#i have no idea how to take a picture in which the colors look as good as in paper

[mggslover]

Reflections

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.

The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.

He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”

You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”

“I also have the right to remain silent.”

A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.

His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.

“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”

You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.

“Looks familiar?”

Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The people. Do you recognize them?”

You nodded.

“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.

“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”

There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.

The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.

You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.

“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.

“Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”

You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”

“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”

You gave him a blank look.

“The victims were poisoned.”

Ah.

You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”

“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”

A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.

“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.

The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl. 

“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”

You scoffed, “No one is.”

“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”

Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable. 

It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.

You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”

“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”

It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.

“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.

-`♡´-

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth. 

All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.

“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room. 

“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”

Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”

Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times. 

“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.

Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered. 

Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.

His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.

“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.

You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.

He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.

He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”

“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull. 

“They suspect you, but I don’t.”

He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.

“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.

An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.

“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.” 

Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.

“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.

“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”

His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”

-`♡´-

“She’s telling the truth.”

You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.

“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.

The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”

The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.

He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.

“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”

“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.

“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”

He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”

The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.

“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.

You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”

Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.

-`♡´-

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.

“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.

“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”

“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.” 

He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.

Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.

“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.

His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.

His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”

He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.

-`♡´-

Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.

Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs. 

“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Wait—one second,” he murmured.

“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips. 

He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”

He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.

His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.

When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.

Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.

-`♡´-

The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.

The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed. 

Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room. 

You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared. 

Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn. 

“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.

His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.

“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.

Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”

And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe. 

62383.

The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

A Dirty Wedding Affair 🌴🌅

Summary: Just a quick little blurb about having a One Night Stand with Noah 

Pairing: Noah x Reader

TW: Sex p in v, oral sex.

A/N: Ever since i saw this picture i thought of this scenario. I talked to @concretejunglefm about it she actually contributed to some of the ideas here. also, title by her! Any way enjoy! xx.

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

I really don't know how I got involved in this situation, I was always careful with things like this. Actually when I think about it, it wasn't really my style to do this type of thing. But here I was hiding behind a damn palm tree decoration on a small reception of this Hotel. I was trying to not get noticed by the guy whose bed I left this morning before he actually woke up. The walk of shame back to my room felt a little too real, and I guess I wasn't hiding hard enough because from the corner of my eyes I saw him walk up with a big smirk on his face.

“Are you really trying to hide behind that flimsy excuse of a palm tree?” he asked with a little bit of laughter in his tone.

“Who me? No, No why would i??” i said a bit too rushed

“Maybe because you sneaked out this morning” I wasn't expecting for him to call me out like that but he was right, i felt embarrassed and i didnt want him to see me. 

“yeah um i'm sorry?” i didn't know if apologizing would make the situation better but i tried anyway, 

His gaze lingered a little too long before he left a subtle laugh “Yeah it's good I ran into you, you forgot this Pixie..”i didn't have time to dwell on the fact he called me Pixie just like he moaned last nice with a few other choice of words because he was already pulling out the same lace pair of panties i was wearing  when i entered his room last night from his front pocket.. “Didn't want you to lose them so I kept them safe.” 

All the blood in me crept onto my cheeks and I can confidently say that I wasn't blushing anymore, I was bleeding red. I realized what was happening and in one quick move I snatched the panties from his hand. 

You're probably wondering how I got here? Well, I'll have to relieve the last 72 hrs for you to understand, so here i go!

It all started when I arrived here, this wasn't a vacation per say but I did plan on having the most fun I could before I had to go back to boring reality back home. My best friend from childhood was getting married this weekend. She had chosen to get married at the beach, which was great for me. I loved the tropical weather and I could enjoy a bit more tanning. 

The first time I saw him I was laid in a lounge chair by the pool. I was grabbing the the book i was reading in one hand and a glass of lemonade on the other, i saw walk in front of me and walk around the edge of said pool to reach the other side, he was with what assume to be his friends, i vaguely remember thinking how i did have Maid of Honor duties to fulfill but not until later that night so stayed a little too long in my spot.

I saw how his colorful tattoos shined under the water with the sun hitting them. he had a little bun of hair on the top of his, and he seem to be just about the tallest man i ever seen, The most gorgeous brown that have ever crossed paths with me, 

He seemed like a lot of fun, and started from my seat. I was wearing sunglasses and half of them covered my face. I thought I was being cautious and not obvious but when he turned to look my way an almost hazy took over me.

Luckily he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at one of his friends that was passing by me going towards him.

I didn't want to seem like a creep so I decided to just get up and go back into my room. I would be lying if I thought he was very attractive but way out of my league but I probably would never see him again so why even bother thinking such a thing. 

The second encounter was by the bar just down the street of the hotel. I probably shouldn't have drank anything before the wedding but I fear I was more nervous than the actual bride. I wanted to take a shot or two before I had to be back to get ready. i sat at one end of the bar when i saw him reaching the other end, he sat down and other his drink,

He was alone this time, i tried not look his way as the bartender put my vodka soda in front of me and maybe i was being paranoid but i could sense his eyes on me, I pulled out my cell phone from my phone and decided to scroll just so i could have something to do and not look dumb. After about of 10 minutes i decided it was time to go i paid for my drinks at headed, 

Once again this was the last time i would probably see him but was i so wrong, 

The wedding had started and everything was going to plan. The music started playing and as the maid of honor I made my way down the aisle to stand by the sidelines. As my best friend walked down the most beautiful princess and the emotions started to come afloat I saw him once again. He was sitting in the 3rd row of chairs. 

My eyes grew wide, I didn't know why I felt the tension, I haven't even crossed words with him once so it was a bit dumb for me to feel this way. I couldn't run so I was just still until the ceremony had ended, But i could tell even by the side of my eye that at that point he was looking at me with a small smile. 

After the beautiful ceremony and my sweat induced head we moved to where the location for the party would be.

I was having such a good time, I mingled amongst the guests, everything was going perfect and I couldn't be more happy for my best friend Bailey. I didn't want my social battery to run out and as the liquid in my glass, I made my way down to the bar. I ordered a vodka soda and as I reached for it and turned around I nearly fell on my ass, I bumped into someone and it almost made my drink spill on my dress. I didn't pay attention to who was standing in front of me as I was trying to clean with my hands the small droplets that did manage to land on my dress.

“If i didn't know any better i would think you are stalking me” i heard a  voice.

“what..? i don't even know who..” as i looked up to meet his eyes i saw who exactly it was “are…” my voice started to windle down.

“3 times in the span of 48 hours seems like a very unlikely crazy coincidence” 

“i don't know what you mean” i tried to stay confidently 

“3 times, darling, 1. by the pool, 2. at the bar down the street this morning and 3. this wedding” he must sense the sheer panic and embarrassment in my eyes “you know i'm just kidding right?” he let out a soft laugh. 

“...yeah, yeah of course!” I said with a shaky laugh.

“if were going to keep running into each other it's best i introduce my self, Im Noah”

“im y/n”

“pretty name for a pretty girl”

“Uh thanks” I didn't know where to look. I was a bit shocked to actually be talking to him.

“So Maid of honor huh?” he asked intrigues.

“Yeah me and the bride we go way back, weve been bestfriends for years” i said preparing to ask him a question, “and you? Who do you know from here?” 

“The groom, we have worked together a few times” he replied back.

“So you're in the music industry, do you like sound tech or something?” i asked 

He stared at me as if i was saying something so out of the box “Not exactly, i'm in a band, and the groom has helped me and band out a lot”

“Ah that makes sense”

We decided to move our conversation over to the table where the rest of his band mates were seated. it scared me a bit how natural the conversation flowed. I was having a really good time with him and the night was almost coming to an end.

By this time both the bride and groom had already left and retreated back to their room, the only people left were the waiter cleaning up the mess and Noah and I. 

“So do you maybe want to go back to my room and chill for a bit..i mean if you would like of course” he asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes,

I hesitated for a bit, but after a moment I thought nothing wrong could go bad. 

“yeah sure that sounds great” 

We walked down the long hallways of the hotel to catch the elevator, we both knew there was a sexual tension between us and as soon as the doors closed to start ascending the correct floor, his lips were on mine. A sweet slow passionate kiss, where his tongue andmine where dancing in unison

The elevator door couldn't open fast enough, and a brief second we were already outside his door. He struggled to get his key card out of his pocket and as soon as the door he led me over to his bed. He laid me down while he balanced his wight on top of mine 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked 

All i could do was nod, I was too far in and too intrigued on his bedroom skills to say no.

He took over my mouth once more, another kiss, this one more chaotic and wild then the last. He started to slowly pull down the straps of my dress while I in a frantic motion fought to get his pants unbuttoned. 

Clothes started to fly around the room, my dress flew on the floor while my lace panties and bra ended on the side table. His button down shirt somehow made its way on top of the lamp that was sitting on the table in front of the bed, his pants and belt landing with a loud thud on the floor.

And just like that we were both naked. lost in the heat of the moment, Once his lips left mine, he started to leave a trail of tiny kisses from my jawline, down my neck, through the valley of my breast. He made a little pit stop at my navel to situate himself between my legs. Once he did so he picked right up where he left off. 

He overlooked my core to also kiss the inner part of my thighs. I was already high due to his touch. He locked down at my core and looked like the most starved man on earth about to eat a full course meal. 

“Pretty pink pussy darling, and you're already so wet” he said as he licked his lips “may i?” 

Once again all I could do was nod. He dove in and once his tongue made contact with my click and a sweet little moan escaped from my mouth. He lapped a few more times at my pussy before he detached  and sent me into oblivion with his fingers. One finger in, slowly taking it in and out, two fingers in, he started to increase the pace of what he was doing. 

He reached just the right spot a few more times of thrusting in and out. 

“ Noah oh god i'm gonna…” I said in almost a whisper.

“No no no Pixie you're not gonna cum until I tell you to, understood?’ 

“yees”

In one swift motion he turned me around, I was now on all four and waiting for his next move. I heard the sound of a condom wrapper opening. and from what i could tell he rolled it on this cock with ease. 

“hold on tight darling” 

All I could grab was the pillow beside. He did not give me any sort of warning in a matter of seconds he was inside of me. Thrusting in full force. All I could think of unironically was the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails in my head; because what the song was describing was what Noag was doing to me. Fucking me like an animal.

Fast paced, hazy eyes and the smell of raw contact. He slowed down only to catch his breath.

“ah ah Noah..” the moans were escaping my mouth, unable to control them. “It feels so good.”

:”Pixie you're so tight.. So fitting… sooo” Once final thrust in and we were both seeing stars. 

He collapsed on top of me while we both tried to catch our breaths. It was the most exhilarating and mind blowing orgasm that i have had. 

We took a small 15 minute break to hydrate and decompose before we were at it again. By the 3rd round i was so exhausted in the best way possible that i knew come the morning it would hurt to move. The ache of my muscles started to set in and as we laid there naked and vulnerable, My eyes started to close slowly and I succumbed to sleep , no longer fighting it.

By the time I had woken up the sun had already risen, I took notice of my surroundings, slowly taking my gaze through the room until they landed on the spot on the bed next me. 

There he laid asleep covered with a simple white sheet from his waist down, His tattoos brighter than i've seen them the last 3 days. Panic set in my gut, when I looked at my own body, I was completely naked. I scrambled to get off the bed and look for my clothes. I found my dress and my bra but nowhere insight into where my panties would be. I didn't want to wait around for Noah to wait up and kick me out of his room, so I put on what I did find and took my heels in my hand and slowly and quietly made my way to my room. 

Now fast forward to this afternoon where I was face to face again with him. 

“thanks for keeping them… safe.. you know?” i sad blushing and putting them in my purse

“No problem darling, i have a feeling this won't be the last time we run into each other” he said walking away only to turn around in a moment and wink at me. 

I couldn't help but let out a little laugh because I too believed this wasn't going to be the last time we would cross paths..

[icewindandboringhorror]

A little costume with eyebrow whiskers again.. making their return lol..

[tribbles-the-lesbian]

~✨Keep Your Smile Merry✨~

Progress made so far on my little “Smile Merry” Wally piece!! Pretty proud of it so far X3

I want to do my faux-rendering today, but I have my midterm tomorrow so I gotta studyyy,, just gonna have to wait and see how long I guess~

⬇️original sketch + anatomy changes made⬇️

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

ended up drawing my rain world lizord (whoiloveverymuchandtheirnameisnebula)

i love rain world so much and the fact that you can be frems with lizords is really especial adhabshabsh

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[coffee-and-geto]

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY PANTIES?”

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: in a lazy, hot summer afternoon, it’s your boyfriend’s turn to do the laundry. but why doesn’t he respond when you’re asking where’s your panties?

warnings: +18, smut, nsfw, gojo is your boyfriend, needy! gojo, cute! gojo, fluff, nipple play, panties sniffling, masturbation (m), oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, sex (p in v), also based on a @/yunonoai’s comic!

wc: 2,128

“Babe, can you do the laundry? I have a call.”

“Sure,” Satoru replies, standing up from the couch where he was lazily lying down, chilling out in front of some tiktoks.

He steps towards the bathroom, the laundry hamper waiting for him to be emptied and washed. With a resigning sigh, he looks down at the heap of dirty clothes. One of them overhangs them all: your favorite panties — the one he bought you last month. 

The lace surrounds with finesse the satin fabric of your favorite color.

So how can he not be hard at the only sight that reminds him how long you both haven’t had sex?

Fuck.

His breathing becomes heavier, each inhaling being a trial to not pay attention to the prominent bulge swelling down his gray jogging pants. Of course, the memory of your whimpers will always be like music to his ears, the fwap sounds of his cock buried deep, so deep, inside of your wet pussy, and his balls, so much filled with his cum and tightening when he's about to climax, slapping against your ass at each pound into you.

He is grouching now, at the edge of whining in need of your full attention — but of course, you needed to have a call at this very moment.

His hand twitches to his crotch, palming his already hard erection through the soft fabric of his pants, electricing at quiet moans, Satoru’s beautiful face wincing in pleasure. He swallows thick, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and gives in. With messy movements, he lifts up his black shirt to grab the hem at his watering mouth and muffle his cute sounds between his clenched teeth and jaw. The fresh air blow at his hard abs, making him tensing his belly with scorching skin.

His big, calloused hand fiddles with his erection, so ready to free himself from the torturous sensation of your pretty panties, which he holds between his fingers and brings to his nose to inhale your scent, which makes him like a little puppy for you. Satoru utters a desperate whimper and finally buries his hand under his clothes to release his quivering cock.

It’s much bigger than usual, beads of precum glistening on the angry red tip, and veins sinuating the flesh. Of course, it’s perfect. That’s why it will never seem strange to anyone to see him stroke himself. He lazily fucks his tight fist, picturing your sweet pussy as he closes his eyes, beads of sweat leaking from his temples a flush spreads all over his cheeks.

His length girth throbs between his digits, coursing waves of lust through him as Satoru quickens the pace, as the same as his heartbeat. Saliva damps the fabric of his black shirt, and the idea of substituting the hem of his shirt with your panties carries out straight away, increasing his arousal until it’s twitching in a maddened way. With each stroke, the pre spreads along his shaft to allow it to be lubricated, at the point that if you all of a sudden show up in the bathroom, you both can skip the foreplay but damn!

“Toru? Did you see my panties?” Your voice echoes through another room.

But he doesn’t answer anyway.

“Fuck,” he grunts in a quiet whine, “miss you so much, babe.” His balls tighten, following the next moment — and it doesn’t take that much time he expected, because a few seconds after he twists his wrist in an upstroke movement — the exact way you’d do to him — he’s already cumming on the heap of laundry, dirtying them even more they already were, puddles of a viscous liquid, spreading out in droplets as the orgasmic peak subsides.

Panting heavily, he doesn’t hear you burst into the bathroom as you exclaim, “Satoru? You serious? Look at the state of the laundry now!”

With a swift gesture, he removes your panties from his mouth and turns his head suddenly towards you. He’s unable to justify himself and simply watches your disapproving pout ruffle your pretty lips. “Sorry babe, I'll clean it up.” He also notes how your mere presence makes him hard immediately despite having softened a moment earlier with the moment of “relief” he wished to provide for himself.

“Where are my panties?” you ask a second time as you rummage, eyebrows furrowed, through the basket of dirty laundry.

Satoru rubs the back of your neck nervously and hesitates to hide your underwear in his palm. “Uh... here,” he murmurs softly, slightly discomfited as you pinch the bridge of your nose in exasperation.

“You’re that much needy?”

Satoru looks down, a little boyish pout on his lips that breaks your heart. “Sorry...”

Your frown softens. “Oh, um— No, Toru, please don’t gimme that look,” you whisper, walking over to him, your hands instinctively cupping his cheeks to make him look down at you. “I’m sorry, my love. You need to tell me when you need me, okay?”

Satoru nods slowly, still guiltily pouting. “Can I have you? Please? Just one round, I swear I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs.

His request makes your lips curl up. “My boy does want me? You’re cute, almost begging like this.” You graze a kiss on his cheek. ��Get on your knees.”

“Like that?” His knees make contact with the floor, his cock still outside his dangling jogging suit. He so fucking cute, listening to you so obediently.

“Good boy,” you coo, sliding pants down your thighs. Your black panties hug the swell of your hips, your intoxicating scent spreading toward Satoru’s nostrils.

He moves towards you using his knees to grip your hips and sniff your scent once more. The action makes you giggle so much that it makes you suck in a breath when he pulls down your underwear to kiss your groin. “Love you,” he whispers. “I want to taste you, please.”

“Satoru, just wait I—” But he cuts you off, darting out his tongue to lick a strip enough to feel your bundle of nerves. A moan escapes your lips, driving your breath as crazy as he’s doing with his skillful mouth.

“You’re dripping,” Satoru comments, kissing your lower lips swiftly before grabbing you by the thighs and lifting you up, dropping you off the washing machine. “Spread your legs,” he mumbled, all needy and flushed to eat you out.

And how long he hadn’t—

It’s like he’s drunk on you, ignoring your moans and whimpers as he rests his cheeks on your inner thigh to wrap his wrist around your thighs. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your thighs, trapping you firmly. “Keep ‘em spread, baby,” he purrs, lapping your soaked core and sensitive, puffy clit. “It tastes s’good, I’ve missed you.”

His dick twitches and throbs afterward, your sweet sounds re-hardening him and making him more swollen than he was even after the few rubs he did to relieve himself.

“Hmm, ah, Satoru, you—” you trail off, throwing back your head against the wall, your hands grabbing the washing machine’s edge until your knuckles turn white. “I’ll be close, I—” you babble, and the realization of how much not having sex with him for so long is turning you into a virgin-like. And also, the clenching feeling of your pussy, lips parting and closing around nothing hits you so hard.

You need to cum on his cock.

“Satoru, stop,” you gasp, your fingers snaking gently through his white lock and tugging them carefully.

He stops the moment after your whine reaches his ears — a sound ringing like music to his ear. “But… I haven’t made you come yet,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit slowly with his forefinger and middle finger. His cute pout is now begging you to give him grace.

“I want to cum on your dick,” you clarify, leaning in, your lips pressing down a gentle, loving kiss on this beautiful forehead of him.

“You sure? I haven’t stretched you beforehand.” He rises from his former crouching position and holds his sensitive length closer to your core.

“I don’t mind, I just want you right now,” you blow out, kissing his free hand.

Satoru blushes — and oh, how can anyone fall in love with this cute little face you want to madly shower with cuddles and kisses? “Can we put it in while I kiss you?” he requests, bringing his lips closer to yours.

You let out a little laugh, pressing a first kiss on his lips. “You’re so cute.”

But something makes your eyes drop lower, and you feel it. Satoru’s hand holds his shaft enough well to tap the tip and the length below on your core, teasing your squelching cunt.

“C’mon, don’t tease me, I want you n— Ah!” He shuts you down by crashing his lips on yours and sliding himself easily in you, stretching you impossibly wide. “S-Satoru, you’re bigger than usual,” you whimper. 

Your hands grab his broad shoulder, nails sinking in his compressed black shirt, lips moving on their own to taste yourself on his wet lips. His tender tongue asks to enter you, and you allow him, soft strokes on each other’s tongue.

Satoru moans in the melting kiss, waiting for you to adjust, and starts gentle back and forth hips moves, hissing through his teeth by the sweet, delicious tightness of yours. “You feel so good,” he squeals between kisses. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You gasp, swallowing hard because of the different paces your brain can’t focus on — stolen kisses and perfect pounds into you. It’s so deep, so mastered, that it’s driving you mad and making you see stars.

Breaking the kiss, Satoru wraps his muscled arms around your back and encircles you flush against him, your heartbeat matching with his, and your fingernails slide down his back as you almost lose strength and balance every time his tip brushes against your cervix, etching red scratch marks for sure on his back as soon as he will remove his shirt.

With another buck before pulling out fully, he slides back in and manages to reach your deepest point, making your back arch and cry out. “Satoru, please, I’m so close,” you whine, wincing because of his hips rocking in you faster and harder. 

The washing machine sways to the same rhythm, threatening to give way under your weight. Your heavy, ragged breaths fill the air in a kind of steam room. Blood beats at your ears, your gummy walls clenching around his long, big dick without ceasing and have mercy for you.

But as if that wasn’t enough, Satoru slides your top off with a swift movement of his hand to free one of your breasts and taste the nipple. He sucks hard, tongue pulling and swirling at the nub like no other. The action makes you roll your eyes, the overstimulation engulfing you like a wave would.

He then uses his head to tease your nipple with a gentle tug, his cerulean-blue eyes captivated by your curve. You squeal, your walls swallowing up his thrusts inside you, tightening more and more until he gives in and takes you back into his arms, but this time with a hand under your thigh to lift it up and enable him to reach an even more precise and deep angle, making you scream out his name.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum,” Satoru warns you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and his jaw tense from clenching. “Please, where—”

“Inside me, Satoru,” you whimper in the hollow of his neck, closing your eyes before the following ride crashes the two of you.

Pussy clenching around his length, you squirt on him with a small cry, and Satoru does likewise, twitching as he grunts and his hips jerk to reach your womb and fill you up with his cum.

Muscles trembling from the aftermath, you pant against him, as weak as after an intense workout. “I’ve missed you so much,” Satoru whispers in your ear, in the same state as you. His large, quaking hands stroke your hair, soothing you.

White strings escape from your full, swollen-lipped pussy, the sound of trickling filling the silence of the room.

“I promise I’ll do the laundry, but please, can we have cuddles?” Satoru demands, blinking down at you with puppy-dog eyes.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder and nod, a smile stretching your lips, as you reach out to stroke his cheek.

“Of course, my baby.”

DING DONG.

The ringing of the front door echoes in your ears and a memory pops into your head, slapping you in the face.

“Wasn’t Suguru supposed to come to borrow the washing machine here because his is broken?”

Satoru froze, flickering his eyes. “Huh?”

a/n: feelin to write something cute and smutty haha! i think writing things easy like this is unwinding me.

see how he’s so cute? 🥹 pls God give me one…

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t

[majestyeverlasting]

the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.     

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool. 

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!” 

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball. 

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.  

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time. 

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him. 

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window. 

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond. 

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity. 

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.” 

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.  

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze. 

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes. 

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.     

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you. 

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.  

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks. 

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call. 

“Busy!”  

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service. 

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly. 

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.” 

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company. 

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune. 

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased. 

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch. 

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters. 

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in. 

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go. 

“Anything else I can get you?” 

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.” 

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?” 

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”  

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.” 

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas. 

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board. 

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors. 

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside. 

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here. 

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that. 

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals. 

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch. 

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care. 

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.” 

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing. 

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West 

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum. 

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.   

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother. 

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind. 

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look. 

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad. 

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face. 

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front. 

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before. 

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself. 

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in. 

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table. 

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops. 

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.” 

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.” 

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?” 

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.” 

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention. 

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?” 

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self. 

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.” 

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished. 

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.  

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders. 

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes. 

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore. 

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel. 

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name. 

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.” 

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone. 

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.” 

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.” 

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive. 

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body. 

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control. 

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken. 

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life. 

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks. 

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.  

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.” 

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head. 

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.” 

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it. 

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice. 

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off. 

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot. 

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory. 

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them. 

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since. 

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.” 

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.” 

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh. 

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.” 

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together. 

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed. 

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?” 

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.  

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.” 

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow. 

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.  

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice. 

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm. 

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance. 

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.” 

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.” 

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too. 

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones. 

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it. 

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.” 

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face. 

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them.  There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry. 

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs. 

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn. 

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks. 

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?” 

“Copy that.” 

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step. 

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.” 

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would. 

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more. 

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests. 

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face. 

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open. 

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you. 

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol. 

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away. 

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around. 

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.” 

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin. 

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”  

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward. 

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.” 

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say. 

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?” 

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.  

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against. 

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer. 

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, deliberately, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until there’s a slight space in between again. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist. 

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside. 

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky. 

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough. 

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light. 

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.” 

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist. 

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort. 

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them. 

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away. 

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look. 

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest. 

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.  

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.” 

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves. 

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him. 

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.” 

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?” 

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong. 

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in. 

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.” 

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers. 

He’s certain of it. 

- 

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.

[amoressb]

𐙚 Hairclips

pairings : emo bf!niki x coquette!reader

synopsis : in which you saw you had some cute hairclips laying around and had the perfect idea to decorate your bfs hair in them

⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅

You were walking around your dorm trying to find something to do. It was around 5 in the afternoon, you had a little snack and brought it to the couch in the living room.

Turning on the tv, it illuminated the small room as well as the two hairclips you left on the table. Suddenly you had an idea. Sprinting to your room, you find yourself looking for more clips and bingo! You found your drawer full of cute hairclips youve bought overtime and some your bf had gifted you.

That’s right. Niki. Your sweet loving bf.

You found it cute how he was basically the complete opposite of you. You loved all cute things and mostly stuffed animals. He on the other hand likes the complete opposite but that didn’t deter you from falling in love with him. Just then you look back at one of your plushies that remind you of him. Your badtz maru plushy. You had won it on a date you’ve recently went on with him and instantly fell in love with it as it reminded you of him. But back to the main thing here..hairclips.

You wanted him to come over quickly and what more of a perfect idea than to say that it was an emergency or that it was urgent that he come over. I mean technically you weren’t wrong..you missed him badly and you wanted to see him. So you grabbed your phone and sent the message to him.

A couple of minutes later, there was urgent knocks to your door and you ran to it knowing it was Niki. “What ha-“ was all Niki could say before he was dragged quickly to your room and sat down on the floor while you grab all the clips and sit on the bed. He was too tall to sit in the chair resulting in you having to be on your tippy toes.

“Can you tell me what-“ again he was silenced when you put your finger towards his lips smiling simply saying shhhh. You started by grabbing a pink bow of course and placed it on the side of his head clipping back his hair. You scooted back a bit and you were already in love with this idea. Immediately grabbing your phone you took a picture for memories of course and the bow was just too cute.

Many clips later, you reached the best clip of them all. Your badtz maru clip. He had been sitting there patiently waiting for you to finish. He realized a while ago that this is what was so ‘urgent’. The whole time he was admiring you and falling in love with your smile more and more as you keep adding more clips to his hair. He had his arms wrapped around your waist so you can be closer to him. He also ended up laying his head or his chin up on your lap as he was starting to slowly fall asleep to your soft touch and the cozy warm feeling he’s feeling being here with you.

Happily putting the special clip in his hair, you grabbed your phone once again to take a picture, letting you see that his eyes are closed which made it all the more cute. This was gonna be your new wallpaper for a lonng time. “I’m done my love” you say softly to him. “So this is what was so urgent huh” he sleepily chuckles. You smile as his sleepiness and softly lift his head up in your hands and melt seeing him lean into your touch. “I’m sorry it took so long” you say feeling bad that he had been stuck here for a while in the same position cuz you had that many clips. He smiled saying he didn’t mind and he was just happy to be with you.

You will say the contrast between him and the clips made it all the more perfect. He was wearing black plaid pajama pants with a black long sleeve so the pop of so much color on him with your hair clips really was perfect.

“The things i let you do to me” he says as he cuddles up to you wrapping his arms around your waist after having to sit longer just to take the clips off. You giggle into his chest and look up at him. You both looked into each others eyes not realizing you both are slowly leaning into each other. He lands a sweet kiss on your lips pulling back shortly after smiling down at you. “Goodnight y/n, i love you” he says kissing your forehead. “Goodnight Niki, i love you too” you say cuddling closer into his chest. You both fall asleep with a smile on your faces.

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; smile for the camera.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, very slight exhibition (i think?), v! penetration, choking, size kink, female reader, unedited.

.: masterlist.

simon has STACKS of polaroids of you for when he’s next deployed. you had bought the polaroid camera, all excited to pick up a new hobby; photography. he thought it was stupid, but doesn’t stop you and your aspiring career. you’re taking pictures of everything for the next few weeks. capturing every memory the two of you shared, and piles of pictures were scattered around each room in the house — random ones, blurred ones, blank ones that didn’t develop right.

when you suggest taking pictures for him one night, he doesn’t seem to catch the hint. why’d he have to waste his precious time and take pictures of you when you’re right here?

he still doesn’t understand. he huffs when you climb off of his lap and scurry into your shared bedroom, the soft mutters of the christmas movie you put on for background noise the only thing that catches his attention — and it annoys him. you come back, your shirt hiked up over your bra and the bulky coral-colored camera in hand. 

you sit back onto his lap, shoving the polaroid into his hand and guiding his finger onto the button. he accidentally clicks it, a flash blinding you momentarily and you laugh. 

“eager are we?”

he sucked on his teeth, his eyes rolling at your poor attempt to tease him. his free hand moves to your waist and dips his fingers below the hem of your shorts. you swat his hand away with a pout, mumbling something about patience but he’s too horny to hear – or care. 

simon lowers the camera as you begin to pull your shirt over your head, you whine and tell him to hold it right. but he snaps back and complains that it’s blocking his view. 

it’s your turn to roll your eyes, and you pout and tell him just to listen to you. he begrudgingly listens, muttering a retort under his breath that makes you smack his arm and shift off of his lap. but he’s quick to tug you back, saying he’s sorry and you’re just teasing him too much.

you shake your head, your finger hovering his, over the shutter button. you reach back with the other and undo your bra, letting it slip from your shoulder and into his lap. it’s then when you press down and simon takes a picture, your bare breast developing on the film as it slides out the exit slot. now he understands.

he watches with tight lips, waiting for the picture to develop and practically watching it turn into gold in front of his eyes. simon laughs in disbelief and looks at you, he wonders if this was your plan all along. play with it for a little before using it to make souvenirs for him, what a good girlfriend you were.

the hours blend and he has you bent and folded in every position he knows. it’s so embarrassing, and you find yourself covering your face or squeezing your thighs together, now trying to sheepishly hide from the lens.

but he tuts, reminding you that it was your idea. you can’t hide from him and if you try, he’ll keep you up all night — until he’s filled his album with enough pictures to relive any memory of you in bed.

he’s leaned back onto the sofa, one hand in your hair and one hand holding up the camera. he’s groaning loudly as you gag around his cock, your wide eyes fluttering up to meet his. he’s drooling at the sight, tears staining your blushed cheeks and dripping down your chin.

simon spreads his legs and angles the camera down to catch a glimpse of the way you have a hand wrapped around the base of his cock — too big for you to fit it all in your mouth. he snaps a picture, the flash making little dots cloud your vision.

you giggle, pulling your lips off of him to which he annoyingly grunts, trying to push back into your mouth.

“how many more of these are y’gonna take?”

you ask, pressing your cheek into the inside of his thigh. you’re not even looking at him anymore, so focused on his cock and the way your saliva makes his foreskin glisten.

he can’t resist, simon takes another picture and pulls the developing film from the dispenser, tossing it into the pile with the other pictures he’s taken. your face just looks so small aligned with his cock, the angle making him so much larger than he was.

“m’takin as many as i want. what am i gonna do when i miss you when i’m away and need to release some stress?”

simon tugs at your hair, nodding over to the cushions next to him. his hands immediately find your waist when you stand and he pushes you down into the couch. your hair sprawling over the pillows as you look up at him with wide eyes.

another giggle escapes you, your hand covers your mouth to suppress the laughter. it wasn’t that you were surprised about him being so needy, it’s the way he had a mountain of pictures lazily tossed into a pile. film wrappers crumpled lazily and strewn across the coffee table, the packages once holding refills for the film.

“what’s funny, bun?”

simon’s voice is hoarse, he’s spreading your legs and another picture is added to his collection. the way your cunt is glistening with the flash, your juices smeared on your inner thighs. he swears he’s going to cherish these forever, keep them around til’ they are all tattered and barely visible.

your breath is knocked from your lungs, and you can’t form words no matter how hard you try. he’s sliding his cock in between your folds, nudging your clit with his angry red tip. you whine, your hips bucking up to meet his, needing more friction to ease your arousal; and he takes another picture, how he wishes these images could capture sounds.

he’s pressing his fat, heavy cock against your stomach, a groan spilling from his lips when his tip is leaking just below your belly button. simon smears his precum against your skin, translucent globs dribbling from his slit.

“look at that, gonna be in your fuckin’ stomach.”

simon grins at the sight, but before he gives you the pleasure of filling you up, he’s leaning over you and pressing his lips to your neck. your fingernails dig into his shoulders, crescents forming under your touch, and a slew of apologies is mumbled under your shaky breath.

he hums into the crook of your neck, nipping harshly at your skin before dragging his rough tongue over the spot — soothing the bite. simon trails down to your breast, leaving a path of love bites and covering you in his mark.

while he has you distracted, he shifts his hips and pushes himself into you slowly sinking in inch by inch before he’s balls deep. he leans back and he groans at the sight, you are completely exposed for him with his bitemarks sloppily etched into your skin, a bulge forming in your belly. he slides his calloused hand up in between the valley of your breast and he wraps his hand around your neck, he squeezes lightly, and when you moan quietly as if flustered like it’s the first time he has you filled with his cock —  he snaps another picture. afraid that this moment will vanish.

that was the last of the film that he has. but god, it’s worth it. he promises he’ll buy you more in the morning, but he’s dropped the camera and holding you close. his throbbing cock plunging in and out of your squelching cunt, your juices painting his abdomen, shining his muscles under the dim light.

when he has to leave, he gathers EVERY SINGLE ONE and hides it in between the pages of an old magazine. no one would be caught dead snooping through his things, but it was a precaution he took because he didn’t want you exposed for all of his teammates to see. you were his, and he was never one of share.

AN: guys...i don't even have words tbh. just simon and like he WOULD take so many pics i'm just sooo :((( urgh. i hate him. if i missed any warnings lmk!

[yzzart]

Love your Tom blyth fics an unhealthy amount!!! I’m picturing reader and Tom being all lovey dovey at the premiers but playing it off as really good bestfriends UNTIL she goes to kiss him on the cheek and in instinct he turns his head to kiss her on the lips so they just say fuck it and hard launch there and then x

"An unplanned situation."

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader

summary: a small gesture, with a sweet intention, revealed a promising secret.

word count: 1.359!

notes: i started this request in the morning and only had the opportunity to finish it a few minutes ago, forgive me for that, anon! — i hope you like it and of course, feel free to share ideas with me!

"Y/N, look here!"

Another request, among others, screams and countless flashes, was directed to you; being, theoretically, almost impossible to identify who had demanded your image. — There were so many voices mixing, not to mention the music in the background, but, you tried your best to pay attention to most of the cameras.

However, it wasn't anything you weren't used to; something that has already been normalized in your life.— And during the premiere of The ballad of songbirds and snake it was no different, and it was splendid; simply perfect. — Not to mention, the feeling of gratitude that grew in your chest.

Cameras and cell phones captured your every movement, your poses and the way your perfectly chosen dress was valued and highlighted on your body. — And how it matched the color palette of the film. — Everything was being recorded, at the exact moment, posted and commented on all social networks.

You had the opportunity to meet, talk and take photos with some of the cast. — It was so pleasant, the company and unity that everyone developed during the filming of the film was inexplicable and so adorable; you were grateful to have worked with so many talented people. — There were some people who were absent, until now, in your eyes, but you would definitely meet them again on the carpet.

And, of course, your eyes roamed the decorated room, matching the elements of the film, and crowded in search of a specific person. — It wasn't exaggerated words to say that you were starting to feel uncomfortable because he was missed; and the cameras recorded it. — Silent questions, which would be written, formed in the minds of the presenters and photographers.

Your boyfriend had yet to appear on the red carpet; perhaps he is giving a quick and curious interview or greeting someone. — That's what was going on in your head.

You and Tom had a secret relationship, ever since you met behind the scenes, in front of the world and all the cameras that may exist in it; something that was so risky and at the same time adventurous. — And that, as incredible as it might seem, you knew how to disguise it in front of your fans; even though they gradually became suspicious with comments, interactions and behind-the-scenes photos.

They were either smart or you and Tom were too far over the line. — This question was not important or essential for the moment. — And you considered each other best friends for interviews or responses to comments; you tried your best.

And so, Rachel sent countless screenshots of tweets, which talked about or mentioned the relationship between you and Tom, to you. — It's impossible to deny how funny it was.

Persisting in continuing to look for him and for a few seconds, your eyes meet his blue and so charming irises. — Its shade of blue was a magnificent and beautiful combination; something you would never get tired of admiring. —And there was no other thing, or anyone, that could take his eyes off you.

As if the only thing that mattered at that moment was you. — And everything around him simply disappeared.

"There you are!" — Tom walked towards you, easily as there weren't so many people on the carpet, and an enthusiastic smile forming on his lips; also accompanied by cameras and intense flashes. — "And so beautiful!"

Holding a part of your long and dazzling dress so as not to hinder your steps, you met him, and without wasting any time, hugged him. — A common gesture, and not so different or strange, for the spectators; so, you thought. — Tom's arms went around your waist, holding your protectively for a little while, while your arms positioned themselves around his neck.

Tom's fragrance, which you liked so much, filled your nose; it felt so good, and you felt your eyes weaken, contaminated by it. — And the british man was aware of that.

"You look perfect, always." — The older man distanced himself, just a little, and brought his face closer to your ear, wanting only you to hear. — "The most beautiful woman that has ever crossed my eyes." — The lenses probably captured a reddish pigmentation on your cheeks and it was not part of your makeup.

You placed one of your hands on his chest, and looking directly into his eyes; that shone at you, and it wasn't just because of the influence of the lights in your direction. — Tom's gaze was sincere, and passionate, intensely fascinating you. — He conveyed what he felt most with just his eyes.

And that was one of the facts about him that you were passionate about and recognized very well.

"Oh, shut up!" — Raising your hand and resting it a little away from your mouth, you laughed a little embarrassed and looked back at the cameras; remembering that they remained there and you knew that later you would see your interaction with Tom on some social media.

Again, a thing and situation you were used to.

"Look at that camera!" — A voice mingled among others, which requested the same request, asking you to take some photos together; something that would feed news, fans and press.

At no point, minute or second, did you and Tom remain distant or apart from each other; always a few steps close, hugging each other for photos and certain looks, completely indiscreet. — Even during brief interviews, as Blyth mentioned you or your character's work, you were silently watching. — One of the interviewers even commented on how cute she thought it was.

Tom's hand was on your waist, holding and almost covering you, making a quick caress in a few seconds and one of your hands was still resting on his chest; and you continued, of course, to be the focus of the cameras.

Quickly, with the intention of changing your pose and trying something new and also to take advantage of the fact that Blyth's face was almost close to yours, you decide to place your pigmented lips on his cheeks. — Such a cute and friendly gesture, and so common. —But, automatically and hastily, Tom turned his face away at the same time, without having in mind what you were, in fact, planning. — God, it was a shock; an absurd and completely intense shock.

For the first time that night, in that place and on those cameras, your lips touched Tom's lips. — It was very quick, good and surprising; and that definitely left a cold, freezing air in your belly accompanied by a desperate feeling in your mind. — Rumor has it that smoke was coming out of his head. — It was a peck, a quick and simple kiss.

When you separated, hurriedly, your eyes met Tom's once again; who were a little wide-eyed, expressing surprise. — Looking for something to say or do, just like you. — And you watched his lips curve into an almost smile, as if he was trapping him.

Shouts of enthusiasm and some possible whistles echoed throughout the immense place, along with some looks and expressions of surprise at what had happened. — And some people were worried if they had recorded the exact moment, of course. — Your fans were probably commenting frantically about what happened.

You really didn't know what to do but at no point did you move away from your boyfriend — now, official to the public — and keep your hand on his chest; as if it were, in fact, planned.

"A nice way to reveal it, huh?" — Tom laughed, relaxed and without a feeling of discomfort or uneasiness, he still had his hand on your waist; and he still squeezed you, then leaving you with another caress. — "I think." — He didn't look at the cameras, his orbits focused only on you.

They have always focused on you, regardless of what is actually happening; and that will never change.

"A nice way to reveal." — You repeated your words, but, as an affirmation and certainty; maybe, seeing how relieved Tom was, and not showing some kind of distress, your chest calmed down and you felt safe.

And soon, you and Tom became one of the most talked about topics on social media.

[criminalamnesia]

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[bbokicidal]

Marriage? Marriage. | Hyung Line! SKZ [OT8]

Genre : Fluff Warnings : None Pairing : Hyung Line SKZ x Fem!Reader

Notes : Ever wondered what your wedding would be like with SKZ? How they would propose? What their tux/outfit would look like? Your ring? The venue? Well I've got it all right here! (Completely w/ photo references!)

Other Notes : This is just how i picture things going down/looking. If you disagree or have other opinions, that's totally fine! But please don't go in the comments complaining it isn't how you pictured it. If you don't like it, scroll past. Thank you!

Chris

The Proposal : You'd be absolutely WRONG if you thought Chris would propose to you anywhere but Australia. He's going to plan a trip home, bring you along, and get you on the beach with his family (that includes the boys) so they can all be there for it. He'll get on one knee while you're taking pictures near the water in a sweet sundress that matched the color of his button up, give you the most heart wrenching, tear jerking, cheek blushing, romantic speak through his giggles - and then ask you to marry him while offering you the most beautiful diamond ring you'd ever seen in your life.

The Venue : Although he doesn't drink (often), Chris finds that vineyards are some of the most beautiful places he's seen for wedding venues. The wine is provided - any flavor you can think of - and the area of the ceremony is just out back by an archway covered in vines and floral scenery. The pond just behind the building is perfect for a background - and during the exchanging of vows, people coo at both your shared words with each other and the pair of swans floating along behind you.

First Look : Chris doesn't want to do a first look before the ceremony, so you wait to take pictures until that is done. But when he sees you round the corner to come down the aisle? Oh, he's red in the neck and bawling by the time you reach him - of course he's laughing through it, sniffling and laughing even more when someone reaches over his shoulder to dab his pink cheeks with a tissue - already prepared for his tears.

His Best Man : Felix - of course.

Minho

The Proposal : He goes all out - as out as he can, bringing you to Jeju Island on a vacation and doing it in the solitude of your own company. He wants it to be just you two, announcing it to the others when Jeongin notices the ring as soon as you walk into the room. The proposal goes smoothly, with him bringing you to a nicer - definitely fancy - dinner and then laying the velvet box on the table for you to open yourself. You're flabbergasted, he's a smiley, blushy mess - and now, you're both engaged.

The Venue : Minho lets you pick out the venue, which ends up being a relatively fancy building that.... is definitely older. The pillars are massive, the ceiling is high - painted with murals of angels and relics. He helps with the decorative ideas however, deciding with you that a deep and rich red should be the primary color theme with flowers and small details like pearls, beads, and banners. And it's a good idea, for sure.

First Look : He's all smiles when he sees you for the first time in your dress. Just before the ceremony and about to do photos, he turns around to find you standing behind him and immediately places his hands on your waist to tell you just how beautiful you look. He has to take it all in however, making others laugh by the way he keeps pausing mid sentence to visibly look you up and down in awe.

His Best Man : Chris - His only hyung.

Changbin

The Proposal : It's softer, sweeter - and it happens in the comfort of your own bed. With the news of a bun in the oven being revealed to the world just two weeks ago, Changbin decides that since you're both taking such a large step into having a family... then why not - you know - make it officially a family? Together forever, and all that. He whispers it to you in the early morning hours, a soft "We should get married." only to be met with a shy grin from you as you ask if he's serious. And he most certainly is.

The Venue : Taking up most of the responsibilities in funding the wedding, finding the venue, decor, food, etc. -- Changbin picks out an outdoor venue where the two of you won't get too warm and there will be plenty of space for lots of guests; Your family, his family, his friends, your friends - he wants them all there to witness the moment. There's a few buildings like a bunkhouse with a wedding suite and guest rooms for the wedding party, a building for the reception and food - and the ceremony will be outside with a large archway that he can dip and kiss you under until you're out of breath.

First Look : Changbin is aaaaaall giggles when he sees you for the first time, covering his mouth before yelling out, "yah! this is my wife?? this?? how did i bag this? look at this!" Constantly hyping you up, telling you how gorgeous you are in your ear, having you sit in his lap for pictures - Man is coooooocky, and has every right to be when you look that good.

His Best Man : Hyunjin. (Man's got both his husband & wife on either side of him.)

Hyunjin

The Proposal : So, so romantic. At an art gallery - where he had, somehow, had a piece of his art displayed. That was the reason for visiting the gallery, he said, but the real reason was so that he could propose to you in the soft silence of the building and somewhere both of you truly cherished. Felix was there, too, mostly to take photos. But also to witness his best friend bagging the most beautiful girl in the world.

The Venue : Deciding together, you both agree on a smaller venue where your families can enjoy the ceremony - and then a larger venue just down the stress where the reception and food can be held. The venue for the ceremony is quaint, with dressing rooms for the bridesmaids and groomsmen, and a larger room where you'll be wedded. The reception ceremony - well, it's big enough for all of the group to bust down some moves (and maybe some choreo from their performances.)

First Look : Hyunjin also waits until the ceremony to get his first look at you, but when he does - he nearly falls to his knees at the sight. He's in shambles, turning away for a second to gather himself before putting on a polite smile and taking your hand when you reach him. He'll be sure to lean down and tell you how gorgeous you look, however, whispering out that he's never seen anyone so beautiful in his life - and he looks in the mirror every day, so.

His Best Man : Changbin.

[maybankprincess]

day 8: polaroid pictures

pairing...lando norris x reader 

word count....1311

you’ve always wanted a polaroid camera, loving the feel of those thick individual papers, loving the way they looked in a clear phone case or even in a wallet. so when lando gifted you your own pastel purple polaroid camera for christmas and you immediately got to taking pictures of everything. you took random pictures such as your parent’s dog lounging in the sun, you and your friends hanging out at the park. 

but your favorite kind of picture you would take were of lando and you hanging out. the first one was one taken right after having opened your gift, you were setting up the camera when lando wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer to him. you reached your hand out, holding the camera and smiling as you snapped a picture of you both smiling. the photo developed before you, the bright christmas colors slowly coming to life right infront of your eyes. 

soon your days were filled with capturing your favorite moments with lando. one of your favorite shots was lando, mid-laugh, with the sunlight creating a halo around his fluff of hair one sunday morning. it was a candid moment that you would never be able to recreate if you tried. you kept this picture in your phone case, often keeping your phone right side down just to stare at your favorite picture. what you loved about the picture was that if you didn’t know who it was, you would never be able to know since his face was slightly blurred.

but there was one picture you hadn’t taken with lando yet, one you’ve been wanting to take for quite some time now. which brings us to now. you were sitting on the couch catching up with your series while waiting for lando to come back home from practice. he was leaving soon for the azerbaijan grand prix and immediately heading to singapore for the next grand prix, leaving you by yourself for the next 2 weeks and some days. you were going to miss him, even if you could facetime him everyday, it just wasn’t the same. you missed his arms wrapped around your waist as you fell asleep and his soothing fingers as you woke up every morning. 

your gaze drifted towards your polaroid camera on the coffee table and you had an idea. you headed upstairs and retrieved your new lingerie that you had gotten but hadn’t found the time to use it until now. You wore comfy clothing over the lingerie and headed back downstairs to wait for lando. 

soon, the door opened before hearing lando’s “honey, i’m home!” call from the foyer.

you called back “in the living room!” to him as you angled your body to face the entrance to greet him. 

lando took off his shoes by the door and dropped his bag before heading towards you. as soon as he appears in the doorway, a smile starts growing on your face. 

“hi baby” you say and smile as you watch him walk towards you. 

“hi babe” he greets back as he leans down and pecks your lips. he sits down next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “how was your day today?” he asks and looks at you. 

you nod and smile “it was pretty chill, i did some work and then chilled for the rest of the day” you say and shrug “what about you? how was practice?” you add 

“oh the usual” he says and shrugs “did some weights, ran a bit then finished with neck training” he summarizes as you nod along his words. 

“soo i was thinking” you start as you watch lando turn his full attention to you. 

“i know you’re leaving soon, maybe i’ll give you something to hold on to when you’re gone” you start before reaching for your camera on the table. 

“just some pics for you to use while you’re gone” you suggest as you watch lando’s facial expression change from confusion to cockiness. 

“oh, you’re gonna let me take some sexy pictures of you for me to keep?” he asks, making sure that’s what you were suggesting. 

you nod and bite down on your lower lip “mhm, if you’re down” you reply. 

“well what are we waiting for then?” he asks as he scoops you up from the couch and carries you to the bedroom. You wrap your arms around his neck as you chuckle. 

once you get to the bedroom, he carefully places you on the bed. 

“i have a surprise for you” you whisper as you strip and show off the lingerie you wore for him. 

lando stands back and watches in awe. “gosh you look so hot in this, babe” he groans out as he leans forward and crashes his lips against yours. 

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer as you started making out. your tongues battle for dominance as he eventually wins as he deepens the kiss. you wrapped your legs around his body as you continued kissing. 

eventually, you remembered what initially got you in this position which made you pull away from lando. breathlessly, you look up at him. you noted how swollen and red his lips looked. he looked down at you in confusion as if to say ‘what’s wrong?’. in response, you gently push your polaroid camera in his chest. 

“oh” he said “well we got carried away” he jokes as he stands up next to the bed and turns on the camera. 

you adjust the two-piece lingerie and looked up at him “no face” you reminded him, not wanting the pictures to get leaked incase he lost them on his trip. he nodded back in response as he pulled the camera closer to his face and look the first picture of you, simple, laying on the bed with your arms open on either sides of your body. you bite down on your lower lip as he takes the picture. once it comes out, he places it on the nightstand right-side down to help it develop. 

you reach back and unbuckle your bra strap. you make eye contact with lando as you slowly pull off your bra before throwing it to the side leaving your upper body bare. 

“gosh you look good” lando groans as he reaches a hand and gently squeezes your left boob. you bite down on your lower lip as you feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

lando brings the camera up to his face before taking a picture of his veiny hand squeezing your boob. he then places the yet to be developed picture on the nightstand. 

lando places the camera to the side before pulling down your panties. your legs part as he plunges his fingers in your pooling cunt. he rubs two fingers between your lips from your clit to your hole as you sigh out in pleasure. 

he gathers your juices on his fingers and brings them to his mouth as he tastes you. “mhm” he moans as he leans down to connect his mouth to your pussy. 

lando starts eating you out, drinking up your flowing juices and sucking on your clit. you reach for the camera and take a picture of him looking up at you as he eats you out. you practically throw the camera to the side as you pull lando up to you in a kiss. 

“pretty sure we have enough content” you say and smirk 

“well we could always take some more before i leave” lando replies as he begins undressing himself to continue pleasuring you for the rest of the night. 

sure enough, you guys did get the opportunity to take more pictures, in the bathroom later that night, the next morning and even right before lando left enough to last you the next 2 weeks.

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

There was a fanart event for Tale Foundry, so i made two drawings for it :D

This one is about the video of Promises as a Magic System. I haven't read the Stormlight Archive (yet), but the Spren and how Talebot talks about them scratches my brain in a good way.

[narnian-neverlander]

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

I’m also very much using a translator for the Czech parts, so please bear with me and absolutely lemme know if you spot anything wrong!

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje lásko, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláčku, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděli. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.