ragged breathing. He just knows Steve is there, that Steve’s got him. 

Eddie cries until he can’t anymore. 

Once his breathings back to normal Steve pulls his head back out. Lifting his own shirt up to wipe Eddie’s face clean. Eddie grimaces because, gross. But Steve just has this little smile on his face, private and grounding and Eddie goes still. Lets Steve do as he pleases and just focuses on breathing. 

Steve kisses his forehead once he’s done. ‘Go shower for me now Ed’s, yeah? It'll help you relax. I’ll make you some food.’ Eddie stiffens slightly at having to leave Steve’s arms. But, a shower does sound nice. Chance to scrub the grease and sweat from his hair and skin. 

Eddie nods and Steve kisses his cheek, murmurs ‘good’. Eddie bites his lips as he shuffles away. 

-

Eddie opens the shower curtain to see a small pile of clothes sitting in the toilet seat. A pair of loose shorts and one of Steve’s old crewnecks. Both Eddie’s favourites, they’re worn with age so they’re soft and usually reside in Steve’s side of the draws, making them smell a little more like him. 

Eddie feels his shoulders dip further, tension spilling away. Takes Steve’s quiet instruction, his love filled action, puts on the clothes and breathes deep.   

He smells Steve’s cooking, hears him singing softly through the walls, definitely Fleetwood Mac. 

After they eat, Steve insists on doing the dishes while Eddie drinks tea - watching Steve, waiting for him to be done - before they move to the couch. 

With the TV on low and main light off, Eddie finally feels his shoulders relax fully. Able to finally focus on just this.

Now, here, with Steve. 

Eddie straddles Steve's thighs, making himself as small as possible in his lap, hooking his feet behind Steve's calves. Tangling them till they’re one, connected. 

Eddies closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of Steve below him, the softness of his sweats against the backs of his legs, the rise and fall of his ribs. Pushing his forehead into Steve sternum Eddie shifts his fingers up under the hem of his t-shirt. Taking a deep breath as his fingers roam over Steve's soft healed sides, over his stomach and up to his pecs. Eddie cups them and squeezes, trying to fill all his senses with nothing but Steve. 

Steve's voice is honey warm as he speaks quietly into Eddie's hair. ‘You want Mommy tonight baby?’ And Eddie gasps, looks up at him with watery eyes, feeling caught. 

Until Steve is trailing soft fingertips over his face and jaw, over his fluttering eyelids and ears, over the scar that makes the side of his mouth droop. 

So faintly, Eddie worries Steve will miss it, he shake his head and keeps his eyes closed. Swallows around the lump in his throat. ‘Tell me what you need baby.’ Steve hums, still close, still touching. 

‘Daddy.’ He whispers, softly, into Steve's fingers at his lips, breathing it into his bones. A secret confession, a little bit of his insides spilt outwards.  

Steve ‘hmm’s’ in quiet understanding, kissing the corner of Eddie's scarred mouth, the tip of his nose, the furrow between his brows. ‘I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you, yeah?’ 

‘Need it. I’m sorry, just, I. I need it.’ Eddie's voice wavers, his eyes screw up tight. The relentlessness of the day, the week, claw at him again, fill up his lungs, fit to drown him. 

‘Hey, hey it’s okay. Whatever you want. You’re doing perfect. Answered my question so perfect Ed’s, okay?’ Steve smooths his hands over Eddie’s back, repetitive and grounding. ‘It’s just us, remember? Just us here. I’ve got you.’  

Eddie nods dumbly, feels tears prickle his eyes. He takes a shuddery breath and tries to focus on letting the day drift away from him again. The soft blanket of ‘Steve’ and ‘home’ and ‘safe’ taking its place.

They stay like that, Eddie clinging and Steve holding him through it. Letting him relax enough to fall, to dip. Softly Steve trails fingers through Eddie's scalp, scratching lightly, tucking his hair behind his ears. Starts tapping Eddie's lip with his thumb, toying with it, playing with the seam of them. Waiting. He’s always so patient with Eddie, when Eddie gets like this. 

Fisting the neckline of Steve’s sweatshirt Eddie inches impossible closer, sandwiching his forearms between their two chests. Nuzzling at Steve’s nose with his own. ‘Say it again’ Steve whispers into his mouth. In that way that's a little demanding but still playful, cocky, unbelievably Steve.  

Eddie leans away just slightly to see Steve’s eyes, hooded, with pupils blown impossibly wide. Eddie's insides churn.  

‘Daddy.’

Steve buries his hands in Eddie’s hair and brings their mouths together. Crashing into a kiss that's teeth and spit and soft need. Eddie keens at the sensation, how all consuming it is, when Steve kisses him. 

They kiss until there’s no breath left in Eddies lungs, until the spit on his chin threatens to slide down his neck, until he feels the tip of his cock sticking to the fabric of his shorts. 

Steve pulls him away gently by the hair, just enough for them to suck in greedy lungfuls, sharing the air between them. Eddie breaks. ‘You, you say it again.’ He demands, desperate. 

‘Say what, hm? Tell me what you want Eddie.’ Steve moves strands of hair away from Eddies face, bit by tiny bit, preening him, taking his time. 

‘Want you to say it again, call me it again.’ Eddie pants, unable to catch his breath. he needs it. 

Leaning in close Steve tucks some of Eddies hair back behind his ear, sweeps it over his shoulder. Ghosting his lips over the shell of his ear Eddie feels the smile pulling at Steves lips. Goosebumps break out over his thighs.

‘Baby.’ 

Eddie full body shivers. Feels his vision tunnel with the sweet floaty feeling that comes when he’s held like this, talked to like this. Allowed to be, like this, with Steve.  

Whining Eddie shoves lightly at Steve's chest to get their faces back together. Kissing and kissing and kissing, Eddie whines into Steve's mouth as he sucks on Eddie's tongue, swallowing each other's moans and Eddie can’t help canting his hips forwards, grinding in tight little circles on Steve's lap.

‘Does baby want anything special?’ Steve asks, tongue still dipping in and out of Eddie’s mouth.  

Eddie shakes his head, still close, needs to be close. ‘Just want you. Want Daddy.’ he sounds desperate, feels desperate. 

Steve kisses him again, slowing them. Pecks Eddies cheeks, his nose.

And it’s done sweetly. Steve always so sweet, and soft, with Eddie. Only getting mean if he asks for it, only going harder if Eddie begs. 

‘Bedroom.’ Steve says into Eddies cheek. Stealing another kiss but stopping the movement of Eddies hips with firm hands at his waist. 

-

‘Fuck, you look so pretty on my cock baby.’ Steve pants. ‘So beautiful Eddie, always.’ 

Eddie whines and squirms, arms above his head, turning his face to rub his cheek against the pillow. He bites the inside of his arm as Steve thrusts especially deep, groaning above him. 

‘Say it.’ Steve says. ‘Say it for me baby.’ 

‘Ah fuck, fuck. Love your cock Daddy, love having your cock inside me.’ Eddie says, the filthy plea zinging up his spine and making his cock twitch. 

Steve strokes him, lightly, way too lightly. Thumbing his wet tip. Collecting Eddie’s pre and presents his wet thumb for him. Eddie opens his mouth greedily, sucking the digit clean. 

‘Say the rest of it baby.’ Steve insists. ‘Daddy needs to hear you say it.’ 

Eddie furrows his brows, confused, mind too fuzzy. Then a deep blush spreads across his face, down his neck. 

‘Daddy.’ Eddie pleads. He doesn’t. He can’t. 

Steve slows his thrusts and Eddie thrashes, still feeling the drag so deep as Steve bottoms out each time, but he’s grinding so slow it sets Eddies skin on fire. 

Eddie crosses his arms over his eyes, pouting. ‘I’m ah I’m- I’m beautiful Daddy.’ His chest rising and falling, breathing shakily through his nose. 

‘That’s is. So good.’ Steve placates. Leaning over Eddie to talk in his ear, pushing him deeper into the mattress. ‘Again.’ 

‘I’m, I’m beautiful.’ Eddie feels tears threaten to spill over his lash line. Feels his heart beat in his ears. Feels Steve’s stubble against his cheek. 

Steve kisses over Eddie’s jaw and neck. Over his scarred skin. Following the lines of his healed sutures, raised and jagged. Steve mouths over them, following the trail back up to Eddies mouth. ‘So so beautiful baby. Such a good boy for Daddy.’ 

Eddie can’t contains the sob that escapes him. ‘Daddy please.’ He whimpers,

He doesn’t want to talk anymore. 

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie’s knee, pushing it into his chest. ‘I know, I know baby. Gonna give you what you need yeah? You’ve been so good, so perfect.’ 

With a final kiss to Eddie’s mouth Steve hauls himself back up and resumes the previous pace. Thrusting deep and quick and Eddie moans, feeling split open and raw. Feels his cheeks wet with tears and he knows he’s being loud but his mind is so so quiet. Nothing but the feeling of Steve and the blanket of getting taken care of. 

‘My pretty boy. My baby. You’re everything Eddie, my everything. I love you so much, love you more than anything.’ Steve pants out and Eddie cries. Tears falling into his hairline, cheeks warm and he’s probably splotchy all the way down his chest but Steve pushes into him deeper, speeding up and grazing that spot within him. 

Eddie feels his orgasm build inside him. A string of wet ‘ah ah ah’s’ leaving his lips, in time with Steve’s quick thrusts. 

Steve changed angle, leaning over Eddie again, holding himself up on his palms. Able to get impossibly deeper, Eddie feeling him up his spine, in his mouth, all over. 

‘Together baby, together.’ Steve pants, wrapping one giant hand around Eddie, fisting in time with his thrusts. Which are getting sloppier, but still so deep. 

Eddie arches of the bed, hands grasping for purchase on Steve’s broad shoulders, his neck. Their chests pressing together as Steve bottoms out again. Tugging on Eddie just right, filling him up with a deep moan. ‘Daddy.’ Eddie wails, cumming all over their stomachs and chests, some hitting his chin as he gulps for breath. Fingers still digging into Steve’s skin, keeping him close. 

Steve grinds his softening cock into Eddie, sinking down on top of him, a deep body pressure. Eddie drifts. 

Steve is laying on his side mouthing at Eddie’s neck, leaving soft kisses over his skin and scars, up over his cheeks. Eddie groans, turning and wrapping his arms around Steve. Crowding in closer so their bodies are back flush. 

Steve hums, petting Eddie’s hair and kissing the crown of his head. ‘Back with me again sleepy head?’ He asks. 

Eddie grunts, nibbling at Steves collarbone, mouthing and smoothing his lips over Steves soft skin. Eddie still feeling fragile, a little quiet, and needy. 

But so, so much better than before. 

‘Thank you.’ He mumbles, voice wobbling, but he’s too tired to cry any more today. 

‘Baby.’ Steve coos, kissing Eddie’s head again. ‘No need for that, want to help. Love you so much Ed’s, always.’ 

Eddie sniffs again, hiding in the darkness of Steve’s chest, hiding away in his heart, in his bones. Still awed by the beauty and kindness of his soul. 

He knows Steve’s got him, will let him rest there, basking and healing. Until he’s ready to face it all again. 

❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

Tag List: @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor @marvel-ous-m

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

ruin (6)*

warnings: fluff, smut, sex toy use, unprotected sex, oral

summary: in which harry takes yn on a nice picnic date and they go all the way

a/n: well guys, it’s been a longgggg time coming, but ruin is officially complete!!!🥳🥳🥳🥲🥲. i do have a couple ideas about some extras though, if you guys are interested in that. thank you so much for all of the love and support <3

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~one month later~

yn is just finishing up her makeup with the application of her favorite gloss, double checking for imperfections when her phone rings. she doesn’t even have to check to know that it’s harry alerting her of his arrival, ready for their date tonight. so she presses her screen to answer as she hurriedly grabs her purse.

“hello?” she picks up, trying to keep her voice level to sound as if she’s not literally running around her room right now. grabbing her desired scent for the day, she sprays the perfume in the ideal places and rests the phone between her shoulder and ear.

“hi, angel. ‘m outside whenever you’re ready, but there’s no need to rush,” he reassures her, a grin on his face at her failed attempt at feigning calm. he drums his fingers against the steering wheel with a chuckle as he hears her quiet but unmistakable sigh of relief.

“i’m on my way down now, actually, i won’t be long,” she replies, finally taking a moment to breathe. she hears him hum on the other end of the line before acknowledging her words, and they end the call quickly. yn takes her time, but not too much time, as she slips on her shoes and grabs a sweater to throw over her pretty summer dress, just in case the weather gets a bit chilly.

she takes one last glance at herself and checks her purse to double check she isn’t leaving anything before she’s heading out the door and to harry’s car, where he’s patiently waiting. when he sees her approaching his face lights up so bright it makes her heart melt, and he’s scrambling to get out of the car to greet her.

meeting her at the passenger side door, he wraps his arms around her waist and leans down to press a kiss to her lips but ultimately changes route to her cheek, remembering the story she once told him about kissing with her freshly glossed lips. her arms come up over his shoulders to wrap around his neck, and he’s caught by surprise when she presses her lips to his anyways.

harry can’t help but pull her closer and smile into the kiss, loving the way she simply doesn’t care about that sort of thing when it comes to him. they’re like that for just a few more moments, the both of them begrudgingly pulling away. they can’t resist one last sweet peck before harry’s stepping away and opening the car door for her, not even bothering to wipe the gloss away that’d transferred from her lips to his.

yn passes him a grateful smile and gets in the car, nodding to harry when she’s settled as a signal to close the door. he does so and jogs around to his side, hopping in and starting the car to begin the drive. turning out onto the main road, harry grabs his phone from the middle console and passes it to yn, briefly taking his eyes off the road seeing that she’s a bit confused.

“did you want to turn on some music while we drive? ‘s a bit of a ride there, don’t want y’to get bored of me,” he explains, hearing a small ‘ah’ of realization from his girl. she wastes no more time, unlocking his phone and opening his music app. a dimpled grin forms on harry’s face when he hears the unmistakable tune of ‘go your own way’ by fleetwood mac starting, the same song they listened to on the way to their first date at the diner.

she queues up a few more songs as the both of them hum along, and when she has what should be enough, she places the phone back where it’d been before harry picked it up. her hand naturally gravitates toward her lap to rest there, but the action is interrupted by harry’s warm hand, quickly intertwining their fingers before she can complete it.

a small smile forms on her face as she glances at him, watching him act as if he hasn’t done anything. she simply lifts his hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of it before letting their hands rest in her lap, humming along to the music as she looks out the car window.

the ride doesn’t seem as long as harry thought it would, and with all of the singing and conversation they have, before he knows it they’ve arrived at the park. he drives as slow as possible as they enter just so he can see yn’s reaction to the scenery, his heart melting as he watches the way her face lights up when she sees the pretty flowers that line the entrance of the park.

she swoons at all of the butterflies around, the ducks in a pond nearby, and all of it just confirms each and every thought he’s ever had of spending the rest of his life with her. harry continues driving until he can see the area he’d previously scouted out, parking the car near it. he hops out the car and runs around to her side, opening the door and squatting down next to her.

“i’m gonna go over and set up, angel, then i’ll be right back to get you, alright?” he questions, his eyes taking in every square inch of her face as if he’ll ever forget it. he takes her hand in his as she nods, bringing it to his lips briefly before standing up and heading to the trunk of the car.

he quickly grabs everything out that he needs; blankets, the food, a pillow for her to rest on if she’d like to, drinks, and the small bag that holds the toys he’s brought if she wants to use them. closing the trunk, he hauls everything over to the spot he’d chosen, maneuvering through the few trees until he sees the huge clearing of land, perfectly hidden for peak privacy. there’s a small pond just ahead with some ducks swimming around, and he knows yn would love to feed them when she sees them. harry quickly sets everything up how he wants it, making sure everything is perfect before he stands up to head back to his girl.

making his way through the trees once more, he has the brightest dimpled smile on his face the moment his car is in his line of sight. he can see yn sitting there and waiting patiently for his return, doing something on her phone. she looks up and gives him a bright smile when she sees him, harry opening the door so that she can hop out. he closes the door and she practically skips toward the trees she’d watched him go through, harry having to jog a bit to keep up.

when they make it through the maze of trees, he can’t help the way his smile gets brighter when he hears her gasp at the sight of the picnic. all of her favorite fruits, drinks, and her favorite sandwich from the diner they went to on their first date. all the little things that make her just melt for him, turning her into a puddle of gratitude and thankfulness right before his eyes.

he chuckles when he hears her squeal of excitement as she notices the ducks, pointing to them so that he can see them as well. they get onto the blanket after she gushes over them for a while, harry sitting down first so that yn can sit right across from him, and that she does, digging in as soon as she’s comfortable.

the two snack on fruits and split the sandwich as they talk for a long time, sharing stories from their pasts and their plans for the future. they don’t even realize that they subconsciously get closer and closer with time, until her legs are draped over his lap, harry’s hand running up and down her calf. well, he doesn’t, at least. he doesn’t pick up on the way that some of her sentences die off with each passing of his hand, or the way her breathing picks up whenever his hand goes higher.

not until his hand grazes her knee, finally, and she finally snaps, a quiet moan falling from her lips. harry stops right in the middle of his sentence, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “what was that, angel?” he questions, wanting to make sure she’s alright. “did i hurt you?” he pulls his hand away.

she’s quick to shake her head and reach for him again, and he thinks she’s going to place it back onto her knee but she actually moves further underneath her dress, right to where she needs him. his fingers meet the warmth of her center and he can’t hold back the moan that bubbles in his throat, exploring the area. it’s then that everything hits him, and realization dawns on him. a chuckle and a hum falls from his lips, his hand moving from underneath her dress.

“alright, baby. i see. won’t make you want any longer,” he croons, leaning toward her and pressing a kiss to the side of her mouth. she whimpers and leans into his touch before turning her head in search of his lips. he pulls away at the last second, causing her to let out a huff of frustration. “take y’panties off for me, angel. ‘s gonna be plenty of time for you t’kiss me, don’t worry,” he finishes, a smirk playing on his lips.

she hurriedly removes her legs from his lap, standing up and sliding her panties down her legs. she doesn’t bother stepping out of them when they reach the blanket beneath her feet, reaching for the bottom of her dress. harry reaches up and stops her. “keep that on for me, ‘s okay,” he murmurs. she drops the bottom of her dress just as he reaches down to grab the panties from underneath her, causing her to let out a giggle at how the dress sweeps over his face.

harry chuckles just a bit at her before tapping gently at her ankle, and she fully steps out of them for him before dropping down to her knees to sit right in front of hum. grasping them in his hand, he lets out a hum as his eyes flit up to meet hers. he runs his thumb over the center of them, the wetness of the material leaving his thumb a bit wet. holding them up to her, he watches her eyes widen a bit at the sight of the ruined material before she drags them away and off to the side somewhere to look anywhere but him.

he uses his free hand to reach up and gently grip her jaw, turning her head to face him. “no, need you to look at me bunny, it isn’t polite to be somewhere else when i’m in front of you,” he scolds, knowing he isn’t actually upset with her but she needs that in order to obey him. she hesitantly drags her eyes back to his, forcing her embarrassment down. “come down here,” he demands.

she instantly obliges and drops down to her knees before him, trying her hardest not to look away when he holds the ruined panties up to her. “need you to clean them for me, don’t want them to be ruined forever, bunny. ‘s expensive,” he explains vaguely, and she furrows her brows before turning to grab a napkin to clean them. a grunt of disapproval stops her, though, and she turns back to face him. “don’t need that. with your mouth, baby,” he corrects.

her eyes widen slightly at what he’s suggesting, but she’ll do almost anything for him, and although it’s a bit humiliating, it turns her on like no other. squeezing her thighs together, she bites down a moan and grabs the panties from him, flattening the material on her palm so that the crotch section is in her line of sight. she tries to avoid his eyes but she should’ve known better, harry’s hand coming up to grip her chin so their eyes can meet.

the impatient yet oddly calming look in his eyes is the last push she needs, her tongue peeking out of her mouth quickly to get to work on the wet fabric. she moans at the taste of herself, harry’s eyes still boring into hers as she cleans her mess. it’s not long before she cleans as much as she can, holding them up for harry to see.

“good girl,” he hums, taking the panties from her before reaching behind him to grab the bag that holds the toys. retrieving the bag, he turns back to her. the moment her eyes land on the bag, they light up as she has a good feeling about what the contents are. “lie down on your stomach for me, brought a surprise for you,” he grins, and she hurriedly scrambles to do so.

he unzips the bag and grabs the dildo he’d packed, along with some lube although he’s sure he won’t need it with how drenched she is. yn wants nothing more than to watch what he’s doing, but the suspense just makes her all the more excited. zipping the bag back up, he tosses it beside him before opening up the lube and pouring it onto the dildo. when it’s heavily coated, he places the lube down and uses his now free hand to push her dress up over her hips, tapping at her thigh to get her to spread them a bit more.

she takes the hint and does what he signaled, gasping when she almost immediately feels the toy against her heated lower lips. his actions are slow, teasing, even, as he adds more pressure so that the toy spreads her open, but he doesn’t immediately press in into her awaiting hole. with a roll of her eyes and a cry of frustration, she attempts to press her ass toward the toy, earning her a gentle but firm slap on her right ass cheek, a warning.

he isn’t surprised when she doesn’t fight back, and he rewards her lack of retaliation by finally pressing the toy into her, inching it in slowly as she gasps at the intrusion. when it bottoms out he leaves it there for her to adjust for a while, and after a few minutes she starts to get impatient. she tries her hardest not to show it, but he can tell she’s holding back, so he begins to move it inside of her, pulling it out just to push it back in. he keeps his actions steady and precise as her moans pick up, and it’s not long before she’s announcing her quickly approaching orgasm, no more words said as it immediately wracks her body.

she cums around the toy with a loud cry of relief, her body slumping against the blanket beneath her as she rides out the high. harry continues slowly moving the toy inside of her to prolong the orgasm, only stopping when she jolts a bit in overstimulation. he then pulls it out of her as slowly as possible, biting down a moan when he sees the glisten on the toy and her slightly gaping hole clenching around nothing in search of being filled again.

her breaths are still a bit shallow so he helps her out if her dress before urging her onto her back and keeping his hands on her body to ground her. she comes back to him within minutes, a sigh of contentment leaving her lips, swollen from biting them. harry honestly expects her to tap out then and there, tuckered out and ready to go home, but when she sits up to press her lips to his in the most desperate way, he can tell she wants more. and that he’ll give her.

without breaking their lips, harry pushes her onto her back once more, his hands exploring her body. when he reaches her chest, he can’t resist taking her nipples between his fingers and pinching them, just enough to make her moan into his mouth. he pulls away from the kiss first, shushing her groan of annoyance before reaching down between them and freeing his cock from its confines. her eyes widen as she realizes what’s about to happen; it’s what he’s been preparing her for, and she wants nothing more than to take it there.

he pushes his pants down to the thickness of his thighs and runs his thumb over his leaking tip, shuddering at that first touch of pleasure. a broken whimper falls from her lips as she watches him get himself ready for her, inpatient as ever. she doesn’t complain anymore, though, as he crawls to her until their bodies are touching, grabbing one of her legs and lifting it to get a better view.

using his free hand, he strokes his cock a few more times before lining up with her dripping and awaiting hole.

“‘m gonna go slow, angel. take real good care of you,” he promises, eyes exploring every inch of her face to make sure there’s no uncertainty or anxiety. she acknowledges his words with a confident nod, her hips bucking up to try and gain some sort of friction for her throbbing center.

taking his hand from her leg, he thinks it’d be better to have a distraction just in case there is a bit of a sting from the stretch, as he’s slightly thicker than her toy. longer, too. so he reaches between them and rubs gentle circles onto the head of her clit, pulling a contented hum from her. he keeps that up as he finally presses the head of his cock inside, happy that he doesn’t feel too much resistance from her tight hole.

his gaze flits up to her face and when he sees her with her eyes closed and a blissed out look on her face, he takes it as a green light. still moving slow, he presses himself into her until his hips meet her body, groans coming from the both of them when he passes over the thickest part. harry stays like that until he’s sure she won’t hurt when he moves, his thumb still drawing circles on her clit. his thrusts are slow and gentle when he starts moving, using his legs as leverage more than anything to get as deep inside her as possible.

“how’s it feel, bunny?” he questions, voice gentle and soothing. “‘s it feeling nice? not painful for you?” his voice comes out shaky, his teeth ground together as some form of keeping himself restrained. he’s forcing down each and every thought of absolutely wrecking his sweet girl, knowing she can’t handle that right now.

“‘s good, ‘s good, so deep inside me,” he whines beneath him, untucking her lip from between her teeth to get her words out. “my tummy’s so full, feels nice,” she finishes with a moan and a jolt when he angles his hips just a bit so that the head of his cock hits her g-spot head on.

“there we go, angel. that’s the spot i was looking for, know it gets you all dumb for me when i touch that, hm?” he coos condescendingly, adding just enough force to his thrusts that he has to hold her down by her hips with each one. she can’t even speak anymore, the constant assault on that spot inside of her rendering her speechless and her body numb. not a single coherent thought can be formed as the peak precision of his thrusts push her closer and closer to what she’s been craving.

removing his hands from her hips, harry decides to speed up the process just a bit by grabbing the backs of her thighs and pushing them up as far as they can go, holding them there with one hand and bringing the other to where their bodies meet, his thumb finding its way through her folds until he gets to her clit, pressing it right onto the head and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. the added sensation and angle change draws a long, drawn out moan from her, her hands flying out on either side of her to push her up onto her palms a bit. the pleasure she’s feeling is so intense that she tries to both run away from it and lean into it, squirming away just for her hips to grind down to meet his thrusts.

“no, gotta take it, baby. almost there, know you’re so close for me,” he rasps, quickly removing the hand from her thighs and leaning forward to press some of his weight on top of her for better control. the feeling of harry’s warmth enveloping her sends her flying over the edge unexpectedly, the ball of pleasure that’s deep in her tummy practically exploding.

her back arches up off the blanket and into his chest as far as she can with him on top of her and her legs, eyes rolling back into her head. the orgasm takes over her body before she can even comprehend it, her hole fluttering around him for a moment before locking down onto his cock so hard that he has to squeeze his eyes shut, his balls drawing up so unexpectedly and intensely that it practically knocks the breath from his lungs.

“oh, fuck bunny- shit, ‘s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, can’t hold it,” he gasps, accent as thick as ever as he grips onto the blanket beneath his palms. his hips stutter in rhythm for just a second, the final warning sign of his orgasm. he barely has time to push himself up and pull out of her, cum shooting from his tip just as he frees himself. one hand flies to the backs of her thighs as the other begins to stroke his cock quickly, milking himself for all he has. his cum is already painting the back of one of her thighs, dripping down to her ass with each passing second.

yn can barely see him from the small space between her legs, but just hearing him so wrecked from being inside of her makes her throb in excitement once again, a needy whimper falling from her lips when she hears him choke on a sob and feels something warm land right onto her pussy. she’s in the position for no more than a minute longer as his moans die down and his furious strokes become slower, and when her thighs are freed from the confines of his hand, she can’t help but keep them there and reach up to the one that’s covered in his orgasm and swipe a finger through.

dropping her legs finally, she looks harry right in the eyes as she brings that same hand up to her mouth and takes the finger inside, her tongue moving around it to get the full taste of him. harry can do nothing but let his eyes flutter closed as a choked moan falls from his lips. he wants nothing more than to simply wreck her until she’s crying and drooling but he can’t do that now, she’s not ready. he doesn’t even think he’ll be able to get it back up now, not with how she absolutely drained him.

so he does the next best thing; without even bothering to clean up the mess that covers the both of them, he adjusts himself until he’s flat on his stomach, grabbing the outsides of her thighs when he’s eye level with her pussy. “‘m gonna take care of you, bunny. don’t worry. gonna clean you up too,” he whispers, eyes meeting hers when he hears a desperate cry come from her. she’s already so sensitive that he knows it won’t take long to make her cum, but that doesn’t mean he should half ass it.

pressing gentle kisses to the soft skin of her thighs, he ignores her huffs of frustration when he doesn’t immediately start licking into her. the kisses travel closer and closer to where she’s messy and throbbing for him, but they are way too slow for her taste. one last groan comes from her before she’s had enough, propping herself up on an elbow and reaching forward with her free hand, grabbing the back of his head and pushing his face onto her.

a noise of shock leaves him at how bold she’s become, but he has to respect it, chuckling against her before nipping at one of her swollen lower lips. she gasps quietly at the sting but it melts into a moan as he, in one fell swoop, licks into her folds before sucking her swollen and sensitive clit into his mouth. her grip tightens on him and she grinds her hips against him to chase the pleasure, tossing her head back as her back arches up from the blanket.

the tug on his hair forces a groan of delight from him and he only buries his face further into her, beginning to alternate between licking and sucking at her. the vibrations rumble into her body, the knot in her belly tightening out of nowhere. she’s become incoherent above him the closer she gets to her orgasm, wordless babbles leaving her lips as she tries to warn him of it.

his actions simply increase tenfold, licks and sucks a bit more precise as he pulls the orgasm from her. just a few moments later he feels her thighs start to fight to tighten around his head and a long, loud moan falls from her lips as her final orgasm wracks her body. she goes so stiff that her thigh muscles begin to cramp slightly, her legs shaking from the force.

harry begins to lick at her a bit gentler than he had before so he can avoid overstimulating her too much, his hands caressing her thighs while she tries to recover. for her, it feels like forever until her body fully relaxes, small aftershocks jolting her body with each relaxation. she’s gasping for air when her body is finally freed, her chest heaving from the intensity of everything.

he notices some tears that have leaked down the sides of her face, and he takes a wipe from the container he’d brought and cleans her face thoroughly before grabbing some more to clean up her lower half. when he gets to her vagina she gasps and pulls away in overstimulation, causing him to frown just a bit. “i know, bunny. just have t’get you cleaned up ‘s all. won’t be long,” he coos, using one hand to spread her open gently and the other to gingerly wipe the area.

once she’s all clean he moves to the backs of her thighs, wiping his sticky, drying cum from them. it takes a bit more effort to do so, but he isn’t complaining, taking his time and keeping an eye on her breathing. when she’s fully clean, he helps her sit up and puts her dress back onto her, murmuring words of encouragement each step of the way. “can you stand up, angel? think you can walk to the car with me or do y’need some help?” he questions, voice soft as to not disturb the calm and quiet state of her.

“i can walk, i think,” she responds, and harry hops up before reaching back down to help her up. she’s a bit shaky for a moment but she becomes stable after a few seconds of being on her feet. he guides her to the car slowly, and he’s surprised for a moment that she isn’t wincing or limping a bit, but he quickly realizes it’s probably due to the adrenaline rush she’s feeling.

they make it to the car and he helps her in before pressing a kiss to her head and then running back to clean up their area. walking back to the car, he smiles fondly at her as he realizes she’s already fallen asleep, light snores leaving her parted lips. he packs everything into the trunk and hops into the driver’s seat.

the drive back is nothing short of calm and peaceful, some song she’d added to the queue on the drive there playing softly in the vehicle. he makes it to his house before he knows it, and when he pulls into his garage he turns the car off before running into the house and up the stairs to quickly start a bath for her. he does the works; bubbles, soothing oils, and he lights a candle that is on his counter before running back down to the car to unload it. he does so as quietly as possible because he wants waking her up to be the last thing so that she can just wake up and get in the bath.

he takes a bit to put away everything from the car and when he goes to check the bath, it’s ready for her. turning the water off, he heads back down to the garage to wake her up. knocking on the passenger side window, he gives her some time to lift her head before opening the door, chuckling at her when he sees the confusion on her face as well as a mark on her from the door. “we’re at my house, angel. i ran you a bath and i want to clean you up a bit and then i promise i’ll let you sleep,” he whispers, and she nods a bit grumpily from being woken up but a bath sounds heavenly so she obliges.

stepping out of the car, she does start to feel that slight sting between her legs from the stretch and the burn in her thighs from the angle he had her in, but she brushes it off as she knows the bath will work wonders. they step into the bathroom and it’s just like all of the emotions of the day, the month even, hit her at once. her eyes well with tears and her shoulders slump when they take over her, and she turns her body to bury her face into his chest.

“thank you, thank you,” she sobs against him, and his heart both breaks and warms for her, his arms coming to wrap around her. they stay there for a while as she gets all of her emotions out, harry whispering encouragement words and pressing kisses to the top of her head. her breath is still a bit stutter-y as she pulls away from him, quickly turning to the toilet paper to clean herself up, but he beats her to it, grabbing some off the roll and cleaning her up. she’s so grateful that she gets a bit teary again, but then harry starts to press kisses all over her face, making her giggle.

“alright, bunny. let’s get you in the bath,” he instructs, tossing the toilet paper out. he pulls the dress over her head once more and she steps out of her shoes. being naked in front of him, she expects to feel a bit self conscious despite how many times he’s seen her, but this time she feels nothing but warm and fuzzy. full, even, as he smiles at her with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

she walks over to the tub and steps in, humming at the temperature of the water, it’s actually perfect for her. the water covers her up to around her armpits and she relishes in the warmth before looking up at her boyfriend expectantly. he laughs at the look on her face before explaining himself. “i’m gonna get in with you, don’t worry, ms grumpy, just need to grab some towels and clothes for when we get out,” he chuckles, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her lips as if to seal his promise.

a belly laugh leaves him when he’s walking out and he hears her mumble something about not taking too long or she won’t let him in. he knows she won’t make good on her words but he still hurries back to her, wanting to be near her. he makes it back to her and quickly sheds his clothes, walking over to the tub and having her scoot up so he can slide behind her. the warmth envelops him and he envelops her, wrapping his arms around the front of her to pull her closer.

they stay like that for a while, so long that their fingers have gone pruny by the time they pull apart. harry is the one that breaks the contact, and he only does so because he notices that she starts to doze off, and he wants to clean her up before she falls asleep again. she grumbles a bit at the slight loss of warmth but when she feels harry start to clean her up, she understands.

he takes his time and cleans her up thoroughly before letting her sit there for a few while he cleans himself up. when he’s all clean he steps out of the tub first, drying off a bit before wrapping the towel around his waist and then he’s helping her out and doing the same for her, wrapping the towel around her upper body. harry guides them to the bedroom and drops the towel from his waist to slip on some boxers before making sure yn is fully dry and grabbing the t shirt he’d picked out earlier and helping her slide it over her head. he decided not to give her a pair of his boxers to sleep in so that he could let her lower half breathe through the night.

pulling back the blankets on the bed, he lets her get in and comfortable, passing her the remote to his tv so she can pick something to fall asleep to. while she does that, he goes downstairs and grabs her a bottled water from his fridge, downing one for himself before going back up. he opens the bottle and passes it to her, to which she thanks him and drinks all of it in record time. she finishes the drink and he takes it from her to place on the nightstand to toss tomorrow, hitting the light and climbing into the bed beside her.

a fond smile forms on his face when he sees that the show she chose for the night is rick and morty, something he remembers her telling him a couple weeks ago. the volume isn’t too loud as to keep them awake, the sound just loud enough to make out the words of the characters.

the two sit and watch the show until their eyes become unbearably heavy, and when harry feels yn slide down even further under the blankets before cuddling into him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes open even if he wanted to. so he wraps his arms around her and pulls her even closer, despite knowing that they’ll get hot sometime soon, and he presses one last kiss to the top of her head before the exhaustion finally catches up to them and they’re asleep in seconds, light snores leaving their lips.

~

well…🥲

[darlingi-loveyou]

will solace headcanon time i love my boy

- casual stoner. when he gets breaks from the infirmary, he and drew get weed from behind the dionysus cabin and smoke together. they like to do it on the big house porch because dionysus couldn’t care less—the only reason he doesn’t do it with them is because he’s not sure if it goes against his punishment from zeus—or behind the apollo cabin when chiron’s around. piper has a cart and the two of them take hits from it and talk shit whenever she comes to visit. he doesn’t really smoke around nico though, just because he’s said he doesn’t like the smell (nico doesn’t really care otherwise, since it helps with will’s anxiety), and definitely not around percy because of everything that happened with gabe

- he’s started talking to dionysus about his anxiety, imposter syndrome, and seasonal depression. dionysus wants to talk to him about testing him for mild ocd

- his hair looks like a renaissance painting of patroclus, just blond

- loves his friends so much. he’s their biggest supporter in the entire world and if they didn’t all live at camp, he’d probably try to convince them to all live in a giant house together

- he’s very casually affectionate. he says i love you a lot, but he always means it. hugs and kisses his friends on the cheek. physical touch is his giving love language (he always makes sure he has consent, first, obviously)

- his receiving love language, however, are words of affirmation. he needs to verbally hear that he’s doing a good job—as a friend, as a boyfriend, as a healer, as a son, just in life

- he’s trained himself to be a light sleeper after years of working in the infirmary and becoming head counselor. sometimes his body just wakes himself up in the middle of the night and he has to sit in the infirmary until he’s positive that everything and everyone is fine and he’s literally the only one awake

- similarly, he has a crazy sixth sense of knowing when his stop is if he ever dozes off on public transport, and always wakes up two stops before. he thinks it stems from spending his a lot of his formative years traveling around with his mom while she toured, constantly waking up in new cities

- he iris messages his mom every night and tells her every single detail of his day

- being both a true crime junkie and a medic at a demigod camp, gore has absolutely no affect on him. this boy delivered a baby and has reattached countless limbs; he falls asleep listening to podcasts where twenty-something women talk about serial killers so notorious they have to give a content warning. a Saw trap isn’t going to faze him

- he met maren morris when he was younger and his mom opened for her. he got her signature and is still planning on getting it tattooed, he just hasn’t had a chance

- he has a very high pain tolerance and has a lot of stick-n-pokes, some of which he did himself, including a wonky-looking star that he let nico do and woobeewoo from Adventure Time

- his favorite music artists include kasey musgraves, taylor swift, leith ross, baby fisher, gracie abrams, fiona apple, fleetwood mac, dolly parton, carrie underwood, and troye sivan

- “ribs” by lorde makes him cry

- so does “the bug collector” by haley heynderickx

- he’s terrified of spiders

- he cries when anything at all happens to a dog in a movie. he watched All Dogs Go to Heaven with nico and was a such disaster by the time the credits rolled that the two of them had to sit there for half an hour until he calmed down. he has a core memory of watching Bolt with his mom when he was little and sobbing into her arms at the end. his siblings have expressly forbidden him from ever watching A Dog’s Purpose, for fear that it would literally send him into a deep depression

- kayla literally bought him cargo pants because she was so sick of him wearing shorts in the middle of winter. he’ll never admit it, but they’re his favorite pants he owns

- his fictional crushes are rodrick heffley, both marceline and marshall lee, jennifer check, edward cullen, alice cullen, ella of frell, prince char, nefara de nile, and jade west

- his mom took him to to see a free, outdoors production of Romeo and Juliet when he was twelve and he really liked it. he hates reading, and the combination of dyslexia and shakespeare is interesting to say the least, but he woke up one night missing his mom a lot, and found a copy of the play on one of his siblings’ nightstands, and decided to try reading it for nostalgia’s sake. that lasted about ten minutes. kayla woke up at the crack of dawn to go practice archery alone and found him in the empty infirmary, where he went so he wouldn’t wake anyone up with his glowing, sound asleep in a chair with the book still open in his lap

- it’s easy to forget he’s from texas when you hear his voice after years of living at camp, but a soft southern drawl slips out when he says certain words, and especially when he sings

- his favorite taylor swift eras are debut, fearless, and lover

- he knows how to shoot a gun and has insane aim, much better than when he shoots a bow and arrow. because of this, he feels very strongly about mandating gun laws and safety regulations because he knows firsthand just how dangerous they are. nico has no idea and will’s just waiting for the moment he can surprise him with it

- he has perfect pitch and lowkey doesn’t even realize it

- his handwriting is so atrocious he can’t even read it himself. one time he enlisted nico to take notes for him in the infirmary, but nico’s cursive was almost harder to read than will’s chicken-scratches

- caffeine has almost no affect on him, except maybe spiking his anxiety, but he’s gaslit himself into thinking it keeps him alert

- he’s extremely empathetic, just knows how to put on a brave face

- he has literally no idea how to ask for help. my boy is so used to taking care of everyone that people have to literally beg him to let them help him with work or console him

- he desperately wants a cat

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Could you describe how you see some of the creeps' rooms? Like what they havein there or if their roms are messy or always clean? :)

I decided that for this one, I would do my most popular creeps, if you or anyone else reading would like more headcanons on different creeps, let me know and i will be happy to!

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Toby

Toby's room is located on the third floor of the mansion/manor (havent decided which one i like better) and is the third door on the left

His door doesn't really have anything fancy on it, it is a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate, just like the rest of the creeps

His room has a very grunge-esc and indie vibe to it

His bed is a twin sized bed, with a deep brown comforter, faded yellow sheets and two pillows with no pillowcases on them

He has 2 squishmellows, the hamster and the mango, they sit on his bed, and when he sleeps he uses one as an additional pillow, and the other one he hugs tightly to his chest

He has a lot of tapestries, and not many posters

He has posters for the beetles, fleetwood mac, and ozzy osbourne, and they are all on the wall above his bed

The rest of the tapestries are generic designs with skeletons and stars

He has a small couch under the window of his room, that has a small purple blanket thrown over the top of the couch

He has a lot of fake plants and vines in his room, because he can't take care of real plants to save his life

He has a wooden desk, and on that desk he has his laptop, headphones, tablet, hairspray, books, and writing utensils

Amongst those other things, he also has a few dishes on his desk

He uses his closet as a makeshift house for animals he finds (often possums and raccoons) so that he can help them return to full health, before setting them free once more

However, he does have 3 pet raccoons that just kept on coming back after he set them free, so he just kind of uses his closet for them

His clothes are stored on a clothing rack next to his couch

He has one nightstand on the left side of his bed, where he keeps his phone, charger, and in the drawer, he has spare masks, gloves, medications, and bandages/bandaids

He has a tv in his room, on the wall in front of his bed

All things considered, his room isnt too messy, he has a few dirty clothes here and there, and a few dishes, but it's not terrible

Masky

His room is on the third floor, and is the second door on the right

His door is also not decorated, just a simple wooden door with his name on a bronze plate

His room reeks of cigarettes

His bed is right under his window, it is queen sized and is the first thing you see as you open his door

He has basic white sheets, pillows with basic white pillowcases, and a basic brown comforter

He has a desk on the wall to the left of his bed, where he keeps books, notebooks, writing utensils, and his laptop

Next to his desk, he has an array of weapons

Guns, knifes, crossbows, etc

He has them displayed on the wall, he absolutely just stares at them from time to time, very proud of them

He doesn't have many decorations, but he does have a few trinkets Toby and Sally have given him

He has two nightstands, one has a lamp and the book hes reading, and the other has an ashtray and his current pack of cigarettes

In the drawers he has his medications, and his reading glasses (he refuses to accept the fact he's old, be nice to him about the glasses)

The jacket he normally wears is almost always thrown over his desk chair, ready for it to be used the next day

His closet is only really halfway full, so he uses the other half to store his pajamas, socks and underwear

He has a bunch of records and loves to play them

Takes him back to the good ol days

He is probably the second cleanest on this list

Eyeless Jack

His bedroom is on the second floor, and is the first door to your left

His door has been painted black and his entire room is soundproof

The black door is partly because he just likes it that way and partly to differentiate himself from Laughing Jack, which both door plates just read "Jack"

He has a twin sized bed with grey sheets and pillowcases, and a black comforter

His windows are covered by blackout curtains, making his room one of the darkest

Next to his bed, he has a nightstand with a lamp

Thats the only light source he allows

On the other side of his bed, there is a book cart with books (duh) and a few plants

He also has a bookshelf, but all of the books on the shelf are strictly educational books (studies on anatomy, different illnesses for different creatures, etc)

His desk has his laptop, tablet and a stack of notebooks, all full with his neat handwriting and labled with different things

He doesnt have many decorations in his room, but he does have some framed pictures of his friends from around the mansion

He also has a mini fridge with his stash of fresh food, it is kept clean and is restocked once every 2 weeks

He keeps his room spotless, no dust on anything, bed always made, etc

Definetly the cleanest on this list, if not in the entire house

Jeff

Jeff's room is on the second floor, and is the second door on the left

His door is very much decorated with crime scene tape, a stop sign and a small band poster

His room is very dirty, clothes, trash and dishes are strewn about the room, with a small path from his door to his bed

He has a twin sized bed (if you can even call it that) it is a worn out matress on the floor, with no sheets, pillows without a pillowcase, and a black comforter

He has a nightstand with his vape, medications and phone on it

He has a desk with a pc, nintendo switch, hairspray and makeup but he doesn't really sit at his desk much

His walls are completely covered in band posters, pride flags, road signs, and of course, his tv

He has an electric guitar, but he doesn't play it much

He only knows how to play MSI songs, but he is suprisingly good at them

He has a mannequin in his room as well, "Lucy", he named her, she is missing a leg, and four of her fingers on her left hand, jeff has stuck a knife through her eye and placed stickers over where her nipples would be as makeshift pasties

It is a running joke that Lucy is Jeff's one true love, but they have to keep their love a secret because people wouldn't understand them being together

BEN even bought lucy a cheap wig off of amazon, which sits crooked and tangled on her head

Lucy holds Jeff's bags, and his knives

His room doesn't exactly smell bad, but it doesn't smell pleasent

0/10 PLEASE DO NOT GO IN THERE WHATEVER YOU DO, YOU WILL BE MUTATED

BEN

He is on the third floor, and is the third door on the right

His door is a simple wooden door with a bronze plate that says his name

His bed is very low, almost touching the floor

There are no sheets, no pillowcases and a basic blue comforter

He has LED lights on the ceiling, which are almost always turned green

His desk has a full gaming set up, double moniters, and LED headphones, keyboard and mouse

Behind all of that, he has his hairspray, deodorant, and nintendo switch OLED

On the wall in front of his bed, his tv is mounted, under his tv he has a ps5, an xbox1 and an n64

He also has a small bookshelf where he stores all of his physical game copies

He has a bunch of blue light tapestries, almost all of them have at least one skeleton on it

He also has some posters for his favorite animes and video games (Black butler, one piece, the occassional hatsune miku poster...)

SPEAKING OF HATSUNE MIKU

He is throughly obsessed with her

He has a bunch of figurines he keeps around his gaming set up, he has a hatsune miku plush that sits on his shelf of video games, and he also bought a miku body pillow "as a joke"

And you better believe he has a few t-shirts

He keeps the body pillow stuffed under his bed, away from anyone who could possibly see her

I wouldn't say he classifies as a weeb, but he's definitely up there in the ranks

He also has a snack cart by his pc set up, one tier with drinks, the other two with snacks like chips, cookies, pastries, etc

As for cleanliness, i would say he isnt too dirty

He has a few dirty dishes on his desk, a few dirty shirts and hoodies here and there but other than that, his room is pretty clean

[scudslut]

em's masterlist/guidelines

fluff - 𐙚 || smut - ♱ || angst - ✾

➳ Daryl Dixon

one-shots: sins and honey flavored sweetness 𐙚 ♱ ✾ heartsease 𐙚 ♱ a summer wasting 𐙚 midnight refreshments 𐙚 a new years surprise 𐙚 ♱ lazy mornings 𐙚 stay with me 𐙚 ✾ too sweet ♱

drabbles: taste me ♱ head w/ daryl 𐙚♱ daryl’s uncut ♱ s4 daryl 𐙚 ♱ ✾

cannock chase 𐙚

➳ Scud Frohmeyer

one-shots: take me however you want too ♱

drabbles: cockwarming w/ scud ♱ scuds a slut (canonically) ♱

➳ My Edits

normy's bday dhl burn, burn, burn new bottega

please send requests!

About Me!

em | 21 | gemini

hi everyone! this is so long awaited (i’m legit so lazy) but finally i have a masterlist/about me!

╰─▸ my names emma, i’m obviously in love w daryl dixon/norman reedus. i love to write and make edits — u guys should totally follow my tiktok account @mrsemmadixon or otherwise known as scudslut;)

i met norman jdkskajajs at the nyc comic con 2023, he signed the back of my phone case, i’ll actually die on a fucking hill. yes, he’s just as godly in person.

in my day to day life i work with animals 10 hours a day, they are my main passion aside from writing and whatnot, so if i post a photo of a really cute dog i met, that’s why lmao.

i have 2 cats right now, my baby lily i got last year and sophie who i’ve had since i was a kid. typically we rescue all our animals!

i deal with extreme anxiety and depression from a major accident that happened in my life a few years ago (so if i don’t respond or have trouble posting sometimes… that’s why and i really hope everyone understands.)

I love, love, love music. I play the piano and guitar, probably not very good but who cares. some of my all time favorite artists are.. and here we go on a rampage... deftones, cigsaftersex, wheezer, nirvana, mac, frank, lana, djo, catpower, the vines, dinosaur jr, labi siffre, the kills, tom odell, strokes, velvet underground, kendrick, norah jones, red hot chilies, the smiths, billy idol, the cure, no vacation, mazzy star, fleetwood, empire of the sun, pinegrove, otis redding, neil young, etta james, summer walker, motley crue, guns'n'roses, foo fighters, biggie, shady, nelly, jay-z, $uici$ide boys, gucci... and so much more, my music taste is actually bipolar.

on that note, i actually have a playlist for daryl + norman (music he reposts/i think he’d like) lmk if u want me so share them.

i’m canadian

my parents are both extreme alcoholics, so i suffer from a multitude of childhood traumas as well as current ones. we love it here!:) but id like to think i relate to daryl in some sense, if its the only comfort i get from it.

i could live off of pasta, watermelon and coffee alone

i spend my time either at my job, reading, writing, editing or spending time with some close friends.

and that’s pretty much me!:)

please feel free to ask me questions or request fics, i will absolutely love to do them! (as long as they follow guidelines) if your unsure, just message me to clarify!

My Guidelines:

absolutely no rape/SA/even slight connotations of it.

no incest.

hitting, slapping, or any extreme violence during play, is a no.

age play - i will dabble in this but nothing major where reader is barely an adult. the most i’ll do is early/mid 20’s and daryl is his canon age.

oh yes, and i will write for all norman reedus characters! if you want someone else, messsage/ask me!

gifs/dividers from @cafekitsune

© scudslut - all works are my own. please do not steal, copy, translate or modify any of my work!

[melancholicmelanin]

Compress/Repress | Chapter 2: Sister, Sister

Pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

Summary: As the summer of 06' winds down, Maya is anxiously prepping for a secret adventure: flying to New York to watch her half-sister Tashi compete at the Junior US Open. The only problem? She’s doing it behind her grandparents’ backs.

Word Count: 5k

Warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

masterlist | prev | next | wattpad | AO3

BEL-AIR, CALIFORNIA – August 30, 2006

“Look, you’ve already got the plane tickets, right? And you’ve figured out how to get to LAX. You’re halfway there!” Tashi exclaimed. Her tone was light-hearted, like the gravity of the situation was no big deal, as if sneaking across the country wasn’t an act that could land Winston Pratt in the hospital.

It had been a year since they’d made their first connection—one impulsive friend request that had led to a secret sisterhood neither of them had anticipated. An outsider looking in would deduce them as a close-knit pair of sisters. Heck, maybe long-time best friends even. Now, they spoke almost every day—through texts, phone calls and sometimes in person, always careful to keep their connection hidden from their respective families.

Maya let out a low, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. Like she was failing at convincing Tashi to change her mind and ditch the plan altogether. Her heart raced as she listened to Tashi’s voice echo through the receiver. Maya’s heart raced as she took in her sister’s words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling beneath her tummy.

“I know, I know.” Maya said as she paced between the four pastel walls of her room, her Paul Frank slippers gliding against the plush white rug.

“I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. Like what if I get human trafficked at the airport and the kidnappers want ransom. They’d freak!” She exclaimed, dramatically tossing her arms in the air.

“Oh my god, M!” Tashi blurted out, sounding both exasperated and amused at her sister’s active imagination. When her guard was down, Maya Pratt-Duncan’s true form always showed, she was an anxious nervous reck at the end of the day.

Maya shut her eyes and clutched her phone out of embarrassment as she heard Tashi's befuddled voice coming through on the other end. Despite being miles apart, she could almost see the jokes forming in Tashi’s mind.

“You watch too many movies,” Tashi quipped, trying to ease Maya's worries.

“They’re not going to find out,” She explained further, firm and unbothered, the usual confidence Maya admired in her spilling into every word. “You’ve got everything under control. This is our moment. And I want you there when I win.”

Maya made her way towards her bed, her suitcase laid bare on top as she prepared for tomorrow's flight. She carefully checked and rechecked all her belongings, her nerves still prickling despite Tashi's reassurance.

The thought of seeing her half-sister for the first time in action—on the court, in her element—made her heart flutter. But the idea of lying to her grandparents, Tabitha and Winston, weighed on her heavily. They had raised her, protected her, and shielded her from so much of the world. And now, here she was, planning to deceive them.

Maya's voice was soft and hushed, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips as she spoke. "I know you're going to win," she said, her words filled with admiration and confidence. "But...I've never done anything like this before, you know."

Tashi's laughter came through the other end of the phone, light and teasing. "Oh, come on, Maya. You're going to be just fine."

Maya couldn't help but bite her lip, a habit her grandmother couldn’t stand. "It's one thing meeting up at South Coast Plaza, but flying all the way to New York? That's a whole new level."

"Hey, trust me," Tashi reassured her. "You've got this."

“And besides, it's not like I've been completely innocent this whole time.” Tashi leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers fiddling with the telephone cord as she recounted one of their rebellious antics. “Remember that college party we went to? My dad definitely doesn't know about that!" Maya’s laughter echoed throughout her room as she reminisced about ditching the party in exchange for the local 7 Eleven at 2AM. Till this day she couldn't believe they had gotten away with it, but then again, Tabitha was under the impression that she was at UCLA college scouting.

A warm, genuine smile crept onto Maya's face as she listened to Tashi speak, feeling a sense of comfort and ease wash over her. Tashi had always been one to remain unfazed by anything--whether it be societal rules or the constant pressure of her successful tennis career. It was a trait that Maya both admired and secretly envied, wishing she could exude the same level of nonchalance in her own life.

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” Maya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“You won’t,” Tashi reassured her, her tone softening. “Look, you’ve covered your tracks. You told your grandparents you’re staying with that friend of yours, right? The one with the gap in her teeth?”

Maya nodded, despite Tashi not being present to see her affirmation.

“Yeah, I told them I’m going to Reneé’s for the weekend,” She confirmed, biting her lip. “I mean, they’re really good friends with her family, but I still feel guilty.”

"Maya, listen to me. You have nothing to worry about. You're not doing anything wrong," Tashi insisted, her voice filled with conviction and confidence. “You’re just… bending the rules a little. It’s not like we’re committing a crime,” Tashi said, her voice filled with the kind of certainty Maya wished she could muster herself.

Maya paused, her mind swirling with Tashi's words. At the end of the day, she knew she had to do this. Her entire life had been spent following the strict rules and expectations set by her grandparents. They lived in a world of high society and legacy, where image was everything. But Tashi's world was different. Spending time with her free-spirited sister had taught Maya to break out of her shell and live in the moment. She longed to let go of Tabitha's expectations and just be herself. This trip was for her, and it would be the last time her grandmother's disapproval stood in the way of her desires. As she gazed at the open window ahead of her, she could feel a sense of freedom and adventure calling to her, beckoning her to embrace this new chapter in her life.

“Okay,” Maya said, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing it.”

"Hell yeah, you are!" Tashi's voice echoed through the phone, filled with pride and determination. Maya could practically picture her sister fist-pumping into the air. "Plane tickets aren't cheap, babe. But trust me, M. You're going to love New York City. It's vibrant, pulsing with energy." Tashi's words sparked a feeling of anticipation in Maya's chest. "And just wait till you see me on that court at the Open—I'm going to dominate."

"Now get some sleep and prepare for the most unforgettable weekend of your life," Tashi exclaimed with a wide grin.

They exchanged goodbyes, and after ending the call, Maya stared at her phone, still buzzing from the energetic conversation. She walked over to her window, gazing out at the dazzling skyline of Los Angeles as it shimmered under the night sky. The city lights twinkled like stars as a plane sawed the sky, beckoning her to join in on the fun. Her reflection in the glass appeared small and hesitant. Could she really go through with this? She had never been one to break rules or rebel – every decision she had ever made was with her grandparents' blessings. But this... this felt like stepping into a whole new world. A world where she could let loose and be free, even if just for a few days.

It’s just one weekend, she told herself. Just a couple of days. I can do this.

The Next Day

Now, most people would think the hard part was packing, right? How in the world do you fit a week's worth of clothes into a carry-on suitcase for a weekend trip? Well, lucky for Maya, that kind of job needed experience, and she’d been practicing for years. She had honed the art of over-preparing for every kind of situation—always with the perfect mix of practical essentials and stylish options, who cares if it ends up with you lugging around two suitcases in the middle of LAX. But packing was the easy part; it was everything that came after that was trickier.

The hard part was actually figuring out how to get out of the house without waking any suspicions. Maya knew her grandparents’ routine like the back of her hand; it helped that it hadn’t changed in years. Tabitha woke up every morning at 6:30 A.M. on the dot for her morning jog with "the girls"—her circle of wealthy friends who gossip as much as they power walk. Winston would follow shortly after, making his way down to the breakfast table with the morning newspaper already tucked under his arm. Ettie, the housekeeper, would be brewing a pot of Italian coffee for him. The whole ritual was so ingrained in the fabric of their household that Maya could practically set her watch by it.

Her grandmother always had a way of figuring out when Maya was up to something, so timing was crucial. If she was going to slip out unnoticed, she’d have to be long gone before Tabitha finished her jog. She calculated that the best window of opportunity was during those precious few minutes when Winston would be alone in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and absorbed in the day’s headlines. She’d leave a meticulously written note on the entryway table, some excuse about the early bird catching the worm and hope that would be enough to buy her a few extra hours.

Her heart racing, Maya reached the top of the grand staircase and paused. The entranceway below seemed impossibly vast; the polished marble floor gleaming under the faint light of dawn that streamed in through the stained-glass windows. A family portrait, prominently displayed by the foyer, seemed to gaze down at her—a beautiful oil painting of her grandparents, herself, and her late mother. Her mother’s soft eyes seemed to follow her every move as she cautiously descended the stairs, almost as if silently questioning her decision—Are you sure about this?

Maya tiptoed down the staircase, gripping the banister as if it might help her tread more lightly. The large grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, the only sound breaking the quiet of the early morning. Her pulse quickened with every step, the echo of her shoes on the marble floor sounding far too loud in the stillness. She couldn’t risk alerting Ettie, who was always the first to rise before her grandparents. If Ettie caught her, there would be questions, and then she’d have to explain why she was up so early, where she was going, and why she had two packed suitcases for a sleepover with a family friend.

Her suitcase’s wheels glided silently over the marble floor as she made her way to the front door, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. She caught a glimpse of the kitchen down the hallway—Winston was already there, sitting at the breakfast table, absorbed in his newspaper. Her note, propped up against the sugar bowl, looked small and insignificant, and for a fleeting moment, Maya wondered if she should just go in and tell him the truth. But she quickly brushed that thought aside. There was no way they’d ever let her go if they knew where she was really heading.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle on the front door and slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

A sharp gust of cool air struck Maya's face as soon as she stepped outside her front door, sending a shiver down her spine. The crispness of the early morning air seemed to whisper warnings in her ears, urging her to turn back while she still could. But Maya pushed the thoughts away with determination. She had made up her mind, and she wasn't going to let any doubts stop her.

In the pale light of dawn, Maya spotted Reneé's car sitting at the curb, its headlights cutting through the dimness like beacons. Reneé stood next to the driver's side door, wrapped in a thick jacket, her bonnet still on her head and rubbing her sleepy eyes. As soon as she saw Maya approaching, she perked up slightly, though her expression remained a mix of curiosity and concern.

Maya had always known she could count on Reneé, her best friend since childhood. They met in the most ridiculously “private school” way possible: at their elite academy’s spring fair. It was 1995, and six-year-old Maya was twirling around in a frilly lavender dress, sparkly shoes, and butterfly clips in her hair like a mini-Mariah Carey. Meanwhile, Reneé—awkward, with wild curls and a shiny new camcorder her parents bought to shut her up—was filming a “serious” documentary titled “Life Sucks When You’re Six".

The collision was inevitable. Reneé backed right into Maya, sending both of them sprawling. But instead of tears, Maya jumped up, adjusted her dress, and grinned. “Hey, can I be in your movie?” she asked, with all the confidence of a little girl who had just discovered Clueless. Reneé, who was usually more comfortable behind the camera than in front of people, couldn’t help but smile. From that moment on, they were inseparable—like two halves of a Spice Girls cassette tape.

Growing up in the same exclusive Los Angeles neighborhood, they were an unlikely pair, more like Cher Horowitz and Daria Morgendorffer at group sleepovers than your typical best friends. Maya was the girly girl: always perfectly put together, with glittery lip gloss and an impressive collection of Lisa Frank stationery. Reneé, on the other hand, had a style best described as “indie film director in training”—baggy overalls, thrifted T-shirts, and always a journal in hand to jot down her latest “brilliant” ideas. While Maya attended etiquette and ballet classes, Reneé was busy trying to figure out how to direct the next Godzilla movie.

Despite their differences, they shared everything: secrets, dreams, and even some epic middle school crushes. In Maya’s perfectly pink bedroom—walls covered in a fancy wallpaper imported from France and posters of NSYNC and fashion magazine cutouts neatly pinned on a cork board—they would lie on the floor and talk about how one day they’d move to New York City, where Maya would become the next It Girl and Reneé would direct films about “the real meaning of life” (whatever that meant at age twelve). In Reneé’s room, which was more of a creative chaos zone, they would brainstorm ideas for homemade movies, often starring Maya as a glamorous protagonist and Reneé providing the scene of what they thought a woman in her 20s would find themselves in

Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of navigating the ups and downs of adolescence in a world where everyone seemed to have at least three vacation homes. They laughed at dumb celebrity gossip from TRL, whispered about grand plans that sounded straight out of Lizzie McGuire, and found ways to dodge the relentless expectations placed upon them by their parents. With Reneé by her side, Maya didn’t have to worry about being perfect; she could just be herself—even if “herself” meant spending a Friday night reenacting scenes from Titanic while Reneé filmed it as "performance art."

Even in the early morning light, Reneé’s voice was dripping with suspicion. "I can't believe you're actually up this early," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the car door. "This better be worth dragging me out of bed before sunrise. Did you finally get tired of the whole 'good girl' act and decide to run off with some older guy?"

Maya tossed her suitcase into the backseat, the car grumbling to life as she tried to sound casual. "What? No," she said, though her voice came out a little too defensive. "It’s just a quick trip. I’ll be back by Monday." But she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest at the thought of how close she was to getting caught.

Reneé raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing like a gossip columnist sniffing out a juicy scandal. "Right. 'Quick trip' is exactly what I’d say if I were meeting some mysterious silver fox." Her tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Maya forced out a laugh, shaking her head as she slid into the passenger seat. "Please. If I were running away to meet some older guy, I’d at least wait until I was done with high school. And I’d have a way better cover story."

Reneé leaned over the steering wheel, still eyeing Maya like she was trying to solve a mystery. "Uh-huh. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s up, and you’re not exactly packing like someone who's just 'going to visit a friend.' Spill it, Maya. What’s really going on? Did you get seduced by some rich guy who swept you off your feet at one of those boring charity events? Because honestly, that sounds kind of romantic. Also, kind of reckless, but still romantic."

Maya fumbled with the seatbelt, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t exactly tell Reneé that she was sneaking away to New York to meet the half-sister she’d only found out about a year ago. That kind of revelation was way too fragile, too precious to expose to anyone else’s opinions—not even Reneé’s. "I’m fine," she said, a little too quickly. "I just… needed to get out of here for a few days before the semester starts. You know, clear my head or whatever."

Reneé rolled her eyes but started the car, steering them down the empty streets. "Okay, sure. But if I find out you ran off with some guy who’s old enough to have his own yacht, I’ll say I told you so."

The car cruised through the dimly lit streets; the city still wrapped in the quiet of early morning. Reneé reached over and switched on the radio, landing on a station playing an old Britney Spears song. "Oh my God, remember when we did that dance routine to this?" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "Come on, Maya, don’t leave me hanging. Sing it like you mean it!"

Maya’s laughter bubbled up despite the tension she was carrying, and she joined in. As they belted out the chorus together, it was easy to forget, just for a moment, where she was headed and the secrets she was keeping. For those few minutes, it felt like they were back in middle school again, planning sleepovers and giggling about silly crushes. But as the song faded, reality crept back in, and Maya’s thoughts returned to the trip ahead.

The car rumbled to a stop at the departure terminal, and Maya took a deep breath, bracing herself for the whirlwind of the airport. The early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the sky, casting a hazy glow over the glass facade. Despite the hour, LAX was already alive with travellers dragging suitcases, taxi drivers haggling for fares, and the occasional lost soul wandering around with a coffee in hand.

Maya climbed out of the car, her steps slower than usual as she retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Reneé stretched her arms over her head and let out a long yawn. "Alright, runaway princess," she said, still eyeing Maya like she was waiting for a confession. "Go have your mysterious rendezvous. But I swear, if you come back wearing a diamond bracelet, I’m going to need the whole story."

"Will do," Maya said, forcing a smile. But her chest felt tight. She wanted to tell Reneé the truth—about her real reason for the trip, about Tashi—but the words just wouldn’t come.

Reneé pulled her in for a quick hug. "Whatever it is you're doing, just be careful, okay? I’m all for spontaneous adventures, but try not to come back married to a guy who quotes The Great Gatsby unironically."

"I promise," Maya said, laughing nervously. "No secret weddings."

Reneé grinned as she climbed back into the car. "Good. See you when you get back, okay? And text me if you need a rescue."

Maya gave her a final wave as Reneé’s car rolled away, the taillights fading into the flow of early morning traffic. For a moment, she stood at the curb, feeling strangely exposed against the backdrop of the sprawling airport. She adjusted the strap of her bag and took a deep breath. She was really doing this.

The automatic doors slid open with a faint hiss, and Maya stepped inside, letting the chaos of the airport wash over her. There was a comforting anonymity here—a sense that she was just another traveller with somewhere to be, just another face in the crowd. She weaved her way through the bustling terminal, her suitcase bumping along behind her as she headed for the self-check-in kiosks.

As she tapped at the screen, printing her boarding pass, Maya’s thoughts wandered back to Reneé’s teasing. It would’ve been easier to lie and say she was sneaking off to meet some rich older guy. At least then, Reneé would have had something fun to speculate about. Instead, Maya was about to board a plane to meet a half-sister she hadn’t even known existed until a year ago, and not even her best friend knew the real story.

With her boarding pass in hand, she made her way toward the security line, her pulse quickening. She was about to cross an invisible line—leaving behind everything she’d known to find answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But there was no turning back now.

Maya found a seat by the window at the gate and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages. There was a new one from Tashi, sent just a few minutes ago.

Tashi: Just got to the courts. Can’t wait for you to get here! It’s going to be amazing; I promise.

Maya smiled, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling inside her. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to finally meet Tashi face-to-face, to see the sister she’d only known through late-night phone calls and Facebook photos. It felt surreal, like stepping into a story that wasn’t entirely her own.

As her flight was called, Maya stood and gathered her things, ready to step into the unknown. Whatever lay ahead, at least it was her secret to keep, for now.

NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK - August 4th, 2019

The sun blazed relentlessly upon the crowd, its heat shimmering off the concrete in waves that distorted the air. Maya squinted behind her oversized sunglasses, their dark lenses doing little to shield her from the sun’s intensity. Her skin prickled from the overexposure of Vitamin D, making it difficult to focus on anything besides the sweltering discomfort that clung to her like a second skin. As she sat in the stands, the familiar scent of sunscreen and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, triggering memories of summers long past—carefree days spent at her grandparents' estate in Bel-Air Crest, where her only concern was perfecting her bronzed tan.

The hum of the crowd rose and fell around her, but it felt distant, like background noise from an abandoned television. Maya’s gaze drifted across the humble country club, taking in the swirl of colors from spectators’ sun hats and vibrant outfits, and the flashes of bright white tennis gear as players gathered to bear witness to what they suspected to be the match of a century. She was scanning the rows of seats absentmindedly when a tall, slender figure caught her attention. The person was descending the steps slowly, almost as if they were reluctant to be here at all.

As the figure came closer, the cascade of mid-length blonde hair, the effortless grace, and the striking features became unmistakable. Even from a distance, Maya could tell it was Tashi. Her sister’s presence filled her with a complicated rush of emotions—part nostalgia, part unease. They locked eyes just as Tashi reached her row. Time seemed to slow, and an unspoken tension hung between them, as heavy as the humid air. Despite the match unfolding on the court before them, Maya couldn’t tear her gaze away. She watched as Tashi took her seat just a few feet away, their proximity at once too close and yet, not close enough.

'Get a grip Maya, you knew she would be here.'

Maya’s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her seat, her knuckles turning a ghostly shade of her usual caramel complexion as the internal struggle roiled within her. Her eyes darted anxiously to the tennis court, where the looming presence of the upcoming match filled her with a sense of dread. The players’ shadows stretched long in the late afternoon sun, mirroring the tension and anticipation coursing through Maya’s body. It was as if the scene was mocking her—a snapshot of normalcy while her mind was anything but calm. The roar of the crowd spiked in excitement as the players began their warm-ups, the rhythmic thud of tennis balls echoing like a ticking clock. Maya shifted in her seat, trying to shake off the prickly sensation that crept up her spine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tashi’s gaze turn toward her. Tashi—the sister who had once known her better than anyone else in the world, who could finish her sentences, who could always sense what she was thinking. Now, it felt like they were two strangers who had to pretend they hadn’t once shared everything. Maya’s breath hitched slightly as she felt Tashi’s eyes on her, the weight of that familiar gaze bringing a sudden rush of memories she had buried beneath layers of silence and time.

Tashi's features, once so easy to read, seemed guarded now. Her cool expression betrayed nothing, but Maya knew her sister too well to be fooled. The slight tension in her jaw, the faint crease on her forehead—it was all there, hiding beneath the calm façade. A year ago, they would have hugged, laughed, shared inside jokes to ease the tension. Now, they were separated by more than just a few feet; a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved issues lay between them.

Tashi's gaze landed on Maya, her once-closest confidante, now a stranger sitting just a few feet away. It unnerved her, how different Maya seemed, even in small ways—the slight slump in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw. There was something brittle about her that hadn’t been there before, a fragility hiding behind the composed exterior. Maya's forced smile, offered to a couple of teenage girls who recognized her from a fashion magazine, barely reached her eyes. It was the kind of smile people practiced in the mirror, perfected for the sake of appearances.

As Tashi’s gaze drifted back to the court, she felt a pang of something close to regret. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had imagined a different future, one where they could lean on each other no matter what happened. But life had taken a different course, and the choices they’d made—some willingly, others out of desperation—had driven a wedge between them that seemed impossible to remove.

The match hadn’t even started, but Maya could already feel the tension tightening around her like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest touch. She stole a glance at Tashi, who was staring ahead, her jaw clenched as though determined not to show any sign of weakness. There had always been that fierce pride about Tashi, a need to present a strong front no matter how turbulent things were beneath the surface. It was one of the things Maya had admired about her growing up, but now it felt like a wall keeping her out.

"Nice to see you made it," Tashi said finally, her voice low and edged with irony, as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant it or not.

Maya's lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, carefully controlled. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Tashi’s mouth curved into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Right," she said, turning her attention back to the players who were now preparing for the first serve. "Because we’ve always been so good at being there for each other."

The words stung, though Maya wasn’t entirely sure whether Tashi intended them to. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and pressed her lips together to keep the sharp retort from escaping. Instead, she chose to stay silent, gripping the arms of her chair until she could feel the bite of the metal against her palms.

The crowd erupted in applause as the first serve cut through the air, the players diving into the game with all the precision and grace expected at this level of competition. But for Maya, the real match was happening here, in the silent exchanges and unsaid words between her and Tashi. Every ball that flew across the net seemed to carry the weight of their unresolved history, every cheer from the crowd a reminder of how long they had been pretending that everything was fine.

The tension hung between them like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn’t just a tennis match to Maya and Tashi—it was a collision of everything unresolved, a confrontation without words. The years of sisterhood, of shared secrets and broken promises, all seemed to blur together, fusing the past and present into one inescapable truth: no matter how far they drifted, they could never really escape each other.

And as the players battled it out on the court below, Maya couldn’t help but feel as if she and Tashi were the real competitors, locked in a game where neither of them knew the rules anymore.

[carolmunson]

we better make a start (older!modern!eddie)

continuation of orange colored skyorange colored sky setlist

inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i go to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. tw: outside of an age gap, not much. super fluffy it borders on gross. eddie is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. music inspo: everywhere - fleetwood mac

Wednesdays at two… You wished you’d met this guy in the fall when you still felt cute getting off the train. It was like being in a sous vide every time you got on and off, walking back out into the hot sun of the city. Would your hair frizz? Was your makeup melting? You were at least smart enough to wear bike shorts under your skirt to avoid the rubbing of your thighs – hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Your feet hurt in your 90s looking wicker sandals but at a passing glance in a store window you figure you don’t look half bad. You look infinitely better than when he first saw you in your ‘errands ugly’ clothes. Maybe he’d even think you look cute. Y’know – if he’s even there. Why’re you meeting up with some random stranger anyway? A sick flare of nervous embarrassment slides through your chest like a snake – this is stupid. He probably forgot about it. Whatever, you wanted to pick up a couple things anyway – it’s totally fine – this isn’t weird at all – and if he’s not there? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? You’ll be fine. You’ll go home and sift through a never ending collection of left swipes and ‘haha not much, just chillin naked. wbu?’ messages on whatever dating app you feel like opening that day. 

A block and an escalator later, you’re in the depths of the shopping center where Trader’s is. You swallow the sick creeping up in your belly — this is so stupid — but it doesn’t take long for you to spot him at a small table near the coffee stand across from the store. His hair sits in a low bun this time, most of his wavy curls spilling over and framing his face. He looks nice, black tee shirt that he might’ve pressed, smarter looking black chinos with a belt he likely got at a vintage store. The silver buckle looks pretty and polished, shining like the rings on his fingers and the rim of the wire glasses he had perched on his nose. He’s typing away on a laptop, black iced coffee melting next to it that he occasionally reaches to sip.

“Um…You’re Eddie, right?” you stammer out as you walk toward the table. He looks up from his laptop, the glow of this screen reflecting back in his glasses. He stops to look you over, straw still in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, a breath of relief puffing out of his nose, “Didn’t actually think you were gonna show up — was sort of a shot in the dark.” He stands up, hand outstretched for yours to shake, “I never caught your name.” 

You take it, his handshake is firm and you can make out some of the tattoos on his fingers and hands. You introduce yourself and he mumbles a ‘nice to meet you’, your name sounds nice coming out of his mouth. “This feels like a business meeting,” you laugh, “Like I’m here for an interview.” He laughs back, “I did just come here from a meeting so I might still be in work mode, sorry.” He takes off his glasses, hanging them off the collar of his shirt. He packs up his bag, a well worn Jansport backpack covered in patches like the vest he had on the last time you saw him. You could tell it was old since there was a patch right at the center that read ‘METALLICA 1997 - Poor Touring Me’. A few other concert patches with ranging dates, 2003, 2009, 1998 littered the black canvas, you smile at it. 

“1997?” you ask, “Metallica concert at what – nine? Your parents were cool with that?” 

He looks down at it and his cheeks go pink, letting a breath puff out of his lips that makes them push out and motorboat, “What year were you born?” “‘92,” you answer, “Why?” 

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with a tight smile, “You’re a young thing, aren’t you?” 

“How old were you in ‘97?” you ask while you both make it through the double doors of the grocery store. He grabs a basket and raises his brows with another big breath. “Seventeen,” he says, “Got this backpack two days before that show actually.” “You still have it?” you ask, trying to do the math in your head of how old he is and how long he’s had it. “Jansport has a lifetime warranty,” Eddie smirks, “I’ve been putting it to good use.” “So why’re you back here,” you ask, following him to the back aisle where the bread is, “You just went food shopping a few days ago.” “I went for my neighbor,” he explains, grabbing two baguettes, “He fractured his foot and hasn’t been able to get up and down the stairs. Been running errands for ‘im in the meantime.” “Oh,” you smile, “That’s nice of you.” “Thanks,” he says, “You like bruschetta?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t really think that Trader Joe’s was an ideal date so I thought I could ask you out here and also get some stuff for it ahead of time.” “Oh,” you repeat, heat creeping up on your cheeks, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well if you’re free tomorrow afternoon…” he begins, but gets sidetracked. He sneaks behind you to grab some yogurt covered pretzels, “I saw you grab these the other day and got some too, they’re fuckin’ delicious.” 

The spicy suede scent he had last time is replaced with a bright citrusy cedar, it matches his overall disposition. Your mouth waters when you inhale. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he starts again, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to treat you to a little something cute in the park. It’s supposed to be not so swampy.” “Like a picnic?” you ask with a hint of a tease. “Yeah,” he says, a glow of pink perking up on his ears hidden by his hair, “Something like that. If you’re into that – like – if you even want to go on a date with me.” “I showed up here. I feel like that’s answer enough, right?” “Right, right.” The conversation quiets while he tosses a few more things in his basket. “So what was your meeting for?” you ask, watching him look over the cold cuts and cured meats in the open refrigerated section. He was one of those, a ‘stand-and-starer’ instead of just knowing what to get. You try not to grind your teeth. “Oh, new client meeting,” he says, like you know exactly what he’s referencing. 

“For what? If you don’t mind me asking.” He reaches for a package of salami and prosciutto before turning to you, “Do you eat meat?” You nod while he continues to pick up and compare products, “New client for my side gig.” “Which,” he says, tossing his selections in the basket, “If you can believe it, pays a shit ton more than my main gig.” “What’s your big money side gig?” you laugh, following him to the next aisle. “I’m a web developer,” he says, squatting down to look at granola. He hopes you don’t hear the way his knees crack, the way his face winces at the slight tightness in his joints. In Eddie’s defense, he didn’t get a chance to stretch this morning – normally he’s much more limber – he promises. “Like making websites and stuff?” you squat next to him, your own knees cracking. You hope he doesn’t hear it. “Just like that,” he says. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your arm to steady you as you wobble to move out of his way. His grip is gentle but firm, the spots beneath his fingertips buzzing with electricity, “Careful there, sugar.” A smile spreads deep across your face while your eyes make friends with the floor under you, both of you rising back to your feet. His keys jingle on the same carabiner from before, clinking against a silver chain that you’re pretty sure connects to a wallet in his back pocket. He has Nike Killshots on today, the white with a black check instead of the navy. Everyone and their father has the white and navy. “Do you like it?” you ask, holding in a giggle while he grunts getting up. “Writing code and doing graphic design? Sure,” he shrugs, “Got into it really ahead of the game. You were probably still in grade school.” You roll your eyes and he snickers, “But mostly, I make websites for trust fund kids who use daddy’s money to start new businesses. So it’s sort of like my side gig is uh…” “Exploiting the rich?” you grin, he grins too, “Super punk.” He shakes his head while you both walk out into the produce section, “No, no, super metal.”

“What’s your main gig?” “Oh, come on – don’t break my heart,” Eddie’s dramatic flare shines through when he leans up against the flat edge of the pillar holding up the bananas. He holds his free hand to his chest, looking at you with a faux forlorn face that makes his brown eyes shine. Now that you’re really taking stock, you see the thin silver hoop hugging his right nostril – something about it makes your heart thump harder in your chest. “The tattoos don’t give it away, huh?” he asks, passing the basket to the other arm, both biceps flexing against the well tailored t-shirt’s sleeves. 

“A tattoo artist?” you wager a guess with a grimace and half shrug. “No,” he says, the word covered in a soft laugh, “But I’ve been in my artist's shop enough that I might as well get paid to be there.” “I can see that,” you nod, pulling a bunch of bananas from behind him and cradling them in your arm, “So what is it then?” “C’mon, it’s obvious,” he smiles, “I’m a rockstar.” 

“Are you?” you ask, your laugh bubbles out of you and it makes the back of his neck get hot. You’re too pretty to be flirting with him in Trader Joe’s but he can’t stop trying to make you laugh and smile. 

“Well,” he shrugs, kicking off the wall, “Sort of.” “Sort of a rockstar?” your brow lifts while you scan some of the fruits, hand reaching down to a display in front of you, “If you’re doing food food, how about I do dessert?” 

“Peaches, huh?” he asks with a smirk, wrinkling his nose, “A little messy, don’tcha think?” 

“They’re nectarines,” you correct, putting a few in one of the produce bags, “They’re not the same.” 

“Hm,” he shrugs, letting his finger trail over the smooth waxy skin of one of the nectarines in the display, “Whatever you say, Peach.” “Pfft,” you shake your head the same way he did to you, tying off the bag while you try to ignore how the butterflies in your stomach multiply at him calling you Peach. “So if you’re doing dessert that means you’re free tomorrow, then?” he raises his brows, waiting for your answer while you both walk to the checkout line, “You never said if you were.” “Yes I did,” you protest. His tattooed hand reaches out for the nectarines and bunch of bananas you’re holding. You look down at them and then back up at him, Eddie gives you a look, encouraging you to hand them over.

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me – gimme these, I got ‘em–” he beckons you with his hand to take them until you relent, putting them both in his basket, “And trust me, I’m glad you’re down to go on a date with me. But I just wanna make sure you’re around tomorrow so I know to turn on my charm in the morning.” 

“Oh, it’s not on right now?” you flirt. Eddie’s smile gets boyish and shy, tucking a loose salt and pepper collection of strands behind his ear. He’s too blushy to respond, thankful that the Trader Joe’s worker directs you both for the next cashier. He hands you your bananas and nectarines and you plop them into your canvas bag while he finishes up, walking together out of the double doors. 

“Um, could I - uh – damn why am I so nervous to ask you this? What am I, sixteen?” he thinks out loud to himself, furrowing his brow at his own ridiculousness, “Fuck, could I um – get your number?” 

“You already asked me on a date and you’re nervous to get my number?” you tease, “For real?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you one day,” he says, handing you his phone. He tucks in his lips while you take it, watching eagerly while you put in your information. You save it under ‘Peach 🍑’ with your real name in the second line. 

“Oh what, did it happen all the way back in the 70s or something? Hard to remember?” Your mean girl tone of voice has a hold on him that thrums in his chest. 

“So you’re one of those girls, huh?” he releases his lips, tip of his tongue pressing against one of his canines, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes his phone back when you offer it to him, taking a quick second to shoot you a text that just says ‘eddie m.’ Your phone dings in your hand, going to save his number while he watches. 

“M’gonna put it in as ‘Sort of Rockstar’,” you giggle to yourself. “Please don’t.” “Too late.” 

You drop your phone into your canvas bag, giving him a final once over. He does the same and his stare almost makes you nervous with the way his brown eyes soften when they find your face. Not one for awkward silence you reach your hand out like he did when you met outside of the store. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie,” you say, a lightness to your voice that has him swooning. His hand takes yours, big and slightly rough, calloused fingertips slightly brushing your wrist. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, giving you a firm shake, “Same time tomorrow? At the park?” 

“Sounds good.” 

“I’ll um, I’ll text you. I’ll drop a pin,” he offers. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, anxious with anticipation for tomorrow – for a real date. You say your goodbyes, your ‘see you tomorrows’. Only to both start walking the same direction towards Target. 

“Oh,” you laugh, “Are you going to Target, too?” 

He laughs back, slightly hoarse and rough, smokey sounding, “I am. Should I wait a little? Don’t wanna cramp your style or anything. I know we just said goodbye.” 

“No, no, we can go together,” you smile, big and bright, “We can both decide on what I’m making for dessert.” 

prev | next

[barrenclan]

I've been thinking of this for so long and have only now mustered up the courage to send an ask here. The Nowhere Kings lullaby is so very Deepdark coded.

Thank you for sending in an ask! I always like receiving them.

I agree very much with you, so much that Nowhere King has been on the PATFW playlist for awhile now! Here is a link to it if you'd like to listen.

I like your analysis on it!

Oh, yeah, I can absolutely see this Rainhaze at the very end of his line, twisted by Defiance, and the last lines of the song about him singing to Slugpelt wondering if even she would take him back after everything he's done.

it goes on for so long and it takes so much goddamn shit and benzos to make the skin grow thick and to make the heart grow cold to make your heart grow cold

cover your ears Emily your weakened mind fears nothing i want to know if you'll still care for me if I left you to decay

emily will you bury me the purest sin that ive ever seen emily will you still love me

I like this version! Very mournful. I can see Defiance in it, with more specific Rainhaze bits mixed in.

In the land of Gods and Monsters I was an angel living in the garden of evil Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed Shining like a fiery beacon

"This is Heaven, what I truly want" It's innocence lost Innocence lost

I think I'd put it as a song sung by Pinepaw about Nightberry.

The old man next door says his house is haunted He says a ghost keeps him awake I think he's having a hard time, to be honest Since his darling passed away

I said Robert I'm so sorry Your house ain't haunted You're just not used to bein' alone

Every song is about Rainhaze.

I love this song! Actually, one of the main characters' theme songs - "Twelve Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming To the Canyon)" for Egrettail - is by the Mamas and the Papas, so nice choice. Fits well with Blacknose.

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown) And the sky is gray (and the sky is gray) I've been for a walk (I've been for a walk) On a winter's day (on a winter's day) If I didn't tell her (if I didn't tell her) I could leave today (I could leave today)

You know the preacher like the cold (preacher like the cold) He knows I'm gonna stay (knows I'm gonna stay)

All Fleetwood Mac songs fit with Slugpelt, this is true. Of course I would always love to see an animation of my characters, but the song choice is very good regardless! I like the descriptions of Slugpelt as a "pale shadow of a woman", it fits her chracter very well.

Well, did she make you cry Make you break down Shatter your illusions of love? <- Dustfeather And is it over now, do you know how? Pick up the pieces and go home

Pale shadow of a woman Black widow Pale shadow of a dragon Dust woman

I was very fond of this song when the game first came out, especially a cover that sadly doesn't seem to be on YouTube anymore. Oh well, it still fits Pinepaw perfectly.

Stuck on this dead end street Where all the new kids come to play Stuck–where past and future meet Watching all our autumns drift away

And if they ever hear my name Will they know I walked alone Around these dusty streets–My Tired old home

And will they ever stop to think What was here before, no They won’t remember that I’m gone

[beetheyapper]

MUSIC I THINK THE POETS WOULD ENJOY

this is not time period accurate but i do not care. i at least tried to keep it pre-2000s. also i’m 100% projecting my music taste onto them. deal with it? spotify playlists, each of which has around 30 songs, are linked below each description ! i spent forever on this 😭

Charlie Dalton

i’m not sure that i could pinpoint very many artists he’d particularly like, but this is a classic rock boy right here. he’d be into ac/dc, motley crue, led zeppelin, etc. perhaps a bit of duran duran (this is where i’m projecting the most.) songs about s3x and women, and songs that make him feel like the rebel he is. (this playlist has been gale hansen approved on twitter btw)

Neil Perry

oh i just know this kid would be into some funk and pop, especially 80s and perhaps even new wave (i’m again projecting). now THIS is a duran duran fan (specifically their early stuff), which is unsurprising since the lead singer has a drama degree. he’d also probably like fleetwood mac, and would be well-versed in the band’s drama. duran duran, wham!, fleetwood mac, abba, maybe even some hall & oates. songs with complex lyrics and also songs that make him wanna dance. lots of upbeat stuff because though he has things that bother him, he’d rather do anything but dwell on them.

Todd Anderson

honestly, considering they’re roommates, i feel like neil would’ve had a bit of an impact on todd’s music taste, so there’s some band influence there—but regardless, i think todd would be into more mellow and emotional songs. jeff buckley comes to mind, along with the eagles, the beatles and maybe a splash of the smiths also pls pretend now and then didn’t come out last year. he would also be letting it linger i fear

Knox Overstreet

knox would be similar to Charlie, as they probably bond over shared music taste just as much as everything else. very heavy on the classic rock, but a lean more towards songs about needing someone and love songs as he pines for Chris. Tom Petty, Robert Palmer, The Cars, and a bunch of songs introduced to him by Charlie. He sticks more to genre/theme than to a specific artist methinks

Richard Cameron

contrary to what some may think, i think Cameron would absolutely groove to some rock n roll. HOWEVER. he is a 60s-70s rock n roll elitist. he thinks Billy Idol’s cover of Mony Mony is a disgrace. he wholeheartedly believes the Beatles are the best band to have ever graced the planet. The Beatles, The Beach Boys. The Rolling Stones, etc. Maybe even some Simon & Garfunkel. Him and Charlie argue a lot about which decades were the best years of rock music

Gerard Pitts

free my boy. he just wants to dance he ain’t do nothing wrong. his music taste has definitely been influenced by some of the other poets, in the sense that if he hears a song with a funky beat that makes him want to dance, it’s added to his mixtape IMMEDIATELY. for this reason, i’m thinking lots of funk and groove. play that funky music white boy! Bee Gees, ABBA, Talking Heads, Pet Shop Boys, etc. as long as he can dance to it he could care less who it’s by

Steven Meeks

another old rock, but more on the calm side with some hints of folk and fun. Donovan, The Beatles (paul is his fav for sure), The Beach Boys, and he definitely loves every white person anthem, including Sweet Caroline. he likes to groove with Pitts but also like soothing music to study to !!! i had to consult my friend on this one i fear i was drawing a blank

AND THAT is my opinion on each of the poets’ music taste. did i squeeze Duran Duran into almost all of them? perhaps. they’re my fav band let me live… feel free to listen to the playlists (please listen to them. pls i don’t want to have made them in vain.) and maybe even become spotify moots with me :D

[evolnoomym]

The Night We Met🌠/Pt.2

Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pt. 1 🌌 | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: You return to Texas after being gone for 5 months.

Rating: 18+ content mdni!!!!(there’s nothing explicit, still I want the minors to stay away.)

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, pregnancy, female reader, reader has no name only a nickname, size difference, loss of a loved one, grief, food and eating are mentioned, age gap,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: The part 2 some of you wanted, hopefully you’ll like it 🫶🏻

Shoutout to @thecutestgrotto and @cafekitsune for the dividers 💙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that(and me being high). I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🌠🫶🏻

+Bonus at the end 🥰

Song’s I listened to while writing:

To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra, Patrick Watson

Twins - Gem Club

Space Song - Beach House

Silver Soul - Beach House

Santa Monica Dream - Angus & Julia Stone

Sunset Lover - Petit Biscuit

Big Jet Plane - Angus & Julia Stone

you. - Oscar Lang

Home - Catie Turner

I would - Torri Weidinger

Hearing - Sleeping At Last

My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

I miss you, I’m sorry - Gracie Abrams

Everywhere - Fleetwood Mac

* 5 months later *

You haven’t been in this place ever since leaving all those months ago. So much has changed for you. The sickening feeling you used to get when entering didn’t seem to return once you stepped onto the property. Now as you sit across from him, it does not feel as if you’re being torn apart by each second you spend here, perhaps it’s also because you have a little helper to make this less painful. 

His grave looks just like you remember and once you sat down you noticed that somebody must’ve taken care of it in your absence. Your favorite flowers are placed on top- blue chrysanthemums. 

It’s a beautiful warm spring day, birds chirping in the distance, sunshine warming up your skin, fresh breeze blowing through your hair and finally more color being added to the scenery. 

You smile softly because it’s a good day and you’re happy to see him. 

And as some sort of Déjà vu, a father comes walking down the dirt path with his daughter and the little girl is cheerfully giggling while taking in all the beautiful flowers adorning the graves. 

When the girl reaches the blue chrysanthemums she lets out a stunned gasp, it seems like she might have never seen those flowers in her life before. 

When her dad spots you he immediately starts apologizing profusely for his daughter’s behavior but you let him know that it’s more than welcome and you think to yourself how the little girl reminds you of the past. 

When they are out of sight you start laughing and then say “You Funny old men, sending me a sign aren’t you? Thank you Papa.” He’s still here, always with you and he was even when you were so far away. 

(Flashback beginning )

The first few weeks were rough for you, so incredibly far away from what was supposed to be home and with Joel’s distraught face burned into your memory. 

Luckily Sunny was there to catch you in the darkest moments, if it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t have made it. 

When you called her out of sheer desperation and told her you’d need to be somewhere far away, Sweet Sunny, without thinking about it, offered to take you in. 

The flight over there was incredibly stressful for you but seeing Sunny’s face once she picked you up from the airport made it all worth it. 

She had to treat you like a wounded animal, cooking your favorite meals, taking you for walks around the pastures, massages when the back pain flared up again and when nothing helped just sitting with you through the agony. 

Sunny is your childhood Bestfriend, you were born on the same day just 4 years apart, you have the same interests and the same dislikes. Your dad always called you Sunny and Moon. Two Inseparable forces. 

The time with Sunny and the change of scenery was healing. You went to yoga with her, took trips to Costco, she took you to the local aquarium, the butterfly garden and to the beach.  

When the time came to fly back home you were sad but Sunny promised to visit once it’s time. 

(Flashback over)

It was a week ago that your plane touched down in Texas, it felt so strange being back in the town you so hastily left. 

Once you landed Joel was all you could think about, is he okay, does he look different, did he move, did he find someone new or is he still waiting for you?

You’ve seen the countless messages he sent you over the months, yet you couldn’t find the courage to answer him you would’ve felt like a liar. You felt terrible for not holding up your end of the bargain.

After sleeping in the motel for a week you finally, especially after talking to your Dad, feel empowered enough to go see Joel again. 

You had stopped once on the drive towards Joel’s house, due to raging nausea, you are incredibly nervous sitting in the parked car in front of his home. 

It still looks exactly the same as when you disappeared, nothing changed about it. 

It takes a few more minutes before you get out of the car. You have to take a couple deep breaths and wipe your shaking sweaty palms off on your long black stretchy skirt that you decided to wear combined a black ribbed tank top. 

The outfit looks good and is the most comfortable for you in this state.

Your knees are weak on the steps up to the house, the fluttering in your belly gets continuously worse the closer you get to the front door and when you knock on the door you’re close to passing out. 

The seconds you have to wait feel like hours. In reality it’s only seconds and when the door opens time seems to stand still, there he is Joel Miller in all his glory. 

His eyes scan your face in frantic disbelief and his mouth makes him look like a fish fresh outta water. 

You try to take control of the situation “H…hi Joel.” It’s simple but you’re just as stunned. 

You can see his eyes turn glassy “No Joel, no tears come on, you gonna make me cry too.” You try to say it in a cheerful way but the words end in a quiet whisper. 

“Y…you- you’re back? Am I….dreamin?” He stammers clearly unconvinced. You nod gently and reach with your hand for his face, when your warm soft palm touches his scruffy cheek his eyes fall shut and the tears start rolling down his cheeks. 

His lips are trembling, as if your touch hurts him. “Joel, I…I’m so sorry.” At that he opens his eyes again and to your surprise he does not look mad, though he’d have all right to be. 

With his eyes still locked onto your face he asks “How…how long have ya been back?”

You turn away slightly and gesture behind you towards the car parked in front of the driveway. “I've been back for about a week, sleeping in that ranch motel and I was just at Dad’s grave when I thought about coming here.” When you turn back to face him his eyes are no longer on your face, but instead somewhere else. 

Joel’s eyes are stuck on your midsection. 

Oh yeah, the bump, from the front it’s not that noticeable but as soon as you turn boom there it is the unmistakable swell. 

That’s what scared you the most, how would he react to the pregnancy. 

“Y…you- you’re pregnant? How…I mean ya didn’t say anythin bout that back then?” He questions in almost trance.

“Maybe we should go inside to talk, hmm? My feet kinda hurt.” You laugh which pulls him out of his frozen state.

“Jeez of course, come in let’s sit down Moon.” He gestures to come into the house you used to share and once you cross the threshold the familiar smell engulfs you, a mix of vanilla and sandalwood.

Everything mostly still looks the same, once you reach the living room you immediately note that all the pictures are still exactly where they always hung on the wall. And when you look at the dining table, the one you sat at that night it’s still the same but what’s placed on top makes your breath hitch. 

Blue Chrysanthemums, the same as on his grave. 

When you turn you realize Joel’s been watching you “Did you put the flowers on his grave?” 

“Yeah, that was me” while he nervously scratches his neck “I hope ya liked them.”

You huff “Joel I loved them they are my favorite you know that. So you've been going to his grave?”

He hesitates for a moment but then responds “Every week since ya left Moon. Just spend a bit talkin to the ol’ men. Ya know he was my Bestfriend.” 

You nod “I’m sorry you couldn’t grieve cuz you had to take care of me. I know you were close and Joel-“ you reach for his face again, gently patting his cheek “- you meant soooo much to him, you know how I told you he’d basically chew my ear off telling me all about his super cool boss every night.” You smile sweetly at him trying to soothe the pain he must’ve felt at losing your father, his Bestfriend and then ultimately you as well.

The two of you sit down on the couch, which is now possible unlike 5 months ago when just looking at it made you sick, Joel sits down with a respectable distance from you. 

“So….you must have a million questions, shot?” You encourage him. “How far along, are ya?” 

“25 weeks to be specific, so only three more weeks and I’m officially 7 months.” You answer with a smile. 

A moment later “So ya were pregnant when you left, did ya know or..?” He questions.

“No, I didn’t know when I left. I didn’t think it would take at the first try. I chalked the whole throwing up thing up to the grief, you know?” 

He nods “Yeah, I get what ya mean…and how did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t. Sunny did, she thought something was off and had to drag me to the doctor. Did some tests and well I was 8 weeks already.” 

(Flashback beginning )

Sunny plopped down beside you on the couch 

“Ok we need to talk this is not normal anymore Moon.” 

You stared at her in question “ Why what’s wrong?” 

“Seriously.?? Let’s look at the facts: your periods have been missing for almost 3 months, you puke allllll the time, you eat the weirdest food combinations I’ve ever seen and….no offense but your tits have blown up, look at them.” As she points at your chest.

“Ok fuck you Sunny if you like looking at my tits you could’ve just told me and whats with my eating habits??”

“Baby you literally dipped pickles in Orange Sorbet for breakfast…you don’t see anything wrong with that, huh?” She laughs 

“Well I…I just really craved that”

“No baby, the little Miller fetus inside you craved that.” 

“Okkkkk then let’s go to the doctors office to see if you are correct or just imagining things.” As you flip her off while laughing. 

When the little white blob showed up on the screen, Sunny started yelling, of course she had to be right.

(Flashback over)

“Ya did all of it alone? I’m sorry Moon Girl.”

“Oh no, Sunny was there for each visit and she documented the whole process so you could have a chance at sorta having those memories too. You’re gonna be a Daddy Joel Miller” 

Tears well up in his eyes again “C…can I, ya know..?” While his eyes go to your belly.

You understand what he wants “Of course Joel, though you might not feel a whole lot…I think she’s asleep, which I can’t blame her for after the stressful ride over here.” You laugh gently. 

Joel’s gasp makes you look up 

“Y-y-yo…you said “she” it’s a girl, we’re having a little babygirl?” The tears slip down his cheeks again but this time he’s beaming with happiness as it happens. 

You take his outstretched shaking hand and place it on the top of your stomach. 

“Yeah a little Moon Babygirl, now imagine how Sunny freaked out when we got told, some of her cheerful screaming is probably caught in the video she took.” 

Joel’s crying intensifies so you motion for him to get closer and when his thigh presses against yours you pull him in for a side hug. His unoccupied arm slides around your lower back, hand resting on your hip, while his face slots right into your neck. 

“Sorry Baby I…I’m a mess.” He mumbles against the side of your neck.

“Shhh Joel, it’s ok, I got you. I got you Joel.” while stroking the back of his head. You give him the time to let it all out. 

Suddenly he perks up and pulls out your arms. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask 

“I…I think she kicked me, our baby kicked me..” he whispers. 

“Guess she knows it’s her Daddy needing some comfort, she’s done it for me too.” 

“How.?” 

“Whenever I couldn’t bare it anymore, she started kicking me as a distraction.” You continue “I believe she’s a gift from him, that sounds weird..” Joel just shakes his head no… “a purpose, something to keep going for you know?” 

“I know what ya mean Baby.” 

“Not that you were not enough but I..I - I just..” 

“It’s alrigh darlin, I understand you.” 

He gets up out of nowhere “I got something for ya, jus wait a minute sweetheart.”

As he heads up the stairs. 

When he comes back down he orders “Close ya eyes Moon.” 

“What, why?”

“Come on jus do it, trust me.”

You can feel him somewhere in front of you but you don’t know where exactly. 

“Open up.”

And there he is on his knees holding a small box up to you in it a beautiful engagement ring but instead of a normal shaped diamond it’s a moon shaped one. As if he had it made specifically for you.

You are completely stunned by the way he just wiped it out. 

J…j- Joel I..I don’t know what to say.” 

He jus shakes his head and looks at you softly “Moon ya don’t have to say anythin, I jus wanted you to have it.” 

You’re in sheer disbelief and only shake your head frantically. 

“m’ sorry that was too much I..I-“ but you cut him off

“Shut up I just needed a minute to process, yes Joel, yes I do.” You smile 

“W..what’d ya mean?” 

“Yes I want to Marry you Joel, not immediately but someday, ok? Put it on me.” You say as you hold out your hand 

Now Joel’s the one stunned but after collecting  himself he does just as you told him, he slides it on your left Ringfinger.

Once he’s done it you get up to admire the ring in the sunlight, you walk out onto the porch and hold your hand up to the Sun. 

You can hear his heavy steps coming up to you from behind, then you feel his muscular arms slide around your middle, his hands come to rest on the bump and his chin on your shoulder. 

You turn in his hold and place your palms on his broad chest. “I have to explain so much about why I left you and..and-“ 

This time he cut you off “I don’t care bout that right now, m’ jus happy to have ya back Moon. Can I kiss ya?” 

“Of course you can kiss me Joel.” That’s all the encouragement he needs before pressing his lips against yours and then again and again.

Suddenly he ask’s you something you did not expect “Ya got a name for Her in mind?” 

You pretend to think about the answer but then reply with confidence “I really like the name Matilda. What do you think of that?” 

Joel smiles amused “That’s a real pretty name for our Moon baby, darlin.“

You feel more content than ever before and you can feel him watching from above being happy as well to see you back in Joel’s arms. 

It’s them 🌌🌠:

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @studioghibelli @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @almostfoxglove @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @iamasaddie @the-mandawhor1an @joelalorian @ace-turned-confused @clawdee @penvisions @rivnedell (honestly I’m pretty randomly tagging sorry) 🌠