#i just thought the title should be a line from the song

[laurenairay]

what harm could come from one little call - N. MacKinnon

Summary: Can a drunken phone call repair a pair of broken hearts? Nathan certainly hopes so. Megan isn't so sure.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: drunk Nate, exes to lovers, mild angst, some bad language

A/N: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s​ winter fic exchange 2k25 for @blueskrugs! Cait, it was a joy to write for you. I had so much fun using Old Dominion as inspiration – they’re one of my favourite bands and I’ve been fortunate enough to see them 5 times, so this was special for me! I hope I included everything you asked for that we discussed. I hope you enjoy this!

Title from Break Up With Him, by Old Dominion

~

“Hey Megan, what’s up?”

Of all the things for her ex-boyfriend to lead with, after not speaking to her for 6 months, that was it? Casual and cool, like nothing had ever happened? And on New Year’s Eve?

Megan was just glad she’d moved away from her group of friends to answer his call. They weren’t exactly his biggest fans any more, and she knew they would absolutely judge her for giving him the time of day, even if it was just standing in the slightly-quieter corridor by the bar bathrooms.

“Nate, are you drunk?” she asked dryly.

“Naw, I ain't drunk.”

Yeah okay. She hummed, voicing her disbelief, and Nate huffed out a laugh.

“Okay, maybe I do have a little buzz, but that song we danced to in my kitchen came on and I just thought what harm could come from one little call?”

What the hell.

What the actual hell.

“You’re drinking at home. Alone? And you’re calling me out of the blue,” she summarised, unimpressed.

“I missed you, Meg. I’ve missed you every day since we broke up and I had to let you know.”

The rasp in his voice sent shivers down her spine, just like it always had. But this time, he had no right to try seducing her. She wasn’t his to seduce any more.

“We’re nearly 30, Nate. What the hell are you doing, acting like a lovesick teenager? You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?” Megan said, frustrated at the nerve of the man she once thought she had a future with.

“It was a mutual break up.”

This fucking guy.

“You instigated it,” she reminded him.

Nate let out an irritated huff of breath

“I know you don’t love him.”

“What the fuck Nathan,” she hissed.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I know you don’t love him. This new guy that you’ve been putting all over your social media, whatever his fucking name is. You should tell him that it’s over and then come over to mine. You ain’t in love with him, break up with him.”

What the fuck. How dare he?

“Greg is a good guy. You don’t know the first thing about him.”

“Yeah okay, but I know you, Megan. You don’t want to hurt him, but you’re stringing him along. Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

Her jaw dropped slightly at the unmitigated gall, and she shook her head furiously, even though he couldn’t see her.

“You’ve crossed the line Nate. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but you have no right to talk to me like this,” Megan said angrily.

Her heart was racing, hands shaking at his audacity. How could he do this to her? On New Year’s Eve when she was out with her friends? When they hadn’t been in each other’s lives since the Spring?

But Nate just laughed softly, infuriating her more.

“You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. If you didn’t know there was truth to my words. But no pressure, whatever. Just do what you gotta do.”

“You are such an asshole,” Megan hissed, tears stinging at her eyes.

“Yeah, I am. But you still love me anyway. Call me when you’ve broken up with him. Happy New Year, Megan.”

And with that, he ended the call. Megan stood still, in shock, not fully believing what had just happened. What had just happened? Nathan had called her out of the blue, drunk and seductive, telling her to break up with her new boyfriend…so that she could get back together with him?

What the fuck?

Maybe it was the alcohol she’d consumed herself, or maybe it really was the shock of Nathan contacting her after so long with such bold declarations, but her mind was whirling. Whirling and swirling, tempestuous as a typhoon, all because of a man she’d tried so hard to forget. How was she supposed to process this?

“Hey, babe, everything okay?”

Megan jolted at the feeling of a large hand on her shoulder, looking sharply up to see her boyfriend Greg looking down at her with concern. Greg was a sweet softly-spoken man, a gentle giant and true protector, and yet seeing him right now didn’t give her any comfort at all.

“Woah, you look upset. What’s wrong?” he asked.

As if she could tell him the truth.

“Just a phone call I didn’t expect,” she said, forcing a smile on her face.

“Are you sure?” Greg asked, still frowning, “Did you want to leave? We can go if you need to.”

He didn’t deserve any of this. What the fuck did Nate know anyway?

“No, it’s fine. Let’s get back to the group,” she said, shaking her head.

Nate’s words kept ringing through her head as they walked back through the bar to their booth, and the moment she sat down Megan reached for the first drink she could to drown them out.

“I know you don’t love him.”

“You’re stringing him along.”

“Not wanting to break his heart isn’t a good enough reason for keeping us apart.”

~

The first morning coffee of 2025 was nowhere near as good as the last espresso martini of 2024. Megan could admit that much to herself as she forced down a couple of slices of toast. Even a steaming shower and skin care routine hadn’t brightened up the start of the new year, and in her fragile state she could only think of one person to blame.

Nathan MacKinnon. The ex-boyfriend that had suddenly decided not to quit.

Of all of his many wonderful qualities, his timing was usually impeccable, on and off the ice. But last night had been the worst timing she could’ve ever imagined, and right now she didn’t know what the hell to do. Nate really had thrown her for a loop, and despite his demand for her to call him, it felt like the last thing she wanted to do.

Happy new year to her. Not.

But as she finished her second cup of coffee, it seemed like Nate had decided for her, as her phone started ringing with his name as Caller ID.

“You didn’t call me.”

“It’s barely been 12 hours, Nate. What did you expect? For me to just come running into your arms?”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck you,” she groaned.

That cocky attitude shouldn’t be nearly as attractive as it was. She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was smirking right now.

“That’s the Megan I know.”

“You know how rude it was last night, right? Rude and uncalled for and totally out of line?” she pointed out.

“Maybe. But I don’t regret it, even if I needed whisky to build up the courage.”

The nonchalance was infuriating.

“Pretty pathetic getting drunk on your own just to call up your ex, Nathan,” she said sharply.

“Ouch, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome, sad sack,” she shot back.

But Nate just laughed, that deep belly laugh that was so rare but so incredible to hear. Fuck. This is not how she thought her year would start.

“I miss you.”

That voice. His deep rumble sent shivers down her spine again, just like it had last night. Fuck.

“I miss you too,” she found herself saying softly.

The hitch in his breath let her know she’d said the right thing.

“You do?”

“I always have done, Nate. Even though you didn’t deserve it, breaking up with me after two years because you wanted to be able to focus on playoffs,” she said, voice cracking slightly.

The way he swore under his breath made her sigh.

“I was an idiot. Such an idiot. Still am, but at least I’m aware of it now. And I’m trying to be better. I want to be better.”

“Nathan…”

Her voice trailed off, not knowing what else to say. What could she say, when he was finally self aware?

“Break up with him, Megan, please. Give me another chance.”

It was now or never. As much as it pained her to admit to it all, she had to be honest.

“I already did.”

“What?”

“I broke up with him when we left the bar last night. I just…you screwed with my head Nate, so badly, and after your call it was all I could think about. I couldn’t get your words out of my head and I knew that no matter what, this was a death sentence for me and Greg. It’s over with him. Because of you, I cried on New Year’s Eve.”

Nate swore again.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Megan couldn’t stop the laugh that choked out of her throat, thick with emotion and mildly hysterical.

“You never did, hm? And yet I’ve cried over you more than any other guy,” she reminded him.

“That…fuck, I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Bit late for that,” Megan said, sniffing.

“Let me make it up to you.”

His firm words shocked her, and yet they didn’t shock her at all. This was typical Nathan, swooping in with grand gestures to save the day when he shouldn’t have needed to fix what he broke in the first place. He was a mess. He made her a mess. And yet, talking to him last night and right now were the first times she’d felt truly alive since he’d broken up with her. How could she deny what she felt?

Where her light brown hair had been curled last night, it was in tousled waves now, and her grey-blue eyes were shadowed by lack of sleep as well as still being a little bloodshot from the crying. She looked far from her best, especially when it came to seeing Nate, but he deserved to see what he’d done to her.

Fuck it. She missed him and he missed her. How often did people get a second chance with the person they loved?

“Come over,” Megan murmured.

“I’m already on my way.”

[occultbooks]

dylan's hilson playlist masterpost

THIS IS A LONG POST!

I have a lot of thoughts and opinions and you don't have to agree but they make me feel so sick to my stomach that I had to make a post. Music is, in my mind, one of the greatest things in the world. I'm very passionate about it. So, here is a (chronological) list of songs that remind me of House and Wilson.

You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies (1967) - Simon & Garfunkel

S&G deep cut I love. One of their only singles that didn't end up on an album. This one is pretty straightforward. Could be from either perspective, but I like to think it's Wilson's perspective. The song starts:

You don't know that you love me You don't know, but I know that you do

and the second verse includes the line:

You may think that we're friends, all right But I won't let friendship get in my way

The vibe of the song is also much more musically intense than Simon & Garfunkel tend to veer in their love-related songs, making it aesthetically fitting to Hilson as well.

2. Starry Eyes (1979) - The Records

This one is slightly up to interpretation (not a very popular song so meanings aren't readily available) but it has a kind of melancholy unrequited "giving up" theme.

I don't wanna argue, there's nothing to say Get me out of your starry eyes and be on your way

I like to think of this one also as from Wilson's perspective, but he's pretending he's speaking on behalf of the hospital, offended at House acting in his own self-interest. Early season 8 "we're not friends anymore" vibes.

3. This Night (1983) - Billy Joel

Being on the same album as Leave a Tender Moment Alone, this one is very fitting to me. This one, in my head, is like House's perspective, alternate universe where Wilson isn't so repressed. The lyrics are so deliciously tragic to me even though the resolution of the song implies happy endings. Verse 2 makes me feel sick to my stomach:

I've been around, someone like me should know better Falling in love would be the worst thing I could do Didn't I say I needed time to forget her? Aren't you running from someone who's not over you?

UEGGHHGRHGAHGHR sorry this one I can't even be civil about. it makes me emotional

4. You Make Me Feel Like a Whore (1995) - Everclear

This one is self-explanatory but I'll preface a little bit before writing out some of the lyrics. This could be either House or Wilson perspective. Horniest middle-aged men in New Jersey. I feel like they're all over each other all the time. A bunch of freaks.

I take your word like it was gospel  I'm so eager to please  Yeah I like it when you talk to me  It feels so good inside your shadow  It's the place I need to be Yeah I know I need to climb you  Like a tree

Yeah. You guys know. The rest of the song is just as horny and I just...yeah.

5. Selfless, Cold and Composed (1997) - Ben Folds Five

House perspective for so many reasons. Many lyrics about someone telling you they're done with you and walking out, and you feeling like that's probably fair.

You don't owe me to be so polite You've done no wrong You've done no wrong Get out of my sight

but the one that fucks me up is

Come on baby now throw me A right to the chin Don't just stare like You never cared I know you did

Asking the other person to hit him to show that they care is such a House thing. Again: early season 8. This could realistically be any House relationship, really, but it's so Hilson breakup to me.

6. G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (2007) - Fall Out Boy

Fun fact: the song title stands for "Gay Is Not a Synonym For Shitty." Just thought that was interesting. Anyway, this is also from House's perspective. I could probably go into detail about every individual lyric but I'll try not to. This song is about yearning for someone you either can't have or shouldn't pursue. Post-canon (post-Wilson death) makes the most sense for most of the song but it could also be just House being in his own head and believing Wilson is too far away to reach.

Trade baby blues for wide-eyed browns I sleep with your old shirts and walk through this house In your shoes, you know it's strange It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you

I feel like House probably wears Wilson's clothes after he dies. It makes me unbelievably sad to think about. Anyway, the second verse followed by the pre-chorus kills me:

I've already given up on myself twice Third time is the charm, third time is the charm Threw caution to the wind, but I've got a lousy arm And I've traced your shadows on the wall, now I kiss them Whenever I'm down, whenever I'm down Figured I'm not figuring myself out Things aren't the same anymore Some nights, they get so bad I almost pick up the phone

Thinking about House grieving...augh. They make me nauseous.

7. Away Frm U (2012) - Oberhofer

This song is about resisting someone who is shutting you out to try and keep them afloat. It doesn't have a lot of lyrics. It's very Wilson though.

You're pushing me away from you And there's nothing I can do And I can't fight all of your battles for you

That's about it.

8. Everyone But You (2017) - The Front Bottoms

The vibe of this song is fairly cliche, but "I hate everyone but you" as a concept is so delicious. It's also a little bit about feeling numb, which is very House to me.

It doesn't get worse, it doesn't get better You just get old, it lasts forever Can't get happy, can't get sad It's hard to do When I hate everyone but you

It's so sad to think about how House just spends his whole life trying to be as numb as possible because everything hurts all the time, and the only one who is (somewhat) consistent in his life is Wilson.

I fell in love 'Cause no one saw me the way you did And no one's seen me that way since But for a short time that's how I lived

Again, this could be any House relationship (ESPECIALLY Stacy), but also thinking about post-Wilson death House reminiscing is so...argh.

That's all I have for now. I mean, I have more songs on my playlist, but this is all I feel confident enough to pick apart. Link to the full playlist here, though it is Apple Music so sorry if u don't have that lol.

[jacky-rubou]

is 'Til the Blue Skies Drive The Dark Clouds Far Away' too much for a title

I mean, it's perfect, but it's LONG

do you guys care

[qingyuns]

— i won’t let you fall down, unless you’re in my arms

alternatively, the 3 times kinich saved you from falling and the 1 time that he was the one who fell

pairing: kinich x gn!reader, wc: 2.8k, two or three swear words, reader has a pyro vision because mualani kinich reader burgeon team is a funny hc i have, ajaw makes 2 brief appearances, fluffy but ig they don’t do that much?? pre-relationship and confessions (does this count as a confession), title from an nct dream song (rains in heaven), pls reblog ty

1) The fall that was Pacha’s fault

You were never one to back down from a challenge, not when your pride was on the line. And presently, it was. It was an unfortunate mistake on your part when you’d been a little too cocky, bragging about your rock climbing skills, and as an even more unfortunate result, a friend of yours from the Scions of the Canopy had decided to dare you to climb an actual cliff near his village.

“I’ve got all the equipment,” Pacha had exclaimed. “If you’re really that good, then this should be no sweat.”

You’d narrowed your eyes at him. You couldn’t tell if his smile was mocking or not.

“No problem.”

But now, as you looked up and tried to find another edge to grasp at, you were wishing you had backed down. Seriously, this cliff was just a flat canvas of orange. What were you supposed to hold onto?

“Stupid Pacha,” you hissed to yourself as you reached for a bump in the cliff face. “Stupid cliff.”

Man, you wished you had a Geo vision. Then you could probably create some kind of ledge to rest on. Or maybe an Anemo one would be more useful. You could make yourself float to the top.

You were also never one to be afraid of heights, but as you glanced down, your heart jolted at the distance between you and the ground. Too high. Much, much too high. Your Pyro vision hung uselessly at your hip.

A second glance told you that Pacha was no longer anywhere to be found, and you cursed him under your breath.

“Okay, don’t panic. Just don’t panic and don’t fall,” you huffed. “Easy enough.”

Your palms were moist, your fingers were suddenly too smooth. And just when you risked a second to wipe your hand dry on your leg….

….the other one slipped, and you were falling.

The organ in your chest seemed to stop. This is it, you thought, I’m dead. You were falling, and falling and falling, until suddenly, while your eyes were squeezed shut and your stomach was leaping like a wild Koholasaurus in water, you were flying.

It took you a second for your brain to orient itself, to realise that you weren’t in fact dead yet, but when it did, you felt an arm wrapped securely around your waist, so tight that it was almost painful. You peeled your eyelids open. In your limited view, your saviour was nothing more than a head of dark hair and a blur of green attire. The surrounding cliffs were reduced to blobs of colour as you were swung through the air, down then up, down then up, until your feet were once again on solid ground.

Your knees almost collapsed once you were, and both of your saviour’s arms moved to steady you. A blink. Two blinks. You waited for your breathing to return to normal, then your eyes flitted up to meet theirs.

A kaleidoscope of green and gold greeted you. Huh, pretty.

Your saviour let out a strangled sound, something between a choke and a grunt, and released you. Oh. Had you said that out loud?

“Uh, sorry,” you coughed awkwardly. You took a step back, fiddling with your fingers. “Thanks for saving me.”

With the bandana that was tied over his forehead, it was difficult to discern his emotions. He gave you a curt nod. “You should be more careful.”

A distant yell made both of your hands turn, and you saw the tiny figure of Pacha rapidly approaching and waving his hand at you. By the time he’d closed the distance, which to his credit only took about eight seconds (so he must have felt at least a little guilty about almost letting you die), the guy beside you had vanished.

“Are you okay?” Pacha exclaimed as he skidded to a stop in front of you. You nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief, before looking around curiously. “Was that Kinich?”

2) The fall that was a Tepetlisaurus’ fault

The next time you met Kinich (‘Malipo’ Kinich, a Saurian Hunter who according to Pacha, was transactional, blunt and borderline reclusive), you were on the cliffs by the Children of the Echoes, picking Saurian Claw Succulents as a favour for a new friend of yours, a sweet young girl by the name of Kachina.

And maybe you shouldn’t have been crouching so close to the edge of a cliff, but how you were supposed to know that a Tepetlisaurus burrowing in the earth would come straight for your footing and uproot you, effectively tossing you off the side? Really, it wasn’t your fault! It was just some kind of ninja saurian.

This was only the second time you’d ever fallen off the side of a cliff, but for some reason, you were hardly surprised when the same person came to your rescue this time.

He looked at you blankly as you clutched at the succulent in your hand, eyes darting around to avoid prolonged eye contact. You were sure he probably had an eyebrow raised under his bandana.

“Do you make it a habit to throw yourself off every cliff you come across?”

You flinched. “Well, no.”

His arms crossed over his chest, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the tattoos exposed on his biceps. The teal suited him, you thought absently.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a screeching voice. “Well, what’s your problem, then!”

A flashing myriad of yellow and green flitted into the air. The creature that had popped up from behind Kinich was … strange, to say the least. A strange, blocky thing. It looked strangely flat, like a hundred tiny, flat, square blocks. Were you going insane?

Kinich sent an annoyed glance towards the creature, before looking back at you to see that your mouth was now agape as you stared.

“Oh, right. You haven’t met Ajaw.”

“Oh,” you muttered, suddenly feeling fainter than you had when falling off the cliff, “so this is Ajaw.”

The blocky creature expanded around the middle (you supposed that was the equivalent of puffing out its chest). “Aha! So you’ve heard of the Almighty Dragonlord, K’uhul Ajaw, have you? Tell me, peasant, what have you been told? That I’m ferocious and powerful?”

Kinich sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You blinked at the creature. You thought back to what Pacha had said – “Ajaw. He’s Kinich’s saurian companion. Really weird little guy. Super annoying.”

“Yeah,” you assented, “something like that.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kinich sighed. It took you a second to realise that he wasn’t talking to you.

“Maybe you should shut up, Kinich!” Ajaw’s eyes angled themselves into a glare, and he fluttered around agitatedly.

The response he received was a flick of a gloved hand, which sent the Saurian soaring into the sky, until you couldn’t even see him anymore. You were pretty sure you’d never blinked as much in your life as you had in the last five minutes.

Kinich turned to you. “Sorry about him.”

“Um, that’s alright,” you said half-heartedly.

“So how come you’ve fallen off another cliff?”

Yikes. He must have thought you were either insanely insane or tremendously stupid.

“A Saurian knocked me off the side when I was picking succulents,” you muttered, cheeks flushing with heat.

He hummed. You weren’t quite sure what that meant. “And the other time?”

 “Um, my friend dared me to climb the cliff. So I did.” You winced. “But I swear, these are the only times I’ve ever fallen off a cliff.”

It was a sentence you never thought you’d have to say. How embarrassing. You waited for the inevitable scolding or mocking to fall upon your ears, but then—

“Alright,” Kinich nodded easily. “Maybe try to avoid cliffs from now on."

Then he turned around, and started walking away. The sudden departure made you recoil in shock. Was the conversation over? Pacha really wasn't exaggerating when he said Kinich was reclusive.

"Huh? Wait a second!" You weren't sure what came over you in that moment, but you had a startling feeling that you couldn't let him leave here.

He paused, and turned to look at you, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Um, hold on." You thought for a moment. How to make him stay for longer? "Are you free right now? I'd like to treat you to a meal, if possible. You know, to thank you."

Your hands clasped in front of you and you fiddled with your fingers.

Kinich blinked slowly for a moment and stared at you. For a horrible moment, you thought he was going to decline, in which case you would have had to turn tail and flee on the spot, but instead, he nodded.

"I have some time."

You brightened. "Great! I know this place that has the best tatacos!"

There was a light skip in your movements as you began to lead the way, trusting that he was following you. You could only hope he didn't eat too much. You weren't sure your pockets could afford it, and you'd hate to make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of him by being too broke to pay. What a horrible first impression...

“Oh, right!” you paused in your steps for a moment. “I forgot to introduce myself!”

And so you did, and you watched as something that almost looked like a smile twitched at Kinich’s lips. Then, as if testing the way it rolled on his tongue, he repeated your name carefully.

Something fluttered in your stomach as you beamed. Yeah, you sure liked the way that sounded.

3) The fall that was the fault of a slippery rock

“No, guys, trust me. I just discovered it. It’s like, really underground.”

Kinich sighed as Mualani giggled at her own joke. As if on impulse, you laughed along with her, but you even as the sound escaped you, you couldn’t tell if it came from a place of pity or not. Underground, because it was literally in an underground cave. Hilarious. Still, a small smile made its way onto your face. This was nice. As much as you loved your other friends, it sure felt great to hang out with people who didn’t always challenge you to risk your life (fuck you, Pacha), though you suspected Mualani was just waiting for a chance to take you Spirit Wave riding, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that yet.

Today, however, you were spared. Mualani had promised you and Kinich a relaxing afternoon in a new hot spring she’d found. And so you were following her into an opening in the rock face.

The air was immediately a little cooler than it was outside as you stepped into the darkness. The cave was still illuminated by the sunlight, and you could see more patches of light ahead. It glowed slightly in the reflections of the rock on the ground.

“It’s a little steep here,” your friend warned. “Watch your step.”

No sooner had you nodded to show your understanding than you had placed your foot down on a particularly slippery patch on the floor, and it slid.

A gasp tore out of you, but two arms were already wrapping around you from behind.

“Be careful,” his voice murmured in your ear. You almost gasped again. How glad you were that he was behind you and thus couldn’t see the way you froze up at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

From a little ways ahead of you, Mualani called out. “Hey, you alright?”

Your throat suddenly felt very dry. You cleared it before telling her that you were.

Kinich kept one hand on your waist for the next few steps before removing it after you had found your footing. You found yourself missing his touch upon the removal.

No matter, you assured yourself. Focus on not falling over again. The decline of the slope eased out into a flatter path, and soon the tunnel opened up into an expansive area. The underground spring was much brighter than you had anticipated, thanks to the perfectly round opening at the top. Smooth, round rocks seemed to line the edge, and the water sparkled in the ripples as Mualani crouched down to test it with her hand.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed.

You turned your attention to her. “What is it?”

“It’s cold! It was really toasty last time, though,” she frowned. “It must be because it’s further away. The underground water flow can get unstable and–“

As she rambled on, you crouched by the side of the spring, dipping your hand into the water. It lukewarm at best, but the pool wasn’t as big as most of the one’s above ground. You could work with this. Placing both hands in the not-so-hot spring, the vision at your side pulsed with energy. You let the heat flow through your body to your fingertips, as steam floated just above the surface of the water.

You failed to notice the pair of eyes that were fixed on you as you smiled to yourself.

“Hey, Mualani? Is this better?” Mualani’s eyes widened as she watched the mist rising out of the hot spring.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She squealed. She rushed to your side, squeezing you in a hug, before drawing back immediately. “Ow, hot!”

The girl quickly submerged her arms in the water, sighing in relief. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

You grinned at your friends, stepping into the water yourself. “Shall we swim?”

The pounding of your heart against your chest was hard to ignore when Kinich slid into the spring and settled right beside you.

???) The fall that wasn’t even you

Kinich wasn’t sure what was wrong with him lately. He’d been sleeping the same, his regimented diet was unchanged, but in recent weeks, he’d found himself feeling a lot more strange.

Hunting commissions had been slow lately, so he’d taken the liberty of accepting ordinary bounties and commissions from the Adventurers’ Guild. When you’d heard about it, you’d insisted on joining him. He hadn’t had a problem with that, but since he started taking on these new commissions, Kinich had noticed that something was happening to his health.

He’d been spending a lot of time with you these days, but that couldn’t be it. How could that explain his borderline feverish symptoms? The heat that flushed his head and neck sometimes, and the weird way that his heart flipped, like it did when he went bungee jumping that one time.

And sure, those symptoms only happened when he was with you, but that was just because he was almost always with you. How could fighting a few treasure hoarders in your presence make him ill?

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ajaw growled. “You like them!”

Kinich was too surprised to scoff. “What?”

“You have a big fat crush.”

“No, I don’t.”

The little green dots in Ajaw’s eyes rolled around so hard, Kinich thought they might fall out.

“Fine! Don’t believe me, then! Even though you blush whenever you’re with them, and you stare at them when they’re talking, and you didn’t even complain when they wanted to join your commissions and you’ve been losing half the profit!”

Ajaw’s body doubled in size before he vanished in agitation. Kinich raised a hand to his chin in thought. He needed a second opinion.

“You like them,” Mualani replied simply. “It’s pretty obvious.”

Kinich blanched. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it is,” she grinned. “Dude, you’ve fallen hard.”

There was a twist in his stomach. The tips of his ears turned redder than a hot chili pepper.

“Come on, Kinich. You’re a smart guy. Think about the way they make you feel.”

Despite everything, despite the fact that he was, in fact, a smart guy, and he had always been sure to analyse and prepare for every outcome, and he was always weighing the costs of his relationships and seeing right through people and thinking way too much about everything—

—the realisation hit him like a tidal wave.

Oh.

Mualani grinned, satisfied. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts, then.”

Kinich barely registered her departure.

Because of course. Your relationship had never been transactional. All you ever did was give and give, and without even realising it, he’d poured his all into giving back without a moment’s hesitation. He’d never asked anything of you, nor you of him.

And because Kinich was a level-headed man, and ever-so-straightforward, there was no time wasted before he was at your front door.

If there was ever one thing he would ask of you, it was this.

“I like you, and I need to know if you feel the same.”

A grin found its home on your lips. A step forward and you closed some of the distance. The sparkle in your eyes did nothing to shake Kinich’s nerves, but it did make his stomach flip.

“Guess you’re the one falling for me now, huh?”

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part V

Baby you gave me bad ideas - This is the last time, The National

All of your demons will wither away - Demons, Fatboy Slim feat. Macy Gray

His love is my favourite - Kill this love, Blackpink

Three points where two lines meet - Tessellate, alt-J

Kings of imagining things - The long haul, NO

Swallow all our pride - Fairytale gone bad, Sunrise Avenue

Keep your hand in mine - So cold, Breaking Benjamin

Take this veil from off my eyes - Doin' time, Lana del Rey

Unforgiven, I'm a villain - Unforgiven, Le Sserafim

Let me sleep in your arms - In your arms, Stanfour

All of my thoughts of you - Graceless, The National

Stay cool (it's just a kiss) - Talk too much, COIN

There was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt - Pyramid Song, Radiohead

I know it's pain (but I really want it so bad) - Want so bad, Lee Know + HAN

We could leave in the morning (and go all night) - They own this town, Flora Cash

You'll be the saddest part of me - The Loneliest, Måneskin

Don't need to say goodbye - The Call, Regina Spektor

When I'm alone, I'd rather be with you - 3005, Childish Gambino

It's just me and your ghost - me & ur ghost, blackbear

Tell ′em all I said hi - I said hi, Amy Shark

We don't gotta be in love - One of your girls, The Weeknd feat. Jennie, Lily-Rose Depp

The distance between you and me (it never seems to disappear) - Maybe if, BIBI

Say what you want (I'll keep it a secret) - One of your girls, Troye Sivan

I'm surrendering tonight - Collide, Rachel Platten

That's what you get when you let your heart win - That's what you get, Paramore

Give me a sign, I want to believe - The Ballad of Mona Lisa, Panic! at the Disco

Just a game that can't be won - Always on the run, Isaak Guderian

Your lips should be saying the same thing - Really, Blackpink

Still, I'm under your control now - Number 1, Nico Santos

Embracing all my scars and imperfections - Comflex, Stray Kids

More titles!

[verstapwn]

「 SUMMARY 」 — Red Bull's rich girl & Red Bull's golden boy are dating and everyones surprised.

「 PAIRINGS 」 — max verstappen x nepo baby!reader

「 WARNINGS 」 — suggestive, lestappen sex jokes lol, checo slander?.

「 AUTHOR'S NOTE 」 — y/n the founder of idgafstan. of course the title comes from one of my favorite frank ocean songs, super rich kids. y/n's dad is like the Lawrence stroll in this au, so she's a nepo baby (not a driver).

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, and 991,531 others! yourusername we don't talk about my boyfriends thighs enough. ＠maxverstappen1

view comments

maxverstappen1 MARK L/N IF YOU SEE THIS, THAT WASN'T THE IMAGE / CAPTION WE AGREED ON.. DON'T FIRE ME PLEASE

➥ yourusername BOOO. 🍅🍅 VERTHIGHS SUPREMACY ➥ redbullracing Y/n.. - Mark L/N ➥ yourusername get an actual instagram you old geezer (love you dad)

user loser trapped in a hot girls body

user THESE PHOTOS OF YOUU >>>

user its always vertiddies... but never verthighs </3

➥ yourusername YOU GET IT!! ➥ maxverstapen1 stop obsessing over my thighs. ➥ yourusername you didn't tell me that last night 🤨 ➥ maxverstappen1 Y/NLSMLASJO

user y/n putting her boyfriends job on the line is so funny to me especially when you remember her dad is his boss

➥ user winning the idgaf war fr ➥ user founding mother of idgafstan even

user this is a random combo but not a rando combo but also.. a random combo

user whole time people were shipping her with ethan cutkosky for her to be dating max.. insanity

charles_leclerc ignoring the caption.. and the max photo, you guys are cute! ❤️

➥ yourusername be honest, do yall explore each others bodies after races ➥ charles_leclerc blocked and reported. (NO WE DONT)

landonorris still can't believe i wasn't the first to know about this relationship.. i thought we were friends y/n💔

➥ yourusername i'll give you $3,000 to shut up already ➥ landonorris deal, cash app it to me

redbullracing we don't talk about YOU enough.

➥ redbullracing shit wrong account, don't fire me christian.. or mark. pls. ➥ yourusername I GOT YOUR BACK ADMIN #TRUST. 🫡

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,326,493 others! maxverstappen1 My girlfriend everyone.. <3 ＠yourusername

view comments

yourusername no fun caption :( i am wounded </3

➥ maxverstappen1 sorry schatz.. i actually like my job to keep it! ➥ yourusername no worries, i'll just post our messages :) ➥ maxverstappen1 Y/N PLEASE NO ➥ user what are these messages...???? HELLO??

user again, loser inside a hot body

user shes so gorgeous sobs

➥ maxverstappen1 I KNOW RIGHT

user idk if i wanna be her or max...

user my favorite nepo baby couple

yourusername WAIT HOLD ON HOW DID THIS GET 1M LIKES BUT MINE GOT LIKE 900K? NAH GIMME MY LIKES BRO.

➥ charles_leclerc you're not as cool as max 🫵🏻 ➥ yourusername oh so you doing the bending?? ➥ charles_leclerc WHAT???

user THE MACBOOK PHOTO ARGHH

user i'm so glad you two ended up together. even though no one was expecting it.

landonorris blink if you're being held captive by this woman

➥ maxverstappen1 😑😐😑.... ➥ yourusername ur fired. ➥ maxverstappen1 You can't fire me, I'm afraid ! ➥ yourusername you're right.. ＠redbullracing dad, fire this man ➥ redbullracing Unless you're able to find us another driver, No. - Mark & Christian ➥ yourusername CHRISTIAN YOU HAVE AN INSTAGRAM.

user can't wait for the verstappen-l/n family photos

user i say we make y/n the red bull formula 1 team principal

➥ yourusername bad idea cus i'd sabotage sergio too much (allegedly) :/ ➥ schecoperez Oh. ➥ yourusername my bad fam, free dinner spot at my house ig

yourusername hey you're pretty cool, we should like make out in my room or whatever

➥ maxverstappen1 Yeah sure or whatever c'mere gorgeous ➥ user i love you guys sm, pls don't die on friday 💔 ➥ yourusername .. are you the killer?? WHATS GOING ON FRIDAY?? ➥ maxverstappen1 ??? HELLO

yourusername show the verthighs

➥ maxverstappen1 You don't give up do you? ➥ yourusername no and you love it! 😁 ➥ maaxverstappen1 yeah i do 💙

welcome to my first fic! i hope you enjoyed everything :) <3 the faceclaim i used for 'y/n' is meret manon bannerman from katseye! she's gorg. not much i have to say tbh. see you in the next fic —— DELIA.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。and my body keeps saying (it's yours) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo thinks this is different, new, almost like it’s the first time for everything.

contains: f!reader in mind but no specifics are mentioned, 18+/mature/soft-slight n*ft/w, sex with feelings (it’s really just vanilla tho!), first time!, there’s an awkward bit but that’s intentional!, lots of nervous feelings! but also lots of intimacy!

a/n: for nonie.🫧 who asked about what it would be like for their first time! title is inspired by an emotional oranges song, devotion (which i used as music inspo for the entire fic too + troye sivan, what a heavenly way to die). this is also my first time writing anything close to n*fw so please be kind! idk if i’ll ever write one again; takes place between tell me about love (show me how) and so this is what it means to be in love!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 02. tell me about love (show me how) <- you are here -> +02 (extra). look my way, you're what i crave

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT.

It’s a touch—

—fingertips brushing the edge of his jaw, trailing down his neck, lightly, delicately.

Gojo kisses you beneath the glow of your bathroom lights and he twitches, just a little bit. 

“Sorry,” you stop, attempting to pull away from him immediately. 

His neck is sensitive, always has been since Toji. The mark has faded over the years; what used to be a line running through the shadow of his jawline is now nothing, but you know the feeling lingers, still. You’ve tried to avoid the area as much as you could—while sparring, hugging, kissing; holding him in moments as intimate as this. But sometimes, your fingers slip, and he jolts, so you move away, apologetic—

And he wishes that you didn’t, wishes that he didn’t have to react that way when all he really wants is for you to hold him like this.

He stares at you now, lips puffed and kiss-bitten, and thinks, he shouldn’t even be here—

—at 2:00 a.m., in your apartment, fresh out of a three-day assignment he caught the last train for, just to see you. 

He shouldn’t even be here, bone-tired in a black t-shirt and track pants he couldn’t be bothered with—there just wasn’t enough time to change out of it. 

And he really shouldn't even be here, except, he cut the assignment two days short, rushed through it, restless, eager at the thought of getting back soon. 

All because he missed you. 

Gojo keeps you close, his fingers splayed on the base of your spine, warm and pressing. You can’t read him, his next move, but his eyes hold lightning crackling. He takes your hand and guides it back to where he’s weakest, underneath his jaw, on his neck—healed skin and tissue, his lifeline to you.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, eyes piercing. 

He still twitches when you touch his skin, but it’s always been involuntary. You should know that it could never be because of you, your hands that hold every good thing his heart carries. 

You lean in first, tiptoeing, nudging his nose with yours and your lips hovering. His pulse point rests beneath your fingertips—can you feel how fast it’s beating? Just from having you near him? 

The tips of his hair tickle your forehead and he swallows, throat bobbing. It’s impossible to resist him when he’s this boyish, this charming, so you kiss his lips once, before pulling away, teasing. He bites his lips, red blooming against pink, and you don’t know exactly what you’re anticipating—

But he leans in. 

When you kiss again, the feeling is familiar, a memory of trembling lips and shaky breaths by a bathroom door that isn’t yours. He doesn’t tremble anymore, isn’t as stiff when he has your lips memorized among many other things, but Gojo still flushes the same way your cheeks heat up and your breaths intermingle at the same rate your hearts race.  

You follow where the lights have diffused into your hallway, this dance with him a push-and-pull you’ve done a few times before. He keeps his palm flat on your lower back, pushing you closer, while pulling you towards your bedroom door.  

His hands slide to your waist, dipping you, grip tightening as you bite his lips, tugging. He moans softly, voice low when your hands rake through his hair, the vibrations rippling through your mouth. Your fingers grasp at the short strands of hair at the back of his head, sighing when his lips are released from yours. 

There’s a moment where you catch his eyes, pupils blown a dangerous blue—a sky swallowing you whole before he begins trailing kisses down your neck, nips and licks evidence of just how greedy he is with you. 

A heat builds within you, rooted deep in your belly as you stay pressed against the outline on his crotch. 

It’s hard to imagine a time before all this, how he even struggled to hold your hand when he touches you now like this. 

You stumble over his feet as he backs into your bedroom, steadied only by his hold on you. You chuckle, a small ‘oops’, so sweet, as your collarbone clashes with his teeth. He smiles, lips curled against your skin as he teases, “So clumsy,” 

He’s kissed you this much before, has held you this tight, and touched you much more but this feeling between you now, he can tell—

Tonight is different. 

You lead him this time, to the edge of your bed as you keep him closer, hands all over him. When you lie down, lower lip caught between your teeth, you smile shyly but your eyes burn sinfully, and Gojo wonders if you know that this is what he sees when he’s dreaming. 

He moves closer, your mattress dipping as he hovers above you, arms caging the sides of your face. His head is spinning, eyes zeroing in on the skin exposed by the single button undone on your pajama top. 

When you cup his cheeks, thumb running across his swollen lips—

He thinks he might go crazy. 

You have no idea what you just did. 

He takes a breath before pressing every bit of his longing onto your neck, kissing, sucking, licking, imprinting proof that he was here, with you. It’s red and blotchy, situated right underneath your ear and it’s one too many but still not enough—for him, never enough.

You gasp, tugging at the hem of his shirt, and it’s overwhelming, this feeling. As quickly as it escalated, Gojo freezes, as if you’ve burned him, as if he’s caught up to what could possibly be happening, and it’s—

It’s a lot. 

He pulls away slowly, eyes wide and breath shaky. The air is thick, hot and heavy, and this—where this is going is something he’s never done before, not entirely. 

You sit up, alarmed, hands cradling his face carefully. His eyes are frantic, nervous, blinking at a pace that only makes you worried. 

“We can stop,” you mumble, lowering your hands to take his, gently.

He sees you, hair a mess, marked his, beautiful, and  he just wants to make sure—that you’re okay with this, that you want this, with him. Truly. 

“Do you want to?” he asks, a sky you could fall into, “Honestly.” 

He breathes out, staring. You gulp before shaking your head. “Do you?”  

And he doesn’t have to think much about it, really, because of course, he doesn’t want to stop. 

How could he, when it’s you?

He shakes his head too and you smile.

You squeeze his hand, guiding it to the buttons of your top, “Okay—”

“We’ve never…” he hesitates, trailing off.

It’s weird because it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before; you’ve both done things at the very least, just never all the way. And now, with the knowledge that that very fact is going to change—it feels different, new, like it’s the first time for everything. 

You nod, stroking his knuckles to reassure him, “You said you’re a fast learner, right?” 

The nervous laugh you give is oddly comforting, and he remembers that first kiss and the single thought that if he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

So he takes it—

—unbuttons your top one-by-one, and he’s a bit shaky, hands clammy, but he gets it off eventually. Then goes his shirt, and your shorts, his pants, a struggle to get past his ankles until you’re both bare, cheeks hot while giggling, like first loves—and maybe it is. 

Gojo sees you stripped down, uncovered, wholly you for the first time and thinks he could die. 

It’s vulnerable and strange as he hovers over you this time, skin-to-skin, but you fit together this way, just right. 

You giggle some more, unable to hide your nervousness. It’s a habit you have—laughing in inappropriate situations, but he thinks it’s cute, so he does it right back. 

Your fingers trace his eyebrows, down to his nose and cheeks, then to his lips, still red and bitten, “You’re so pretty, Satoru. Not fair.” 

He blushes, tips of his ears and neck flushing, “‘Course,” he kisses your nose, pulling away to get a good look at you.

“Have to be if I’m with you.” 

It’s cheesy, and you roll your eyes, laughing full-on but he smiles wider and it feels good knowing that he’ll forever get to share this moment with you. 

“I, uh,” he mumbles, trying to find the words, “have to prep.” 

“Oh, yeah, right,” you move, hands reaching for him between you, but he catches your wrist before you touch him, stopping you. 

“Don’t,” he says, firm, face red as he looks straight at you. “I might not…” he doesn’t continue but you know what he means, so you nod, pulling away. 

His hand trails down your body, inching closer to where you need him to be, and it’s sweet you think, because he kisses your lips once before asking, “Can I?” as if he still has to.

You nod, before whispering, “Don’t ask next time.” 

Next time, you said and it rings, echoes in his head as a promise for more—that this is just the beginning. 

So he touches you, in every way he thinks you should be, in every way he knows you want to be. 

There’s a gasp, then a moan as he leaves another mark on your neck, and you’re so close when he stops. 

You whimper, but you know what’s next, and you see it in his eyes as he prepares himself, fingers discarding a square packet, “You’ll let me know?” he whispers, soft, concerned.

You’ll let me know if I hurt you? he means, and his eyes stare into yours, sincere. 

You nod, brushing your lips against his, and when you feel it—it’s unusual, maybe a bit uncomfortable but he’s there kissing it away. 

There’s an adjustment, a few awkward positions until he finds it, then he goes slow, rhythmic. Your sighs grow louder and he groans, withholding, then you say it—

“‘Toru,”

—by his ear, soft and breathy, and he’s gone, stilling and spilling, a part of him forever yours, irrevocably. 

thank you notes: to nonie.🫧 for asking about this in the first place, and to niku (@stellamancer) for emotional support and for reading this first!! + for helping me go over it!! i love u niku 😭

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[barleyo]

BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?" 

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice. 

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately. 

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad. 

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely. 

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief. 

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP. 

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.' 

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type. 

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?" 

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?" 

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum. 

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location* 

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

[zarla-s]

We move forward, 'cause we can't go back...

It's the EIGHTH anniversary of Handplates, and the first one after I finished the comic back in July! I decided to dig up a very old wip that I never finished and finally do it. I've always loved WeMoveForward by The Midnight, and I think it applies not only to the comic itself but also this period after it... there's no way to go back to when I was doing it, only moving forward after it's done.

Even more appropriately, since I did this wip, these characters all moved forward even further... even as this sat in my files, they moved forward, in a sense. I don't know, the song gives me a sort of plaintive, longing, bittersweet feeling... it's hard to explain.

I had a very insistent voice in my head that always made me do a Handplates page over the years I was working on it, no matter what happened. I wasn't sure if that voice would ever stop, even when it's done, but it has! It's gotten quieter now, mostly only nagging me about other projects I should be working on (Defrag, the Ace Attorney/Frozen fic, web design, fic ideas, art ideas...) whenever I'm doing something, much like it did before I started the comic.

How I feel about Handplates finishing though is strange. At times it doesn't feel like it's over, even if I don't feel like I need to do another page. At other times I get sad thinking about it and I miss it, and other times I look back on it with amazement that I was able to do it. Sometimes I look back on it and think about what was happening in my life at that time, and sometimes when I look at it it's unreal and it's hard to believe I even did it, like someone else did the whole thing. It's like it's there but it's not, it's present but it isn't. It's a very strange feeling, it's hard to describe or pin down. I know it'll always be with me in some way, but it is strange to be able to focus so much attention on other things without that feeling of having to set aside a few days to do a page every two weeks... not bad or anything, but I'm not used to it still.

I don't know! When I read the comments on the last page a lot of them made me cry, especially those talking about how the comic had been their childhood, and now their childhood is over. It was sad to think that I had a part in something like that ending... but it ends for everyone, no matter what you do. We, you and me, everyone... we move forward, 'cause we can't go back. That line was so evocative for me that I even used it as a chapter title for the penultimate chapter on Comicfury.

I don't know, just nostalgic thoughts! I don't know if that's the right word for it... but thank you to all of you who read it and enjoyed it. Even now I hear from new people coming to it and reading through it again now that it's done. Even if it's finished, it's still new to people just finding it. It's still "living" in a sense. And thanks to those of you who stuck around even though it's done, I appreciate it. |D

(As a note, the Gaster ukagaka has a surprise if you boot him on the anniversary after seeing the brothers, if you haven't done that)

[index] [patreon]

[k3n-dyll]

☆Strawberry Crush

Warnings...18+, wlw, loser!Ellie, fem!reader, a few reader descriptions based on the song (lipgloss, nails - nothing body/skin/hair-wise), Ellie is...kind of a stalker, honestly?, porn with a plot, submasc!Ellie, domfem!reader, Ellie is really eager and awkward, sloppy kisses, food play? (strawberry juice is involved), fingering (r!receiving), face sitting, sixty nine

Word Count:3.2k || MDNI Banner Creds. || Donations 4 Palestine

Notes ☆ Kinda hate this but I've had this damn song in my head for fucking weeks and I needed to write something about it (Spotify link in title).Should have done this when my theme was red but fuck it

Ellie's green eyes flit carelessly over the obviously bruised and beaten-up avocado in her hand, turning the bulbous fruit around over and over again as if she's truly considering buying the pitiful thing. There's a slight feeling of mushiness to it that kind of makes the hairs on her arms stand up - whatever poor fuck decides to pick this thing up once she puts it back in its crate is bound to find nothing but brown sludge on the inside.

Each turn of the overripened avocado is accompanied by a 'subtle' look around the market, her gaze fixing to the door each time the little rusted brown bell at the top of the doorframe jingles.

It'd be so embarrassing if she mixed up the time.

Not that this isn't humiliating enough already. Pathetic, even. No one in their right mind drives thirty minutes from home to look this hard, and for this long at an avocado.

On about the fifth bell ring in three minutes she can feel herself getting impatient. Today was Monday, Ellie was sure of that - the farmers from downtown had surely brought freshly picked batches of fruit and vegetables already unless something had gone awry. Maybe she should just head home and stop acting like a fucking crazy person. It's not like the average person keeps on schedule to a T every week. And even if they did, it's worrying that Ellie even knows that schedule. At least this part of it anyway.

Ellie juggles with the thought for a moment but ultimately decides to leave, placing the unfortunate-looking avocado back in its crate. It's just then when that annoying little bell dings again. She knows she shouldn't get her hopes up and yet she can't seem to help herself, looking toward the farmers market entrance to discern who it was that triggered the movement of the brass bell.

The thought that she was just about to leave makes Ellie's stomach turn. She'd have missed you completely. But just like clockwork, every Monday morning, you're here. And just like clockwork, every Monday morning, she gets to see you.

Ellie has given herself every excuse as to why her little habit isn't creepy. She's just trying to hype herself up to actually talk to you, and somehow during that time she also managed to figure out the exact schedule for when fresh produce is brought to this specific market so that she could catch you every Monday doing what you usually do. Buying strawberries.

You like those a lot.

Or, Ellie assumes you do. Why else would you buy them so religiously? Every Monday you come to buy strawberries. Various other things as well but she's noticed you take your time with the berries in particular - inspecting the fruit in each little green basket for at least a few minutes before finding one or two little baskets to buy and take home with you.

Ellie's practiced how to approach you in the mirror in her apartment before leaving the house more times than she'd like to admit, cringing at every little stutter and awkward phrase.

"You come here often?" No. Who the fuck even says that in real life? "So you like strawberries?" Well, duh.

It looks so simple in shows. Her friends make it look like nothing. Then there's Ellie. Reciting cliche lines from movies.

Not that any of that really matters though. Normally by the time you've gone up to check out your items, Ellie has already managed to convince herself that she lost her chance.

Maybe next time

Next time, for sure. But definitely not this time, no. This time she's too distracted by how delicious you look; the sway of your hips, the pretty smile you flash to the staff, the glittery pink tinted gloss spread carefully across your lips.

Your nails are red today, coming to a rounded point.

Ellie's tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip as her mind wanders. Those nails would make such pretty streaks in her back.

For some reason, the thought that she may be shamelessly staring at you doesn't cross her mind. Until it's too late that is. Ellie's eyes widen in absolute terror when your gaze catches hers, face dropping back to the crate of avocados she'd been pretending to look through a moment ago.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

She definitely can't approach you today. Not after you'd caught her staring - no - gawking at you so blatantly. In fact, getting out of this godforsaken market has shot to the very top of her priority list, a task she seeks to accomplish quickly, with her head downcast in shame and embarrassment.

It's just her luck that instead of effectively making it out of the door she stumbles over the dragging, unraveled white laces of the run-down sneakers on her feet, toppling to the floor if not for the similarly misfortuned person she winds up tackling.

"Shit! Sorry, sorry, I-I'm so sorry" she stutters out, cringing at the sight of once unbruised red fruit hitting the hard tile of the market floor. Her eyes meet yours and again she's frozen and embarrassed, a deep shade of red splaying her freckled cheeks and tips of her ears. You would be angry if it weren't for how cute she looked. You sigh.

"It's fine, really. Just...make sure you look forward next time you're walking, okay?" The soft, reassuring smile you offer her as you speak damn near melts her where she stands.

"Right."

There's a beat of awkward silence, Ellie nervousely tugging at her ring and pinky fingers as she gives you a small hesitant nod. "I should-"

"Maybe you could help me pick out some new ones?" You ask quickly, interrupting her, gesturing to the strawberry littered tile.

It's the first time she's spoken to you and given her clear anxiety, she likely wouldn't end up speaking to you on her own again. Ellie nods quickly, mouth slightly agape, though at this point she's lost all of her words. She simply picks up the dropped berries, some of which are now a little flattened and soft on one side from the impact, standing straight once they're all gathered to help you get new baskets.

"You okay?" You ask, as Ellie hasn't said much of anything in the past few minutes.

"Oh, yeah...sorry just...a lot on my mind" she murmurs, quieting back down again as she attentively unpacks your produce.

She doesn't even know how she wriggled her way into this situation. She'd thought for sure you'd call her a freak or a psycho when you let her know you were aware of her little routine. Instead, you just suggested that she help you with the rest of your groceries.

"It's a bit of a hassle trying to bring them up to my apartment alone. Plus...you kinda owe me for the tackle, yeah?"

You had feared the boldness of your invitation may give her pause but Ellie agreed without reluctance.

"A lot on your mind? Like what?"

"Like...how you don't seem unnerved about...y'know." Ellie murmurs, leaning up against your kitchen counter, the little giggle you give in response sending her heart rate up.

"I was honestly just waiting to see if you would actually come speak to me"

"Wait, really?"

You turn to her from where you were organizing things in your fridge, a small bowl of freshly washed strawberries in hand. You set it down, gently sliding the bowl out toward Ellie as an invitation to take one, which she accepts, twisting at the leaves until they come off of the top before biting into it. It's quite large, and very sweet she notices, a bit of juice dribbling down her chin as her teeth sink in, her hand clumsily going to guard any more from falling down.

"Yeah." you answer, to which Ellie raises a questioning eyebrow.

"You're cute, Ellie." you clarify, playfully rolling your eyes at her obliviousness. " And messy"

Before she realizes it, you're in front of her, holding a napkin to her now berry juice-stained chin and neck, readying yourself to pat her dry. Your lips are incredibly close, dangerously so, but she does her best to ignore it, popping the rest of strawberry into her mouth before gently taking your hand in hers to stop you.

"I can- "

"Just let me, okay?" You chuckle a bit, shaking your head. "You really don't know when a girl is trying to flirt with you, huh?"

Ellie blinks, staring at you as if you've just said something ridiculous, her fruit filled cheek almost making her look like a chipmunk in the moment. The insistence on cleaning her up, the invitation to your apartment in the first place, the fact that you don't even seem to question her infatuation with you. It all makes sense now. And she'd taken way too long to notice.

There isn't a thought process behind Ellie's actions this time, just impulse as she leans forward, closing the distance between you both and crashing her lips onto yours. A shiver of shock runs through her as you reciprocate, regardless of how unideal the kiss may seem - cold, sticky fruit juice now being shared between the both of you, creating a thin coat of strawberry and saliva on your connected lips flowing down your chins and slowly making its way to the collars of your shirts.

Ellie pulls back enough to actually swallow what's left of the strawberry and breathe out a quick "I'm sorry", though a part of her is too fascinated by the look of you with transparent red fluid trailing along your skin to be genuinely apologetic.

"I don't mind a little mess." You whisper in response, swiping your thumb along her chin to collect some of the juic. Something about the girl being so desperate to kiss you that she was unconcerned about the inevitable messy nature of said kiss put butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You keep her pressed up against your kitchen counter as you allow yourself to give in to your desires, only dethatching your kiss-swollen lips from Ellie's to press opened mouth kisses along the column of her throat, licking at the sweet red liquid that's almost managed to make its way into the loose, black wifepleaser she's wearing.

"Y-you don't think this is happening too fast?" she questions, despite her clear willingness to let you do as you please, her words coming out between heavy breaths, her entire face painted a rosy shade of pink.

"Would you like me to stop?" You ask, eyebrow quirked upward as you halt your advances and look at her.

Ellie shakes her head immediately at that, tightening her grip around your waist. She can't help but think that was an idiotic question for her to ask anyways. This is finally her chance, and she refuses to fuck up by overthinking everything as she has been up until this point. Your lips connect again with no second guesses this time, Ellie taking her opportunity to slip her hands underneath your top, pulling it over your head. Her mouth takes to your skin, sloppily lapping at the strawberry juice flowing along your neck and pulling your bra straps down enough to expose your breasts.

"Fuck, Ellie"

You slip your leg between her thighs while she's occupied with "cleaning you up" with her tongue, reveling at the way she whimpers and attempts to resist the urge to roll her hips when your knee makes contact with her clothed cunt. Her attempts prove futile, of course, the poor girl huffing and moaning against your skin as she grinds herself against your leg.

"So fuckin' needy, weren't you?" You tease, unable to help the amused laugh that escapes you at the sight of the girl humping desperately at your knee.

All Ellie manages in response is a nod, whining even louder when you press against her harder, the seam of her shorts pushing up against her clit at the right angle, her movements becoming faster and more erratic.

"G'na make me cu- fuck fuck" Ellie's muscles tense for a moment before releasing again, short, ragged breaths and muffled grunts punctuating her last few thrusts against your leg as she finishes in her boxers. Embarrassed, she buries her face into the crook of your neck, her already blushed face becoming redder at her unintended quickness.

"Shit...sorry" She murmurs against your skin, not sure if she should even look you in the eye right now.

You stifle a giggle and shake your head, running your fingers through her soft, auburn hair as a means to reassure her before lacing your fingers with hers. With your free hand, you lift her chin so that she looks at you.

"It's okay. Doesn't mean I'm finished with you."

The softness of your tone seems to soothe her, though the bashfulness still lingers on her features, green eyes casting downward regardless of your words. You press a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, and, fingers still intertwined, lightly tug her away from the kitchen counter on her wobbly legs over to the loveseat in your living room.

You lightly jerk your head in the direction of the sofa, letting go of her hand once she's seated. "Lay down for me baby"

Ellie, in all of her eagerness doesn't so much as hesitate, laying back onto the soft cushions, reaching out as if to pull you down with her. Instead of straddling her like she'd wanted you to though, you stay standing, a mischvieous giggle escaping as you lean down to kiss her on the lips once more before pulling back.

"What's wrong?" She asks, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Nothing El. Just relax, yeah?" You murmur in response, hands now focused on slipping off your shorts. That's answer enough for her, Ellie's eyes widening a little bit as they fixate on watching your lower body, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as you pull off your shorts and panties in one go. You were soaked, and you make sure to let her know it, teasingly trailing a finger through your folds before pressing it to her lips, Ellie gladly sucking the digit into her mouth without instruction.

"Aw, look at that, I didn't even have to ask"

Ellie just nods, pink lips still caught around your finger. She's well aware of how pathetic she looks right now, but she can't bring herself to care at this point as she's too busy savoring the taste of you on her tongue, eyes damn near rolling to the back of her head off that alone. When you take your finger out of her mouth she whines.

"Wanna taste you more... please"

Her pleading pulls a chuckle from your throat, your finger gently running across her bottom lip as you speak.

"God, you're so impatient, baby. Does my sweet girl want my pussy in her mouth, hm?"

She nods vigorously, grabbing at your hand again to pull you toward her. This time, you oblige, allowing the girl to guide you to sit on her face, her slender hands catching around your hips. She licks a bold stripe along your slit before pressing a kiss to your clit, the amount of times she's thought about doing that exact thing noe finally coming into practice.

Ellie eats at you like a woman starved, lapping up every drop of your arousal, her lips latching around your swollen clit and sucking at it. The sloppy, wet noises coming from her mouth on your cunt, the muffled moaning and whining escaping her - it's obnoxious. But it's the sexiest thing you've seen ina while, her gaze never leaving you as she buries herself closer to you. "This what you wanted, isn't it baby? Spent so much time watching me 'n all you could think about - fuck - was having that pretty mouth pressed up against my cunt like this?"

Your teasing is condescening, your hand tangling into her short locks, forcing her head nice and close as you rut yourself against her tongue. The poor thing can't stop herself from squirming, pressing her thighs together, and for a moment, even detatching a hand from your thigh and snaking it down her own body to slip her hand into her shorts. You don't notice it at first, but when you do, it's clear to her you aren't having it.

"Nuh-uh, none of that, pretty girl." You lift up into a hover above her head, reaching back and wrapping your hand around her wrist to stop her. She whines again, her frustration obvious in the line that forms between her brows. "You wanna ask this time?"

"S-sorry, you're just so fucking sexy, I need you to touch me, please"

You have half a mind to make her wait longer. To pin her hands over her head and prop yourself back onto her mouth, but an idea comes to mind that you can't just ignore. You giggle, giving her a simple 'okay' and before she knows it you've shifted on top of her, settling yourself into a hover over her face again, but this time facing the opposite direction. She can't see what your doing, but she feels it when you start sliding her shorts and boxers down before leaning down and spitting on her already glistening cunt.

"Oh my fucking god..."

Ellie's thighs are shaking around your head already, her hands gripping at the fat of your ass as she pulls you back down onto her mouth. Your muffled cries of pleasure fill the apartment, the vibrations from her moans against you only serving to drive you insane. A thin layer of sweat coats your bodies as you chase a simultaneous orgasm, hips bucking and rolling against each others tongues with primal urgency as that familiar coil tightens within your lower stomachs.

"Fuckfuckfuck- coming, I'm coming" Ellie's mouth detatches from you as she's the first to go, her trembling legs clamping around your head and trapping you against her. She's shockingly quick to replace her mouth with her fingers, slipping them inside of you without warning. She's almost as despereate to have you cum on her face as she was to cum herself, and to her luck, you unravel above her soon after. Her mouth comes back to you are you finish, lapping up every single drop of cum you give her, fingers still lazily pumping in and out of your dripping hole.

It takes a bit to float back down to reality, your head resting limp on her thigh as you slowly start to catch your breath, twitching and shaking too much to actually move on your own. Ellie's not much better, her head plopped down onto the couch cushion, gently kneading your ass with her hands and pressing sleepy kisses to your inner thighs. When you're finally able to move, it's not much, only adjusting yourself enough so that your faces are level, nuzzling your body close so that you can both lay next to each other on the couch. There's a peacful silence between the both of you for a while, your foggy brains still processing how far you'd gotten with one another in the span of a few hours.

"So...you really like me then? Like actually?" Ellie breathes out, a hand lightly rubbing along your side.

You laugh and give her a playful punch to the arm, the fact that she even felt the need to ask that almost comical to you after everything.

"Ow! What was that for?" She asks, feigning as if the light hit actually hurt.

"Of course I like you, dummy" You murmur, kissing her cheek. "I've liked you the whole time"

Reblogs are appreciated ☆ tags: @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery,

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I APOLOGIZE IF ITS A LITTLE TOO MUCH, JUST A LITTLE TOO SOON

kirishima x reader

thoughts on how kirishima acts in a relationship

inspired by so american

eijiro kirishima, who texts you goodmorning and goodnight religiously. you're the first person he wants to talk to in the morning and the last person he wants to hear from before he drifts off. his face turns almost as red as his hair and eyes whenever his phone lights up with a buzz, seeing that you've replied to him. he saves your contact with a <3 right next to your name. your photo is a picture he snapped of you wearing one of his tank tops, sitting loosely on you. normally his sculptured biceps fill out the fabric to the brim, but he prefers the way you wear it. he wants to stare at you every time he picks up the phone in the morning to text you.

eijiro kirishima, who lets you help him dye his hair after the third time you insist on it. he feels a slight hint of embarrassment, thinking its un-manly to need help with a simple task, but after the first couple of rounds he insists on you doing it. he loves the way your fingers weave delicately through his hair, touching up his roots and treating him like he’s a glass sculpture. and afterwards while he waits for it to set he’ll help you with menial tasks in return- like finishing your algebra (not that he’s any better, but he means well) or making you a quick dinner. he’s an expert when it comes to self-care, and knows that working out and eating well isn’t healthy if its not accompanied by nourishing your happiness. he knows what candy’s to bring to pick up for you while he’s purchasing his dye, what movies to play in the background while he’s letting his hair soak, and exactly how to hug you when it’s all done.

eijiro kirishima, who becomes a sucker for sappy love songs once you get him introduced to it. at first, he hums along to your playlist in the car. then he’s following the artists you like on instagram and keeping up with their recent music. then it’s actively going out of his way to listen to them because each line about love and longing is about you. he makes a playlist titled [y/n] <3 and its all the songs that have made you come up in his head. little do his gym friends know that he’s streaming the tortured poets department while he’s lifting weights DOWN BAD CRYING AT THE GYM ANYONE

eijiro kirishima, who absolutely loves anything you create. muffins, bread, brownies- you’ve suddenly tested his willpower when it comes to his rigid diet. but he can’t help himself- everything tastes better when he knows you’ve put the time and effort into it. with so many eyes watching the young hero, he often forgets to properly feed himself- which is when you come in, always reminding him to eat. when he’s not looking, you’ll slip an extra treat or two in his bag, and come home greeted with a hug and kiss of gratitude for keeping his tummy full.

eijiro kirishima, who comes to you seeking refuge from his insecurities. he has quirk envy badly, sometimes just staring at the heroes he sees around him and wonders how he could ever live up to them. he feels as though he pails in comparison, not knowing how to articulate his worries into words. sometimes he’ll simply hug you, resting his chiseled chin on your shoulder while a huff escapes his lips. he doesn’t need to say anything because you know him. you know how he gets in his head. so you kiss his temples and remind him that he is exactly how he should be. that he’s enough. enough to be strong. enough to be a great hero. enough to be the red riot you love so much. he’s enough for you. and thats what plants are smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you. it’s enough for him too.

eijiro kirishima, who loves showing you off at the gym. mostly to his friends, who comment on how he seemingly never shuts up about you- but a part of him finds pride in the jealous stares others give him. he almost wants to give them a look of ‘i know, right?’ while they admire your beauty, the way you look when sweat ripples down your skin and your cheeks are flushed pink. but he feels sorry for them. sorry that they can’t have you they he’s got you. his eyes sparkle when he sees you pushing yourself, feeling inspired that he now has someone to be so proud of. he’s always proud of you.

eijiro kirishima, who worries he’ll mess it up with you. that it’s all too good to be true- that theres no way he got so lucky so young. he worries you’ll grow bored, tired, or sick of him. he worries you aren’t as in love with him as he is with you. because eijiro kirishima is so, so in love with you. he knows this is love because he sees more than just a high-school fling, he sees the future. he sees someone he will always run to with open arms. and when you kiss him back, arms wrapped around him in a tender embrace, he gets the feeling that you’re so in love with him, too.

[aayakashii]

Finally managed to finish this fic 🧘🏻‍♀️ this one is for the members of Haku Gfs Club™️ @ghoulspaw @kusanagihaku and @pinkaditty

I just gave it a read so it's not properly edited – I apologize if there are too many mistakes in it ;-; I'm not super satisfied with this one, but I hope you guys like it <3 Also, it's a standalone, so there will be no continuation!

The title comes from a Florence+ The Machine song, Addicted to Love.

might as well face it

You never really knew why Haku didn't frequent Rui's bar. And honestly, you never thought of asking either. Among the thousands of secrets every ghoul always kept from you, that one seemed innocuous enough for you to ignore.

So, when Rui called you at 3am on a weekday, you would never guess he would ask you to escort Haku back to Hotarubi.

“Sorry, doll, you're the only one I can ask to help me with this.” Rui's voice sounded sincerely apologetic. “There's no one else here in the bar, I promised Lyca I'd help him with his homework – and you know how he gets when he's expecting something – and Subaru isn't answering his phone.”

You shrugged, as you changed out of your pajamas.

“I mean, it IS late at night and he’s way more responsible than us. But what happened to him?”

“Oh, you know.” You imagined Rui waving his hand dismissively. “Hakucchi can't hold his liquor very well. He's wasted.”

You pursed your lips, trying hard not to laugh. The thought of the most nonchalant and aloof man you knew tripping on his own feet amused you more than it probably should.

“And why can't he stay in one of the rooms like Haru does sometimes?”

Rui sighed loudly.

“He's adamant on going back to Hotarubi. I'm trying to keep him here for a little longer because I'm worried about him just crashing and sleeping in the middle of Obscuary's woods. Who knows, he could legit die on his way back.”

It was your turn to sigh loudly. A dull headache was slowly forming in the back of your head.

“Okay… I'm going.” You grumbled as you made your way outside of your dorm and into the chilly night. “He's lucky I wasn't asleep yet.”

“Thank you, cutie, I owe you one and Haku will owe you his life~” Rui made a sharp kissing sound on his end of the line, quickly hanging up before you could have any change of heart.

And after a hurried walk towards Obscuary and sincere apologies from Rui, you ended up trudging through the campus with a very much inebriated, heavy, limp-bodied Haku leaning on your shoulder – his sultry voice murmuring nonsensical things in your ear as you suppressed a shiver from going down your spine.

His breath smelled like one of Rui's sweet, sparkly drinks – the ones you drank when you didn't want to wake up the next day with a mean hangover.

Haku really was extremely lightweight, it seemed.

“You smell so good” Haku murmured, nuzzling your head as he leaned all his weight onto your body, feet dragging clumsily on the ground.

Not only were you struggling not to trip and fall headfirst onto the asphalt, bringing a grown man down with you; said grown man made the task all the more difficult as he kept on shamelessly flirting with you.

“Haku, please, can't you help me a little bit here? Try to walk a bit too, come on.” You grunted, pushing him away from you, only to have him throw his arms around your shoulders once more.

“But it feels so good like this.” He murmured way too close to your ear and you gritted your teeth, shutting your eyes tightly in order to keep your thoughts from going to places you really didn't want to visit.

Haku's breathy, silky voice had always been your worst and weakest point. Sometimes you wondered if he knew it, consciously or not. If he did, it would definitely explain how he always sounded just a little bit more husky, just a little bit more sultry whenever you two were alone.

“I can't carry you properly like this, though?! Look, we're already at Hotarubi. Try to walk just a little bit longer, please?” You huffed and puffed, the exertion and the warmth of his body overpowering the cold night and causing you to break a sweat.

“Hmm…” he hummed before rubbing his cheek against your hair, then sighed. “Okay… but just because it's you who's asking.”

Haku straightened his back as much as he could, slinging just one arm around your shoulder, and stumbled inside his dorm. You finally managed to breathe properly, relieved of all the dead weight he had been putting on your shoulder.

Still, you navigated through Hotarubi's slippery corridors quite poorly as Haku's head hung low and he blinked slowly, fading in and out of a drunken sleep while you dragged him to his room.

Once inside, you watched with an amused and exasperated look as Haku stumbled towards his futon, letting himself fall heavily onto it, face down, with a loud groan of someone who subconsciously knew he'd very much regret his choice to drink afterwards.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead while you walked towards him.

“Sit up just a little bit. You can't sleep with your uniform like this.”

He shuffled on his bed, slowly propping himself on his elbows.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, are you, Honor Student? How bold you are. Thought you'd ask me out for dinner first.” He murmured with a smirk and half-lidded eyes.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and pushing all of your confusing emotions away. You would not deal with your feelings right then and there. Not when Haku was so obviously out of his mind.

“You can't sleep with your blazer otherwise you'll wrinkle it. Unless you're a Frostheim bourgeois who has a whole collection of these expensive ass blazers. If not, you need to take it off.” you said, exasperated. You held out your hand, motioning for him to give you his clothes.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, as if you had said something incredibly wise. You very much knew how expensive those blazers were after seeing how careful Kaito was with his. You wouldn’t let Haku just ruin his uniform.

He clumsily took off his blazer and handed it to you.

“You know, rumor has it that I might have been, in fact, a Frostheim bourgeois.”

You were trying so very hard not to notice the scent of sandalwood that clung in his blazer as you hung it on a nearby chair, that you almost didn't pay attention to the little gem of information he seemed to be offering to you. Almost.

“Well... Were you?” you asked with one eyebrow raised.

He grinned mischievously, putting a finger on his lips and shushing loudly. You rolled your eyes at his drunken antics as you scooted closer to help him out of his vest and tie.

“Sit properly so I can help you out of this vest and necktie.”

He pouted, rolling his head back. The sharp pops of his neck made him grimace.

“I think… That you’re enjoying undressing me.” he smirked as his head hung to the side. “You can always do this, you know, you just have to ask.”

You fidgeted in your position and pressed the heels of your hands on your eyes. You rubbed your face, trying hard to erase the tingling feeling on your cheeks and ignore his unabashed flirting.

‘He’s drunk. He’s just fucking drunk’ you chanted in your mind and took a deep breath.

“I’m just trying to help you not ruin the most expensive parts of your uniform, you dumbass.” you muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Haku threw his head to the other side, placing a hand over his heart as if you had just physically hurt him.

“Oh, how cold, Honor Student.” he sighed, head still limp as if he couldn’t hold it upright, but began to shuffle in place as he sat properly on his futon.

You held your breath while you opened his vest as fast as you possibly could, ignoring the heaviness of his gaze. He blinked lazily, eyes scanning your face and your hands as you fiddled with his buttons and then moved to loosen his tie.

You tried not to notice how he licked his lips when you pushed the vest out of his shoulders, but the gooseflesh that pricked your skin was proof that you failed.

“Hey.” He called out to you, voice hoarse and low - the type of voice you had always imagined he would have during early mornings, right after waking up, when his golden eyes would still be glossy with sleepiness.

You shook your head, pushing the thought away, and got up to place his vest and tie on the chair, right on top of his blazer.

“Yes?” you asked, straightening imaginary wrinkles on his clothes only to avoid his eyes.

Haku paused for a moment, as if waiting for you to turn around to look at him. When you didn’t, he took a deep breath and leaned back on his elbows once again.

“I'm so in love with you.” He murmured with a lazy smile on his face and his eyes closed, as if he had just told you the most obvious thing in the world.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists, gripping the fabric of his uniform tightly and undoing all your efforts of keeping it pristine and straightened.

Despite yourself, you felt a giddiness bubble inside your stomach. You wondered how many nights you’ve spent imagining scenarios in which he would say that exact thing.

Scenarios in which you actually deserved him saying such things while sober and not an overly-affectionate drunk.

You were quiet when you kneeled besides his feet to untie his laces and take off his shoes and socks.

“You hear? I'm in love with you.” He repeated as he nudged you with his knee, opening his eyes for a moment to check if you were actually paying attention. You gritted your teeth, jaw visibly flexing.

“Huh. Is that so.” You answered, bitter and cold, but your dismissal seemed to have gone over his head as he closed his eyes and sighed with a dreamy look on his face.

“Yeah. I love you. So much.”

You shot up to your feet, as if his words shocked you like an electric current, and walked towards his desk to grab his water bottle. You placed it right beside him with a heavy, tired sigh. You really didn't need that at that moment.

“Do you have paracetamol so you can take it if you need it during the morning?”

Haku furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, nose scrunching in a way that he never did while sober. You cursed yourself for thinking he looked adorable.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asked.

“About?”

“I love you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the leaps of your heart whenever he said those words.

“You're drunk, Haku.” You breathed out, looking at him with exasperation in your voice.

“And…?”

“You're spewing nonsense.” You muttered, dusting yourself off only to avoid his gaze and to keep your hands occupied. “Go to sleep and you'll feel better tomorrow.”

“You don't believe me?” Haku widened his eyes, a tinge of hurt audible in his honeyed voice.

“The alcohol is making you say things you don't mean. Go to sleep.”

“You don't believe me.” Hurt quickly changed to incredulity.

“Good night, Haku. If you need anything, you can send me a message.”

“No, wa-wait.”

Haku quickly tried to get on his feet, but the dizziness still clouded his movements and he ended up tripping, falling on his knees. You gasped and kneeled beside him, eyes trained on his knees that had hit the tatami floor with an uncomfortable thud.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand hovering over his back.

Haku slowly turned his head towards you. His golden slitted eyes glinted with something you couldn't quite understand.

“Why don't you believe me?” He murmured.

You opened your mouth, then closed it – no words made their way out of your lips.

God fucking dammit.

How could you even begin to explain to him all the reasons why you couldn't believe in him – but mostly how you couldn't believe in yourself – no matter how much you wanted to?

“Do you think I would lie about something like that?” He narrowed his eyes, looking at you as if you had broken his heart.

“I don't.” You found your voice after long, uncomfortable seconds. “I just think you're letting the alcohol make you believe things that aren't true.”

He shook his head vigorously and you couldn't help but think that it probably made his dizziness a lot worse.

“I wouldn't let some alcohol make me confess my love for anyone else.” he grasped your hand with a lot more force than you were expecting him to have. You tried to pull it away, but his grip was that of steel.

“Please… go to sleep.” you felt your throat tightening and a pressure behind your eyes.

“I've thought of you every single moment of my days ever since I saw you. You don't get to dictate how I feel just because you don't feel the same way as I do.” his brows furrowed again, sudden aggravation taking up his features.

You almost gasped. Haku never got angry at you, not even when you were a lot to handle, nor when you made his life a bit harder. What an irony it was that the first time would be while he was confessing.

“That's not what this is about.” you shook your head.

“Then what is it?”

You felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. You quickly bit it hard, in order to keep your emotions at bay, ducking your hand down and shutting your eyes tightly.

You briefly regretted taking Rui's call. Opening the can of worms that was your feelings for Haku was probably one of the last things you wanted to do late at night, in the middle of the week. You had spent too much time closing that can very tightly, vacuum sealing it and stashing it in the depths of your mind, only to have all your effort ruined in mere minutes.

Haku placed his other hand on your cheek, gently tilting your head back up. You kept your eyes shut.

“It's okay if you don't love me.” He murmured, the same tinge of sorrowful acceptance in his voice as the one you usually heard when he talked about his family. “It won't change how I feel. I just want to know from your mouth.”

“Haku…” your eyelids fluttered.

“Just say you don't like me. Look me in the eyes and say it. And I promise I'll leave you be.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown out and you could barely make out the golden ring of his irises. He looked at you with an adoration that could genuinely make you sick.

“I can't.” you whispered and leaned into his touch.

“Then-”

“I can't just doom you, Haku. I can't take you down with me. You can find someone better, someone who deserves you. Someone who isn't cursed.” you blurted out, the words flowing freely from your lips now that the dam had been broken.

“Don't say that.”

“But it's true. I would… I would love to let you love me.” At that, his eyes opened wide and you could almost see hope forming deep inside them. “But I can't, in good conscience.”

Haku leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Why?”

“It would be selfish of me. What if I die from my curse? You'd be hurt.” You gulped, shaking your head and backing away from him. “And worse, what if I hurt you if I become a monster?”

His hand, still gripping yours tightly, pulled you back close to him. His eyes were wide, wild, searching yours.

“And why would any of this matter?”

You blinked, confused.

“What?”

Haku scoffed, as if you were being absolutely stupid. As if you were the drunk one.

“I already love you. I don't need your permission to feel my feelings. Even if you kept me at arm's length, it wouldn't change how I feel.”

You were quiet as he grabbed your other hand and held both of them tightly against his chest. You could feel the loud and fast thump of his heart against your skin.

“And if you let me, we can look for a solution together. Worst case scenario, we'd be together for less time than I wished for. But any time with you would already be perfect.” He rested his forehead against yours once again. “Even if it was just a second.”

God. Zenji was right when he said Haku was a charmer. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I wouldn't say this kind of thing to just anyone, though. Not sober, nor drunk. I can only say it to you.” he added, finally.

Your shuddering breath was the only sound between the two of you as you allowed his words to sink into your brain.

Deep down, you knew your hesitancy was never because of his drunken state, although it still kept you on your toes. As much as you were aware that your fears were the main source of your insecurity, a small part of you was still terribly afraid of him forgetting it all in the morning.

You felt his breath get heavier and deeper for a few seconds before Haku hurriedly shuffled onto his feet and stumbled fast towards the balcony of his room, which hovered just a few inches over Hotarubi's lake. You winced when you heard the muffled sounds of him throwing up.

After a few minutes, he dragged his feet back to his room, looking ashamed and terribly disheveled.

“Are you okay?” You asked, handing him his water bottle.

“I'm sorry.” He said, voice raspy after the strain. He took long, big gulps of water before sighing loudly.

“It's okay.” You chuckled, leading him towards his futon. “Go lie down and sleep. Please?”

Haku eyed you with utter indignation.

“We will continue our conversation tomorrow.” he stated, seriously, but finally relenting to your request. You nodded, sighing.

“Yes, yes, we will. Now go lie down, okay?” You pushed him gently, helping him as he tried to get on top of his bed.

“And I will repeat every word I said to you in the morning when I'm completely sober just so you can't say I'm lying.” He continued while you fluffed his pillow and helped him get under his covers.

“Even if I have a huge headache and feel like shit, I will repeat everything.” He muttered, eyes quickly getting heavy as you finished tucking him neatly into his bed.

You couldn't help but smile as his eyes so quickly grew heavy with sleep, while still mumbling incoherent things.

“Good night, Haku” you whispered.

Between long, heavy blinks, he turned his head towards you.

“I love you.” He whispered one last time, before finally letting sleep wash over his body.

Your heart twisted inside your chest – a mix of fear, apprehension and excitement bubbling in your chest and your stomach, that could make you scream. Instead, you watched as his breathing got deep and even, before gently pushing his hair away from his forehead.

You leaned in, placing a faint kiss on his forehead, inhaling the comforting scent of incense that followed him wherever he went.

Against his skin, you confessed.

“I love you too.”

[amongemeraldclouds]

But Daddy I Love Him

Mattheo and the Slytherin boys rescue you from your father who held you captive one day before your wedding.

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader ft. The Slytherin Boys

Warning: fluff, one use of y/n, cursing, the boys being chaotic. Inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title.

✿ Masterlist | 872 words

“Can’t this bloody car go any faster?” Mattheo asked gripping the leather seat, straining against his seatbelt as if he could steer the car faster out of sheer will.

Draco scoffed, “it’s the latest model of flying cars, of course it can. The car is not the problem.” He was insulted that Mattheo would even question the calibre of cars they kept at the Malfoy Manor. They borrowed it from his father without asking, but he didn’t think he would mind.

“We already went over this,” Theo grit his teeth, trying to hold on to the last dregs of his patience. He drove the car over the roofs of buildings and clouds blurred past them. He was going as fast as he could without compromising their safety. “If we let you behind the wheel, you will drive us all straight to a tree. You can’t have a wedding if your corpse is busy rotting in a tree, huh?”

“I’m not some foolish Gryffindor who would do that!” Mattheo argued.

Blaise sucked in his breath, tired of having to play peacekeeper. “Arguing would not get us to her any faster, okay Matty? When has Theo ever let you down?”

Lorenzo chimed in, also eager to diffuse the tension. “What’s next, mate? You just roused us all out of bed to rescue your girl the night before your wedding, what happens when we get there?”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, “I only roused Theo then Draco offered his father’s car when he overheard us. The rest of you tossers invited yourselves.”

“That’s besides the point,” Enzo continued knowing Mattheo would do the same for any of them if they ever needed help. “What’s your genius plan?” 

“When we’re close enough to the estate, I’ll signal y/n. She says she has a plan to escape and we’ll swoop in as the getaway driver.”

“Sounds simple enough when you say it like that,” Enzo mused.

“But daddy I love him!” You declared, losing track of how many times you’ve had to defend your fiancé to your father.

“He’s the Dark Lord’s son-” he begins, his favorite line whenever he tried another argument to dissuade you from you marriage plans.

“Father, I’m having his baby!” You spat out, tired of his same old lines. That shut his mouth.

Your news drained the color from his face as he opened his mouth again to say something and closed it. This was going to bring shame to the family name. He was too stunned to speak.

You tried to hold it in, but burst out laughing. Your father was a man hardened by business and the ways of the world. He was not easily shaken so this reaction was priceless.

“Oh father!” You held your stomach to control your laughter. “You should see your face! I was just joking! See, there are worse things that could happen? Father, I promise this is not as bad as you think. He is nothing like the Dark Lord. He’s doing his best to be better than him.”

Your father mumbled incoherently as if holding back a string of curses. “Dear child, you will send me to my funeral! These white hairs will turn even whiter than snow.”

“Please,” you approached him, holding his hand. Trying to appeal to his affections, the way you did when you asked for a pony when you were younger. “He’s the one I want, if you could just give him a chance and get to know him.” “What about our family name? It will put us to ruin, think about us,” he responds coldly.

“I’m taking his last name, father. You won’t have to worry about that. My name is mine to do with as I please.” You were losing hope, nothing was getting through to him. You just needed to wait for the signal.

As if you summoned it by your thoughts, you saw a light flash three times and you grabbed your wand from a hidden compartment in your dress. That’s on your father for underestimating you, he couldn’t just lock you in - you were no longer his little girl. You saw the car approach the window and withdrew the wand.

“Well father, I wish you would come around. Come to the wedding tomorrow in peace, the cake is fantastic,” you bid him goodbye with those words and you cast an explosion with your wand, bricks flying and dust spraying through the air. You took one last look at your father as he stood to catch you, but you moved faster.

From the clearing that once formed the east wing of your father’s mansion, you grinned at Mattheo and your friends. 

“That’s your escape plan?” Blaise broke through the silence when the car was near enough.

At the same time, Mattheo cheered, “that’s my girl!”

You shrugged, running towards them and taking Mattheo’s hand. You sat on his lap in the front seat of the car as there was no other vacant seat. But you could hardly complain at the chance to snuggle with him.

“It worked, didn’t it?” You simply said as Theo drove you away from the mansion.

Theo just chuckled and shook his head, “you two are really meant for each other.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: I was listening to TTPD when this whole scene came to mind. It’s the fastest I've written and uploaded a fic so far.

[meimei-archives]

Wait cause I would love to see body party part 2 either there being sneaky behind closed doors when no one around or he wins a match and she’s has a surprise for him back in his hotel room

BODY PARTY PT2!:: rafe cameron

WARNING! :: professional!boxer!rafe, manager!reader, descriptions of; fighting, bleeding, and cleaning up injuries. (m&f!receiving )oral, fingering, choking,unprotected sex, slight strip tease, (munch!rafe)

SUMMARY!:: when Rafe gets offered a headliners match against the WBO champion, you decide to grace him with a surprise once your both back at his hotel room you managed to slip into it before bed.

A/N!:: wait I’m genuinely curious if I should make boxer!rafe into a mini series, like bringing him to meet your family for Christmas or something idk, but also, thank you for sending in this idea I love it and I’m sorry it took so long to answer!

You sort of had a reward system at this point. You and Rafe had been seeing each other for a few months now, he was now preparing for a fight that had been pretty hyped up in the press for a while now. They called it a dream match, two of the most talented brawlers within the lightweight division.

Rafe was on the rise for a past injury that set him back last year and now he’s back on the come up. He had taken his spot in the back of the line and had passed through opponent after opponent each fight, earning him his winning streak since his return. He buzzed with excitement taking on the baby face, the guy who was currently holding WBO title Rafe had held in the past and he was hungry for another run with it.

JJ Maybank was one of the hottest guys on the card, you had to consider yourself lucky to be in a main event with this guy. He was a sly dog, talked major shit, he could back it up with his hands, and that was another reason for Rafe to absolutely hate his guts, had it not been for the fact that JJ and Rafe grew up on the same little island of outer banks where they could never seem to mix well together.

You had talked to Rafe just before he was called to walk out to the ring, you find yourself sitting yet again front row this time you could see his family halfway down the row being blocked by Kelce and topper who sit nonchalantly next to your seat as the watch Rafe stand in his corner talking to his trainer and cut men as they retreat from the ring to the sidelines.

You don’t even spare a glance as JJ’s theme song hit for his walk out, the crowd having a mixed reaction, you keep your eyes glued to Rafe who almost like a magnet his eyes were pulled from the referee to you, a small smile finds his lips which earns one back from you. Mouthing the words ‘good luck’ and blowing an unnoticeable kiss to his which earns a grin from.

As the announcer talks about the premise of the match your eyes stick to Rafe’s figure, glistening under the bright lights almost giving your surroundings a sterile look as a small sheen of sweat prickles his skin. The stubble of his mustache growing in as well as the shaggy hair growing in after months with his buzz cut, you can’t help but eye him more as your eyes trail down his body.

The firmness of his chest, his sculpted abs that satisfied every itch in your brain perfectly, and the small happy trail that travels from his navel past his shorts that makes you bite your bottom lip thinking about what’s hidden past them. Sometimes you felt like a perv for how much space you have saved in the corner of your brain with thoughts of Rafe.

Taken out of your thoughts by the ring of the bell and the ref allowing the open space be used to go at it. The sight of the two men crowding the ring with their gloved fists up makes your stomach churn. Rafe had trained so hard for this fight alone, and you doubt he would go down at all. He had the height advantage, knowing he lost a bit of weight to match the blondes weight class for this fight.

The two don’t even bat an eye as they refuse to tap gloves and start slugging their fists at each other, the dull and short lived ‘thunk!’ That follows with every blow makes your body tense and cower. They both were hard hitters, and even if those gloves were there to at least cushion the hits the sheer power behind both of their hits were not made for the receiving end to feel any types of good.

And for some reason as you study the way JJ frolics about the ring casually with no fret and sweat beginning to make his hair stick to his skin he looked as if he was caught off guard with how much Rafe could easily want more after being untangled by the referee or even being pushed against the ropes, Rafe was never the type to back off in a fight, his libido and persistence was not as matched on JJ’s end; who subsequently enough was already succumbing to a swollen eye and bruises patching up on his face and body.

You had all high hopes for Rafe although you need he doesn’t need hope, he looked equally spent within the first round and only a minute left on the clock for their first go, he was breathing heavily with a touch of annoyance on his face, because even with a mouth guard in JJ Maybank has officially found a way to talk shit through the thick rows of rubber that slightly gives him an impediment.

They throw continuous stiff shots at each other, with a mixture of water and sweat flying off of them with each explosive blow to their bodies. You were a big ball of anxiety the second his trainer turns in his seat directly in front of you and mumbles “you think you could step in for me and talk to him. I know you got some advice for him- he takes it the best from you” his words come out slightly foggy due to the loudness of the crowd around you. “Yeah, he looks like he needs a couple of words” you respond quickly as he helps you over the barricade and onto the concrete floor your heels scrape gently making you cringe.

As the time runs out his trainer gives you a gentle pat on the back and gives you hand into your designated corner where Rafe meets you with half concerned eyes. “What’s the matter?” He readers your expression as you put down the small stool they gave to you for him to sit. “Nothings wrong, just came to talk; you gotta keep your head up, this kid likes to keep his low so it’s easier to lay those punches when all he does is retract from the high right hooks you throw” you cup his chin and pour water into his mouth and over his shoulders cooling his skin.

“He keeps trying to lock up with me” he rolled his eyes making you laugh as you guide him to breath slowly and deeply, the cut men rubbing Vaseline on the cuts and bruises forming. “If anything resort to body shots, if he’s backing you into corners head shots, you have the height advantage so it takes nothing for you to swing low” you advice pouring water past his pouty lips as he spits the water into the small bucket a cut man held out.

“Deep breaths, aim low, don’t let him wrap around you, alright?” You say sternly with only a few seconds on the time for their break before they’re ordered to clear ring, you give his chin a gentle squeeze “good luck” you mumbled once more before leaving the ring and using the empty spot next Rafe’s trainer Mike who looks at you with hopeful eyes. “So…?” He asks making you smile “He knows what to do, I think because Rafe is used to bigger guys he doesn’t really know where to focus” you watch intently as they change up the foot work; JJ coming out the corner looking less fresh faced and more sluggish with every step.

Rafe’s shoulders roll back as he takes on his stance with his gloves and head up, and an intense look in his eyes, his energy non-stagnant as they center and throw hooks and blows at each other, and it wasn’t until Rafe had backed JJ into a corner and throwing hooks and jabs straight to his ribs that makes you wince and actually lock into Rafe’s actions.

JJ had his guard up blocking his face with his gloves, and once Rafe knocks one of his hands guarding his face he dropped a mean right hook almost stunning you as your whole body tenses seeing how the young blonde wobbles a bit. Rafe pulls himself away and letting JJ find his footing in the center. You could tell by his body language that the punch square in the face had pissed him off, the both of them carrying fire in their eyes as they square up once more in the center.

Your eyes widen and could barely keep up in real time with the flurries of punches they were exchanging, in the moment it felt like whoever stopped throwing first was ought to be knocked out cold by the end of it, yet the crowd cheers on and they all sat on the edge of their seats in suspense. It was when the bell had rung for the second round to end and teams to flood the ring you watch Rafe retreat to his corner, his skin red with blood gathering at his upper lip you rush up the steps into the ring before anyone else with water and tissue in hand Rafe sits in the all to familiar stool.

“Jesus, you two are going at it harder than people during a Black Friday sale” you joke trying to lighten the mood, Rafe’s eyes don’t leave the opposite corner as his jaw ticks and tighten against his guards you cup his face making his eye look at you sharply before they soften looks up at you his eyes once a stormy blue almost instantly resorting back to their usual icy color. “Deep breaths, put your arms above your head” you whisper to him and he follows your instructions as the hands working with you continue their duties.

“You’re doing good, just keep doing what you do. He looks tired, it’s like he’s only running on adrenaline so keep pressing him; he’s trying to play the energy game and you’re already winning” you speak over the loud music as Rafe listened nodding his head taking in every word. “Do I look like I’m slowing down?” His voice beared genuine curiosity only getting a head shake “if anything you’re fighting like this shit just started. The move with knocking his glove down was smart, if you keep doing things like that I’m pretty sure you’ll win via knock out” you wince at the memory as you could see some of the sweat flying to the mat with how hard Rafe had punched his opponent.

“Okay” he whispered as you use the last few seconds of his break to give him more water and put in his mouth guard before exiting the ring. The match becoming more excruciating as it drags on as the both are exchanging blows and bleeding with busted noses and lips eventually Rafe throwing a nasty right hook to JJ’s jaw that makes him drop to the floor his body slumping against mat the referee immediately checking on the younger boy before calling it and proclaiming Rafe as the winner.

A rush of pride surges through your veins, entering the ring as Rafe pries off his gloves his focus immediately on you as you always down walk up to him with a shining smile that makes your cheeks sore, his lanky arms wrapping around you in a tight hug, as the heavy belt wrapped around his waist; shining and thick, it presses against your lower stomach “I’m so proud of you” your words are muffled as your face presses against his shoulder.

You both pull away keeping a professional mask on in these moments Rafe got to give his final statements on the fight before exiting back to his locker room letting him shower before you clean his cut lip and the small scratches on his face and body. Putting away the small first aid kit you hold his jaw gently “I have a surprise when we get back to your place” you whispered making a mischievous and all to familiar smile tug at his bruised pink lips “yeah?” He asked his fingers fiddle with the large golden ring that encapsulated his finger.

“You didn’t want a celebration party, but I say; me and you just need to have our own celebration” you smirk and rough lets out a husky laugh as he moves to change into more comfortable clothes and gather his belongings as the two of you plan to leave. “What kind of celebration?” His voice finding its usual flirty tone he has when it’s just the both of you “it wouldn’t be a surprised if I told you” you teased as he holds the lockeroom door open for the two of you to leave.

It had never been unusual for you and Rafe to leave events with each other, the public had grown familiar with the close ‘friendship’ between the two of you through interviews and social media since Rafe had begun his boxing career. Privately the two of you had changed the dinamic nature from being friends to an eerie limbo of being domestic and sexual partners with no real label yet.

Checking back in was a breeze as you had booked separate rooms to avoid suspicion; yet you know majority of your night was going to be spent in his room. The dim orange light fixing from the beautiful chandelier that filled the spacious room, the texture white walls detailed with gold paint around the edges, or the large drapes above the one singular window that was covered, and the wall behind the bed as neutral tones of creme and beige with dusty rose gold accent covers the room giving it an almost vintage vibe.

Rafe drops his bags at the foot of the bed frame with an exhausted sigh he takes off his navy blue bommer jacket that covered his polo shirt, you take the jacket out of his hands and set it on the arm chair in the far corner of the room, you grab his arm guiding him to the edge of the bed. “Why don’t you relax hm? I’ll be back in a second” you mumbled as you stand between his spread legs holding his face in your hands gently grazing your thumb over the bruise that was leaving a big purple splotch on his jaw.

“Are you coming back with my surprise?” He asks his eyes lighting up with excitement like a dog who can hear their owner entering the house. “Maybe” you shrug pecking his lips and turning away to the bathroom near the entrance to his room finding the silky robe in a navy blue with his last name on the back with a set of lingerie that hugs you in all the right ways and does every curve of your body justice under his sink where you knew he wouldn’t look.

The robe was actually Rafe’s, it was one of his favorite peaces of gear to match his shorts and gloves, you let the fabric swallow you, being more loose on you than him, you smile at yourself in the mirror as you tie it closed letting it compliment your waist. You give yourself the final touches before walking back out slowly Rafe’s eyes latch on to you with an unmatched ferocity that sends a shiver through your bones.

Walking closer to the dirty blonde haired man it seemed he finally realized what you were wearing as you slowly turn around to show off his last name on your back like a trophy you slip open the robe as you whispered “congratulations champ” as the silk pools around your feet revealing your skin and the warm air in the room shifts. “c’mere baby, let me see you close up” he groaned, his voice slightly slurred as the pain in his jaw twangs every time he speaks.

Holding out a hand to you which you take with no hesitation, putting on a show as you walk with a slight sway to your hips that makes him watch you close and calculated like he was on the hunt and your were his pray who so innocently was frolicking about. When you take up the same space between his legs Rafe’s hands drop from your hands to the back of your thighs groping at the fleshy skin “best surprise could’ve asked for” he mumbled as he presses himself against your lower tummy.

His nose grazing your skin making you tense only to relax at the feeling of his soft warm lips pressing underneath the wire of your bra, the room filled with a distant buzzing and heavy breathing. “Didn’t expect this huh?” You looked down at him as your hand races through his hair, your nails purposely scratching against his scalp making Rafe moan. His weakest point that you had discovered after 2 weeks of sex all over your shared apartment. “c’mon now you’re just teasing me” his voice almost twisted in a whine.

“Well how about you lay back and let me help you relax on your big night” you push his shoulder gently guiding him to rest against the mattress as his buff arms flex as they rest behind his head. You get on your knees as the dull ache is a second thought the moment you begin to unbuckle his belt and pull his boxers and pants down in one full swoop. He was already hard and eager in your grip, the sloppy sounds of your slick palm fisting over his cock.

A small wince leaves his lips and Rafe doesn’t know if he’s palpitating or if hearing his heartbeat in his ears was normal, but the thought loses his the second Flattening your tongue against the underside of his cock you dragged up against the vein running up to the tip— he let out a rich moan that ended with a groan "shit". His head was thrown back against the mattress and his breathing was labored.

His hand rests on the back of your head not moving as he watches you take him deeper and deeper, feeling the way his hips were grinding into your mouth makes you pull away as spit gathers messily at your chin as thin strings of saliva latch from his cock to your mouth making you giggle. “fuck” whispered as you swipe your thumb over his sensitive tip as you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to his tip swirling your tongue around him before pushing yourself to take him in the back of your throat feeling an impeding gag as your eyes cloud with tears.

Rafe on the other hand felt like he was ascending to a parallel universe pure pleasure, as the slick sound that come from between his legs makes them shake as your hand wraps around his dick filling the space that your mouth couldn’t handle. “fuck you’re gonna make me cum quick” he groaned as his hand travels to cup your face he sits up watch the way you look utterly fucked out just by sucking him off.

His thumb presses against your plump bottom lip as he looks at the way your pretty lip combo smudge on not only your face but his cock, and it makes his head spin. “Wait baby, hold on” he huffs out, pleasure so apparent in his tone as you pulled off his cock you slightly pout looking up at him with smudged makeup and your hair messy, Rafe can’t help but instinctively smile “I want you to ride my face” he whispers as his chest rises and falls and baited breaths as he watches your face twist in confusion yet regardless you stand up stripping yourself of your panties and slowly straddle his lap, he lays back like once before comfortably as he reaches his hands out to guide you over his face.

Groaning at the sight of you glistening wet and ready for him “fuck s’so pretty” he slurs before he sensually licked from your entrance to your clit and sucked with fervor making you moan as your back arches and your hand pushes his face deeper between your thighs. The feeling of his tongue almost as if he had to lick every inch of your pussy his hands grab at your ass making you arch deeper making a raw moan cut through the heavy air “fuckkk Rafe” you squeal as your thighs tighten around him.

His hand travels between your thighs as he continues to lick sloppy stripes against your pussy lazily, you can already feel the trembling in your thighs as your fingers grip harder against his shaggy hair making him hum against you sending vibrations up your body “pull harder, baby” he groans lazily as if nothing could pull him away from latching his mouth onto you and making you finish on his tongue.

Once Rafe could feel the pressure and stinging sensation in his scalp he hums “that’s it, be a doll and cum for me” he groaned against you, your head tossed back as you feel the warm and tight sensation that was growing in your lower stomach, you don’t know how much more you could take but out of pure desperation for release you grind your hips against him.

He placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as the other finds your pussy; groaning into you before easing his finger past your entrance. the added stimulation had you mewling. The sounds you make are music to his ears. He presses his nose on your clit, inhaling your scent deeply before his tongue dives inside your waiting pussy. You pull onto his hair, writhing against his face.

The thickness of another added finger was making you dizzy It feels like you’re high, stomach tightening with each second “you’re gonna make me cum” you whine as if the feeling was pushing you to the edge you look between your shaking this to see Rafe absolutely lost in the taste of you; his eyes rolled back, and his face glistening with a flush to his cheeks and in that moment you melted away with the hot white feeling of your orgasm practically hitting you like a car.

Rafe licks up every trace of your orgasm until you wince and pull away with a whine you adjust yourself to sit on his lower stomach still sensitive yet satisfied. The man beneath you sitting up looking just as clouded with lust as you do, capturing his lips in yours with an unmatched intensity as you taste yourself on his lips.

The rough palm of his hands pulling you as close to him as possible like in any moment you’d disappear. Growing more and more desperate to feel you he pulls away from you with hesitation pressing his forehead to yours. “Lay on your stomach for me baby” he whispered and letting you move with calculated ease as you move to the headboard and grabbing a pillow you can lay down underneath you before arching your back and shiver slightly at the cold air that hits you between the thighs.

Arching your back gives Rafe the perfect sight of your ass. You could feel his palm caressing and needing your skin before giving it repeated harsh slaps that had you quivering. Nothing compared to the beautiful stinging feeling on your skin given by him.

"Want you inside me so bad" you mumbled as your fingers grip the sheets, you were so needy that you were dripping down your thighs and it didn't take much for Rafe to run his tongue over his lips and grab onto your hips pushing his tip against you and pushing into you slowly before bottoming out.

The sharp grip he had on your hips kept you grounded as he set a steady pace that had you panting and moaning. Hearing yourself made your face heat up, dropping your head into the sheets hoping to muffle the pleasure falling from your lips.

"Don't get all shy on me now" Rafe says as his hand pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling your head away from the sheets "I wanna hear you. Don't hide from me" he says breathily as his thrusts become more sharp and the sound of him pounding into you was hard not to hear.

"I can't help it. It's too good" you slur your words as you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands clutching the sheets tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat. As his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good Rafe" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Rafe pounds you into his mattress without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against sheets while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders sweetly in a faux tone. His thrusts are non stop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelope you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum on my cock. I know you can '' he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through Rafe's throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me Rafe" you beg before you feel the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Rafe into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning of you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

You both were practically glowing as Rafe waited until he softened inside you to pull out "you did so good" he whispers sweet nothings to you as he pulls out and watches his cum drip down your inner thighs.

The both of you settle into the bedsheets the body heat coming from the both of you feels comforting, Rafe doesn't want even the slightest bit of space between the both of you as he pulls you by your waist until your pressed flush against his chest.

“Congratulations champ” you huff out making Rafe snicker “thank you” his words are followed by an impending silence, although you do know eventually you would be walking back to your own bedroom with sore and shaking legs but that was something that you would have to worry about later.

As for now you would enjoy his warmth that radiates against your skin.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 13: The Regrets Are Useless] [Series Finale]

A/N: Below are your final predictions. Let's see how you did... 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Whatsername” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Rain pours outside the cabin, mist-shrouded pine trees and still dark water, a place in southern Oregon called Lake of the Woods. The twin-sized bed with a thin foam mattress was once used by kids attending summer camp, capture the flag and s’mores, hikes and scary stories, but now the children are ghosts and the monsters are real, stumbling down streets and lurking in dark places, licking blood from what’s left of their lips.

Aemond is here but he’s also not, a castaway on an island where the world never ended, his hands in your hair as you straddle him, your hips moving tentatively, his lips and teeth at your throat, the sharp points of his canines like fangs.

“Am I doing this right?” you murmur doubtfully. “I feel like I’m definitely not doing this right…”

“Shh, you’re great, you’re incredible.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know how to do everything already, I’m sorry you have to teach me—”

“Stop,” Aemond commands, a sharp sigh through your hair. “I love this. I love you. I want to teach you things until the day I die.”

The nervous tension in your muscles unravels—peddles thrown into water, campfire smoke vanishing into indigo night—and now his hands are on your hips, steadying you, guiding you. You link your fingers around the back of his neck and try to find a cadence that isn’t uncomfortable, ungainly, effortful. You wanted to try this. You want to experience everything with him.

“Take your time,” Aemond is saying like it’s difficult for him to keep a train of thought, his eye closed, his cheeks flushed, blood-colored blooms like a dusk sky. “I’m fine down here, don’t worry about me…”

Rain drums against the windows; lightning flashes in the sky and thunder growls. From the front porch of one of the other cabins, you can hear the indistinct droning of conversations and Aegon strumming the acoustic guitar he brought from the beach house. It’s something you’ve overheard him singing before, one of his strange midcentury darlings, a song that should be too old for him to know the words to.

“All you big and burly men who roll the trucks along

Better listen, you’ll be thankful when you hear my song

You have really got it made if you’re haulin’ goods

Any place on earth but those Haynesville Woods…”

Your skin gleams with a cool sheen of sweat; there is a draft through the cabin walls that makes you shiver as you cling to Aemond. You roll your hips a certain way and he moans—suddenly, involuntarily—and you know you’ve found the right rhythm.

“It’s a stretch of road up north in Maine

That’s never ever ever seen a smile

If they’d buried all them truckers lost in them woods

There’d be a tombstone every mile

Count ‘em off, there’d be a tombstone every mile…”

Aemond is kissing you deeply, desperately, trembling hands and gasping shallow breaths. And there is not just euphoria written into the lines of his face; there is disorientation, there is wonder. He barely manages: “Alright…um…if you want me to last longer than about thirty more seconds, you should probably slow down…”

“No,” you tease, grinning as you bite at his full lips.

“When you’re loaded with potatoes and you’re headed down

You’ve got to drive the woods to get to Boston town

When it’s winter up in Maine, better check it over twice

That Haynesville road is just a ribbon of ice…”

Aemond cries out, louder than you’ve ever heard him before—you’ve never had privacy, you’ve never truly been alone—and then again, a helpless ecstatic sound, pleasure so overwhelming it almost starts to feel like pain.

“Quiet!” you whisper, giggling, touching two fingers to his mouth. “Everyone’s going to hear you.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He falls back onto the mattress and brings you with him, his arms wrapped around you, kissing your cheeks and your forehead as the two of you lie there panting and entangled, his blue eye astonished. “Okay, okay, I need a minute. I think I just burst an aneurysm.”

“I killed you?” you purr with feigned distress, basking in your conquest.

“You can kill me whenever you want. You can kill me five times a day.”

“When you’re talking to a trucker that’s been haulin’ goods

Down that stretch of road in Maine they call the Haynesville Woods

He’ll tell you that dying and going down below

Won’t be half as bad as driving on that road of ice and snow…”

Aemond stares up at the ceiling—a steep gable roof, a motionless fan—and now you can tell he’s thinking about his family again, discorporate screams, misplaced trust. Otto Hightower’s bones were found in the shower, meaning he likely died before or not long after their power failed and water would have run out in the municipal system. They were probably killed before you and Aemond ever met, distant galaxies lightyears away, remote long-dead stars. And so all the blood you paid to get to California was wasted.

“Do you ever think about the people you have saved?” you ask gently as your fingertips trace the ridge of his scar. “You stitched yourself back together. You healed Aegon’s burns. You sutured Cregan’s arm. You got me and Rio down from that transmission tower.”

“I guess I did,” Aemond says, but his voice is ambivalent, as if none of these things count. He has not found someplace safe for you yet. His job is not finished; his triumphs may only be temporary.

“Aemond…back in Pennsylvania…why did you decide to help us?”

“Luke spotted you guys, and we all talked it over. If it had just been Rio, honestly, I wouldn’t have taken the chance. A man his size, and possibly armed…could be trouble, you know? But I figured since he was traveling with a woman and you seemed to be with him by choice, he was probably okay. And then when we first met, he was so protective of you…didn’t want me touching you, didn’t leave you alone…I realized he had to be a good guy.”

“He was,” you say solemnly. I was supposed to remind him about the racks. I was supposed to warn him. But you didn’t warn Rio about what was waiting to kill him in that sand-swept grocery store in Winnemucca, just like you didn’t warn Jace about radiation or Baela about the way the rungs of the ladder that ran up the side of the grain bin were rusted and creaking, and maybe there is more than enough blame to go around.

“And then after Battle Mountain, as soon as we found the gasoline and ammo, I knew we had to go back for you. It hit me all at once. I couldn’t protect you by leaving you with Rio and Cregan. And I couldn’t let you go. I’ve never had something like this before. I didn’t know it existed. I told the others we were turning around, and Aegon said: Thank fucking God. Rhaena took off sprinting towards the car.” Then Aemond kisses you again, but tenderly this time, slowly, like you’ll have forever and there’s no need to rush. “I’m going to get you to Odessa. I’m going to take you somewhere safe.”

The rain is stopping; there are still a few hours of daylight left.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Chip Skylark. Check it out,” Aegon says, grinning at you from where he’s sprawled on the wet dock and smoking a cigarette, wearing his neon green plastic sunglasses, his left leg finally freed from its bandages and on full display. You’re all wearing the same things, stolen t-shirts and shorts, sweatshirts at night when it gets cold, sneakers you can walk hundreds of miles in; but Aegon won’t give up his Sperry Bahamas. “It’s nature’s tattoo.”

You sit down beside him and admire the scar tissue, red knots and white cords, jagged terrain like a mountain range, organic highways and bridges and trails. “It’s a roadmap.”

“That’s appropriate.”

You’ve been traveling on foot for two weeks since Criston’s white Tahoe ran out of gas and was abandoned in the town of Mad River, California. Now you are only about ten miles from Odessa, close enough to reach in half a day but too far to get into town before nightfall. This time tomorrow you’ll be there, and it will either be a haven or a wasteland, and if Rio’s parents’ community in Odessa has disappeared then so has your last idea for where to go. Absentmindedly, you skate your fingerprints over the bumps and grooves of Aegon’s leg like a blind man reading braille. He shifts and clears his throat; you’ve made him uncomfortable somehow. You lift your hand away.

“I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

“Nah. I can’t really feel anything besides pressure. The nerve endings got fried.”

“Oh.” But now you don’t know what you did to upset him. Aegon doesn’t provide an explanation. Down the dock a ways towards the shore, Rhaena is reading The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and listening to the pink Sony Walkman formerly owned by a little girl named Ava. Inside whirls Green Day’s 2004 album American Idiot, which Aegon took from his bedroom at the beach house to add to his CD collection, a cultural archive, a gift for posterity. Cregan is teaching Daeron to fish with poles he found in one of the cabins; Helaena is bringing them worms. Aemond and Luke are gathering things dry enough to burn—books and wooden chairs from inside the cabins—and piling them up so Cregan can cook dinner once it’s caught.

“So,” Aegon says, changing the subject, scrutinizing you as he puffs on a Marlboro Gold. “Everything going okay?”

You know what he means; he must have heard Aemond earlier. “Yup.”

“Got it all figured out?”

“Sure did.”

“Great. I’m happy for you,” Aegon says, and yet there’s a twinge of melancholy he’s trying to hide. It must be hard for him; he and Daeron are the only single ones.

“We’ll find you some suitable candidates for your harem when we get to Odessa.”

He chuckles. “Oh, come on.”

“Guys, girls? Do you have a preference?”

He’s smiling wistfully down into the water, a dark rippling mirror. “I have too specific a preference, that’s the problem.”

“Yacht girls in bikinis. Golf cheerleaders.”

“There are no cheerleaders in golf, you yokel.”

“Okay, well…I’m sure you’ll be very popular with the lonely, traumatized, widowed women of the apocalypse.”

Aegon gazes morosely out over the lake. He pitches the end of his cigarette into the water, and your eyes catch briefly on the black ink of the tattoo on his forearm: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. “I don’t know. I’ve been sober for two weeks and now everything is annoyingly clear.”

“What’s bothering you?”

He waits a while before he answers, evasive. “I’ve never been good at anything.”

“Everyone feels that way sometimes. Luke thinks he’s not good at anything either.”

“But Luke’s nice. I’m a rat bastard.”

You laugh. “You’re kind of nice, Aegon.”

“Yeah right.”

“No, seriously. I like being around you. You make me feel better. You’re like…” You ponder how to word it. “I feel like I could tell you whatever and not worry about being judged for it.”

He snorts. “As if you’ve ever done anything judgeable.”

You shrug, peering out over the lake. “I abandoned my family. I stopped sending them money, I stopped calling. And when everything happened…the zombies, the world ending…I didn’t even consider going back to Kentucky to try to help them. I went west with Rio instead. And now they’re probably all dead and it’s my fault. That’s evil. I couldn’t have gotten away with that level of betrayal. I must be cursed.”

Aegon is watching you, eyebrows raised. He has never heard this before. “But your family sucked, right?”

“Yeah,” you admit. “I think it would be hard to argue they didn’t.”

“So fuck ‘em,” Aegon says simply.

You smile at him, touched, grateful. “Okay. Fuck ‘em.”

“I’m relieved my family’s gone,” Aegon confesses, something so brutal he’d never tell anyone else. “I mean…I feel kind of bad about my mom and Criston. But as long as they were alive, I’d always be the person they raised. And if I could bring someone back, it wouldn’t be any of them. I’d pick Rio.”

“I would too,” you say softly, staring down at the faint burn marks on your palms from when you were stranded on that transmission tower with him, talking him out of suicide, so adamant that both of you were going to make it to Oregon. And you were wrong.

“So if you’re cursed, Pita Chips, sign me up because I’m right there with you.”

Rhaena pulls out an earbud and says to Aegon: “I don’t get this album.”

“What?!” he exclaims.

“It’s so good!” you concur. On the shore, Cregan is spearing several gutted rainbow trout on sticks so they can be roasted over the fire. Ice is gleefully gulping down fish organs.

Aegon continues: “Whatsername! St. Jimmy! Jesus of Suburbia!”

Rhaena blinks, glancing between you and Aegon. “But neither of you grew up in the suburbs.”

“It’s not about the suburbs, Rhaena!” Aegon replies with frenetic hand gestures. “It’s about being disillusioned and angry and failed by all the adults in your life, and self-medicating, and losing love every time you get a taste of it, and wanting to burn everything down and start over. It’s about hating the world and the world hating you back.”

“Okay, sure. I still don’t get it.”

You say: “You might have had too happy a childhood.” And you and Aegon burst out laughing.

“You guys are so weird,” Rhaena says, but she’s smiling. She stands up, gives Aegon back his Walkman, and walks to the end of the dock where Cregan is cooking the rainbow trout. Aemond and Daeron are gathering up the aluminum buckets found at the campground and set outside earlier today to collect rainwater. There is one five-pound bag of trail mix left to share, and then all the food is gone. If Cregan doesn’t kill something, you won’t eat.

“We should go help them with dinner,” you tell Aegon.

He groans. “Should we really?”

“Yeah. We should.”

“Fine.” He takes your hand when you offer it and struggles to his feet. Then you inhale a lungful of the scent of roasting trout, and startlingly powerful nausea punches through your stomach, so repellant you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from retching.

There has to be something wrong with the fish. It’s never smelled like that before.

Aegon seems baffled. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Does the trout smell right to you?”

Aegon sniffs the air like a labrador. “I guess…? I barely smell anything.”

“Well you probably destroyed your nose cells with all the coke.”

“That’s discriminatory. Addiction is a disease.” But his brow is furrowed with concern. “Seriously, are you okay? You look awful. Not like that. You know what I mean.”

“I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine; but everyone down by the fire is chatting and joking around nonchalantly, and surely if there actually was something wrong they would have noticed. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Sure,” Aegon says, perplexed.

You hurry past the others and take refuge in the cabin you’re sharing with Aemond. Inside the trout smell isn’t so strong. You sit at the edge of the bed and suck in several deep breaths, trying to calm down, willing the confounding wave of nausea to pass.

Did I eat something bad, did I get bit by a spider or something…?

You are checking your arms and legs for little raised bitemarks when Helaena enters the cabin and shuts the door behind her. When she opens her burlap messenger bag to root around inside, you glimpse photographs she must have taken from the beach house, the frames left empty on the mantle of the fireplace. Then Helaena pulls out a pregnancy test, just one, Clearblue.

You gawk at it. “What are you doing?”

“You look sick,” Helaena says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s that.”

She is puzzled, wide innocent blue eyes. “Why not?”

“Well…I mean…that would be freakishly quick, wouldn’t it? Like…quick as in immediately. People can’t get pregnant the first time they have sex, right?”

“Huh. They really don’t have sex ed in Kentucky,” Helaena says, and leaves you alone with your pregnancy test. You don’t feel so nauseous anymore, but you sneak around the back of the cabin to take it anyway, because now you’re thinking about the possibility with a vividness you’ve never experienced before: a round blossoming belly and tiny handprints and Aemond cradling his child in his arms. And by the time you get the result, you aren’t even shocked. It feels like something that’s supposed to happen.

You and Aemond don’t have a moment alone together until after dark, sitting on the porch swing outside your cabin for first watch, everyone else asleep, Ice dozing serenely by your feet. The only sounds are the breeze through the pine trees, cool and damp, and the hoots of owls, and the chirping of crickets and cicadas.

“So guess what,” you say casually as moonbeams float rippling and fractured on the surface of the black-glass lake.

Aemond smiles drowsily, not expecting anything. “What?”

“In approximately eight months, I might be having your baby.”

At first, he doesn’t speak; he only studies the test when you hand it to him, and then looks at you like he’s not convinced you aren’t angry, like he can’t quite bring himself to believe that you’d want this with someone like him. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” you answer honestly. Maybe you should be, but you aren’t. “I’m hopeful. I feel like as soon as I realized it, everything got brighter. And now I’m thinking about the future instead of the past.” They’re not going to grow up like I did. They’re never going to think they aren’t loved. “What should we name it?”

“Not Otter.”

You laugh, trying to muffle it so you don’t wake anyone. Ice lifts her head and stares at you curiously, her shaggy grey ears straight up.

“I don’t know, I’m terrible with names,” Aemond says; and now he’s smiling again, a wide radiant smile, and you know he’s thinking about the future too. “Hope or Peace or something. Something happy. Something about starting over.”

You take his hand. “I can’t wait to start over with you.”

“Just one more day,” Aemond says.

One more day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So what am I going to do in Odessa?” Luke asks as the eight of you—nine, if you count Ice—trek eastbound on Route 140. You are about five miles from Lake of the Woods and halfway to your destination. It’s only 80 degrees and overcast, good walking weather, although there is a looming threat of rain, occasional rogue drops and far-off rumbles of thunder. “Everyone has valuable skills except me. Chips has great aim and can build things, Daeron has his compound bow, Aemond is basically a doctor, Rhaena is learning how to shoot guns and treat injuries…”

“Aegon has skills?” Cregan jokes, casting him a good-natured grin. Aegon acts like he’s going to whack Cregan with his golf club, which he’s spinning around haphazardly. Both his Marlin .22 and acoustic guitar are slung across his back. There aren’t many bullets left, but everyone has a few.

“Aegon can navigate,” Luke says. “And probably impregnate ten women a day. Very useful during a population crisis.”

“We don’t need that in the gene pool,” Rhaena notes.

“You wrote stories in college, right?” you ask Luke.

“Screenplays, yeah,” he says hesitantly. “But I wouldn’t say I was super talented or anything.”

Aegon claps him on the shoulder “Well I’ve got good news for you, kid. A big chunk of the world’s screenwriters are probably dead now. So you’ll look so much better in comparison!”

“Thanks…?” Luke says.

“What I mean is,” you continue. “You could write books for people to read, since there aren’t really libraries or Barnes & Nobles anymore. And you could interview people to get their life stories and then record them so they aren’t lost forever. The next generation should know what the world was like before the zombies.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says as he pets Ice. “Someone has to tell them about blue raspberry Icees, right Blue Raspberry Icee?”

“Maybe,” Luke says thoughtfully, and you notice that he’s smiling a little.

Ice begins whining, and there is a rustling in the woods to the north, low-hanging branches of bigleaf maple and dogwood and Douglas fir trees being forced aside. “Zombie!” Aegon announces, pointing. Immediately, Daeron nocks an arrow and then releases it, and the figure draped in the shifting shadows of foliage drops to the ground.

“Hey Aegon,” Daeron says after a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

“That was actually a zombie, right?”

“Totally,” Aegon replies, but he doesn’t sound certain.

Aemond turns to his older brother accusingly. “How sure are you?”

“Like…50%.”

“Aegon!” Rhaena cries, petrified, and everyone rushes off the road to investigate.

Blessedly, the felled creature is long-dead, a former park ranger whose tan uniform hangs in gore-stained tatters. The nametag reads: Underwood. The arrow pierced its soft rotting skull and remains lodged there until Daeron pulls it out to be used again, giving Aegon an impatient scowl as he does.

“Close call,” Aegon tells him. “Think they would have charged you as an adult?”

“Lord almighty, that gave me a scare,” Cregan says, chuckling. Helaena spies a blackberry bush and begins picking a handful, and Cregan goes over to join her. Rhaena and Luke are telling Aegon that he needs to be more responsible and should have waited for Luke to confirm it was a zombie with his binoculars. You exchange a glance with Aegon: he rolls his eyes, you offer a smirk of commiseration. Ice is already trotting back towards Oregon Route 140.

You haven’t told anyone else that you’re pregnant yet, but eventually they’re going to notice that Aemond won’t leave your side. He sighs and asks you: “Have you had enough of this little field trip?”

“Definitely.” You head for the road. Aemond walks with you, placing you not on his left side but on his right where he can see you. You ask, smiling: “You don’t trust me to watch your blind side anymore, huh?”

“I prefer the view the way it is.”

You are only a few steps from the black artery of pavement that cuts through the Cascade-Siskiyou National Monument, a 114,000-acre preserve of wilderness that somehow—although it is 2,500 miles away—reminds you a bit of eastern Kentucky, endless emerald forests, the omnipotent shadows of mountains. And because you are on Aemond’s right side, he can look down and see something just in front of you on the earth strewn with knobby roots and pine needles and dead leaves.

“Don’t!” he shouts, snatching your forearm and yanking you backwards, and he’s never touched you like this before—so forcefully, so violently—and you stumble and almost fall, and your arm burns and aches where he grabbed you, and people are asking what’s going on, and you peer up at Aemond with confusion, fear, mistrust.

“Why…?”

And then you hear it rustling from the same place where you were standing a moment ago. The others yelp and dash out of the way as the snake escapes into the woods, a drab spotted olive green, a rattling tail, an angular skull like an arrowhead.

“Aemond?” you say, because he hasn’t moved, hasn’t made a sound. He looks down, and your gaze follows his. On his right calf, just a few inches above his ankle, are two small puncture wounds from the snake’s fangs, each dribbling a thin river of blood.

“Northern Pacific rattlesnake,” Helaena says, her voice shaking, tears welling up in her horrified eyes. “Venomous.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond has one arm draped across Cregan’s shoulders, the other over Aegon’s. He’s moving slower, or is that just your imagination? His steps are less steady, his breathing more labored. His leg is swelling, a deep blue phantom of a bruise spreading beneath his skin, so tight it looks like it might split open.

“We’re almost there,” you say; you keep saying it, because hopefully that will make it true. “We’re only a few miles from Odessa, and we’ll find people who can help us.”

“Aemond, you’re a doctor,” Luke says.

Aemond’s voice is weak, pained, hazy. “I’m not a doctor.”

“You know what I mean!” Luke yells, frantic. “How do we fix you? What can we do?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says listlessly. “There’s nothing you can do without a hospital. I’ll either get better or I won’t.”

“People in Odessa will know how to help,” you insist. “They’re outside all the time, they hike, they hunt, they fish, they’ve seen snakebites before. They must have. They’ll have treatments.”

“Aemond,” Rhaena breathes, and you turn to see there is blood running from his nostrils. You scream, and Aemond touches his fingers to his face and then watches as they come away bloody.

“Put me down,” he tells Cregan and Aegon.

“No—” you begin, but then his knees buckle and he’s on the pavement anyway, blood pouring from his nose and his lips, blood filling up his right eye. Cregan walks to the shoulder of the highway, his head in his hands. Aegon stays beside Aemond, and you’re kneeling there with him, both of you using anything you have to clean the blood from Aemond’s face: the corners of your shirts, your bare hands.

He’s covered in blood, you think. Just like Jace, Baela, Rio.

“Can’t clot,” Aemond is murmuring. “The venom causes coagulotoxicity. Internal bleeding too. I feel like…like there’s all this pressure inside…”

Rhaena is taking Aemond’s pulse like he taught her to, fingers on the underside of his wrist. “It’s really faint,” she says quietly.

You grab a plastic Gatorade bottle filled with rainwater out of your backpack and tilt it against Aemond’s crimson-stained lips. He manages to swallow some of it. “Aemond, listen to me,” you say as calmly as you can. “You’re so close. We’re almost there. I need you to hang on a little longer.”

He shakes his head, slow dizzy motions. “It doesn’t matter.”

“They might have doctors in Odessa.” This is a fantasy, but you can’t resist it.

“Even if they do, there won’t be any antivenom. And it’s too late anyway.”

“No,” you say savagely, a sob ripping through your throat. “We didn’t cross 3,000 miles so you could die here. I won’t let you. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s not fair.”

“Aegon,” Aemond says, reaching for him, drained and fumbling.

Aegon catches his hand. “I’m here.”

His eye—crystalline blue corrupted with red, blood in clear water—drifts to his brother. “You have to get her to Odessa. You have to help take care of everyone.”

Aegon is weeping. “Man, it’s supposed to be you. How can I still be here if you aren’t?”

“You can do this,” Aemond says.

“I’ll try.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, Aemond,” Aegon says, then crawls away on his hands and knees and collapses on the pavement, gutted, inconsolable, hemorrhaging grief instead of gore.

Everyone is crying and touching Aemond—his face, his hands—saying goodbye, accepting tasks, and they come away stained with red, and rain has begun to fall from a dark sky growling with thunder. Rhaena takes his medical kit. Helaena takes his Glock and stows it away in her messenger mag. Then Aemond looks for you, and now you are alone with him here in the middle of the highway, two golden lines on black asphalt, and with your thumbprint you whisk away the rivulet of blood that is spilling from his eye.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers as his heart fails, as his lungs fill with blood instead of air, as his pores leak rust and ruin. “Odessa will be everything we hoped for. I just won’t be there with you.”

“You can’t leave me,” you’re saying as rain patters against the road. I left my family and now my family is leaving me.

“Love,” he sighs, almost too softly to hear. “I don’t want to.”

You lie down on the pavement with him and rest your head on his chest, feel it rise and fall beneath you as the rain descends in sheets. And then Aemond exhales, deep and rattling, and he never tastes oxygen again, never speaks, never touches you. You don’t move from where you’re lying. You’re there until you’re drenched to the bones with rain and the world is a cold mist of pine trees, of wilderness, and you can never go back to any of the places you’ve been before, you can never get back the people you’ve left there.

Aegon is shaking you. “We have to keep moving,” he chokes out through tears.

You reply without looking at him. “I’m giving up now.”

“No you’re fucking not. We have to walk to Odessa.”

“Everyone’s dead in Odessa. Everyone’s dead everywhere. I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to stay in a world like this.”

On the periphery of your vision, you can see Aegon glancing at the others, standing just off the highway and under the canopy of the pine trees. He seems defeated, he seems lost.

Then suddenly Aegon turns back to you. “Hey!” he screams, so loudly you jolt upright, your palms on wet pavement, rain dripping from your hair. “I’m still alive. You’re still alive. This isn’t over yet. I said I would get you to Odessa, so that’s where we’re going. Stand up. Right now.”

Aegon holds out his hand. Thunder booms, lightning strobes, and then you take it. He pulls you to your feet and hesitates, as if he didn’t think he would get this far. Then he throws his arms around you, a crushing desperate embrace, a wordless devotion, a silent vow, sobbing into the curve of your neck, tasting the copper and iron of his brother’s blood on your skin.

“We have to keep moving,” he says again, like an apology, like he understands how impossible it feels. “The storm’s getting worse. It’ll be too dark to see soon.”

“We can’t leave him alone like this.”

“That’s not Aemond anymore,” Aegon pleads. “Aemond’s gone. And he would want us to live.”

Now the others are here on the road too: Daeron, Helaena, Cregan, Rhaena, Luke, Ice whimpering and licking scarlet stains of blood off your hands. You’re all holding each other; you’re all any of you have left. Cregan carries Aemond off the pavement and on a patch of grass alongside Route 140, the seven of you cover his body with branches of pine needles and white petals from dogwood trees. Rhaena is the first person to begin walking again, heading east. One by one you follow her. The downpour is torrential; if you are attacked now, you are nearly blind. Aegon stays beside you no matter how slow your steps are. You think if he disappears, you will too; the strings that tie you to the earth will fray and unweave and your bones will turn to mist, your voice will only be the wind howling down mountainsides. You have no way of knowing how long you’ve been walking or how many miles are left. You wonder what will happen to Aemond’s child if there is nothing for you in Odessa.

The rain is stopping. Now you can hear crows, woodpeckers, formations of geese honking in a foggy sky and squirrels scrabbling up tree trunks. Falcons perch watchfully on dead power lines. Rare aisles of sunlight are breaking through dissipating clouds.

They rise up out of the verdant jungle, a tangle of Pacific ninebark and blue elderberry: four figures in green camouflage, two men and two women, all wearing tactical sunglasses and wielding assault rifles, M16s you’re fairly sure, automatic and with 20-round magazines. Daeron moves to nock an arrow and then stops when he sees you’ve put up your hands. The others follow your lead: palms empty, willingly surrendering.

It’s them, you think dazedly. The people in Odessa. They’re alive, they’re real.

“Please cooperate and hand over all your weapons,” one of the women says, fifties, muscular, alert hawkish eyes.

No one moves. Then you unholster your Beretta M9—received from the U.S. Navy almost exactly five years ago, a different lifetime, a different world—and hold it out to the woman in your open palm. And now everybody else is giving their weapons over too: Aegon and Luke’s .22s, Rhaena’s Ruger, the spare Ruger and Aemond’s Glock hidden in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag, Daeron’s compound bow, Cregan’s axe. Ice peers up at Cregan anxiously, her yellowish eyes wide, but she wags her tail when he runs one of his large, calloused hands over her rain-soaked fur.

Aegon is still clutching his golf club. One of the men stares at him, incredulous. “You can keep that, son,” he says.

The woman nods to the men. “Nick and Glen will escort you five miles up the road, and then return your weapons. We ask that you keep moving and do not turn around. We don’t want trouble, but we can defend ourselves. Don’t think you can double back tomorrow and try to loot us or anything. This is your only warning. Do you understand?”

Aegon nudges your hand with his knuckles, then taps you harder when at first you’re too shellshocked to notice. You have to explain. You have to tell them why you’re here.

“I…I…” You begin, unable to make the words leave your lips, rats from a sinking ship, plummeting bodies from a burning building. Here you stand on a precipice, and with so many other people to save. “I served in the Navy with Bryan Osorio. We left Saratoga Springs together. He told me it would be safe here.”

Now they are interested. Slowly, the woman lowers her M16. “You know the Osorios?”

“I do.” I’ve known them for half a decade.

“Could any of them identify you and verify what you’re saying?”

“His wife, Sophie. She’s blonde, and she likes elephants, and she had a baby recently.”

The woman is scanning the faces behind you. “And where’s Bryan?”

“He’s not here anymore,” you say, and now you’re sobbing again. Aegon is squeezing your shoulder, his head bowed. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help him get home. I was supposed to warn him, I was supposed to stop it from biting him, but I didn’t and now he’s gone—”

“Okay, okay.” The woman motions for you to calm down, but her voice is kind. “Who are these guys? Your colleagues, your friends?”

“They’re my family.”

“You can vouch for them?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll all submit to searches for bitemarks?”

“Yes.”

The woman turns to the men she called Nick and Glen. “Take them inside, will you? Get the ID verified and then we’ll process everyone.”

“Got it,” the older man says. And then, to you and your companions: “Follow me.”

Nick and Glen lead you into the forest, the canopy of pine needles so thick the daylight turns to dusk, and you think of lightning bugs, of firelight, of drinking Guinness on the beach with Rio on Diego Garcia. There are several patrols, groups of four or five, that approach to stop you until they see Nick and Glen and wave you through. Then the trees open into a meadow of buttercups and daisies and pink fawn lilies, and beyond that an immense village, some houses decades old, others currently being constructed with logs from pine trees. There are hundreds of people tending to livestock, hanging up laundry to dry on clotheslines, digging in gardens, making candles and soap and butter. There are children playing without fear, giggling as they chase after scampering dogs, challenging each other to games of kickball and Uno.

In front of one of the houses that predates the apocalypse, brick with a screened-in porch, there is a small blonde woman standing in a garden, smiling and chatting with a middle-aged couple. The baby she carries against her chest in a blue sling has dark curly hair like Rio’s.

Sophie and the baby are here. They’ve been alive the whole time.

You rest a palm on your belly without realizing you’re doing it. “What happens now?” you ask Aegon.

“The rest of our lives.”

It is unimaginable, it is impossible, it is so full of luminous potential you feel like the light will spill out of your pores like blood, it’s an oasis, it’s a second chance, it’s an island in the vast lethal untamed blue of the Indian Ocean.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says softly, taking your hand and leading you across the field of wildflowers, kaleidoscopic blooms in the last days of summer.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

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