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kookies2000 · 4 months ago

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A Smile Behind the Crown Chapter 1

Wonderland Au

Au by @endomentendo

Sorry this took so long. It started off as a one shot and kinda turned into a story with over 15 to 20 chapters........... so I hope I make you proud!!!!

…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….

Tik Tok and tok tik

The sounds likes to haunt

Smiling when the time is down

Work with the needs of the royal crown

Hands on the clock move round and round

Wipe wipe wipe, clean windows, clear vision

Chop chop chop, all the way in the kitchen

Sweep sweep sweep, across the halls

Brush brush brush the walls

Cut cut cut the green grass

Tap tap tap the glass

Keep my head

Rest in bed

Repeat

Day and night

Go to the left and right

Plant the roses in their beds

All of this so I don't lose my head

Do as I'm told so I don't end up dead

Work in the heat and breaking a sweat

Hello and goodbye to the queen and king

Clean through autumn and through the spring

The bounds around my ankles cause pain

They clink and clang as I walk with chains

Voice so loud with screams it's strained

Tears on my cheeks left me with stains

Throat so dry I can't even complain

My emotions are a big hurricane

Family and friends are in vain

I have no one to blame

Started with a flame

Pain hit like a train

Tik tok, tik tok!

LET ME

OUT!

…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….

Oh, it didn't use to be like this. No, it used to be magical. A world full of colour and laughter. I would jump from tree to tree, and run on water, all as long as I never let go of his hand. I was always safe and sound throughout my childhood. Running so fast I was lifted into the air. Running on air, stepping on clouds, and falling in the air at record speeds. I didn't care if the ground got closer. I embraced the feeling of the air running through my skin and dress. Arms out as if to hug something that wasn't there. Only to disappear before the ground can hurt me. It was all….. so………. pulchritudinous! And to imagine it used to be all so blurry. Hidden away in my brain with other memories I couldn't remember. Like they were just whisked away into a field of forgotten. Begging to be found.

As happy as I am to finally remember my family and friends, I wish it didn't come at this cost. But I would rather be locked up with my loved ones and rot in here with them, no regrets and in the arms of everyone I love.

Almost everyone. I wonder where he is. Did he escape? I hope he did, he doesn't deserve to be locked in this inky blackness and consumed by sadness. Even if he was a thorn in the side. What I wouldn't give to see his glowing smile again.

24 years ago

Tossing and turning in her bed, she was so excited for today. She couldn't help but smile throughout her sleep, just waiting for the sun to rise. The very second the golden rays rose, she kicked the blankets off her bed and didn't even bother putting on shoes. Her little bare feet created tiny stepping sounds that echoed on the empty halls. She couldn't wait any longer! She had to see if everything was set up. Her head didn't even reach the windows for her to look out. So with every step she would leap into the air to look out the windows. Her heart skipped when she saw a glimpse of silver and white decorations.

Filled with glee, she sprinted across the halls as fast as she could. So fast her feet barely touched the ground and she could feel herself get lifted into the air.

“Where are you going?” Literally lifted into the air. She felt a pair of warm arms wrap around her and lift her up. She smiled knowing who's beautiful voice this belonged to.

“The coronation is today!” She chimed as she flapped her arms and kicked her feet. The woman held her closer and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Yes, it is. But it doesn't start until sunset. There's still lots to do before the princess is crowned.” The lady walked the little girl back into her room.

“But mama!” The little girl groaned in disappointment. Her mom placed her back in bed and went to her closet. Her hands brushing against every piece of clothing as if examining each one.

“No buts Ann, the castle must be neat and tighty.” The mother pulled out a maids dress that was the size of her daughters. Ann groaned again and fell back into her bed, throwing the blanket over her head.

“Mama!” her voice was muffled by the blanket.

“Oh Ann, we don't want our future queen to be crowned in a mess, now do we?” her mother placed the cleaning dress onto the bed and gently tugged at the blanket. She heard her daughter sigh before popping back out of the blanket. Her face had a slight pout and her button eye was covered by her dark hair.

Her eye looked down at the dress before her, blue and white, her favourite colours.

“Ok mama.” she gave in and pulled her dress closer. Her mom smiled warmly at the sight of her little one. So small, so innocent and clean. She ran her plushed hand through her daughter's head full of yarn, pulling it away from her face. She sighed at the sight of her pink button eye, a trait she shared with her aunt.

Once dressed, she held her mother's hand and out of her room they went. She felt her mother's doll-like hand place itself on her back and straightened her out.

“Stand up straight dear, no slouching.” She said in her usual warm voice. Ann nodded and kept her posture straight as they walked the halls. The red carpet below them nudged them along as if it was also in a hurry.

“Yes, yes, we are going.” The mother giggled as the carpet below them kept bending and moving to make them move faster. Curtains to every window moved aside to let in the new sunlight. Blinding Ann for a moment before she was given a sponge to start cleaning the glass. The curtains lifted the young Ann off the floor and higher so she could clean the upper windows.

“Thank you.” Ann smiled politely.

Everyday was the same. Bed at seven, wake up at five eleven. Clean the windows and brush the curtains. Once done, dust the dust bunnies away from the armoured knights. She always felt bad doing this though. The dust bunnies always ran for their lives.

“Dust off the lint from your bow.” Her aunt patted her head as she vacuumed the halls. Sucking up any dust bunnies that tried to make a run for it. The red carpet had to be free of dirt, and so did Ann apparently. That never made sense to the young girl.

The garden was beautiful. Flowers dancing in their pots and singing a beautiful morning song. Bushes and trees ran to their place as gardeners prepared a new hole for them to rest in.

“Arms firm.” Her father helped her hold the shovel. They dug and dug for what seemed like forever. Leaving holes for the new white roses that were impatiently tapping their leaves.

“Snobs.” Ann whispered under her breath, letting her father receive a slap to the face.

“I didn't say anything!” Her father looked at the roses confused.

Then it was lunch time, at long last. She can sit for a while and relax.

“Pinky out.” Her mother whispered gently as they had their lunch break. Maybe not relax. Even in her free time she had to be prim and proper. Even walking across the garden with her aunt was a chore.

“What did we talk about slouching?” Her aunt fixed Ann’s back again and placed her arms behind her back, “No twiddling your fingers dear!”

Ann nodded yes and did as told.

“Open your mouth wide!” Her aunt commanded. Ann did as told and opened as wide as she could, “Now, with proper articulation, what will we say when her majesty speaks to you?”

“Yes your majesty!” She bowed the best a 6 year old can. Her stubby legs felt a little unsteady as she did. Her aunt took notice of her niece having trouble and held her steady.

“Practice, dear, practice.” Her aunt assured her. Ann nodded and kept her balance.

Practice, they told her. Practice everyday. She had to learn how to dance, how to read, how to garden, how to eat like a lady, and how to do everything with grace and elegance. It was repetitive, boring even. But it was peaceful. No risks, no danger, no worries. Just a steady life. And Ann was expected to follow this steady life until the end.

She felt a yawn come as she dusted the library. Quiet, with not a single sound interrupting it. The little girl sighed but a little smile remained. She dusted all the desks from the library, making sure not a single dust bunny remained. She sighed once more as she hopped on her toes to dust the shelves, she could barely reach the second row of books.

“Need help?” Her brother's voice spoke up. He was no taller than her but definitely took more risks. He dragged a chair behind him and slammed it next to her. He took the duster from her doll hands and dusted the second and third row of books.

“Thanks Randy.” Ann smiled her usual sweet smile. He gave a confident thumbs up and climbed the shelf some more to get the rows above.

As she watched her brother help, she looked around the library to see all the books organised and neat. The setting sun shined a radiant red onto them making them look like they glowed. Her eye landed on all the fairytale books she read. Books about magic, witches, dragons, curses, nothing wonderland hasn't seen. Princesses, queens, kings, and of course a prince. She adored these books to death. The excitement they created, the world's they shared, and the beautiful moments of love they told. She consumed every last word her 6 year old mind can process. How she wished she could experience these moments. Run to the mountains, see the world from above, climb every tree in sight and defeat enemies! And find a charming prince on the way that can rescue her from danger.

“It's almost time kids!” They heard their aunt come in. Ann's day dream came to an end and left her in reality. Unlike the books she read, she wasn't destined for a great adventure or even a prince. She was destined to clean and be a maid. Destined to wake up, get dressed, clean the halls, clean the restrooms, clean the windows, vacuumed the carpets, fix the garden, sleep and repeat. All while looking proper. It was near to impossible to do all this but it was more than possible in Wonderland.

But she can't complain, her family loved her.

They loved her so much they finished their chores early so Ann can get ready and wear her best dress to the coronation. A dress her father requested the Chatter family to create for her. She loved that family. They were always so colourful and made her laugh like chimes in the wind.

After she put on her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror to see it consumed her entire body. Forget me not flowers decorated her waist and hair. The dress was blue and white to match everyone else. It puffed out so much she had to raise her arms to not wrinkle the smooth silk. It was time.

She happily arrived at the castle's garden, listening to the trees hum a tune as the birds chirped along. The flowers sang along and swayed back and forth as they awaited the princess. She couldn't wait to see her. Their future queen! Ann kicked her feet and clapped her hands in excitement, she swore she would explode.

Seconds felt like hours to her until finally the horns sounded. She gasped and looked down the altar with everyone else. There she was, the princess soon to be queen. Dressed in a sparkling white and blue dress that outshines the stars themselves. Ann clapped excitedly as the princess walked down the garden with all eyes on her. Graceful, beautiful, magnificent, and elegant. Everything this kingdom needed. Once at the end of the aisle, the princess bowed to her family and the Chatter family. Everyone had proud smiles on as the king began his speech.

“Today is a special day for my daughter!” The king announced. As he spoke, Ann looked over at the Chatter family. An odd bunch, in fact they were considered the oddest of the odd. Their heads were nothing but a pair of dentures while other family members had a deck of cards for a head. But that was the beauty of the Chatter family, they were a colourful and wondrous sight to behold. And mist if all, her friend was there!

A little boy around her age was holding the golden crown. His hat too large for his head, or jaw in this case. The poor thing only had one eye to see with as the other was covered by the ribbon of his hat. His blue eye scanned the guests and he gasped in delight when he saw the doll.

“Hi!” Ann whispered loudly and waved. The young pair of teeth waved back, dropping the crown for a split second.

“Careful Chatter.” His mom caught the crown before it could hit the ground. The young boy could only chuckle nervously as he held still for the ceremony.

“ Please rise!” The king announced. Ann hopped out of her seat just like everyone else. All eyes locked on the scene before them, “Bring me the crown!”

The moment the king announced this, little boy Chatter scurried across the stage and held up the crown high and proudly. The ribbon of his hat covered both his eyes in the process. The king and queen chuckled at the adorable sight.

“Thank you my dear.” The queen smiled and took the crown from the little Chatter. Chatter gleefully clapped his hands and ran back to his family as the king hovered the crown over his daughters head.

“I hereby present my daughter this crown. Which will symbolise power, generosity, kindness, bravery and intelligence. Qualities she worked hard everyday to perfect so she can rule this land! And today, she will be known as the new queen of Wonderland!” The king announced. The very second the crown rested upon the new queen's head, the garden was filled with cheers and claps. People welcomed the new leader with open arms and congratulated her as she and her family walked down the aisle.

As everyone began to move to the ballroom for the celebratory dinner, Ann ran through the crowd to find her friend. Her only friend in this castle really. The castle kids usually had a busy schedule like her so they didn't spend much time together. Or they were higher ups like the kids of the ladies in waiting or the royal family. She never crossed paths with them much.

But the little Chatter lived in the servants quarters with her and her family. He was the son of a simple hat maker and a dress designer. While wacky and colourful, Chatter liked to stay put in the castle.

“We have all we need here!” He exclaimed as he and Ann walked in the garden with other children playing around. The Chatter hopped onto a leaf and tapped his foot. The leaf raised the little boy into the air as he waved his hands in the air like a showman.

“Why, and I do mean why, would anyone want to leave this magical castle?” He chimed. He looked down at a smiling Ann with a smile of his own.

“It was just a thought Chatter.” Ann twiddled with her fingers and looked around the garden. Her eye scan all the smiling faces of every child. Everyone was so happy and content with their lives inside the walls and sometimes she questioned why.

They lived in a world of wonder and magic. A world where normality didn't exist and anything can happen. Yet everyone seemed content in this box they were in. It was almost as if everyone was hiding from something, maybe from someone.

“You know what they say my dear Ann!” Chatter hopped off the leaf and glided his way next to her. His arms out like a proud little boy as he chimed like the cleanest of wind pipes, “A single drop of thought can cause the biggest splash of ideas!”

“Oh?” Ann tilted her head in curiosity, “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea!” Chatter chimed again in glee, “But my mom tells me that every night. If it's important enough to be said by her, it must be true!”

A soft giggle escaped the doll's mouth. She loved her friend to death but she still wished he would see things like her. Oh well, she can be the only dreamer in this castle and she'll still be happy.

“Look out!!!” She heard a kids voice call out. Ann turned around and ducked just in time when an apple flew past her head.

“Ow!” Chatter shouted when he felt the fruit slam against his eye. Ann gave a gasp of concern and ran to her friend.

“You ok?” She helped him sit up. His eyes rolled around like googly eyes, not being able to look at her in the eyes straight.

“Chipper as a sing-song bird!” Chatter chimed happily, giving her a dizzy smile. Ann giggled at the silly sight of her friend. Always so happy, so full of life and never had a dark day in his life. He always wore his best bright red suite and a hat too big for him……… where's his hat?

“Your hat!” Ann patted his empty head. Chatter could only respond with a “huh” and pat his head. He shook his head, finally fixing his spinning eyes, but they were clearly still trying to focus. Ann saw the hat flying away into the woods nearby and looked back at her friend. One pupil was bigger than the other, indicating he still couldn't see well.

“I'll get it for you!” Ann lifted the dress of her skirt and ran off to get the runaway hat. The hat flew into the dark woods and the little doll followed. Her little mind not even thinking twice about what she was running into.

In fact, her little mind didn't even realise she had some eyes following her every move.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #jax x ragatha #bunnydoll #ragatha x jax #fan fic #fan fiction #wonderland au

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sinful-sonnet · 1 month ago

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Whiskey & Wildflowers

Chapter 6

Prev | Next

W/C: 12.6k

Content Warnings: *Explicit, minors DNI. smoking, pet names, smut, unprotected piv, daddy kink lowkey, smoking, f & m orgasm, fluff, aftercare, parental estrangement, emotional strain, phone sex (?) non edited

Summary: After seeking refuge at Joel’s house to escape family tensions, you begin rebuilding your life while navigating complex emotions and relationships. A new job brings stability, and connections within the household grow deeper, with moments of closeness becoming increasingly intense. As you work to find your footing, the bonds around you shift in unexpected ways, setting the stage for personal growth and new challenges.

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“Rollercoaster”

You close your bedroom door behind you, hoping in vain that it will block out the sounds drifting from upstairs. It doesn’t. The muffled moans and low thumps make your stomach twist, and you press your palms flat against the door, willing it to stop. Why now? You bite your lip, a flare of anger and embarrassment rushing through you. It’s bad enough your dad brought Linda here so suddenly—now you have to endure this?

Your eyes dart to your phone on the bedside table. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab it, scrolling through your contacts until you see Joel’s name. You hover there for a moment, heart pounding in your chest. Is this a bad idea? Maybe. But you need a distraction—any distraction—from what’s happening above you.

With a shaky breath, you tap the call button. The dial tone rings in your ear once, twice, three times. You’re about to hang up when you hear the low rasp of Joel’s voice.

“Hey,” he answers, his tone softer than you expected. “Everything okay?”

You close your eyes, letting the sound of his voice ground you. “Not really,” you admit, keeping your voice low. You sink onto your bed, curling your free hand into the comforter. “My dad… and Linda…” You swallow hard, not sure how much you want to reveal.

There’s a pause on the other end, then Joel exhales. “Yeah?” he prompts gently, sounding concerned.

Your cheeks burn with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “They’re… you know… doing it—above my room. I can hear everything.” You scrunch your eyes shut, wishing you could erase that last sentence from existence. “I just… can’t deal with this right now.”

Joel lets out a sigh that crackles over the line. “That’s gotta be rough,” he says, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the low static of the call and faint noises from upstairs that you’re doing your best to ignore.

Finally, you clear your throat, your heart thumping in your ears. “Joel,” you say, your voice wavering with a mixture of nerves and longing. “I—can we just… talk? Or—”

“Or?” His voice dips, taking on a note of hesitation and something else—interest?

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as you gather your courage. “I just… need a distraction,” you admit, your pulse racing faster. “Anything to keep my mind off of what’s happening.”

Joel is quiet for a beat. When he speaks again, there’s a softness in his tone, laced with concern and maybe a spark of the tension you both felt before. “Okay,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “Tell me what you need.”

A tiny tremor of relief courses through you. “I want to focus on us for a bit,” you whisper, turning onto your side so you’re facing away from your closed door. You breathe in, centering yourself on the comforting thought of Joel rather than the humiliating noises overhead.

Joel shifts on his end of the line; you can hear it in the subtle rustle of fabric. “I’m listening,” he says, and there’s a quiet intimacy in those words that sends a flush through your cheeks.

You close your eyes and let your free hand drift to your stomach, resting just beneath your shirt. “You remember the last time we were together?” you begin softly, recalling the heated moment in his house when lines blurred. “When you… pinned me against the door?”

Joel inhales sharply. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His voice dips to a husky undertone. “I remember.”

The images of that night flicker in your mind—his firm grip, the fire in his gaze. The way the world shrank to just the two of you. It’s enough to drown out the sounds above—enough to remind you there’s something else waiting, something that feels like an escape from your current reality.

You keep talking, your voice low and measured, weaving little memories of his touch, how his breath felt against your skin. With each word, you imagine you’re back there, heat building between you instead of the awkward tension in your own house. Joel doesn’t interrupt; he listens intently, his steady breathing in your ear.

Eventually, he hums, a quiet, encouraging noise. “Feels good thinking about it?” he asks gently.

“Yes,” you admit, your cheeks burning. “I just… I wish you were here.”

He lets out a slow exhale. “Me too.”

For a moment, you both fall silent, just the sound of each other’s breaths traveling across the line. In that hush, you can almost feel him next to you—the warmth of his body, the way his presence steadies your thoughts.

Joel clears his throat. “I’m right here on the phone, though,” he says in a voice that’s low and intimate, “if you want to keep talking. If it helps.”

You let your eyes close, sinking further into the moment, letting Joel’s quiet reassurance fill the space in your mind. It might not solve everything—your dad, Linda, the complexities that still hang over you—but for right now, it’s enough to have Joel’s presence, even through a phone line.

Your grip on the phone tightens. “Stay with me,” you whisper, the plea laced with all the vulnerability you’ve been feeling for so long.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he answers softly, and in that promise lies a shred of comfort that finally drowns out the unwelcome sounds from above. You focus solely on his voice, letting the tension ease as you slip deeper into the conversation that’s more than a distraction—it’s a reminder of the connection you share, a place that feels like it’s just yours and his, if only for these moments.

You lie back on your bed, phone pressed to your ear, Joel's low voice still filling your mind. Every syllable seems to heighten the warmth building inside you, and as you shift your hips slightly, you can't ignore the need pulsing through you. With a quiet inhale, you ease your hand downward, letting your fingertips rest lightly over the front of your underwear.

You close your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of Joel's breath on the other end of the line. The rush of blood in your ears nearly drowns out your dad and Linda upstairs—a small, welcome reprieve.

Joel's tone drops, concern threading through it when he hears your soft exhale. "You alright?" he asks gently, though there's an undercurrent of awareness there, too.

Biting your lip, you tilt your head back against the pillow, letting out another shaky breath. "I'm fine," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation,

"just... keep talking."

He seems to catch the hint in your tone.

His next words come out low, husky.

You barely process what he's saying— some reassurance, something about being with you-because every syllable feels like a slow thrum under your skin.

Your hand moves a fraction, pressing lightly. A quiver runs through you, and a soft, involuntary sound escapes your throat. Embarrassment flickers for a second, but Joel's voice anchors you, warm and calm even as his breath catches.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, almost inaudible.

Heat flushes through you, and you swallow hard. "I don't know," you whisper. "I just... need something. Need you."

Joel lets out a quiet, unsteady exhale.

"I'm here," he says simply.

Those two words send a shiver down your spine, and you let your eyes drift shut, focusing on the sensation of your own touch and the steady cadence of Joel's voice. In the hazy quiet, with the world narrowed to just this moment, you let yourself sink into the warmth of wanting him-letting it crowd out everything else.

Your breath hitches, the sound of it catching in your throat audible even over the phone. You press your hand more firmly against yourself, heart thudding at the thought that Joel can hear every shift of your breathing.

He goes quiet for a beat, as though he’s listening intently for your every reaction. His own breathing sounds uneven, and you imagine he’s trying to keep himself composed on the other end of the line. The thought sends another wave of heat rolling through you.

“You still with me?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with that undercurrent of need you’ve grown so familiar with.

“Mhm,” you manage, your voice faint. You swallow, forcing yourself to speak more clearly. “Yeah. Just… feels good.”

A soft exhale comes through the speaker—like relief mixed with desire. “Good,” he murmurs, his tone gentle but charged. “Then let it, darlin’.”

You bite your lip, your eyes sliding shut as your body reacts to his words. Even though he’s only there by voice, it’s enough to steady the anxious hum in your chest, enough to remind you that you’re not alone in this moment. For a few precious minutes, it drowns out everything else: the noises upstairs, the tension at home, the nagging complications that wait beyond this phone call.

Joel’s voice wraps around you again, low and comforting, guiding you further into the warmth of this connection. His breathing staggers once in a while, a subtle sign that he’s right there with you—wanting you just as badly, missing you just as deeply.

And in the background of your mind, you remind yourself that for now, that’s all you need: his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the promise of something better waiting when you finally see each other again.

Joel's breathing shifts on the other end of the line, becoming more ragged by the second. You can hear it-how he's losing that tight control you know he tries to hold onto. It's almost a mirror of your own state: that heady mix of anticipation and need.

"Joel...?" you venture softly, voice trembling with the knowledge of what might be happening there. He inhales sharply, and you can practically feel the tension crackling through the phone.

"I'm here," he rasps, his breath hitching on the last word. There's a moment of silence, punctuated by nothing but the distant hum of the connection and the sound of him exhaling in quiet, uneven spurts. He doesn't say what he's doing, but you sense it-the rhythmic pace of it, the telltale hitch in his voice.

Your own heart pounds, and you press your hand more firmly against yourself.

Even separated by distance, there's an odd intimacy in sharing this charged moment. The background noise of your house fades to static, and all that matters is the low timbre of Joel's voice, the rasp of breath as he gives in to the same pull you feel.

"You feel good, darlin'?" he manages to ask, his words laced with both concern and raw desire.

"Mhm," you whisper, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink deeper into the warmth coiling in your belly. "You?"

Joel's response is a rough sound halfway between a sigh and a groan.

"Wish I could see you," he breathes, and you imagine him leaning back, eyes closed, wanting this moment every bit as intensely as you do.

A flush spreads through you. "Me too," you admit. There's a pause as you catch your breath. "Tell me... tell me something," you plead, not entirely sure what you need but desperate to keep him talking, to feel him close.

He exhales shakily. "I'm thinking about that night... when I had you against the door." His voice drops into a husky whisper. "How you felt under my hands, how you tasted..."

Your breath stutters at the memory, the vivid recollection overtaking any coherent thought. Your fingers flex in response, pressing just enough to send a spark of pleasure zipping up your spine. Joel's voice falters too, a quiet hitch that tells you he's right there with you.

Neither of you speaks for a moment-just the shared, labored breathing over the phone line, the muffled hush of two people seeking comfort in each other.

At some point, you hear him mutter your name under his breath, soft but urgent, and it sends a delicious jolt through you.

It's intense-almost too intense, knowing he's on the other end, wanting this as badly as you do. You curl onto your side, phone balanced against your ear as your heart pounds. The world outside your door might be messy and complicated, but here and now, it's just you and Joel and the connection that keeps growing despite every obstacle.

Your lips part, and you whisper his name. His ragged exhale is answer enough. In this moment, you focus on each ragged breath, each brush of fabric, each sound that testifies to a need both of you can't deny. It's not perfect-nothing about your situation is -but for now, it's a lifeline neither of you wants to let go of.

Joel’s breathing hitches again, and you can almost hear him wrestling with the urge to stay in control. There’s a pause, then the faint sound of him grabbing his keys or something metallic in the background.

“Darlin’,” he says low into the phone, voice still rough from the moment you’ve been sharing, “I can’t do this like we are. I need to see you. I need to come get you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. You shift on the bed, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. The tension coursing through your body has you wanting to say yes immediately, but the memory of your dad and Linda upstairs makes you hesitate.

“Joel,” you whisper, unsure if he can sense your uncertainty. “They’re here… I don’t know if I can just walk out.”

He exhales, frustrated. “I’ll park down the street if I have to. But I’m not waiting around, baby. I want you with me tonight. Let me pick you up.”

Even through the phone, you can feel the warmth of his determination, and it nearly wipes out every other worry. Slowly, you exhale, your mind whirling with the risk of sneaking away now, of the complications that might follow if anyone notices.

But then Joel’s voice drops, all sincerity and urgency: “I just want you. No more phone. No more distance.”

Your breath comes out in a shaky rush. Deep down, you know exactly what you want, too. “Okay,” you whisper, the single word filled with every bit of unspoken longing.

He’s immediately in motion, you can hear the jingle of keys, the creak of a door opening. “I’m on my way,” he promises softly, before a click ends the call.

You drop your phone to your side and lie there in the darkness for a few beats, heart pounding, thoughts tumbling. Regardless of what waits for you tomorrow—family tension, questions you can’t answer—for tonight, you can’t deny how much you need the escape Joel’s offering. And, you remind yourself, he needs it too.

With a nervous flutter, you sit up, fishing for your shoes, grabbing a hoodie. Every sound from upstairs sets you on edge, but your resolve is clear: if Joel is willing to take the chance, so are you.

Within minutes, you’re slipping out of your bedroom, careful to stay quiet as you make your way outside. The air is cool and still, stars scattered above. You walk a short distance, heart thudding in your chest, scanning the street until you catch sight of Joel’s truck rolling slowly up the block.

The passenger door opens with a soft click, and there he is—anxious, intense eyes on you, one hand on the steering wheel. You climb in, nerves and excitement tangling in your stomach.

He doesn’t say a word as he pulls away, the tension in the cab thick with anticipation. His free hand finds yours, giving a brief, reassuring squeeze. Everything else—your dad, Linda, the complicated mess of it all—fades into the background. Right now, it’s just Joel, the hum of the engine, and the promise in his voice when he says, “Let’s go,” low and certain.

You breathe out, finally letting yourself feel that surge of relief and desire. Whatever comes next, at least you won’t be alone in it tonight. And judging by the way Joel glances over at you, his gaze heated and intent, neither of you plans on holding back.

Joel’s hands grip the steering wheel a little too tightly as he spots the light on inside his house. “Sarah’s home,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, glancing over at you with an apologetic look.

He drives past the house without slowing, and you notice his jaw tense. It’s clear he’s not prepared for questions—or for Sarah to see you together like this. After a few minutes, Joel turns onto a side street and pulls into a dimly lit, vacant parking lot. He parks and cuts the engine, the silence inside the truck suddenly feeling heavier.

He turns toward you, eyes full of equal parts desire and frustration. “Didn’t expect her back so soon,” he murmurs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Guess we can’t go inside.” There’s regret in his voice, but the undercurrent of need between you both hasn’t faded at all.

You shift in your seat, the adrenaline from sneaking out still running high. “It’s okay,” you say quietly, forcing a small smile even though your nerves are jangling. “I wasn’t exactly looking forward to running into her, either.” The thought of explaining anything to Sarah tonight makes your stomach twist.

Joel’s lips press into a thin line; he seems torn, like he’s trying to figure out the next move. Finally, he exhales, leaning back against the headrest. “We could…talk here,” he offers, but his voice betrays him—there’s more than just talking on his mind.

The truck’s cab is dark except for the faint glow from a distant streetlamp. You can sense Joel’s focus on you, though, the same tension that crackled between you earlier still palpable. You realize he’s giving you the choice: to stay, to go, to figure out some middle ground.

You meet his gaze, your heartbeat still unsteady. “I don’t mind staying for a bit,” you murmur. It’s an understatement of everything you’re feeling, but you don’t know how else to say you need him just as much.

Joel nods, sliding his hand off the steering wheel and resting it near yours on the seat. The quiet hum of nearby traffic underscores the moment, and you both sit there, weighing your next steps, trying to figure out how to navigate this meeting that neither of you wants to end.

Outside, the night carries on, but in the confines of the truck, it’s like time has slowed. He studies your face, and you can tell he’s battling the same swirl of thoughts you are: the risk of being caught, the complicated feelings, and the undeniable pull that brought you both here.

“Come here,” he finally says, voice soft but insistent. He lifts his arm, making space for you to slide closer if you want. It’s a simple invitation—one that speaks volumes. You hesitate only a second before you move toward him, closing the gap in the quiet, empty lot.

For now, you both ignore the outside world, taking refuge in these fleeting minutes, where it’s just the two of you—no questions, no judgment, and no prying eyes. It won’t solve everything, but it’s enough to feel his warmth, to hear his low voice comforting you in the dark. And for the moment, that’s all either of you needs.

You shift in the passenger seat, feeling your pulse quicken, then make a decisive move: swinging your leg over Joel’s lap and settling yourself there, knees braced against the edges of his seat. He inhales sharply, the soft leather squeaking under your weight.

“D-darlin’?” Joel stammers, his voice a mixture of surprise and rough-edged desire. He automatically brings his hands up, hovering near your waist as though unsure if he should rest them there.

You just look down at him, a playful grin curving your lips. The tension in the truck cab is thick enough to taste, the cool night air streaming faintly through a cracked window doing nothing to quell the heat building between you.

Your eyes lock on Joel’s. For a moment, neither of you moves, your heart pounding in your ears. Then, slowly, he settles his hands at your sides, steadying you.

“You all right?” he asks, swallowing hard, his eyes flicking between yours as though he wants to be absolutely certain.

A soft laugh escapes you. “I’m good,” you whisper, leaning in just enough that he can feel your breath. “Don’t you want me here?”

Joel’s fingers tighten slightly at your waist. “More than I can say,” he murmurs, his voice thick.

A rush of warmth flutters through you at that, and for a moment, the complications and fears fade into the background. Right now, in this vacant parking lot, it’s just you and Joel—no one else.

You slide your hands up, resting them on his shoulders as you lean in closer. His jaw sets for a moment, gaze darting across your face. Then, with a quiet exhale, he lets go of whatever lingering reservations he’s had and pulls you closer still, eyes fixed on yours.

Neither of you knows how long you’ll have before reality intrudes again. But for now, pressed together in the darkness, it feels like enough just to let the moment unfold.

You shift slightly on his lap, and a surge of electricity rushes through you as you feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire. A soft gasp escapes your lips, and Joel's eyes flutter shut for a moment at the contact. The air in the truck seems to tighten around you both, charged with heat and unspoken need.

His hands slide up to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to anchor you in place. When he finally opens his eyes, there's a look there-part longing, part disbelief. As if he can't quite believe this is happening, but can't bring himself to stop it, either.

You let your palms rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Everything about this moment feels magnified: the soft hum of the engine cooling, the faint buzz of a streetlamp in the empty lot, the press of Joel's body under yours.

He inhales, and you see his resolve waver. "This okay?" he asks, voice rougher than usual. You can sense he's giving you a chance to slow down, to reconsider.

But you don't. You lean in, brushing your nose against his, letting your own breath mingle with his. "I want this," you whisper-soft, but certain.

Joel answers with the lightest pressure of his hands guiding you closer, until your foreheads touch. The tension that's been mounting since you climbed into the truck now feels almost unbearable.

But it's not a bad kind of tension; it's the ache of longing, the thrill of surrender.

You shift again, a deliberate test of boundaries, and he gives a quiet groan

-somewhere between pleasure and warning. You catch his gaze, your body humming with anticipation.

In the hush of that parking lot, you both hover at the edge of something that feels impossible to ignore. And for a moment, the world narrows to just this, just the warmth of his lap beneath you, and the quiet promise of what might come next.

Joel's patience breaks in an instant. He grabs you firmly, and before you can catch your breath, he's pushing you down onto the seat, the worn upholstery pressing against your back as he pins you beneath him. His breath is ragged; yours matches, coming in quick, shallow bursts.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," he murmurs, voice low and edged with a hunger that sends a fresh rush of heat through you. His eyes lock on yours, pupils blown wide, and for a moment, the only sound is the uneven rasp of both your breaths in the close confines of the truck.

You can feel the tension coiling in his body-held back until this very moment.

Your heart thuds, and you can't help but let a soft gasp escape when his hand settles against your hip, fingertips digging in just enough to hold you in place. He looms over you, gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips like he's deciding just how far to take this.

When he finally leans down, you catch the faintest hint of cologne mixed with the night air. His stubble grazes your jaw as he whispers again, "You okay?" despite the thin thread of restraint that's barely holding him together.

"I'm good," you manage, voice trembling with anticipation. You slide your hand over his shoulder, anchoring yourself to him, silently giving permission.

That's all it takes. Joel's lips descend on yours, the kiss urgent and consuming.

The pressure of his body, the rough warmth of his hands roaming, erases any lingering thought of caution or fear.

In that moment, there's only him-the heady heat between you, the darkness of the parking lot, and the headlong rush toward whatever comes next.

He nips at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your jawline and along your neck, leaving a series of love bites in his wake.

He moves down your body, pushing your shirt up as he kisses and nips at the exposed skin of your stomach and chest.

He lifts your shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly onto the floor of the truck before returning his attention to your now-bare torso. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your sides and cupping your breasts in his large palms. “So damn perfect…”

Joel leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth as he begins to tease and toy with the sensitive bud. His tongue circles around it, flicking and teasing, before he gently nips at it with his teeth. His hands roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist as he continues to lavish attention on your chest.

He grins against your skin, enjoying the sound of your gasp as he switches his attention to your other nipple. He gives it the same treatment, his tongue swirling around the hardened bud before he begins to suck on it. His hands move lower, his fingers playing with the waistband of your pants as he continues.

Joel's breaths are shallow as he eases your pants down, inch by inch. His lips haven't left your skin, and each new patch of bare flesh makes his heart pound harder. You arch against the seat, a soft moan escaping when his mouth lingers over your nipple, tongue flicking in slow, deliberate strokes. Every sound you make only seems to spur him on.

His fingers finally manage to free you from the last barrier separating you, and he lifts his head. The warm press of his body shifts, and he pauses to look at you-truly look at you. Half-naked, your pulse racing, you feel the heat of his gaze sweep from your flushed cheeks down to where his hands rest on your hips.

A low groan rumbles in his chest, and the hunger in his eyes makes your stomach flip. The slow rise and fall of his breathing matches the heavy thud of your heart. It's all you can do to stay focused on his face, on the intense need reflected there.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs at last, his voice husky. He slides one hand along your side, anchoring you beneath him, letting you feel the warmth of his palm.

You swallow hard, skin tingling where his fingers roam. "Joel..." you whisper, unsure what you're asking for, only knowing you need more.

He dips down to kiss you again, gentler now-a slow, lingering press of lips that contrasts the urgency coursing through both of you. "I've got you," he murmurs, and despite the heated rush of desire, there's a tenderness threaded through every word.

You shiver at the promise in his voice, bracing a hand on his shoulder as he settles back over you. The truck's interior seems too small to hold this moment, every breath and heartbeat magnified. Though this might be reckless, complicated, and a thousand kinds of dangerous, right now all that matters is how right it feels to have him here, looking at you like you're all he wants in the world.

He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes locked on yours as he gently but firmly pins your wrists above your head. He holds you there, his grip firm but not tight, his gaze burning with intensity.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice low and possessive.

He lowers his head, trailing a path of kisses and bites down your neck and collarbone once more, his free hand tracing a teasing path along your inner thigh.

Joel’s lips trail from your collarbone up to the curve of your neck, each small nip and kiss sending sparks of anticipation through your body. You arch into him, a soft sound escaping your throat, but he just smiles against your skin—a silent acknowledgment of how close you are to begging for more.

His hand drifts upward, fingertips grazing your inner thigh with a featherlight touch. Every slight movement teases you to the brink—close enough to stir a rush of heat, yet never quite landing where you crave it most. The tension coils tighter in your stomach, and you feel yourself pushing against him, wordlessly urging him to go further.

Joel lifts his head for a moment, dark eyes meeting yours. There’s a playful curve to his lips; he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Easy,” he murmurs, voice low, as though he’s savoring every second of your mounting need. He presses another slow kiss below your ear, and you can’t help the breathy whimper that slips free.

“Joel…” His name comes out in a plea, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He responds with a quiet hum, then resumes his path across your skin, each touch deliberate, measured. It’s as if he wants to map every inch of you before finally giving in. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you feel his own pulse racing under your fingertips.

His mouth makes its way back to yours; the kiss starts gentle, but tension lingers beneath it—electric, insistent. When he finally pulls back, he breathes your name, and there’s something in his eyes, equal parts hunger and tenderness, that makes your whole body tremble.

“Patience,” Joel whispers, though his own voice sounds anything but patient. The hand at your thigh inches closer, making you gasp as he keeps you hovering on the edge. Every kiss, every breath, feels like a promise of what’s to come—slow, unhurried, and far too enticing to resist.

Joel keeps his touch featherlight, each pass of his fingers a deliberate tease that leaves you trembling with anticipation. Your breath hitches, and you arch into him, chasing that frustratingly elusive pressure he’s holding just out of reach.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. The smirk on his lips only deepens when you whimper in response, your body all but pleading for more. “You want me so badly, don’t you?”

A needy sound escapes your throat as your eyes meet his. The smug, playful curve of his mouth tells you he’s enjoying every second of your helplessness. He grazes his knuckles along the edge of your underwear, drawing out another shiver that runs the length of your spine.

“God, you’re so damn needy,” he goes on, almost amused by your reactions. “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already falling apart…”

Your cheeks burn at his words, but you can’t deny they send another pulse of heat right where he’s hovering. He’s right—you can’t remember the last time you felt this on edge, this desperate for someone else's touch. Every nerve in your body feels attuned to his movements, and every time he shifts closer, it's like a spark of electricity arcs between you.

You lift your hips in a silent plea, but Joel only chuckles under his breath, keeping the contact tantalizingly light.

His free hand moves to brace against the seat, caging you beneath him. The dark promise in his gaze makes your heart hammer. You can tell he's savoring this-savoring you-and the knowledge only stokes the ache building in your core.

"Easy," he murmurs, voice low as he leans in to brush a teasing kiss to your lips. "I'm not done having my fun just yet."

His patience might be wearing thin— your pulse thrums wildly, sensing the undercurrent of urgency in him-but he still wants to take his time, to draw out every gasp and moan you have to offer.

And despite the frustration twisting in your stomach, you find yourself clinging to every second of it, letting the tension coil tighter until you're right at the brink.

Above you, Joel's gaze bores into yours, and the corner of his mouth quirks in a knowing smile. Even though he's in control, you can see he's far from unaffected. His breathing is harsh, his eyes half-lidded with want. The need between you crackles in the enclosed cab, drowning out any lingering thoughts of where you are-or what waits outside this moment.

All that matters is his next move, the promise of satisfaction hanging just out of reach. And it's clear Joel intends to make you wait until the last possible second to give you exactly what you're craving.

“Daddy, please”

Joel’s smirk falters for half a second the moment the word “daddy” slips from your lips. Something shifts in his gaze, heat flaring behind his eyes as your plea reverberates in the charged space between you. It’s clear that single word hits him like a spark to dry tinder, testing the very edge of his restraint.

His breath catches, and his hands tighten at your hips in a sudden spasm of want. For a moment, he just stares at you—lips parted, brow furrowed in a turmoil of desire and warring emotions—like he’s deciding whether to give in or keep drawing this out.

Finally, he exhales a slow, ragged breath. “Careful, darlin’,” he rumbles, though his voice shakes with the effort of holding back. “You have no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

You cling to his shoulders, heart pounding so hard you can feel it in your ears. Every muscle in his body seems coiled, tense with the effort of not losing control right then and there. But you see the flicker in his eyes—that razor-thin edge where playful teasing is about to break into something far more urgent.

He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You really want me to lose it?” he asks, voice low and thick. The question sends a tremor through you, and you nod without hesitation, every nerve in your body taut with anticipation.

Joel’s control finally frays. His next kiss is fiercer, hungrier, like he’s answering your dare head-on. The gentleness he showed a moment before is still there, but it’s now threaded with raw intensity. As he presses you further into the seat, you feel the full force of his need—and know that calling him "daddy" was the last nudge he needed to unravel.

Even in this moment of heady passion, there's a current of tenderness in the way he holds you, a silent promise that he won't push you beyond what you want. But from the look in his eyes, you can tell he plans to give you exactly what you're asking for-and then some.

Outside, the world remains quiet, the vacant lot enveloping you both in darkness. In here, the tension you share burns bright as a live wire, impossible to ignore, impossible to resist any longer.

He quickly sheds his clothes, his hands trembling with a mix of anticipation and urgency. He breaks the kiss, his eyes burning with desire as he takes in the sight of you beneath him, flushed and desperate.*

He runs a hand over your thigh, his touch firm and possessive.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he rasps, his voice thick with need.

He takes off your underwear and positions himself at your entrance. He leans down, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss as he slowly, teasingly pushes into you. He groans against your mouth, the feeling of being inside you almost overwhelming him.

“Are you sure about this darlin?” joel asks again

You groan in annoyance.

“God you talk too much…just fuck me already, Miller!!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With a low growl, he snaps his hips forward, driving himself deep inside you in one swift motion. He sets a relentless pace, his body slamming into yours with an almost brutal force. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he takes you hard and fast.

He groans, the sound a mix of pleasure and disbelief. He hadn’t expected to get this close so quickly, but the feeling of you clenching around him is almost too much to handle.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, his thrusts growing more erratic as he struggles to hold back his release. “Fuck I think I’m gonna cum ..darlin…”

And all you’re thinking is really?

He knows he needs to slow down, to focus on your pleasure instead of his own. He adjusts his position, angling his hips so that each thrust hits your sweet spot, determined to bring you to your peak before he loses control.

“Come on, sweetheart” he growls, his voice strained with effort. “I want to feel you come around me…”

you finally feel yourself getting closer to the edge, you bring one of your hands down to rub yourself as Joel continues working his hips

He feels himself getting closer and closer, the sight of you rubbing yourself combined with the feeling of you clenching around him driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck…I can’t hold on much longer,” he grits out, his thrusts growing erratic as he fights to maintain control. “I’m so close, baby…”

And there you go, coming hard from just his words of restraint and vulnerability. Your body begins to tremble.

He pulls out of you at the last second, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his release. He grips the edge of the seat tightly, his knuckles white as he watches you come undone beneath him, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. He lets out a low, guttural moan as he spills onto your stomach, his hot seed splattering against your skin.

He slumps forward, bracing himself against the seat above you as he tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving with exertion.

He chuckles breathlessly, his voice hoarse from the intensity of their encounter.

“That…was incredible,” he pants, still struggling to catch his breath. “You’re incredible…”

Joel clears his throat, cheeks flushed as he grabs his discarded shirt from the floor of the truck. He leans over, gently wiping your stomach with it, his touch far more tender now than it was a few moments ago. You can tell he’s trying not to meet your eyes, still caught in a mix of embarrassment and lingering desire.

“I’m real sorry about the mess, darlin’…” he mutters, the last word trailing off awkwardly. He swallows, glancing at you briefly before looking away again. “I just… figured it was better than in…”

He can’t quite finish the sentence, so he busies himself with blotting the last traces from your skin. There’s a faint warmth in his cheeks—part sheepish, part relieved—and you can’t help but find it strangely endearing given everything that’s just happened.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, heart still pounding as you watch him. Despite the flushed look on his face, there’s a gentleness in how carefully he’s cleaning you up, like he’s determined to take care of every little detail.

“It’s okay,” you finally say, reaching out to touch his arm. You offer him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to ease the tension. “Really.”

Joel glances at you, something soft and grateful flickering in his eyes. He exhales slowly, nodding as he crumples the shirt in his hands. “Guess I got carried away.” A faint, self-conscious grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t seem to help myself when it comes to you.”

A quiet moment settles between you, the air thick with the aftermath—both of the desire and the vulnerability that follows. Outside, the parking lot is dark and silent, the world momentarily distant. You reach for him, fingertips grazing his hand, and he laces his fingers gently with yours.

“Stay like this for a minute?” you murmur, voice hushed. The rush of the moment may have passed, but you’re not ready to let go of the closeness just yet.

Joel nods, his thumb brushing a light circle over your knuckles. He tugs you toward him, letting you nestle against his chest. Even in the cramped space of the truck, it feels safe. Comfortable. For a brief spell, neither of you speaks—content to breathe each other in, aware that reality will intrude soon enough, but not willing to face it just yet.

Joel’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as he takes another slow corner, the streetlamps casting fleeting shadows across his face. Neither of you has spoken much since you pulled yourselves together, but you can feel the tension lingering—an aftershock of what just happened and the weight of what’s waiting back at your house.

He glances over when you whisper, “So this is it?” His expression softens, a mix of concern and something else flickering in his eyes. “Hey,” he murmurs, clearing his throat as he rolls the windows down a crack, letting in a cool night breeze. “I know it’s hard… going back.”

You can’t bring yourself to reply right away. Instead, you stare out the windshield at the empty road stretching ahead, the hum of the tires against asphalt somehow comforting. It feels like you’re both in a holding pattern—neither here nor there.

After a moment, Joel exhales. “We don’t have to head there just yet,” he says, voice quiet, almost tentative. “I could keep drivin’ ’til we figure out what you wanna do.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you wrap your arms around yourself, remembering the warmth of his chest just moments ago. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, swallowing around the ache rising in your chest. “I can’t stay at that house. Not after—after everything.”

Joel nods, his hand flexing on the steering wheel. “I get it,” he says softly. He slows the truck at a stop sign, looking your way. You can see the conflict on his face—part of him wanting to take you somewhere safe, part of him worried about making decisions for both of you.

He takes a breath, forces a small nod, and eases his foot off the brake. The truck lurches forward gently, heading down an unfamiliar street. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, and though his voice wavers, there’s enough determination there to make you believe he’ll try.

The dim glow of the dashboard lights plays across his bare shoulders. Somehow, seeing him like this—shirtless, caught between confidence and uncertainty—makes your heart twist. It’s as though the two of you have crossed a line tonight that you can’t uncross, and neither of you knows exactly where to go from here.

“You can stay at my place,” Joel offers, almost hesitantly. “I mean, I don’t know how Sarah might—” He cuts himself off, lips pressing into a firm line. It’s obvious he’s thinking about all the complications waiting in both of your lives, but especially about Sarah. He doesn’t want to force you back into your dad’s house, though. “Just… an option,” he finishes, voice quieter.

You reach out and place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension still coiled in his muscles. “Thank you,” you say, your tone earnest despite the weight of everything unsaid. “I’m not sure I can face him tonight.”

Joel’s eyes flick to you, and for a split second, you catch a flicker of relief in his gaze. “Then we’ll steer clear,” he murmurs, turning the wheel with one hand and letting the other rest lightly over yours. “At least ’til we… figure out what comes next.”

The truck hums on, street after street rolling by, and neither of you speaks for a while. But his touch on your hand—gentle, reassuring—tells you enough: you don’t have to step foot into that house tonight if you’re not ready, and Joel’s not going to make you face it alone. Not yet, anyway.

Eventually, you lean your head back, letting the tension ease from your body, even if only for the moment. “Thank you,” you repeat, your voice a soft echo in the dark cab of the truck. Joel just nods, giving your hand a comforting squeeze as he keeps on driving, aimlessly, into the quiet of the night.

Joel parks the truck in his driveway, letting the engine idle for a moment before finally switching it off. In the hush that follows, you exhale a shaky breath, heart still pounding from the night’s events. The air around you feels heavy with everything unspoken—your decision not to go home, the uncertain path ahead.

Without a word, Joel slips out of the driver’s seat. In a few swift steps, he’s at your door, opening it gently. A faint chill in the night air rushes into the cab, but the warmth in his gaze makes you feel less exposed than you’d expect.

“You okay?” he asks, one hand braced on the frame of the open door. Even without a shirt on, he somehow manages to look both protective and vulnerable. The porch light casts a soft glow, illuminating the faint worry lines etched across his brow.

You nod, mustering a small smile. “Yeah,” you manage, though your voice quivers slightly.

Joel steps back, giving you space to climb out. As you do, your legs feel shaky, and he notices, sliding his arm around you with quiet concern. You can’t help leaning into him, the familiar warmth of his body a small comfort against the swirl of emotion in your chest.

A soft, relieved exhale leaves his lips when he feels you steady yourself. His free hand finds yours, fingers lacing as he leads you up the driveway. Neither of you speaks as you head toward his front door, the silence surprisingly comforting—like you’re both letting the weight of this new reality settle without rushing it.

Once inside, the house is dim, quiet. Joel takes a beat to hang his keys on a hook near the door. You stand in the entryway, heart thrumming, unsure what to do with yourself. It hits you that you’re in his space now, a place that’s become a refuge but also filled with its own complications. Sarah might be sleeping, but the thought of her still tugs at the back of your mind.

“We can talk,” Joel says gently, turning to face you. His eyes meet yours, and there’s a certain earnestness there, as if he’s aware of all the unasked questions and is just waiting for you to bring them up. “Or… if you just wanna rest, that’s okay too.”

A knot forms in your throat at the kindness in his offer. Stepping closer, you let your fingers brush over his forearm in silent thanks. For now, it’s enough to be here in the quiet, together, without the looming dread of returning to the house you’ve been avoiding.

You nod, a faint sheen of exhaustion creeping over you. “Rest… yeah,” you say quietly. There will be time to figure things out—later. When your head is clearer, when you’re ready to confront the reality beyond these walls.

Joel dips his head in acknowledgment, pressing a fleeting kiss to your forehead. It’s a small moment of gentleness that melts some of the tension from your shoulders. Then, wordlessly, he guides you further inside, leaving the night and all its uncertainties just beyond the door.

Joel leads you to the guest room, guiding you gently by the hand. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows on the walls, and you’re suddenly aware of how exhausted you feel. But the second he steps aside to let you enter, the reality of why you’re here—what you’re running from—crashes down on you all over again.

You stop short in the doorway, tears pricking your eyes. Shaking your head, you try to speak, but your voice refuses to cooperate. Instead, the tears spill over, and you can’t hold back a quiet sob. You feel foolish, overwhelmed, and somehow still painfully grateful that Joel is here.

“Hey,” he murmurs, concern lacing every syllable. He comes closer, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay.”

You turn to face him, tears streaking your cheeks. “I—I just…” you start, but you can’t finish. Everything—your dad, Linda, the guilt, the uncertainty—presses in on you like a weight you can’t carry.

Joel’s arms wrap around you, drawing you into a steady, reassuring hug. His palm glides up and down your back in soothing circles. “It’s alright,” he repeats, his voice gentle and low. “Take your time.”

For a moment, you stand there, trembling in his hold, letting the tears come. The events of the night have left you raw and fragile, and it feels like you’re still on the edge of shattering. But Joel’s presence, the warmth of his body, grounds you just enough to keep you from falling apart completely.

Eventually, you manage a shaky breath, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. Joel steps back a fraction, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your shoulders slumping under the weight of everything unsaid. “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

He gently touches your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. “You’ve been through a lot,” he says quietly. “Don’t apologize for feelin’ it.”

His words loosen the knot in your throat just a bit. You nod, trying to steady your breathing, and Joel stays close, not crowding you but letting you know he’s right there if you need him.

Sniffling, you glance around the room, the bed neatly made, the walls decorated with simple, comforting touches. In that instant, you’re struck by how much you want—no, need—a moment of real rest, away from prying eyes and suffocating situations.

“Thank you,” you manage, voice unsteady. “For letting me stay… for everything.”

Joel studies you, a flicker of sadness crossing his features, but he just nods. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says quietly. “Get some rest, alright? I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

You muster a small, watery smile, nodding as he steps out and gently closes the door behind him. The room falls quiet, your breathing the only sound. And for once, despite all the chaos still waiting beyond these walls, you feel a tiny spark of relief: you’re not alone tonight.

•

You settle into the guest bed, your body finally succumbing to a wave of fatigue you can’t hold back any longer. The pillow feels cool against your cheek, and the lingering warmth from Joel’s embrace calms the tension in your shoulders just enough for you to let go. Your eyes drift shut, and almost before you realize it, the weight of the day’s emotions fades into the background. Sleep overtakes you in an instant, heavy and dreamless, granting you a moment’s escape from everything waiting outside that quiet room.

•

You take a few groggy steps into the hallway, still half-asleep and barely registering where you are—until you see Joel at the stove, spatula in hand, the smell of eggs hitting you before your vision fully sharpens. Your eyes dart around, and that’s when you spot Sarah, sitting at the kitchen table with her phone in hand. She slowly looks up, gaze flicking from your bare legs to your flushed face.

You freeze mid-step, suddenly aware you’re wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and underwear. A jolt of embarrassment snaps you out of your morning daze. Sarah locks eyes with you, then pointedly looks away, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated show of exasperation.

Joel, sensing the tension, turns his head slightly and notices you standing there, looking like a deer in headlights. “Uh—mornin’,” he says, his voice low but careful. He doesn’t stare, instead focusing quickly back on the stove, though the tips of his ears redden.

Sarah sighs dramatically. “Good morning,” she mutters, her tone making it clear she’s not thrilled to see you in such casual attire. She picks up her coffee mug and takes a slow sip, as though she’s forcing herself to stay calm.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Of course she’d be here. This is still her home, after all. You swallow hard, nodding at them both. “Morning,” you manage, trying not to squeak. “I—sorry.”

You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for your appearance, for being there at all, or just for existing in this awkward moment. Sarah rolls her eyes again, tapping a finger on the table. Joel clears his throat, refocusing on the eggs in the pan.

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he says gently, not meeting your eyes. It’s an out, and you take it with relief, darting away before either of them can say anything else.

As you vanish around the corner, you hear a faint, tense silence settle in the kitchen. Your cheeks burn, and part of you wants to sneak out a window to avoid any more confrontation. But after a moment, you remind yourself: You needed a place to stay. You’re allowed to be here. Even if Sarah’s reaction stings, it’s better than going back to your own house right now.

You close the bathroom door behind you, pressing your back to the cool wood, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your nerves. With one hand, you fumble for the lock. The embarrassment still throbs in your stomach—but for the moment, you have a small corner of privacy where you can breathe before facing them again.

Sarah sets her coffee mug on the table with a little more force than necessary, causing the liquid to slosh near the brim. “Why is she here, Dad?” she asks, her tone sharp and annoyed, eyes cutting over to him.

Joel looks up from the stove, spatula in hand, and exhales slowly. “She needed a place to stay, Sarah. It’s complicated.” His voice is calm, but you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, trying not to provoke her further.

Sarah folds her arms, leaning back in her chair. “Complicated. Right.” She glances again at the hallway you disappeared into, then back at Joel. “And you thought you’d just bring her here without telling me?”

Joel sets the spatula down, his brow knitting in frustration. “I didn’t know you’d be home so early,” he explains, voice low. “And I didn’t think you’d mind—”

“Obviously, I mind,” Sarah snaps, cutting him off. She rubs her temples, sighing heavily. “I just don’t get why she’s here. With everything that’s happened…is this even a good idea?”

Joel rubs a hand over the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. “I know it’s a lot,” he says, a note of regret in his tone. “But she’s going through hell at her place. I couldn’t turn her away, not last night.”

Sarah opens her mouth as if to retort, but then her expression falters—just for a moment. You can see the conflict in her eyes, the flash of concern she’s trying to hide. “Well,” she mutters finally, crossing her arms again, “maybe give me a heads-up next time?”

Joel nods, relief tempering the lines of tension on his face. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I will.”

The air in the kitchen still feels charged, tension lingering despite the surface calm. Sarah picks up her coffee mug again, tapping her fingers restlessly against the handle. She shoots Joel one last pointed look before turning her attention back to her phone, the conversation seemingly at a standstill.

Joel clears his throat and returns to the stove, refocusing on the eggs. But his shoulders are hunched, and you can sense the weight of Sarah’s disapproval pressing on him—even if she doesn’t say another word.

•

You exit the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind you and still feeling a bit unsettled from the awkward exchange in the hallway. Suddenly, Sarah appears, heading down the corridor in your direction. She doesn’t even slow her pace; instead, she cuts you a sideways glance as she passes.

“Maybe you should just move in here while you’re at it,” she mutters, half under her breath, but still loud enough for you to catch every word. The sarcasm drips from her voice, and she doesn’t stop walking until she’s at her bedroom door.

You stand there for a moment, your cheeks heating from embarrassment and a fresh wave of guilt washing over you. Before you can think of a response—an apology, a retort, anything—Sarah slips into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

For a second, you just stand in the hallway, staring at the now-closed door. Part of you wants to hurry back into the guest room and avoid any more tense encounters. Another part of you knows you can’t keep hiding forever, no matter how uncomfortable things may be.

Finally, you exhale and take a tentative step toward the kitchen. Joel might not be able to shield you from Sarah’s ire, but at least you won’t have to face the morning’s awkwardness alone. And deep down, you try to remind yourself that you have as much right to be here as anyone—whether Sarah sees it that way or not.

Joel’s quiet voice breaks through the thoughts swirling in your head. You glance up to find him watching you from the doorway to the kitchen, a soft, reassuring look on his face.

“Don’t worry about her, sweetheart,” he says, his tone gentle, as if sensing the turmoil Sarah’s remark left behind.

You shift on your feet, nerves prickling under your skin. A wave of gratitude washes over you at his attempt to comfort you, but part of you still bristles at the tension lingering in the house.

Joel steps closer, one hand resting lightly on the small of your back. “She’ll come around,” he continues softly. “She’s just… not too thrilled with the situation. Doesn’t mean you need to feel bad.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding more to yourself than to him. “Thanks,” you manage, trying to offer a small smile.

He gives a reassuring squeeze, guiding you gently toward the kitchen. “Come have some breakfast,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low. “Let her cool off, okay?”

Your eyes flick down the hall where Sarah disappeared. You know it won’t be that easy, but Joel’s presence soothes at least some of the anxiety knotted in your chest. With a tentative nod, you follow him, hoping that a quiet morning meal might dull the edges of everyone’s frustration.

•

Joel’s phone buzzes, the number on the screen making his stomach twist with unease. He glances at you, then presses it to his ear. You catch fragments of his side of the conversation—pleasant enough at first, a forced casualness in Joel’s voice.

“Hey, man,” Joel says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Uh, how’ve you been holding up?” He shoots you a quick, uneasy glance, as though trying to gauge how you’re doing.

There’s a pause, long enough that you can imagine your dad’s sharp exhalation on the other end. Then Joel presses his lips together, nodding like he’s hearing some clipped reply.

“I get it,” Joel says, careful. “Sounds like… well, it sounds like things have been rough.”

He’s trying to small-talk, to buy time, but your dad isn’t having it. You hear a sharper tone spill through the receiver—though you can’t make out the exact words—and Joel’s face tightens.

“Joel, I need her. Where is she?” comes your dad’s voice, loud enough for you to catch every syllable. The question crackles through the line, loaded with anger and urgency.

Joel’s gaze flicks to you. You can see him weighing his options in the small, tense silence, torn between what’s right and what’s safe.

After a breath, Joel forces a calm he might not feel. “She’s, uh… she’s taking some time, alright?” he says, keeping his tone as even as he can. “Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

You watch him grip his phone tighter, the tension radiating from him in waves. The truth remains suspended, unsaid: She’s here, she doesn’t want to come home.

“Listen,” he continues, lower now. “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”

A bark of frustration from your dad echoes through the earpiece. Joel’s jaw clenches. He glances at you again, brow furrowed, before giving a small shake of his head—as if to warn you not to panic.

“No, she’s not in trouble, she’s just—” Joel says, then stops, letting your dad’s words pound through the speaker. “I understand you’re worried, but look, I’m telling you, she’s okay. That’s all I can say right now.”

His voice almost trembles with effort, fighting to remain composed. Finally, he gives a tight nod to himself and ends the call with a short, “I’ll let her know you called.”

Silence descends in the kitchen, heavy and electric. You can practically feel Joel’s pulse hammering as he sets the phone down on the counter. He exhales a ragged breath and looks at you—eyes full of concern.

“He’s… not too happy,” he says quietly, stating the obvious. “Says he needs you. But I’m guessin’ you’re still not ready to face him?”

You swallow, heart pounding. “No,” you whisper, the word catching in your throat. “Not yet.”

Joel nods, running a hand down his face. “Alright,” he murmurs, voice grim but resolved. “We’ll figure out what to do. Together.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you glance down to see your dad’s name lighting up the screen. Joel gives you a questioning look, but you shake your head, pressing your lips together before answering. Part of you hopes it might be some sort of apology or an offer to talk things through. But the second you put the phone to your ear, that hope dissolves.

“Hey, kid,” your dad begins, his voice more casual than you expect. “Listen, I need a favor. Linda and I are going out tonight—there’s this fancy spot she’s been dying to try. Could you spot me some money? I’m tapped out right now.”

You’re stunned, eyes going wide. You glance at Joel, who’s hovering nearby, clearly picking up on your reaction. “You… want me to give you money?” you repeat, unable to keep the disbelief out of your voice.

Your dad sighs, sounding almost impatient. “Yeah, I mean, I’ll pay you back. Eventually. It’s just a couple hundred. You know how pricey those places can be…”

A hot wave of anger surges up your spine. Joel notices the way your posture stiffens, and he moves a bit closer, concerned. “You left,” you say, voice trembling. “You completely checked out, came back with Linda like it was no big deal, and now you’re calling me for cash?”

“Kid, calm down,” your dad mumbles, like he’s talking you down from a tantrum. “Don’t make a scene. This is just a favor between family.”

That word—family—tips you over the edge. “Family?” you repeat, bitterness coating every syllable. Your free hand curls into a fist at your side. “You barely acted like family when Mom died. You walked out when I needed you, and now you’re strolling back like nothing happened. And you want money for a date with her?”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically sense the annoyance in his exhale. “That’s not fair,” he counters, voice rising. “It’s complicated, and I’m trying here—”

“You’re trying?” you snap, tears of anger burning in your eyes. “Where were you all those nights I was alone, cleaning the house, trying to deal with Mom’s stuff, and then dealing with your absence on top of it? You left me with all that. And now you want my money?”

Your dad lets out a frustrated breath. “Look, we can talk about that another time, okay? I just need—”

“No,” you cut him off, voice shaking with rage. “You don’t get to call and ask for a handout like everything’s fine. Because guess what? It’s not fine. You’re barely a dad anymore. You lost that right the minute you walked out and came back with Linda, acting like our lives are just a pit stop on your way to something better.”

“Kid—”

“Stop calling me that!” you practically shout into the phone, your chest heaving. “Don’t act like we’re in some normal situation. If you want money, go ask Linda. Or pick up more shifts. Or maybe think about someone besides yourself for once.”

He goes silent again, and you can almost feel his anger bristling through the phone. After a long, tense beat, his voice drops, turning cold. “Fine,” he mutters, sounding every bit as spiteful as you feel. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

“Yeah,” you snap, tears threatening to spill. “You do that.”

You stab the “end call” button, your hand trembling from the surge of adrenaline and emotion. The kitchen is quiet except for your ragged breathing. Joel moves closer, gently prying the phone from your hand and setting it on the counter.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice soft. He can tell you’re on the edge of breaking down. “You alright?”

Your chest aches, and you swipe at an angry tear that slips free. “No,” you admit, voice quavering. “But I’m not giving him a dime.”

Joel nods, his expression a mix of sympathy and frustration on your behalf. Slowly, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in just enough so you feel the reassuring pressure of his presence.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Joel says quietly. “Not after what he’s done.”

You nod, silent tears coursing down your cheeks. For now, you let yourself lean into Joel’s hold, heart hammering, anger still pulsing in your veins. It’s messy and it hurts, but deep down, you can’t help feeling a small jolt of relief: at least you finally said what you’ve been carrying for far too long.

A surge of white-hot anger floods you as you watch your phone skitter across the floor. The clatter echoes in the tense silence, Joel’s startled voice calling after you, but you’re too far gone—too furious to focus on anything but the pounding in your head. You barrel through the front door, letting it slam behind you with a jarring thud.

Outside, the early morning light feels too bright, the air too still. Your hands tremble as you fumble in your pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You shove one between your lips, flicking the lighter once, twice, until the small flame ignites. Smoke sears your lungs on the first inhale, sharp and acrid, but it’s exactly what you need in this moment—a jarring counterpoint to the storm raging in your head.

Joel’s footsteps sound behind you, hesitant on the porch, but you don’t turn around. You keep your back to him, gaze fixed on the street beyond, trying to steady your shaking hands. The cigarette crackles softly as you take another drag, the tightness in your chest easing just enough to breathe through the anger.

You can sense Joel hovering nearby, his concern palpable. He doesn’t say anything, though, seeming unsure if pushing you to talk might only worsen the outburst. Instead, he lingers, ready to step in if you need him, but careful not to invade the small space you’ve carved out for yourself.

You pull another lungful of smoke, letting it mingle with the tension still coiled in your gut. At least out here, you can pace, breathe, feel—even if it’s just the biting taste of nicotine on your tongue. Anything to hold off the sting of your dad’s voice in your head and the shattered pieces of your phone call echoing over and over.

For a few moments, you let yourself be angry—really, truly, furious. You deserve that much. And as the cigarette burns down, the tightness in your chest recedes a fraction, leaving just a dull ache of disappointment and betrayal behind.

Eventually, the stub glows close to your fingertips. You toss it aside, grinding it under your shoe in one jerky motion. When you finally turn around, Joel is there, his concern etched into his eyes. He doesn’t say a word, but his silent presence is something—maybe all you can handle right now.

You blow out a final smoky breath, swallowing the surge of emotion that still threatens to choke you. Inside, the phone lies abandoned where it landed. Outside, Joel waits. And the rest of the world spins on, indifferent to the fury roiling within you.

“He’s such an ass, how were you guys even friends”

Joel watches you quietly as you flick the last bit of ash from your cigarette, the anger still radiating off you in waves. At your words, he exhales slowly, shoulders sagging under the weight of his own conflicted feelings.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice low and strained. “Back then, he wasn’t… like this.” He leans against the porch railing, crossing his arms over his chest. “He changed. Or maybe I never really knew him the way I thought I did.”

You take a shaky breath, running a hand over your face. The morning sun feels too bright on your skin, too at odds with the swirl of bitterness in your chest. “I hate him,” you say, quieter this time, eyes fixed on some distant point in the street. “And I hate that I hate him.”

Joel nods, understanding flickering in his gaze. “You’re allowed to feel however you feel,” he murmurs. “It’s his job to make things right. Or it should be.”

You shift, the cigarette between your fingers still smoldering. “I just… can’t believe he’d expect me to give him money. For her. After everything.” Your voice cracks with the remnants of anger and hurt.

Joel steps closer, gently prying the cigarette from your hand before grinding it out on the porch floor. “He’ll have to deal with his own mistakes,” he says, quieter now. “You don’t owe him a damn thing.”

You swallow hard, tears burning at the back of your eyes. I wish it felt that simple, you think, but you don’t say it out loud. Instead, you lean against Joel, letting him slip an arm around your shoulders. He doesn’t offer solutions or empty platitudes—just a steady presence that grounds you in the here and now.

As the two of you stand on the porch, the morning air still cool against your skin, you try to let the rage bleed away into a more distant ache. It’s hard to know what comes next, but for the moment, Joel’s warmth at your side is enough.

Joel tilts your chin up, his fingers warm against your skin. The world seems to slow as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. It’s cautious—almost tentative—like he’s checking to see if this is okay, if this is what you need right now.

Your anger and frustration soften, at least for the moment, beneath the tenderness of his touch. You close your eyes, exhaling slowly against his mouth, letting yourself sink into the solace he’s offering. The porch and the whole world beyond it fade into a distant backdrop.

When he finally pulls back, the faint morning light catches in his eyes, and you see a hint of concern there. He’s looking at you as though trying to gauge just how close you are to falling apart again.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, voice hushed but earnest.

You take a shaky breath, still tasting the memory of his lips on yours. “I don’t know,” you admit honestly, leaning into him just a little. “But that helped.”

A tiny smile plays on Joel’s features, a softness that makes your chest ache with gratitude—and something else you can’t quite name yet. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, anchoring you in the quiet morning stillness, as if promising he won’t let you face this alone.

“Come on,” he says gently, voice carrying a note of resolve. “Let’s get inside. We’ll figure out the rest after we’ve had a moment to breathe.”

Nodding, you allow him to guide you back toward the house, your heart still raw with anger and hurt, but beating a little steadier now—buoyed, if only slightly, by the small kindness of his kiss.

“Let’s figure it out now, I’m tired of saying I’ll figure it out later”

Joel pauses at your words, his hand still resting lightly on your shoulder. For a moment, the morning air feels heavier with the realization that you’re done putting things off. He meets your gaze, his own full of concern and a flicker of uncertainty.

“Alright,” he says quietly, his voice low. “Let’s figure it out now.”

You swallow, steadying yourself as you lean back against the porch railing. The memories of last night, of your dad’s call and the tension with Sarah, all churn in your mind. “I can’t keep living in limbo,” you murmur, wiping your palms nervously on your thighs. “I’m so sick of avoiding him, of wondering where I’m supposed to be.”

Joel nods slowly, shifting his weight. “I get that,” he says. “But what do you want to do?” There’s no judgment in his tone—just an honest question.

Your eyes flick toward the front door, where Sarah is somewhere inside, likely still on edge. You think of your dad, his demands, his absence, and how much it hurt you. “I…can’t go back,” you begin, inhaling a shaky breath. “Not right now. But I can’t stay here forever, either.”

Joel rubs the back of his neck. “I get that,” he repeats softly. “You could stay until you get on your feet, but I know Sarah’s not exactly thrilled.” He blows out a sigh. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck hiding.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the conflicting pressure of wanting to stand your ground and wanting to avoid another fight. “Then I need to make some decisions,” you say, your voice quivering with pent-up frustration. “A job, a place to stay—something that’s mine, not his.” And not something that drives a wedge between you and Joel, you silently add.

Joel steps closer, gaze earnest. “I can help,” he offers, then quickly amends, “But only if you want me to. We can look around for a place—maybe something cheap, a sublet, or an apartment. Find you some part-time work if you need it.”

You close your eyes, relief and worry warring in your chest. “That—yeah,” you manage, feeling a slight rush of gratitude. “I…I’d like that. At least then I’d have a plan.”

He reaches out, brushing a thumb over your cheek in a hesitant, comforting gesture. “We start today,” he says, and his voice carries a quiet determination. “We won’t put it off anymore.”

Your shoulders ease a fraction at his words, some of the anxiety loosening in your chest. It won’t be easy—none of this has been easy. But with a plan, and Joel’s unwavering support, you can stop merely surviving and finally start living on your own terms.

The next week passes in a blur of tentative steps toward building a new routine. You manage to land a part-time job as a secretary at a small office nearby—three days a week, enough to give you a sense of stability without feeling overwhelmed. Joel often drives you to work, the quiet moments in the truck becoming small pockets of comfort amidst the whirlwind of change.

You’ve been staying in Joel’s guest room, slowly making the space feel more like your own. The tension with Sarah has lessened, and while things aren’t completely back to normal between the two of you, she’s been making an effort. Sometimes she’ll knock on your door and ask if you want to play games, and more often than not, you agree. Those moments are small, but they’re a reminder of the bond you once shared—and maybe still can.

Your dad, however, hasn’t reached out since your heated call. The silence from him leaves a strange ache in your chest, a mix of relief and hurt. You’ve stopped checking your phone obsessively, trying to focus instead on the small victories: waking up in a safe space, earning your own paycheck, rebuilding pieces of yourself one day at a time.

One evening, after a long day at work, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with Joel. Sarah’s upstairs, likely immersed in whatever show or game has caught her attention. Joel pours you a cup of tea, sliding it across the table before settling into the chair across from you.

“You’re doin’ good, darlin’,” he says softly, his voice carrying that familiar warmth. “Proud of you.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you feel the sting of tears threatening to rise. “Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your hands around the warm mug. “I still feel like I’m figuring things out.”

Joel leans back in his chair, his gaze steady. “You’re supposed to,” he says with a small smile. “Nobody’s got it all figured out. But you’re takin’ the steps. That’s what matters.”

You nod, letting his words sink in. The ache of your dad’s absence still lingers, but here, with Joel’s steady presence and the beginnings of a new life taking shape, it feels just a little easier to bear.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the house filling the spaces between you. It’s not perfect, but for now, it’s enough.

#joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller game #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller show #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel x female reader #joel miller smut #whiskey & wildflowers

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katuschka · 1 month ago

Text

Olalla Chapter Eleven 1/2

Josh Kiszka x f!OC x Jake Kiszka 4.572 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): descriptions of injury, mentions of blood and stitches, nightmares, secrets and insincerity, fluff, smut, mutual masturbation, rough sex, hair pulling, very light BDSM (sans BD), and as always, an unhealthy dose of heavy emotions and feelings

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Can I believe you? Can I ever know your mind? Am I handing you mine? Do we both confide? I see it, eat through every word I sow See what you need to, do you doubt it's yours? Now I'm learning the ropes never get this close I've been wounded before Hasn't let me go

Agnieszka, December 22nd, 5:30 pm

“It’s nothing, Neszka.”

How I missed the sound of his voice. Sweet and raspy, like crystallized honey. My grandmother used it to hide the bitter taste of cough drops, but I could always feel it on my tongue anyway. She never fooled me. And neither did he…

It didn’t look like nothing, and he didn’t sound like it was nothing. Even though he tried to smile in a vain attempt to fool me. Still, the result was more like a crooked sneer and it certainly didn’t reach his eyes. Despite his weak reassurance, it only kept me worrying, because that’s exactly how he looked, too: worried… There was also something else in his eyes; something that I couldn’t decipher yet. I gently ran my fingertips across the dark bruise right under the stitched gash. The snowflakes in his hair melted down and fell in tiny droplets on his cheeks. I wiped those as well. He closed his eyes in reaction to my touch and his expression softened momentarily, so I dared to speak again.

“Don’t lie, Joshua. This looks days old, you have three stitches, and I’m only just learning about this now?! Who did this to you? And why?”

He opened his eyes again, but didn’t answer and didn’t look at me. Instead, his gaze fell on the malachite pendant that I still wore on a silver chain round my neck, close to my heart. It was a perfect symbol of the kind of love he kept giving me: cleansing, transformative… and toxic. He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw, and I felt his hands slide from my shoulders and down my arms until it was just his fingertips that traced the sharp curves of my elbows. I could barely feel that touch. My questions hung heavy in the air, creating an invisible emotional gap between us, and I couldn’t fully understand why. I hated it, though! This moment wasn’t supposed to be like this. I just wanted to hug him again, while desperately yearning for him to hug me back.

But something was suddenly different.

I had feared it would be like that eventually… that one day he would no longer give me answers. I had nightmares about it. And now he was slipping away just like he had been in those dreams that kept haunting me. Our “affair” had always been more like a dream anyway. My fairytale man, wrapped in satin and adorned with sparkling gems. My other-worldly prince, written by Brothers Grimm. He kept on bleeding and in return it kept me dreading moments yet to come.

“Talk to me,” I whispered, still hoping that it was just me being paranoid again.

And then, out of the blue, he cupped my cheeks and kissed me lightly, the stitches that held his lip together scratching mine. He could have razor blades there and I would not care, because after all those months apart, my baby kissed me again. I shivered, and as if on cue, he ran his fingers through my hair, cradling my skull like the finest china. My body felt light. Then he finally spoke.

“We had a fight… me and Jake. But hey! I don’t want you to worry about that. It’s ok. It was nasty, but it’s between the two of us.”

I pulled away from his embrace indignantly. “How can I not worry about that? You both assured me you were ok, and… why? What is it this time? Does he also look like this? Is he outside? I want to tal…”

“Shhh, we’re ok. And no, they already left. We’ll see them tomorrow.”

With that, he grabbed his duffle bag that he had previously dropped on the floor – a clear indication that he wanted me to drop the subject, but I wouldn’t give up so easily. I felt like there was still more of what he was not telling me. We all had completely different plans just a few hours ago, so whatever was going on, it definitely didn’t seem like they were ok. “But the dinner, Joshua…”

I could tell he sensed my growing unease, because he frowned. “Relax, Olalla. It’s just a last-minute change of plans. We’re all awfully tired, and especially Lisa. She’s not used to transatlantic jetlags, and the final drive really took its toll.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Those cute, tiny wrinkles that often appeared around his eyes when he got tired were now more pronounced than ever. He offered me his hand and smiled again, even though it must have been painful, and together we went upstairs.

“You must be hungry, though,” I said when we entered my living room.

“Yeah…a bit, but I’m really craving a hot shower now.” He put his bag down and took off his down jacket and I immediately hugged him from behind, making him huff and grimace over his shoulder at me. “Ugh, no darling, I stink!”

“No, you don’t,” I chuckled and mumbled with my face buried in the soft fabric of his woolen hoodie while he stroked my arms that were firmly wrapped around his chest. He smelled like cozy winter evenings spent by the stove after long, adventurous days; his own musk mixed with a whiff of cinnamon and vanilla and pine wood. I could spend hours just standing there like that, but his stomach suddenly rumbled loudly, making us both cackle again. “But how about you just go take that shower and I’ll run downstairs to prepare us some savory stuffed toasts in the meantime, hm? Maybe even tomato salad?”

“With sour cream and spring onions?” he crooned softly.

“Absolutely.” I whispered in his ear. I loved how he always sounded like a small kid when we talked about food, and I was always ready to give and make him everything he wanted, even if it meant to spend hours in the kitchen. “And then we can pretend to watch tv…”

“Pretending to watch tv with you is my favorite pastime,” he smiled softly with a mischievous glint in his eyes, before his face twisted in pain again as the lip stretched too much. “I’m sorry I can’t kiss you properly.”

And you refuse to tell me why…

I decided not to push it. Instead, I just kissed his cheek and excused myself. There were things I refused to tell him, too…

When I came back from the main kitchen with a tray full of munchies, I found him sprawled across my bed, lying on his stomach and already fast asleep. He was almost naked, safe for one towel still wrapped around his head and another one already just haphazardly draped over his butt. My heart melted at the sight, so delightfully domestic and bohemian at the same time, but the nasty creature living deep inside me wanted me to wallow in unjustified disappointment. I always hated that self-centered bitch that kept poisoning my thoughts. The fact that he was here with me should have been enough… and yet I still felt like it was not.

The feeling came with old questions, ones that I had been trying to disregard ever since they left by the end of September and his sweet kisses and incessant babbling about life having no rules could no longer distract my mind. What now? Am I enough? Does he want me to be his life or just a vacation? Those thoughts had been relatively easy to ignore while I had something to look forward to, and him coming back for Christmas was a chapter yet to be read. I banished and locked those thoughts somewhere at the back of my head, where they kept haunting me at the dead of night, but my days were filled with childish anticipation.

He was finally here, in flesh and blood, and as I watched his back rise and fall peacefully, I could feel the charm slowly evaporate in the air, but I was not yet ready to admit that. Two more weeks, and then what?

Careful not to wake him, I gently freed him from those damp towels, before I covered those perfect ass cheeks with a spare blanket from my closet as he was lying on top of mine, looking like an angel that fell too hard. Pale, beaten and once again so awfully thin.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked those damp curls for a while, deliberately avoiding the already barely visible scar that still made my heart skip a beat everytime I saw it, before concluding that it would be best to just let him sleep. I checked the old clock on the wall; it was only 7, but it already felt like midnight.

There was no room for me on that bed. I turned off the light, closed the door carefully and spent the rest of the evening on my couch, eating my toast and trying to keep my mind occupied with my favourite book, which proved nearly impossible. The unshakeable restlessness deep within my chest only made me re-read the same paragraph over and over again, until the words became blurry and the wind on top of the mountain kept turning the pages and my fingers, too numb with cold, could no longer hold the large, leather-bound volume. It slipped from my grasp and fell down the slope, releasing a roaring avalanche that buried the whole town under snow, all because I wanted the story to come true. The sun came up then, burning the remaining debris to a cinder. I watched the destruction from above and I cried and cried, with my eyes fixed on the crimson sky, until I heard those voices calling me again.

Olalla…

Neszka…

VEELA…

“Olalla! Babe! Wake up, honey!”

His real voice finally roused me. I opened my eyes, disoriented, and flinched lightly when I saw Joshua hovering above me, his expression a mixture of tenderness and worry. “What happened?” I croaked, with my throat parched and hurting.

“Well, you tell me. I woke up in the dark, hearing your cries coming from… here.” He crouched down and cupped my wet and puffy face, looking just as confused as I felt. “I’m sorry I fell asleep like that, but what are you doing here? It’s nearly morning. And why the hell are you crying?” Before I could even respond, he looked around hastily and with a strange, alarmed expression on his face, as if searching for something. That startled me too, as all those feelings from my dream still resonated deep within me. I tried to sit up, perhaps too fast, and my vision blurred before everything went dark for a split second and I was only vaguely aware of grabbing at Joshua’s shoulder to steady myself. That brought his attention back to me. “It was just a nightmare,” I breathed out, still hyperventilating, but getting better already.

He frowned and grabbed my hands in his, while studying my face intently. “I figured… but babe! Bad dreams shouldn’t affect you this much! Does this happen often?” My silence only confirmed that they do, and he continued: “What are they about? When did you start having them?”

I couldn’t tell him the truth...

The truth was confusing and scary.

“It’s ok.” I said instead.

“I don’t think it’s ok. You’re shivering. And your hands are awfully cold!”

“And you’re completely naked,” I pointed out the obvious, partly because I saw his dick in its full glory for the first time in months and it seemed almost comical in that particular situation, and partly because it allowed me to change the subject. Successfully, I should add, because he forgot about my shaking hands in an instant…

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen those jewels before,” he retorted playfully, quasi offended by my blunt comment (and stare).

“Oh I’ve seen them before, but they never fail to dazzle me,” I continued to play along. “You are very obviously not cold.” His eyes widened momentarily, but I knew too well that his light-minded ego would always prevail when stroked. Humble and vain at the same time, Joshua loved flattery and admiration, even though it usually made him blush.

And I wished I could speak just from my own experience, but it was rather an acquired knowledge and my very first attempt to use it to my advantage. I couldn’t understand why I suddenly felt so annoyed by the sheer fact that it worked…

“Perfect answer, darling. Ten out of ten,” he would have grinned if he could; instead, I watched his nostrils flare as he tried to keep a straight face. “Now come to bed with me. Lemme share some of that heat with you.” He stood up and offered me his hand to help me on my feet.

“You go ahead, I need to use the bathroom first.” I stroked his shoulder reassuringly with the other hand as I tried to move past him, but he wouldn’t let me go.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

I assured him that I was. I just needed to be alone for a second…

The black of the night turned to blue when I finally climbed into bed, naked and freezing. Cold showers often helped me get the echoes of my nightmares out of my head during waking hours. Joshua couldn’t help me with them and there was no way I could possibly let him… because I couldn’t even tell him. The worst part was that even though I did all I could to avoid thinking about them, they were much more than just echoes from the very start, evolving and transforming over time. Watching his bruised face filled me with complex emotions I could not yet fully comprehend. We were all playing a dangerous game. If anyone asked me at that moment what I really wanted, I’d choke on the response. I didn’t really know. The only thing I knew for sure at that moment was that I needed to feel him close to me. That was all that mattered; that was what caused all the mess in the first place.

Joshua lay sprawled on my bed with familiar ease, like he’d always belonged there. He didn’t stir when I entered the room, seemingly asleep again, and I cursed myself for letting him wait for too long again. I slid under the blanket and tentatively touched the hot skin on his chest. I ran my palm across his ribcage and felt it slowly rise with one long and deliberate intake of breath. “Hey,” he whispered sleepily.

I finally laid my head right next to his and relaxed for a bit, just taking in the serenity of the moment. It felt like we had to rediscover and relearn each other again, but that was ok. My grip on his warm, dry flesh slowly loosened and my fingers slid down onto his belly where I let them rest. “Hi…,” I mumbled back. He turned towards me, pulled me closer, and started nuzzling my neck affectionately.

It always fascinated me how silence changes with light. Every part of the day has its own kind. It could be oppressive and deafening in the middle of the night, only to turn to cotton wool wrapped around your head as the sun came up behind the blanket of thick clouds. Especially when those thick clouds keep on falling from the sky to cover the land with a glimmering white blanket.

It’s also the time when the most intimate moments are shared, because it feels like you have all the time in the world. All the impatience I felt just hours ago was suddenly gone. He dozed off again after a while and I let him. We just lay there next to each other in the muffled silence with our shoulders pressed together and his hand in mine. My mind cleared momentarily and I knew – above everything else – that I truly loved him.

“Kocham cię,” I whispered again, just like I did months ago when we were lying below the starry sky. It wasn’t meant for his ears back then. I told it to the heavens, like a confession. I was now telling it to the spirits that lived in the snow-covered woods.

“You said this before. What does it mean?”

His low voice startled me, making me flinch. I turned my head quickly towards him, only to see his open eyes staring back at me with an amiable curiosity. They looked almost black in the dim morning light. “I.. I did, but I thought you were sleeping, and… you remember?”

“It took me more than a week to recollect everything that happened prior to the fall, but yes, I remember. A lot of it felt more like a dream though, covered with this strange haze an’all, and I often thought that maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. But you said that, didn’t you. It was real...”

“I did…,” I breathed out croakily. “Yes, it was real.”

“So, what does it mean, babe?”

“Oh Joshua…” I started crying and immediately cursed myself for it. I had told him that I loved him a few times before, so this shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, but I felt overwhelmed anyway. His brows furrowed with worry and alarm, and he cupped my cheeks tenderly.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on? Did I say something wrong? Or… is it bad?”

“No, it’s not bad. It means I love you and I said that when I was certain and in peace with the fact that you never would. And you weren’t supposed to hear it. Or understand… I’m sorry. This is stupid. And I keep acting like an idiot! Why am I always like this?” I sniffed and took a deep breath, struggling to calm down while he kept on scrutinizing my face with concern still etched on his.

“But I do! I do love you. That’s why I’m here, Neszka. You know that, right?” He snuggled up to me and pulled me even closer, pressing his naked chest to mine. “And you’re not an idiot. If anything, I think I behaved like one last night. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m…”

“Shhh… No more talkin’,” he whispered in my ear with his lips almost touching my earlobe and the deliberate slow and warm exhale that followed gave me goosebumps all over my body. The mood shifted immediately and I became acutely aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat. I could feel it quicken in response to my shaky moan when he ran his hand through the hair at the nape of my neck. “I really wish I could kiss you now,” he whispered against my shoulder, sounding a bit crestfallen, so I nipped the right corner of his mouth and then continued to cover his cheek with featherlight pecks before I looked into his eyes again.

“You can do myriads of other things. But no more talking,” I teased.

“Right!” Joshua almost growled and deliberately tugged at the fistful of my hair, making me shiver again, before he let go and let his hand travel down, his fingers brushing against my hardened nipple. “Are you cold again?” he teased.

I did not respond to that. At least not verbally. I just arched my by back and let his wandering hand reclaim my body: starting with my chin, then wrapping his long fingers around my neck, and sliding further down through the valley between my tits, across the plains of my spasming belly until he reached the damp crevice between my legs and cursed when he felt me weep all over his fingertips. “Fuck! That’s hot.”

“Yeah, so you see, I’m not cold.” It was time to reciprocate and I took a similar path. I ran my middle finger down his spine, making him gasp when I didn’t stop where it ended, digging my fingernails into the soft meat around and pulling him closer to me. He was rock hard and pulsating against the flesh of my hip and my heart fluttered with relief.

I snaked the other hand between us, wrapped my fingers around him and started pumping him slowly, making him hiss and moan. In response, he slid two fingers deep inside me and followed my rhythm.

It was slow and lazy and overwhelmingly intimate and I watched him watching me. There was no more talking, but we continued to speak without words, searching for hidden thoughts behind each other’s eyes. After a while, I couldn’t take it any longer and I whispered “more” and he nodded. We let go of each other and he motioned to me to turn around.

It was just like the first time, when he buried his face in my hair the same way he buried his dick inside me, and I was close to losing my mind when he bottomed out and shivered and moaned loudly right into my ear. I reached behind and grabbed him by the nape of his neck, keeping him in place. He was going to sing just for me this time, I’d make sure of it.

We remained still for a few seconds with our limbs intertwined and I relished in the way he whimpered when I clenched around him. He then moved languidly a few times, hitting my g-spot just right with each stroke with his palm pressing down on my underbelly as if he was trying to feel himself becoming part of me. Claiming me, invading me. It was sexy, but I was far from satisfied. I needed him to obliterate the contents of my head. Violently, if need be.

“Joshua…,” I panted in between moans.

“Mmm-hm?”

“Fuck my brains out baby, please…”

I heard him exhale with a hiss through his teeth and nose before he pulled out and turned me on my stomach in one swift motion. I whimpered into the pillow in anticipation and gasped a second later when he spread my legs apart with his knees and ran his fingers through my slit, almost possessively. “Ass up,” he demanded hoarsely, and I happily obeyed.

The teasing bastard kept me waiting then, running his palm up and down my back before he smacked my ass with unforeseen force. “Ye-es,” I breathed out shakily.

“Yes? Like this?”

“Please…” I needed him to destroy me, to punish me for thoughts he didn’t even know I had; thoughts that always came unwittingly and involuntarily and that once again made me hate myself and question everything I had known about myself or love.

Because I loved him. I loved him even more than I had ever loved Dominik and that was the reason why I couldn’t stop participating in this madness.

It was a mad kind of love. So let us be mad…

And he was. Whether it was his own secrets and frustrations seeping through, or just his desire to give me what I wanted, I welcomed it all. I needed to feel the power and I knew he had it in him. I had experienced it before, just like the extreme tenderness that felt mostly undeserved. I needed to be scorched by his inner fire because I knew I deserved it.

Joshua entered me roughly this time and pulled my mind back into the cool, light blue reality of my room. And then he pulled my hair and I cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of maddening arousal and the feeling of deep satisfaction that came with it.

He forced me up onto my elbows and then set up a pace that quickly knocked me back on my pillow, so he pulled my arms behind my back and pressed my wrists together above the small of my back. I could hardly move, completely at his mercy as he kept on destroying my cervix until my thighs started to shake violently.

We were loud. Or god, we were so loud, and I should have felt shame, because the house certainly isn’t soundproof.

But it only served as a testimony that I belonged to him and he was mine and the rest of the world be damned.

It seemed to disappear anyway. My brain short circuited and I was able to register just a few sensory perceptions.

The dull ache in my upper arms.

His sweat dripping on me from above.

His high-pitched moans and his heavy breath.

His fingernails digging into the sensitive soft skin of my wrists and lower back.

The increasingly pleasant feeling deep inside my pussy increased in intensity, until it became almost unbearable and cold shivers ran up my spine.

I whined, with my whole being hovering somewhere between pleasure and pain, and he let go of my hands. I pulled them up and grabbed the pillow, trying to ignore the sharp pain shooting through my shoulders. He bent down and pressed his cold, damp flesh on my back, while whispering in my ear: “Are you ok?”

I was more than ok. He didn’t slow down, he just let his tender side cover me like a comfort blanket momentarily and at that moment I completely lost it. My whole body stiffened and I cried out as the waves of pleasure washed over me, one after another…and another…and another.

He came shortly after me. His thrusts became more and more erratic until he suddenly stopped – shivering – and let out a ragged breath. One more sharp intake of breath and then thrusted forcefully into me for one last time and spilled his seed inside me with a high pitched wail. He remained hovering above me for a few more seconds with his forehead pressed in between my shoulder blades. I think I was holding my own breath the whole time.

Then he collapsed next to me, looking content and completely spent.

I wished I could have stayed in bed with him until midday or even longer. We cuddled for a bit afterwards, but I had my responsibilities in the kitchen, so after a while I reluctantly climbed out of bed, took a quick shower, made myself some coffee and got dressed. When I checked on him to ask what he wanted for breakfast, I saw he had fallen asleep again, looking relaxed and peaceful.

With a heavy heart, but knowing he was ok, I left him there by himself again and went down, because it was already half past eight.

At around 9:30, my phone chimed. At first I thought it was Joshua, still too lazy to get out of bed. I opened the message with a smile, but it only made my heart skip a beat.

Kuba Starlight: Are you still in bed?

I was peering at the screen for several seconds in disbelief, trying to make sense of it, before I typed a quick answer.

Veela: Hello to you, too!:/ I mean…huh? And no, I’m already up.

He responded almost immediately.

Kuba Starlight: Is he?

Veela: Jake, WTF?! Veela: No. He’s still in bed… AND we need to talk, BTW.

I expected him to type another weird response right away, but he didn’t, so I put the phone down and went back to making perogies. Ten minutes later, I nearly screamed when I saw him standing in the kitchen doorway, his silhouette half obscured by the dim hall behind him.

“JESUS CHRIST! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Sweet of you to think so highly of me,” he chuckled. “But I’m still just Jake.”

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @tripthelightfantastix @sanguinebats @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @kiszkas-canvas @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @hollyco @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @blankvz @psychedelectable @allof--mylove

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my-naughty-writings-and-musings · 2 years ago

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Girl your writing style is AMAZING OH MY GOD-I’ve been starving for crumbs of Earthspark Bumblebee-could I request some fun time between the bot and a Gn! Human? Specifically Bumblebee teasing his partner about how much their fondness of his height and size?

Again love your work-wish you the best!

Awww thank you so much!! I had a very long day and whipped up this short and sweet little something to wrap it up, I really hope you like it!

It wasn't fair how little he had to try to rile you up.

Something about how powerful his frame felt when he moved in close to your squishy organic body reduced you to a puddle of need every time, and he needed only scoop you up in his servos for a rapid lift to his shoulders to have you swooning over his height.

That wasn't even to mention how you shuddered when his much larger form eclipsed you in shadow, how the rev of his powerful engine sent your heart fluttering, or how often your eyes drifted to his codpiece as you reminisced over just how much he was packing underneath...

Today he'd made his move early, inviting you out for a walk through the woods and eagerly lifting you to his shoulders after you'd agreed. It was only after the house was long behind you both that he'd asked if you wanted to visit the deeper and more private parts of the forest for a change. You'd known exactly what he was getting at, but with his frame so close to your needy body you'd been unable to resist. Your submission to his seduction had him purring with satisfaction all the way to your favorite hidden clearing.

A bed of soft grass and moss met your back as he laid you down beneath his kneeling frame, your tiny form limp and utterly helpless in his grip as he maneuvered you however he pleased. Blocking out the sun above, he bent down to give you a kiss, cupping half your body with one servo just to emphasize how tiny you were. You moaned into the kiss and brought your hands to his chest, sliding your fingertips over the smooth metal of his armor and relishing in the raw power you felt rumbling beneath. From the purr of his engine to the hum of his spark, the mech had strength like few earthlings could imagine, but that you'd experienced in ways that would make the majority of your species blush.

Taking his time now that he had you alone, Bumblebee allowed you to whine as he pulled away from your lips, his amused chuckles humming through you as he carefully nibbled down your jaw and into the crook of your neck, grazing his dentae over the tender skin in a loose love bite. Your helpless keen of arousal made his engine rev against you, the warm rush of his increasingly desperate vents stirring the grass around you in waves. The force of his desire was strong enough to be tangible in the very air, and knowing it was because of you only made your desperation all the more intense. Grabbing his chest, you tried in vain to push him further down your body.

"Not yet." he tut tutted, removing his dentae from your neck just to kiss it. Arching into the touch with a whine of open desperation, you tried to scootch upwards to bring your lower regions closer to his mouth, but a servo gently pinning you over your chest held you in place. He smiled with desire and affection as you squirmed against his grip.

"Bee, stop being a jerk!" you cried with a deeply unsatisfied pout. It wasn't fair how easily he riled you up, but it was even worse how often he made you wait.

Dropping his mouth to your collarbone and leaving a series of kisses down your front, he let you enjoy the view of his smug grin in between every passionate peck, so pleased with himself his voice sounded like a purr. "You don't have to frag me."

"But I want to!" you huffed in annoyance, making him laugh in more genuine amusement.

"It's adorable how badly you want me." he teased with a kiss to your forehead, being purposefully chaste to drive you ever more wild. You'd have screamed if he wasn't so good at what he did.

An impatient keen was replaced by a moan when he finally nosed his way between your legs, allowing you to grind your crotch against his lips just in time for him to hum against you. Moaning openly in encouragement, you clung to his horns for support, a move that really got him revved up. A growl of desire between your legs had you fumbling for the zipper, fingers struggling to get a grip in your lusty haze. If you took too long it wasn't unlikely that he'd pull them off you in pieces, but at that moment you couldn't have cared less, so utterly desperate for release only he could provide you would have happily torn your own clothes off.

No one who'd experienced the passion of a very powerful and very much in love mech could have blamed you.

#valveplug #transformers #lemon #maccadam #robot x human relations #self insert #human reader #bumblebee x reader #bumblebee #x reader #nsfw////#tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #earthspark #tf #tfe #tfes #gender neutral reader

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eikaroulily · 10 months ago

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Pure Devotion

Alastor x Reader

(FLUFF with a sprinkle of angst)

` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ ° • ▪︎ ☆ ` ~ °

There's always always this nagging feeling in your gut when you have a tiny crush on someone, a feeling where you'd think that maybe one day you'll both have kids together regardless of the situation your both in. That maybe one day you'll both end up in a cozy room, in front of the fireplace holding hot coco while cuddling close together in a cold winter night.

"Y/n!!! Alastor was just looking for you! Come come" before y/n could even answer, charlie pushed y/n into the small library where alastor would hang out in, sipping his tea while he reads a book he likes or the newspaper to keep him entertained, sitting by the comfy warmth of the fireplace.

There would always be a feeling when we see the person we liked, this sort of feeling where you'd smile and feel excited to see them. But, there would always be a different feeling when you see someone you didn't know you've fallen for harder than you expected.

"Ahh! There you are dear, come and sit here besides my chair, I would like to discuss something with you." Alastor said, looking at y/n's eyes, still having his signiture smile. Y/n's eyes widened, and her heart suddenly pumped fast. She felt a slight ache in her heart, and she quickly looked away aand nods, she walks closer and sat in the chair next to his.

The feeling of looking at someone you unexpectedly love and adored more than you hoped for, the feeling in your heart as if cupid had shot his arrow on your chest, the world slowing down as you stared at the person you loved, your heart beating fast as if it was running into a race. The feeling you simply can not explain, because that person to you looked so beautiful.

"W-what would you like to talk about?" Y/n asked alastor with her shakey voice, alastor chuckles at y/n as he shakes his head a little and puts down the newspaper. "I have heard that you have a little admiration on me, dear." Y/n widens her eyes, her heart suddenly beating fast as alastor confronts her feelings for her.

The feeling where a rush would come in our heart, mind and vain, excitement whenever we would finally talk to the person we love, in our delusion, they were ours to keep, yet in reality, our heart breaks.

"I am sorry my dear, but I cannot return the affection you hold for me." Alastor said in a low tone, but friendly manner, he truly thought that the girl was a beautiful companion, a smart, lovely, well dressed, beautiful lady- wait, what? "Oh, I understand, but I hope to be friends still" y/n said with her half hearted smile, it was obvious she was holding back her tears. "Hmmhmm" alastor nods and resumes reading his newspaper. 'Hmmhmm? That's all I'll say?' He thought.

Rejection, even when our mind says it's enough, the hesrt continues to yearn and hope for the future, the future where two souls would reunite and love each other once again, and for eternity. The battle of the mind and heart was always a tricky one, mind always winning and the heart always losing.

But we'll say;

"I don't love him anymore! It's enough!" Y/n exclaimed, "love him?" Angel dust asked, to which, y/n widened her eyes, she stopped and think.

We'll say we don't, but in the end, we'll slowly realize, all those tears that befallen our cheeks, all those sad thoughts, all those rants to our friends we'll sloely realized those feelings we felt was different. The feeling of cupid shooting an arrow on our chest, the day we laid eyes on them, was something no one can ever feel, a rare feeling, but a beautiful scene.

"I love you." alastor widened his eyes as y/n said those sacred words to him. "Look, I know you rejected me, but I just can't shake this shitty feeling on my chest! It feels too much, and I didn't have the chance to say it the first time and just said that I'd stop, but then I realized that I loved you more than I realized.." y/n quickly explained.

And when we showed devotion to the person, even when rejection already hit us;

"I didn't quite get the meaning of "love", but ever since I've met you and gave me this weird feeling, it's quite.. nice." Alastor said, giving y/n a genuine smile. Y/n widened her eyes with happiness flowing through her heart. "I love you too, dear."

But even so, a soul can take the risk even when they face rejection before. The ending of the story can be beautiful or a beautiful tragedy. Regardless, at least we took the chance.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor radio demon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #x reader

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cafeinthemoon · 1 year ago

Text

Ruins - Part XXII

Chapter 22

Wordcount 4,1k

Title Part XXII

Fandom Shummatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 . 16 . 17 . 18 . 19 . 20 . 21

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 💛

Warnings: Mentions of nudity, undressing; non explicit sex

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi @telvess @alecfromsaturn (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I don't even know what to say after so long, except that I'm happy to finally come back and put this chapter out 😭🙏 I've been thinking of it for ages and questioning myself whether I'd be able to give these two a proper honeymoon or not, but this is an issue that haunts me every time I sit to write a honeymoon/intimate scene. The potion stuff was something I wanted to include back in the wedding chapter, but it's end up too long so I abandoned the idea. Now I had the chance to use it, and to try to bring some comedy vibes to soothe things a bit 😅

Anyways, hope you have fun! Missed you all 💜🥰

For you were too tired to stay awake after your brother-in-law left, you never saw the moment your husband came back to the private sections of your chambers, as much as when the rays of sunshine first entered the room. When you opened your eyes, the ceiling and the walls were already touched by the warm light, and the people in the tapestry over your head were as joyful as ever.

You tried to move the sheets from upon you and found out you could do it with no problems. You looked around and sensed the room was too quiet. You were also alone in the bed.

You frowned.

Where did he go?

You took a deep breath and, after some effort, you sat on the bed. You felt a strange, but complete relief with that gesture: your strength came back to you, there were no shivers spreading through your skin and no fear making your heart heavy. Was the transformation finished? You couldn’t believe it’d happen so fast, but maybe the hardest part of the process was over and you’d be able to carry on with your activities while it came to its end. Whatever the case, you were content to see you were yourself again.

You left the bed and headed to the bathroom. You closed the door, turned on the lights around the mirror to wash your face… and were static with what you saw there.

It was still you in the reflection, the same eyes, nose, lips and all, but at the same time it wasn’t. You saw a refreshed, cleaner version of you, with an inhuman glow in the lilac of your eyes and a flawless skin to cover each spot. Yes, you were sure it was still you, but more beautiful, more gracious, even without a layer of makeup and a disheveled hair to frame your expression.

So… this is how being a goddess feels like.

You smiled to yourself.

It’s not that bad.

You brushed your hair (which, understandably, took you more time than you were used) and finished your personal care session without taking your eyes off the mirror. You were a bit ashamed for being so vain, but after all the agonizing hours you had to endure to reach those looks, you couldn’t deny yourself such contentment.

You left the bathroom and searched for your robe. You found it on the same chair Hades left his own the night before. You dressed it and looked around, still finding his absence strange. It was when a soft, rhythmic sound reached your ears – his voice, brought by the breeze entering through the balcony, came to you in the form of a song, but you couldn’t recognize the words at first; you frowned and listened for a while, until you realized he was singing in Ancient Greek.

You smiled. You’ve already heard him sing before, but it was never that sweet. From what you’ve learned during his lessons, you were able to understand some verses, which, in the modern language, was something like this:

Under the red skies

Of the first day of Winter

I saw you

Your tiny feet running upon the ruins

Of the Temple of Love

Where after your touch

White flowers would grow

Would you mind

If I took you away with me?

Would you mind

If I hid you away?

As we built our secret place

Out of your flowers

And out of my song...

You followed his voice to the outside and found him sitting on the small table at the balcony, having a filled cup in front of him. He seemed relaxed, in peace with himself like you’ve never seen him before, especially when you remembered the events of the previous night, with his legs crossed and his eyes lost in the landscape.

You sighed at the scene.

Like a King who has his domains assured.

Change came when you took the first step toward him: the ecstatic glow in his eyes appeared and expanded as he turned to you, swallowing your whole form; he raised an unconscious hand and you accepted it, letting him take you to his lap.

You touched his cheek.

– Hi.

– Hi – Hades took your hand on his and led it to his lips – Young goddess.

A heat came up to your face when you heard that treatment. As much as it was flattering, you couldn’t shake the sensation that you were meeting him as if you were a different person now, and it still too soon to know if you enjoyed it. But you wouldn’t ruin the moment with sad deliberations, so you quickly redirected the conversation through sweeter paths.

– Were you singing about a young goddess as well?

– Yes – he curled a strand of your hair between his fingers – One that would touch the ruins of a dark world with her pretty feet, with the sweetness of a damsel and the courage of a warrior.

– And does she reach her fate with such sweetness and courage?

– Her fate, and much more – he approached and kissed your forehead.

You giggled and turned to the table, taking an empty cup and filling it with the same liquid as his cup, which consistence reminded you of milk, but with the color of caramel.

– What song was that? – you put the recipient of the caramel back on the table and grabbed your little cup – You never sang it before.

– It’s a love song in Ancient Greek. The author is unknown, but it was popular among travelers – Hades explained – It’s much longer than this, but this is my favorite part.

– We should learn the complete lyrics, then – you turned to him with tenderness – Then we will sing the whole song together.

– And we can do that during our travels.

– An excellent idea.

The rest of the breakfast went in silence, but after it you two went to the garden at the upper floor. You were were able to walk through it and that made you happy, still Hades didn’t let go of your arm until you decided to sit on a bench. There were some small trees around it, and you saw butterflies and birds sharing their branches peacefully; a couple of birds arrived, persecuting each other, then leaving as fast as they came, their wings making a rustling noise between the leaves, their little voices at their peak. You laughed at this, which reminded Hades of something.

– So how are your ears going? – he brushed your hair behind the left one – You’ve been complaining about the nature noises.

– They’re getting better. I mean, I don’t think I’d stand a lion’s roar right now, but the birds are completely bearable – you smiled.

– That’s good to hear.

You took some time to silently appreciate your surroundings as they displayed what would be a pleasing Spring morning in Midgard. You thought of this for a moment: the plants, the creatures and that whole environment were those of from Midgard, just everything you saw along your stay in the areas reserved to humans in those blessed lands – and all of them were designed by your husband. You felt your respect and admiration for him grow the same way it did when you took your first walk in the Gardens, when you ate pomegranates.

– You thought of all of this before we got married – you said suddenly; and, turning to him, – You thought of everything.

Hades replied with the same modest smile he gave you when you asked if he was there during the planting of the pomegranate tree.

– I wouldn’t say that. I’d say I’ve work with every necessary resource and with the best people I could find, so everything you’ve seen around would have the power of bringing smiles to the young humans’ faces – he raised his fingers to brush your hair – And, as a payment for all this work, yours will be forever on my sight.

Your smile widened at those words before you could notice. You were really content that, more than wishing to see your smile often, he was also creating reasons for you to show it: not so long after that conversation, he took you to take a walk through the depths of the garden, where exotic plants were hidden, and you spent the next hour talking about them and planning how to include your creations at the Greenhouse in the collection.

When you finally went back to the chambers’ interior, you decided you wanted to spend some time in bed, for your legs were a bit heavy. Meanwhile, Hades went to the kitchen to prepare tea. When he came back, you brought out a subject that has been on your mind for days: the travel to Hellheim.

– I’ve been worried about this for a while, but haven’t had the chance to speak until now – you said while accepting a cup of tea from his hands – Is it too long? Is it a difficult path, or an easy one? How does it look like?

He sat by your side with his own tea.

– It’s certainly a long way, especially for the ones who aren’t used to it – and, smiling at your widened eyes, – But I’m not saying this to discourage you, given that the travels between this realm and that one are far from tedious.

You turned on your side to hear more. Now you were completely interested.

– Really? And what kind of things we find through it?

Your husband started describing those strange lands as if narrating an epic story, going from dark skies, menacing rocks, abysses and terrifying natural phenomenons to powerful creatures, brave, minor deities occupied with their work and suspicious wanderers. You learned to love his ability of explaining concepts and depicting scenarios in a way that the images formed in your mind as vivid as if you were inside them; in that particular case, you also appreciated his power of calming your fears, assuring you that the travel was safe despite the things you were going to find.

After the tea, you told him you were sleepy, even though you’ve slept the entire night.

– I’m sorry for this, because I wanted to spend this day out with you – you told him, giving him back the cup – But I’m too tired, though I did nothing that justifies this tiredness.

– This isn’t but expected, little one – he replied before taking the cups to the kitchen – The transformation isn’t complete yet, and it takes an enormous amount of vital energy. You’ll still need some time to regain it, and an even longer period to manage it when your powers start manifesting.

– I see – you slowly laid down on your pillow, feeling both the sleep and the weight of your future responsibilities pulling you to it.

As if sensing your anxiety, Hades offered you some solace.

– But for now you don’t have to think too much about these things – he walked to the kitchen’s door – Th time to take care of them is yet to come.

You accepted those words and closed your eyes, letting the sleep take over your body, which didn’t take long that time.

***

You thought you were going to feel better the next day, and you weren’t entirely wrong in your expectations, but you in fact needed at least three or four days to feel able to walk, stand and do any other activity without a subsequent fatigue, neither the need of sleeping in the middle of the day. During that period, you were visited by Aesclepius twice, and he was content with your progress, something that made both you and Hades relieved: now, as he explained, your body’s tendency would be gathering energy instead of spending it, so that soon you would be as physically and mentally capable as any other god, and the travel to Hellheim wouldn’t be a problem.

On the other hand, Hades, having diligence as his second name, didn’t stay idle: while you recovered, he divided his time in taking care of you, solving small matters with his brother Zeus, checking on your family through Hermes, talking to Aesclepius about your condition and organizing your travel to the Underworld; he exchanged messages with Adamas at least once in a day, to make sure everything was alright in his domains. You, on your part, spent your time alternating between resting and being worried, despite his advice: at the same time you wanted to tell him to take some rest – after all, it was his honeymoon – you couldn’t do much to help him in this sense, neither in any other.

I’ve been increasing his burden since the beginning. He will deny it if I speak to him about it, but I know I’m not helping in anything; even my preoccupation might become an issue. I can’t wait for this to end.

That was why you received the first sign of a complete recovery with great contentment. You noticed it right after you left the bed that day and, taking a chance when your husband wasn’t in the chambers, you went to the arc where you kept your gifts from the ceremony. You’ve searched inside it with nervous hands and took a small bottle from it.

Your cheeks heated up at the sight of the object, its delicate shape involving a rosy potion which perfume was described as having “its own soul, so once it is used, it will always be recognizable by the ones who first sensed it”.

The gift of Aphrodite-sama. I’ve been so curious about its effects, but her explanations were so mysterious, and I was too ashamed to ask enough questions.

You still remembered how she took the chance to approach you while Hades wasn’t around. She passed by your side and stopped before you with such grace, yet so suddenly that you couldn’t help startling.

She giggled, enjoying your reaction.

– You were already a beauty, dear Y/n, but now – the goddess brushed your hair and cupped your face with tenderness – Now you’re the perfect being…

Aphrodite spent a moment in silence, just appreciating what she had in front of her. Then, as suddenly as her arrival, she moved her hands away and took a small object from inside her dress: a bottle that reminded you of the ones in which people sold expensive fragrances in Midgard, filled with some glistening fluid.

She put it in your hands and warned you to not let your husband see it before you had the opportunity to use it.

– Just one drop or two in the sheets, right before you lie down, must be enough – and, surrounding her mouth with her hands, as to whisper a secret – But it wouldn’t be bad if you used a few more.

You stared at the bottle, barely reaching the size of your palm, thinking of those words.

– Aphrodite-sama, I’m very thankful for your gift – you raised your eyes to her – But I’m a bit confused about it. Is it some sort of remedy, or blessing?

She observed you with a mixture of condescension and diversion.

– Most of the times, if used wisely, it will be a blessing, but in other times it will be a powerful remedy – she blinked her right eye.

It was when finally started to understand.

– Oh, this is a love potion, my Lady – you smiled, then frowned – But Hades and I… We’re already in love with each other…

The Goddess of Love laughed.

– I know, my dear. But the purpose of this potion is not making you fall in love… – and lowering her tone – But falling harder.

She approached you one last time and, with a kiss on your forehead, she left you with the potion and a lot of things to think about.

And now you were there, alone with her gift for the second time, and wondering if that was the moment to use it.

I’m torn between the fear of the effects and the curiosity about them.

After minutes of painful deliberation, you decided to open it and smell its perfume… which filled both your nostrils and your soul, drowning you in a wave of powerful sensations: your feelings, thoughts and memories about Hades were all stirred and turned into one, expanding until you had the urge to pour it out; your eyes were filled with tears, and your breath became difficult as your chest would go up and down in ache as you craved his presence. Even as a young goddess, you could tell that the substance held a terrific power.

Now I understand why she told me to use just a few drops.

You adjusted the sheets upon the bed and knelt over them, stretching for the potion to be poured in the center. You slowly turned the bottle to the side, in your best efforts to control your trembling hand, and observed as the first drop fell on the fabric, disappearing so fast that it was hard to tell it has ever been there. More drops followed it in other spots and over the pillows…

When the sudden crack of the room’s door opening made you scream and drop the bottle on the bed, turning the next drops into a whole puddle.

You sat on the sheets, hiding the bottle behind you as you had a confused Hades standing at the door, staring at you without understanding why his arrival got you so scared.

– Is there something wrong, little one? You look a bit nervous.

You were quick to deny it.

– No… No, of course not! I’m perfectly fine! – you shook your hands around yourself as to reaffirm what you were saying – It’s just the noise of these hinges! I can’t get used to it…

With your face on fire, you fell silent after that, praying that your husband would just accept the explanation and change the subject… but, unfortunately, your pairs weren’t willing to grant you this small wish: Hades closed the door behind him and approached the bed, suspicion filling each of his gestures. At the same time, the perfume made its presence stronger than never as the bottle’s whole content leaked to the sheets on your back, turning any attempt of keeping it a secret unnecessary.

– Y/n, what is it? – he looked around the bed – Are you spreading perfume on the sheets?

You shrugged.

– Ah… Sort of.

– What kind of perfume? – he raised an eyebrow – This one seems to possess some sort of spell. Is it one of your wedding gifts?

You shook your head in a positive gesture and slowly brought the bottle to your front, giving it to him with a shy hand.

Once his eyes laid on the object, Hades turned to you with a strange expression, one that you haven’t seen before, and about which you weren’t sure how to feel; your fingers gripped on the sheets: that was the first time you didn’t know what to expect from him.

But you didn’t need to wait too long to figure that out.

You observed as he held the bottle with an attentive gaze, a smile started forming on his lips: he already recognized the nature of the potion. However, it wasn’t shyness or shame that took over your feelings with the understanding: around him and around yourself, you sensed a quiet, yet steady change that grew as the smell spread through the room; you had the sensation that your sight turned a bit blurry, except for your husband’s figure, and that everything was somewhat covered with a rosy light that reminded you of the liquid’s shade. Maybe Hades was under the same impression, for he stood still, staring at you with a glimmer of hunger in his eyes that scared and interested you at the same time. The temperature seemed to elevate in the surroundings even though the balcony’s door was wide open, so you started taking off your robe and moving your hair away from you neck.

The first words said between you after this were his.

– So… Our friend Aphrodite has her own gift for us – he made this observation with a vague, low voice – So clever of her to handle it to you while I was away…

Without taking his eyes off you, he dropped the bottle on the carpet. You didn’t know if it was anger or diversion you sensed in his tone, so you rushed to justify yourself.

– I really wanted to tell you about it, but I couldn’t disobey her instructions – your voice sounded lower than you remembered it, but you kept going – It’s just that, now that I’m recovered… I wanted to do something special… – the air swirled and heated up around you; the left strap of your gown slipped to the side, but you didn’t mind adjusting it – I wanted to have a proper honeymoon…

And that was the instant that changed everything.

Once those words escaped your lips, the blurry wave of sensations poured out of you at last, reaching for your lover and tangling with his own feelings, pulling him ahead, straight to you: without wasting time, Hades got rid of his coat and shoes, throwing himself over the bed as if afraid that you would disappear if he lingered in his place. You were a bit scared by this new impulsivity, but you wouldn’t push him away: the heat that has been increasing since you first smelled the potion, pulsating all over your body, only calmed own when your husband wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his lap, your legs spreading and burying in the sheets on each side, his mouth reaching for yours as you helped him take off his blouse with your little hands.

You moved away for a moment to see the results of your work, and the vision left you marveled: yes, you’ve already seen him undressed once, when he stood with you during the worst point of your fever, but you barely gave his figure the attention it deserved; now, with your strength restored and your sight in perfect conditions, you wouldn’t make the same mistake: from his face, your hands slipped over his skin, across his neck and over his chest, your thumbs drawing circles around his nipples; you smiled when a sigh left his lips. You noticed the vine he had tattooed on his left arm, the same pattern of the one on his forehead.

He is perfect.

– You’re so beautiful… – you murmured to him, your fingers brushing over the tattoo – I’m so sorry for making you wait... I promise I’ll make up for it…

You felt his hands going to your hips and tightening around them, bringing you closer. Your gown slipped, exposing your thighs as your knees were buried on the soft mattress.

– I’ll make sure you will – his lips brushed and smiled over yours – But for you, the wait is always worthy…

You felt his hands caressing your thighs, slipping under your gown and pulling it up. Your heart skipped a bit: that was going to be the first time you’d expose yourself for your husband, so that everything had to be in place: you were now a goddess with a well-built, flawless body, but were you feeling that beautiful now? Were you good enough to appear before him with only your skin to cover you?

Heavens, I’ve been waiting for this for so long, but who would say it’d be so scary?

Still, you didn’t stop him, and when the gown was finally taken off, every inch of yourself under his sight, you remembered the conversation you had weeks ago, in that balcony beside the room, and the confidence in it soothed your nervousness, as much as his hands exploring your figure: his right thumb caressed your lower lip, going down to your chin and your neck, where you noticed his hand was able to surround most of it; both his hands went through your shoulders, your collarbones and, finally, your breasts, where he his thumbs caressed you the same way you did to him. A loud moan escaped your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you put your hand over it, your cheeks burning with shame: apparently, erasing one’s shyness wasn’t among the properties of Aphrodite’s potion; Hades laughed, enjoying your spontaneity, and moved your hand away from your lips, putting it around is neck.

– So shy, aren’t we? – and, letting it clear that he had the same conversation in mind as well, – Let’s take care of this together…

He then suffocated any word or moan that might’ve come out from your mouth with a deep kiss, pulling you tighter against himself as your hands tangled in his hair.

Outtake

Part XXIII

#snv x reader #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #snv hades x reader #ror hades x reader #record of ragnarok hades #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

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winniethewife · 10 months ago

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I know I'll be living in vain (Poe Dameron x reader)

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, Angst to fluff, injury, Hospital scene,

Words:664

Poe was looking everywhere for her. The battle had been difficult, he had lost track of her in the fray, and he just kept hoping that she was fine, that everything was okay, that just this one time he wasn’t going to lose someone so important to him, and to loose her before he had a chance to tell her how much she meant to him. In his frantic search he hardly noticed Finn calling his name, it takes the other man grabbing him by the shoulders and forcing him to look at him to get Poe’s attention

“She’s in the infirmary.” Finn says with a steady voice as he looks at Poe. Poe feels the color drain from his face.

“No. No. No,no,no.” His mind starts to race, what happened? Will she be okay? How did he let this happen? He has to get there now, Finn knows that and after a soft squeeze he lets him go. Poe starts to sprint through the base with determination. When he made it to the infirmary he was met with his worst nightmare. She lay in a bed unconscious, her midriff wrapped in bloodied bandages, Poe felt weak in the knees. He moved to her side taking her hand in his. And there he stayed, all night and every day, waiting for her to wake up. After several days at her bedside he was afraid to lose hope.

“Come on stardust, Give me something.” He softly pleaded, kissing her hand as he looked at her with tear stained eyes, and as he watched her eyes fluttered open.

“What is happening to me?” she groans as she starts to feel the pain from her injuries. Poe is so excited that shes awake he crawls into the bed with her, except only about half of him fits with her on the tiny bed, She laughed slightly as she moved slightly to let him have a little more room. Poe cuddled up close to her.

“Thank the maker you’re awake. I was so worried.” Poe muttered into her shoulder as he nuzzled her. She runs her fingers through his hair as She looked on him with adoration.

“Its going to take more than the first order to take me out.” She laughed quietly, she was pleasantly surprised to have him so close and affectionate. She had a feeling he wanted to tell her something, but she wasn’t going to push. They lay close together for a few peaceful moments. Poe looked up at her and realized he couldn’t wait another moment.

“I don't wanna fit wherever, I just want to be here with you, I…I got one thing stuck in my mind. You. You are the only thing on my mind” He looked at her, his eyes wet with tears. “When I got back to base and couldn’t find you…I thought lost the love of my life… I can’t spend another day with you not knowing how I feel about you.” His confession warmed her heart she, leans in and gently kisses his fore head.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that? How I just wanna keep calling your name? How many times I see you around in all these empty faces? You mean…everything to me Poe.” As she said this Poe could hardly contain his excitement, forgetting for a moment where they are and what had lead to this moment he moves to have his body hovering over hers, He leans in and kisses her gently, but with every bit of passion he can give. He’s so soft, so real, she can’t help but kiss back, mustering the strength to reach up and hold his face. anything to be closer to him. after a long, beautiful kiss, they pull apart to catch their breath. Poe’s dark gaze taking in every inch of her face.

“I’m going to stay here by you side, all night and every day…Until you come back home… home to me.”

Series Masterlist

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lemonswoop · 5 months ago

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Stray is one of my top 10 games of all time, so I decided to do a little replay to remind myself why I love it so much.

Full journal entry under the cut

Stray

Start date:8/18

End date: 8/27

Platform: Steam Deck

Hours played: 14

Rating: 5/5

On the day I finished Stray I sat back and said "I can feel this game is going to be very special to me." It's an odd game to be in my top 10 games of all time. I knew the simple concept of playing as a little cat (with me being a huge cat lover) would be an instant favorite, but I didn't expect that the message of the game would hit a particular soft spot in my heart.

What I thought would be a silly little cat sim set in a cyberpunk city turned out to be a twist on the classic dystopian future filled with hope, love and the beauty of the human spirit.

The game starts off with a cat falling into a walled slums of a domed society where humans have been dead for thousands of years. Our tiny cat protagonist meets the very last known human in existence, B12, a scientist whose consciousness gets uploaded into a tiny drone. Disease and plague ravaged the futuristic city, leaving nothing but memories and the robot companions programed to serve its lost inhabitants. But something special happened;

In the forsaken slums, gritty and filled with despair, hope thrived before the humans passed. When energy was capped, rebellion lit up the city with neon lights. When things seemed bleak, humans created art, tended to thriving plants, and hugged their loved ones tight. They went to bars to get sloppy drunk and laugh off the dark times with friends.

They Lived.

"Humans often said that making art is important in desperate situations. There are certainly desperate times."

Humans may have passed, but humanity lived on in the companion robots who gained sentience. The only models they had was what humanity had left behind for them. In the lowest levels of society is where the beautiful parts of humanity survived. The robot citizens didn't need to eat, wear clothes, love one another, but they did so because of the examples that were left for them. They fostered a community to protect one another all while dreaming of it all being better somehow.

The main goal of a small group was to open up the domed city, see the blue sky and go back to the long abandoned outside. It's what the humans would have wanted, and a place the robots have only ever heard about in stories.

One of my favorite aspects of the game is that while it reaches far beyond the scope of a little cat plot-wise, the cat represented a larger theme of hope for better still existing and it was time to start trying to reach it again. The cat inspired brave and bold actions in the robots, all resulting in finally reaching the top of the walled city. A sterile place where the rich and powerful operation controllers all lived; now gone. And in that city no culture, no art, no humanity survived. The robots were just robots, forever following the last directive they were given before humanity perished.; A pristine wasteland.

B12, the last human, sacrifices himself to take down the system and open the walled city to the bright blue sky. No longer did B12 feel the need to carry the weight of humanities past because they never left. They just belonged to a new society lovingly passed down. A future existed where our best qualities as a collective are what survived.

Sometimes I feel as if the beautiful message of this game gets overlooked, which is a shame when its a message I feel we all can use when the world at large feels bleak.

Nothing is ever wasted or in vain. The beauty of humanity is in what we leave behind. Even the small and whimsical things that only exist to bring us joy; they all matter.

Making music, art, reading, tending to a garden, hugging a loved one, holding onto hope... and yes, loving and finding companionship in a little cat.

"But I see a future in the companions, and in you."

#Stray #Stray game #Journaling #Journal #lemon soup journal

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chestcongestion · 9 months ago

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Losing Your Grippe- Ch.1: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Chapter one of the Ha/zbin Flu Longfic here we go! I'm having so much fun already with this one and I'm excited to see where we go from here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Word Count: 4,432

Content Warnings: Contagion, Really Really sad Cha/rlie (not triggering, but I know it broke my heart to write sometimes, it's hard seeing her sad)

“Eh’ptschew!”

Charlie pinched her nose using her non-dominant hand and rubbed at the sensitive skin with her fingers, shuddering under the harsh air conditioning of the elite boutique where she was being fitted for a dress by two succubi- a pair of twins named Isla and Irma.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, was I holding the tape measure too tight?” Isla asked, sheepishly backing away and examining Charlie’s skin.

“No, no it’s okay!” Charlie replied with a chuckle, “My nose was just itchy… snff! Can I have a tissue?”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Irma- who had a measuring tape around Charlie’s thigh- replied, snapping her fingers and whistling for a tiny female imp who was standing against the wall, “Clover! Go get the box of tissues from my office!”

Clover nodded, scurrying into the back room and coming out with a freshly-opened box of lotion-soft facial tissues, hopping onto a step stool and presenting Charlie with the box, her head held down to avoid meeting the princess’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Charlie said, plucking a tissue out of the box and wiping the underside of her nostrils before attempting to blow her nose. The attempt was in vain, and after a short burst of moisture Charlie’s sinuses yielded nothing.

“E-Eih’KtSchhew! ‘KzZsHEW!” Charlie sneezed, her nose trickling slightly as she plucked three more tissues from the box in Clover’s hands, trying and failing once again to blow her nose.

“Please try and hold still, Your Highness, I’m almost done with your measurements,” Isla pleaded, measuring Charlie’s hips with the tape measure before measuring her inseam.

“sNFF! Sorry,” Charlie giggled, sheepishly, dabbing at her nostrils while trying to keep still, “Thank you for accepting my order on such short notice, I promise I’ll pay enough to make it more than worth your while.”

“Oh of course, Your Highness, it means the world to us that Hell’s heir apparent chose our little boutique to make her first ever overlord summit dress!” Isla said cheerfully.

“I wanted to be sure I got something that looked nice, this is my first time getting invited to the overlord summit, usually my dad just sends the sovereign and lesser overlords one of his advisors in his place,” Charlie explained, “This is going to be such a great advertising opportunity for the hotel!”

“Well, we’ll make sure that you look absolutely stunning on the big day,”

“Thank you so much!” Charlie said, her voice straining slightly, words grating against a suddenly-scratchy throat in a way that made her cough.

Stepping down from the measuring platform and getting dressed, Charlie scrolled through her phone while the boutique staff charged her bank card for the cost of the dress.

“Hey… I just remembered, the seamstress who I made the appointment with, the taller succubus with the star-shaped tail… is she on vacation? I wanted to speak with her about where I could buy a pair of shoes to match my dress… E-Eiih’kShhuu! E-Ehh…Eihh’ksSs-CHEW!” Charlie asked, still holding the tissues underneath her slightly-runny nose before moving a piece of her hair out of her face.

“Oh, Zurie? She’s been out for a couple of days, she has the flu,” Irma said, nervously fiddling with the buttons on her shirt.

Charlie wilted a bit, frowning, “Aww, that’s terrible, I hope she feels better.”

“We hope so too, the flu really seems to be going around,” Isla replied solemnly, “Hope you have a lovely day, Your Highness, your dress should be ready by tomorrow morning!”

“Thank you, I’ll be back to pick it up,” Charlie said, finger-combing her hair and leaving the boutique, muffling an irritated cough with her fist as she climbed into the backseat of her car.

“Where to now, Your Highness?” the driver asked.

“Uhm-” Charlie paused, still overcome by her cough, letting a few more loose before the scratchy sensation in her throat settled down, “- Sorry. I need to go to the shoe store across the street from the Richest Cup, please!”

“Understood, we should be there in fifteen minutes,” the driver replied, turning the key in the ignition and pulling away from the curb.

Later that afternoon, back at the hotel, Husk was taking inventory of the liquor behind the bar counter, writing down the bottles and fullness quantities on a clipboard as he went through the roster. While he was eyeballing the amount of liquor in a bottle of blue curacao, the front doors to the hotel swung open.

Razzle rushed through the lobby holding an array of shopping bags, scurrying to carry them upstairs so they could be put away in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom. Trailing slowly behind him, visibly overwhelmed, was Charlie, who quickly flopped into a stool at the bar, planting her face against the counter.

“Rough day?” Husk asked, writing down the amount in the bottle of blue curacao on his inventory sheet.

“Mmphhh,” Charlie muttered, her shoulders vibrating slightly as she shivered, turning her head so that her voice wasn’t muffled by the countertop, “I have so much to do to get ready for this event.”

“You’re workin’ yourself up over the overlord summit?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow, “Pfft, it ain’t even worth the trouble. Then again, ‘suppose I’ve never had to go to a formal event as a lady, let alone one who gives a shit about lookin’ nice.”

“I’m so nervous, I’m getting my dress made and I looked everywhere for a pair of shoes to match my dress, and I found three pairs but I don’t know which one I’m going to go with because they’re all different heights and they have different decorations and they’re all going to be so uncomfortable on my feet and-” Charlie’s rambling was interrupted by an aggressive hacking cough that she had to quickly cover with her forearm.

Husk winced, scooping up some ice into a pint glass and pouring Charlie a glass of water, sliding it over to her on a coaster.

“Thanks,” Charlie choked out, guzzling down half of the glass before turning away to cough again, “My throat’s been so scratchy, it’s killing me.”

Husk frowned, going back to examining the bottles of liquor, “Maybe your body’s shuttin’ down because of how much you’re stressin’ over the summit,” he remarked casually, writing out the amount of cointreau behind the bar counter onto his sheet.

Charlie polished off the rest of her glass of water, shuddering a bit as she tried to compose herself, “It’s just so hard… I want this to be perfect, I have to examine all of my jewelry and figure out which pieces would go with my dress and whether or not they’d also match my shoes, and I still want them to complement what Vaggie’s gonna wear and I still have to figure out which hairstyle I’m gonna choose and whether that’s gonna go good with my outfit and my shoes and.. And…-” Charlie’s stressed rambling began to falter as tears welled in her eyes.

Husk stopped working on taking inventory and focused instead on Charlie as she tugged at her blonde locks, her face suddenly coated in a thin sheen of sweat and bags forming under her eyes.

“I still have to- khff!- have to decide whether or not I’m- Khff! Khff khff!- carrying a purse or not and-” Charlie paused, taking a wheezy inhale and turning away from Husk to release another hacking cough, and another, and another, barely having time to stop and take shallow inhales as her cheeks flushed a pinkish-red and sweat trickled down her face, dripping from her chin and nose to stain the neckline of her suit jacket.

Husk walked around to the other side of the bar, resting a hand on Charlie’s back and feeling her lungs spasming in her chest with each unproductive and throat-scraping cough, “That cough sounds rough… you alright?” Husk asked, gently patting Charlie on the back in the hopes that it would help.

Charlie’s coughing fit stopped for a moment and she gasped, finally able to fully catch her breath, wiping at her watery eyes and looking at Husk with a pitiful, exhausted expression on her face, “H-husk?” she whimpered, shivering and leaning into his touch, “I don’t feel well.”

“I figured,” Husk replied, feeling Charlie’s cheeks with the back of his hand before pressing his heart-shaped palm against her forehead, “Damn… you’re burnin’ up. Here, I’ll help you get to bed.”

Husk gently grabbed hold of Charlie’s wrists and pulled her onto her feet, not noticing Charlie’s wobbly legs and weak, staggering stance until she collapsed to her knees once he let go of her. “Charlie!” he exclaimed, panicked as he leaned down to the floor and gathered Charlie in his arms, “I’m sorry, I thought you could stand, did you hurt anything?”

Charlie shook her head weakly, coughing into her fist before wrapping her arms around Husk’s neck, “My hips hurt… and my thighs hurt, but they were hurting before I fell down,” she mumbled, “I don’t wanna go to bed, I just need to lie down… I just… just… E-Eihh’PtSsHEW!”

Husk cradled Charlie in his arms, rubbing her back as she coughed, before setting her down on the softest sofa in the parlor and watching as she struggled to settle into a reclined position, wincing with every movement as though she was in pain.

“I’m cold,” Charlie said, her voice wavering as she wiped away tears, biting her lip when her febrile shivering only aggravated the aches and pains in her body.

Husk hurried into the hallway, grabbing a plush blanket from the linen closet and returning to the living room to spread the blanket out over Charlie’s shivering form, “That any better?” he asked, his stomach twisting in knots at Charlie’s discomfort.

Charlie took in a sharp breath, letting out another aggressive cough, “A little, I’m still f-freezing,” she mumbled, her teeth chattering as she attempted to relax under the blanket, her eyelids drooping, “My head hurts.”

Husk panicked, fiddling with one of his ears as he wandered back over to the bar and soaked one of his clean dish towels in cool water, wringing it out and returning to the sofa to place it over Charlie’s eyes. For a moment, out of concern and a deep desire to feel somewhat helpful, Husk gently brushed the back of his hand against Charlie’s face, a bit of relief blooming inside of him when she sighed out of comfort.

“Better?”

“M-mhmm… E-eihh’kSShuu! Eih’KsSshew!”

“Alright, you try and get some rest, I’ll make sure you’re alright,” Husk said, gently patting Charlie’s back as she began to cough again, her eyes watering and her cheeks growing flushed again as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Vaggie…” Charlie whimpered, blinking away her tears and clutching her abdomen, “KHFFF- Khff!”

Husk’s heart swelled in his chest, and he crawled onto the sofa, gently moving Charlie until her rocket-hot and shivering body was resting against him as she sat in his lap, coughing violently over his shoulder.

“Vaggie’s still out shoppin’, she’ll be home soon, I promise,” Husk whispered, patting Charlie’s back, “It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“My… chest hurts,” Charlie said, her voice growing hoarse from her constant coughing as her nose began to trickle, the skin on her nose bridge flushing pink, “I can’t… can’t be sick, have to go to the- KHHHFF!- overlord summit… already bought my dress.”

Husk sighed, gently cradling Charlie’s back as she phased in and out of consciousness, occasionally shooting awake to cough violently for a few minutes before dozing off again, still clinging to Husk like a feverish koala.

Three hours later, Vaggie returned from her shopping trip with Alastor, and Angel returned from his shift at the porn studio at the same time. The three were flanked by Niffty, who had accompanied Vaggie and Alastor on their excursion but was hopped up on sugar from chugging slushies out of boredom while waiting for Alastor to pick out a new bowtie.

“Fuckin’ finally, you’re back,” Husk groaned, still sitting on the sofa and bouncing a barely-conscious Charlie on his knee as she coughed weakly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, took longer than I thought, I wanted to pick a dress that would match Charlie’s but I ended up just getting a couple in each color, I tried to text her to ask what dress she’d picked but she never… texted me back,” Vaggie said, her voice trailing off as she noticed her shivering girlfriend still clinging desperately to Husk, her suit jacket draped over the back of the sofa and her dress shirt soaked so heavily with sweat that her bra was visible through the sheer wet fabric, “What happened?”

“She came back from shoppin’ and faded fast, she hasn’t stopped coughing since I got her on the sofa,” Husk explained, patting Charlie’s back as another violent series of hacking coughs ripped through her chest and scraped her raw throat. Briefly, Husk pressed the back of his hand against Charlie’s neck, frowning at the searing heat of her skin.

“How long have you been sitting here with her?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow as Alastor watched in anxious silence from several paces away.

“Few hours,” Husk replied, “She wouldn’t let go of me and she can’t stand up without fallin’ down.”

Vaggie chewed on her bottom lip, her stomach twisting a bit with worry as she reached out to feel Charlie’s forehead, her cool fingers sending such a wave of relief across Charlie’s hot and sensitive skin that tears of joy trickled from her eyes, “Holy shit…” she said in a hushed voice.

“Yeah,” Husk said before bracing himself to stand while still keeping a firm grip on Charlie, rising to his feet while Charlie still weakly clung to him in spite of their noticeable height difference, “This ain’t just a cold… somethin’s wrong, I think we should take her to the hospital.”

Charlie whimpered, pushing away from Husk, forcing him to hold tighter onto her to keep her from crashing and slamming her head against the hard floor, “Noo… no hospital… ‘m not sick- K H FFf- khff-khfff!- mkay, I’m a little sick… but I-I’m okay… KHHFFF-KHFF-KHFF! KOFF-Khhff-khff!- I’m fine,” she pleaded, sweat still running down her flushed cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath, her voice hoarse and her nose slightly runny.

“Sweetheart, you look awful, I just want to be able to take care of you and make you feel comfortable, and we might not be able to do that without a doctor’s help,” Vaggie said, brushing her manicured fingers against Charlie’s face and smiling when Charlie managed a small, weak smile in return, “Don’t you want to feel better?”

“Mmhm,” Charlie nodded.

“Okay, it won’t take too long, we’ll be back before you know it, mkay?” Vaggie explained, smiling when Charlie gave her another weak nod, “Alright, c’mon Husk, let’s go to the urgent care center.”

“Right behind you,” Husk said, following Vaggie back out to the car with Charlie still in his arms, leaving Angel, Alastor, and Niffty to their own devices.

“Awww, poor Charlie,” Angel crooned, combing out his fluffy pompadour with his fingers, “I oughtta make myself useful while they’re gone, c’mon Niff, let’s go make sure she’s got somethin’ to eat when she gets back.”

“Okay!” Niffty cheered, speeding past Angel to the hotel’s kitchen, still riding on a bit of a sugar high.

“You comin’ Alastor?” Angel asked, resting a hand on his hip as he scrolled through his phone with another hand for a notes app folder filled with recipes he saved.

Alastor shook his head, sticking out his tongue and shuddering as he pictured the parlor and lobby to be crawling with microbes, practically feeling them on his skin, on his clothes, in his hair, “No, I’m a bit preoccupied… I’m going to go have a bath and then have a few refreshing shots of disinfectant,” he grumbled, snapping his fingers and vanishing into his own shadow.

Angel shrugged, “What a wimp,” he said with a teasing smile until he heard pans clattering to the ground in the kitchen, “Niffty, don’t break anythin’, I’m comin’!”

An hour later, Angel and Niffty were looking at silly videos on Angel’s phone after making a large pot of tomato soup that was simmering quietly on the stove, when they heard the sound of Charlie’s coughing as she, Vaggie, and Husk entered the lobby.

“Welcome back, that was quick,” Angel said, leaning against a wall as Niffty ran in a tight circuit around his feet, still a bit hyperactive.

“Urgent care was packed, but we got seen pretty quickly once they realized who we brought with us,” Vaggie explained, holding Charlie upright even as her legs shook independent from her febrile shivering.

“Nice, so what’d they say was wrong wit’ Goldilocks?” Angel asked, reaching out to help Charlie stand as she struggled to stay on her feet.

“They did a swab test and found out she has the flu,” Vaggie said, “According to the doctor we spoke to it’s been going around like crazy.”

“e-EIih’KTtSsSHEW!” Charlie sneezed, rubbing her nose with the heel of her palm, “I’m tired…”

“I know, I know, let’s get you a cool shower so you can get nice and comfortable in bed, Hmm?” Vaggie offered.

“Okay,” Charlie sighed, leaning against Vaggie and grimacing in pain before turning to cough into her fist, “I’m sorry… it’s so hot… everything hurts.”

“I know, Babe, I’m so sorry you’re sick,” Vaggie said, gently patting Charlie’s back.

“I’ll carry ‘er upstairs for ya,” Angel said, scooping Charlie into his arms and glancing at her with concern when he felt the overwhelming amount of heat radiating off of her feverish body. Pushing that sensation aside, Angel held onto Charlie and slowly climbed up the steps toward Charlie and Vaggie’s shared bedroom, Charlie occasionally taking a shaky inhale and coughing into Angel’s shoulder while clinging to him with her arms and legs.

“You took good care of her while everybody was gone,” Niffty said almost teasingly, standing on Husk’s shoulder, “That was nice.”

“What? I can’t be nice?” Husk scoffed, tossing Niffty to the floor as though she were a clingy kitten, watching as she climbed him again effortlessly and accepted defeat, letting her use him as a perch.

“You can… it’s just rare that you’re this nice to anyone… even to Angel,” Niffty observed, “But that’s good, you’re a good kitty.”

Husk rolled his eyes, “I’ll wear it like a badge of honor, thank you Niffty,” he said, poking her before setting her back down on the floor, “I gotta finish inventory on the bar and I’m sure there’s cobwebs somewhere inside the roof or the storage attic that you can clean up until the sugar wears off.”

“O o oo! You’re right, that sounds like fun! Bye bye Husk!” Niffty giggled, sprinting up the stairs and vanishing on her way to crawl into the hotel’s makeshift-attic storage space, leaving Husk at the bar with his bottles.

Relishing in the quiet, Husk scanned his inventory sheet and decided to pick up where he left off, “Okay… I finished cointreau, onto the next one,” he muttered to himself.

Upstairs, in Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom, Charlie had gotten out of her cool bath and was wearing a pair of lightweight cotton pajamas. Exhausted, Charlie climbed into bed and curled up under the covers, still deeply frustrated that she’d managed to fall ill so close to such an important event.

“You comfortable?” Vaggie asked, pulling a thermometer out of the drawer in her nightstand and turning it on.

“I guess,” Charlie sighed, opening her mouth and letting Vaggie slide the thermometer under her tongue, suppressing the urge to cough until the thermometer beeped, “What’s it say? K HFF- koff-koff!”

Vaggie squinted briefly at the viewing window on the thermometer, “104,” she said, cupping Charlie’s face with one of her hands.

Charlie sniffled, a pitiful frown on her face as tears ran from her eyes and trickled down her fever-rouged cheeks.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- I’m so mad at myself for getting sick- snFF!- I feel hot and everything hurts and I’m so tired and I’m going to miss the summit and it was so important that I got to go this time and the overlords are gonna be mad at me and they aren’t going to invite me again and I paid so much for that stupid dress and now I’m not gonna get to wear it and-” Charlie rambled fretfully as tears continued to fall, hiccuping sobs interrupting her as she struggled to keep it together, “This is the worst and there’s nothing I can do about it and nothing can make it better!”

Vaggie leaned forward, embracing Charlie in a tight hug as Charlie sobbed violently, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m sure the overlords will understand and you’ll be able to go to the next summit… and we can go on a date when you’re better so you can wear your dress!” she said, rubbing Charlie’s hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“KHFF-Koff! I don’t wanna wear my dress- SnFF!- I-I wanted to wear a pantsuit but the ladies at the boutique said a dress would look better,” Charlie sobbed.

“Okay… well, I’ll call the boutique and tell them to make a pantsuit instead!” Vaggie said cheerfully, her heart aching desperately at seeing Charlie in such turmoil, “Does that help?”

Charlie sniffled, wiping her eyes with a tissue, “I-snFF! Snff!- I guess… I’m sorry Vaggie, I really don’t feel good,” she said, her voice still hoarse and weepy as she tossed the tear-soaked tissue into the trash.

“I know, Honey, I know… you’re really sick, I completely understand,” Vaggie said with a comforting smile, “What’s one thing I can do to make you feel better before you take a nap?”

Charlie coughed violently into her forearm, struggling to catch her breath afterward as she rubbed her chest with a splayed hand, “Uhm… E-eihh-KtSshheww! Could I have a glass of apple juice? I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast but the thought of food makes me queasy.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back,” Vaggie said, giving Charlie a thumbs up and hurrying out of their bedroom and down the stairs, pouring a glass of apple juice into a large plastic cup filled halfway with ice cubes before turning to head back upstairs. On her way toward the staircase, Vaggie was interrupted by Husk, who had gotten to the letter T on his inventory list.

“She gonna be alright?” Husk asked, his tone slightly curious as he tapped his lengthy claws against bottles of tequila, counting them in his head.

“I think so… I’m not too worried about anything happening to her, if an explosion can’t kill her I don’t think the flu’s got a chance… but it’s still heartbreaking to see her so miserable,” Vaggie said solemnly, “She’s really upset that she’s going to miss the summit and I’m trying to calm her down.”

“She’ll be fine, there’ll be others… she isn’t missin’ much,” Husk scoffed, turning to shoot Vaggie an amused smile, “Best of luck, lemme know if there’s anything I can do to help while you’re takin’ care of her.”

“Will do,” Vaggie replied, rolling her eyes playfully before saluting Husk and walking back up the stairs with the large glass of apple juice in hand.

Alone again with his bottles, Husk began writing down the amount of tequila bottles behind the bar on his inventory sheet when he felt a looming presence around him and scoffed, completely unfazed and unamused with the perpetrator’s antics.

“Alastor, if you’re gonna skulk in the shadows like a dick, I’m not gonna humor you, either get up or fuck off,” Husk grumbled, looking over to the left of the bar as Alastor appeared out of the shadows, dusting himself off.

“Euch, no amount of bathing managed to get me clean enough,” Alastor gagged, sticking out his tongue, “Charlie is a lovely young lady, very kind, but also the thought of her germs being on me makes my skin crawl.”

“Oh please, you weren’t even near her, if anyone should be worried about gettin’ sick it’s me, and you don’t see me freakin’ out now do you?” Husk asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms, smirking when Alastor gave him nothing but a flustered mess of indignant grumbling in response, “Mmhm, exactly.”

“I’m half inclined to avoid you for the foreseeable future if that’s the case,” Alastor said, taking a couple of steps away from Husk and wrinkling his nose in disgust, “Catching this is absolutely not in my plans for the upcoming week… or ever.”

“You don’t gotta worry about me, I’m fine,” Husk said, looking at Alastor with an unbothered look in his eyes and a playful smirk, “Nobody else is sick, not even close, you’re just a fuckin’ germaphobe.”

“Indeed I am, and I wear it with pride,” Alastor said, turning his nose up in the air, indignant that Husk was mocking him for his sense of caution.

“Well, can you wear it with pride someplace else? I’m busy,” Husk said, going back to counting bottles, his heart-shaped nose twitching slightly as he focused.

“Hmph! If you insist… I’ll be back,” Alastor sighed, retreating into his own shadow and vanishing to go back to whatever he was doing, leaving Husk alone behind the bar with nothing but his own breathing and the quiet ambience of the evening to keep him company.

For a moment, Husk pondered Alastor’s overblown concerns, realizing that for him the concerns were much more realistic, he spent the better part of three to four hours neck-deep in Charlie’s germs… and the flu was known for being particularly infectious…

“Nahhh, I’m fine, Alastor’s got the immune system of a wet sock in a wind tunnel, I’ll be fine,” Husk said in a futile attempt to reassure himself, “It was only a few hours, it takes longer than that to catch it from somebody… yeah.”

Husk paused, going back to examining his inventory sheet in silence when a violent tingling sensation from an unknown irritant radiated through his nose, causing his adorable heart-shaped button to twitch and wiggle. His nose grew itchier and itchier and itchier until-

“HRrr’SsCHOO! H-hRrr’SSCHUHH!”

Husk gave a damp sniffle, wiping at his nostrils with the back of his hand. Slightly nervous, Husk swallowed, choosing to ignore the fact that he felt a faint tickle in the back of his throat.

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” Husk insisted, chasing his willfully ignorant affirmations with a swig of whiskey.

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #illness kink #gingey.rtf

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