#i keep forgetting to draw them on her hands

[libingan]

merry christmas! 🎁🎄

here it is, people… the christmas fic!!!!! sorry if its so fucking corny it was funnier in my head

can someone please draw them wearing ugly sweaters i need it

the holidays were finally here, and you were determined to make this christmas with task force 141 one that none of you would ever forget. while most people spent the season relaxing and enjoying family time, you knew your family was a little different. the bond you shared with the team was unspoken, but it was there, and it had to be celebrated. and what better way to celebrate than with some over-the-top christmas sweaters?

for weeks, you worked tirelessly to create the most garish, ridiculous sweaters you could think of. your needles clicked, glittered buttons and pom-poms strewn across your workspace, and christmas music blared in the background as you tried your best to make something that was both fun and festive. but in all honesty? the result was so catastrophically ugly that it could only be described as an art form.

soap’s sweater was a brilliant lime green, decorated with a mismatched, wonky santa face, complete with googly eyes that jiggled and wobbled as he moved. ghost’s sweater was black, of course, in keeping with his usual aesthetic, but it was covered in neon-red snowflakes and the words “silent night, deadly night” in garish gold lettering. price’s sweater was navy blue, with a slightly crooked reindeer stitched onto the front, its antlers weighted down by jingly plastic bells that rang with every move he made. gaz’s was a bright red abomination, with a patchwork christmas tree that looked like it had been made by a blindfolded toddler. the tree was adorned with buttons, glitter, and tiny battery-powered fairy lights that blinked in a chaotic, seizure-inducing pattern. and yours? well, yours was a glittery train wreck—candy-cane stripes, mismatched pom-poms, and snowflakes that you’d glued on so haphazardly that some were already starting to peel off.

you waited anxiously, a grin spread wide across your face, as you handed the sweaters out to the team. soap was the first to laugh, an obnoxious, joyful sound that filled the room. “bloody brilliant!” he declared, already slipping it over his head. gaz eagerly followed, adjusting the blinking lights on his sweater with a wide grin. “it’s ugly as hell, but it’s festive!” he cheered, playfully tugging on his sleeves.

but when price looked at the sweater you handed him, his brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered. ghost was even more nonchalant, barely even looking at his sweater. “i’m not wearing that,” he stated simply, his mask hiding any trace of emotion.

you felt your heart sink at their disapproval. you had spent so much time making these sweaters, and now it seemed like your grand idea was going to fall flat. you tried to hide your disappointment, but it was impossible to mask the way your shoulders slumped and the way the grin on your face faded into a frown.

soap, ever the optimist, was quick to notice. “c’mon, lads,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “it’s christmas. don’t leave her hanging like that.” gaz nodded along, nudging ghost’s side. “yeah, don’t be such buzzkills. we’re doing this for fun.”

price sighed, rubbing his temple. “fine,” he said, clearly resigned to the idea, though you could see he wasn’t thrilled about it. ghost, after a long moment of silent contemplation, muttered a low curse and finally relented. “fine,” he growled, pulling the sweater over his head with a scowl. “but don’t expect me to smile for any damn photos.”

you couldn’t help but beam as the team finally agreed. “thank you,” you whispered, relieved and a little giddy. the fact that they were willing to humor you meant more than you could put into words.

-

the photo shoot began with a sense of awkwardness, but it quickly turned into something far more ridiculous than anyone had imagined. you set up a makeshift photo booth in the corner of the common area. christmas lights twinkled in every direction, and a small, crooked tree stood beside you, barely hanging onto its plastic glory. soap insisted on decorating it with tinsel and a few odd-looking ornaments he’d found lying around the base, including a couple of empty bullet casings.

the first shot was a classic group pose. soap threw an arm around your shoulder, his face lit up with a grin that could rival the sun. gaz stood beside you, striking a finger-gun pose with a cocky smirk, his sweater lights flashing erratically. price and ghost stood behind you, stiff and reluctant, but still part of the scene. price gave a half-smile that was more out of politeness than enjoyment, while ghost’s body language screamed discomfort, but he didn’t look entirely miserable.

the second shot was even more chaotic. soap, in a moment of pure genius, turned his sweater around so santa’s googly eyes stared blankly at the camera. ghost, ever the minimalist, crossed his arms, giving a deadpan expression as he tilted his head, pretending to be menacing. gaz tangled himself in his sweater lights as if they were trying to strangle him, and you knelt in front of him, holding a candy cane like it was an ancient weapon.

for the third photo, you decided to switch it up. this time, you all got creative with silly props you’d found around the base. soap grabbed a small santa hat and dramatically placed it on your head, pulling you into a ridiculous pose where he pretended to be your personal bodyguard. gaz stood beside you, holding an oversized candy cane like it was a weapon, while you struck a playful pose, holding up a mug filled with what was definitely not eggnog but still looked festive. ghost and price, unable to resist the chaos any longer, found themselves joining in as well. ghost raised a plastic cup as if toasting to the absurdity of it all, and price, ever the soldier, saluted with his mug.

and then came the final shot, the crowning glory of the evening. soap and gaz carefully lifted your legs while price took the middle, and ghost reluctantly held your shoulders. you struck a triumphant pose, arms thrown in the air like you’d just conquered the world. soap joked, “light as a feather, lass. guess we’ve been lifting too much.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. this was the moment you had dreamed of—a memory you would cherish forever.

-

the photo session finally came to a close, but you weren’t quite done yet. you stepped forward, cupping each of their faces gently as you planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. soap, never one to shy away from affection, let out a loud laugh and gave you a playful wink. gaz blushed, his smile turning sheepish as he muttered a quiet thank you. price gave you a resigned but soft look, and ghost—stoic as ever—simply leaned into the kiss, his body language telling you more than his words ever could.

“merry christmas,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with warmth.

“merry christmas,” soap said, grinning widely. gaz and price both offered quiet chuckles, and even ghost nodded slightly, his mask hiding the faintest hint of a smile.

it wasn’t a picture-perfect holiday—far from it—but in that moment, surrounded by your favorite people in the ugliest sweaters ever created, it was exactly what christmas should be: fun, silly, and filled with love.

after the photos were taken, you couldn’t bear for them to be tucked away somewhere forgotten. instead, you had one framed—the last photo, the one where they were all carrying you in their arms like a queen. you decided it would be perfect to hang it somewhere everyone could see, so you found a spot in the mess hall. it wasn’t glamorous, but it was home, and it was filled with laughter and memories. and now, every time the team passed by that spot, they’d see the ridiculous photo—and remember the holiday you all shared.

[pttwice]

forever (3)

|| littleautistic!dahyun, cg!satzu ||

tw: mentions of abuse, abandonment, and violence

Sana feels like the most successful person in the world as the first week of taking care of Dahyun comes to an end. Other than a few scares in the department store when Sana had to go Christmas shopping, Dahyun did well. She was quiet, but she spoke a little bit more, always holding onto Sana’s hand.

“This?” Dahyun asks as she tugs on Sana’s sleeve. She points to the coloring page she’s been working on for a few minutes.

Sana turns, briefly moving her attention for the gift she’s wrapping for Tzuyu to the picture of a polar bear with a Santa hat. “That’s a polar bear,” Sana says, voice soft and sweet. She pulls up a picture on her phone and shows it to the little girl. “They live where it’s super cold.”

Dahyun nods, taking her time to soak up the information. She looks at the orange crayon in her hand and shakes her head, picking out a white one instead. “Polar bear.”

“That’s right, Hyun. You’re so smart.”

Sana’s not sure where the nickname came from, but every time she calls Dahyun ‘Hyun’, she notices that the girl seems happier. She can almost see the warmth spreading through her body at the praise.

Dahyun continues to work on the coloring page, switching between white and red for the polar bear, Santa hat, and presents surrounding it. Tzuyu comes home earlier than Sana expects, forcing her to finish gift wrapping once everyone’s asleep.

“I can’t believe you had to work Christmas Eve,” Sana says with a pout as she gets up to kiss her wife.

Tzuyu chuckles softly and returns the kiss. She wraps her arms around Sana’s waist, hands supporting her lower back. “Well, I volunteered today so I can spend all day with you and the little tofu sitting there.”

This draws a giggle from Dahyun for the first time. She’s never heard someone call her that before and she thinks she likes it. She knows tofu to be soft and white. Is it squishy too? Probably.

Tzuyu lets Sana go and sits down beside Dahyun. She keeps a few inches between them, knowing that she’s warmed up to her wife more than herself. “What’s that, Hyun?”

Dahyun looks up at Tzuyu, slightly unsure about the woman still. But, after a pause, she holds up her coloring page proudly. She points to it and Sana swears she sees her chest puff out with a little pride as she says, “Polar bear.”

“Wow! A polar bear, huh? And you even colored it white. Good job, kiddo.” Tzuyu praises the little girl and feels her heart ache at the beaming smile she’s been given. She moves to stand up so she can put her work bag away, not wanting Dahyun to see any potentially violent files, but she’s stopped before she can even move to her knees.

Dahyun sets her coloring page down and crawls into Tzuyu’s lap. She wiggles a bit to situate herself in the space where Tzuyu’s legs are crossed, then picks up another coloring page and a blue crayon for a fish.

Tzuyu slowly looks back at Sana, mouth open in shock as she points to Dahyun. Sana’s equally as confused, but she stays quiet. Both under the impression that Sana’s the favorite and Tzuyu’s only sometimes safe to be near, they’re not sure what to make of the scene.

Sana stares for a little while longer before she’s able to begin to process what she’s seeing. Once she moves back to the living room floor, she smiles softly and leans back on her hands. “Is Tzuyu comfy, Hyun?”

Without looking up from her coloring page, Dahyun nods. She flaps her left hand around, her right still working on staying in the lines of the picture, and smiles. Dahyun starts to hum as she colors, something Sana’s noticed she only does when she’s feeling safe and comfortable.

“What should I do?” Tzuyu mouths to Sana who just shrugs. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and takes a quick picture, not wanting to forget this moment.

Sana and Tzuyu love kids. As a teacher, Sana is always around children, and even though she doesn’t make a lot of money, she’s rewarded whenever they excel in her class. Tzuyu’s always been a bit hesitant of taking care of children directly, but whenever she’s at work, she’ll stop at nothing to ensure their safety.

Sana drinks in the moment, giggling softly at Tzuyu’s still bewildered look as she awkwardly sits under Dahyun. Although she sitting as stiff as a cardboard box, she knows that inside her wife’s as excited as a kid on Christmas.

//

One thing that Sana’s learned about Dahyun is that she’s very particular about her food. The first night she was with them, they had fried chicken, carrots, and radish for a side dish.

Dahyun was happily eating, quiet as usual, until the edge of a carrot touched a piece of her chicken. Sana watched as the content smile on her face disappeared, quickly replaced by a deep frown. She pushed the carrot back to the others, but Dahyun’s frown stayed. They tried to get her yo eat the rest of her food, but she wouldn’t budge.

Tonight, Sana decided to order tteokbokki. She’s learned since last time and makes sure that Dahyun’s plate has separate places for her food to go. One little walled off part is for the tteokbokki, one is for green beans, and another is for tofu.

Dahyun nearly devours the tofu and tteokbokki, but she pushes the green beans from her own plate to Tzuyu’s.

“You don’t want to try the green beans, Hyun?” Tzuyu stabs one of the green beans with her fork and eats it, smiling as Dahyun sticks her tongue out. The girl raises her hand to pull at the hair above her ear, but Sana gently redirects her hand to her lap.

“It’s okay, Hyun. You don’t have to eat them. We just wanted to make sure you had the chance.”

Sana’s gentle. Dahyun likes that she’s gentle and she likes that she’s not forced to eat food she thinks is yucky. It’s a foggy memory, but she can see a group of men forcing her to eat a yucky food that she’s never liked. Maybe it was green beans.

“Uhm…” Dahyun starts, looking down at her plate as she tries to find her words.

Sana and Tzuyu are patient. They learned after a few hours that Dahyun barely speaks and when she does it’s only a few words at a time. Sana’s fairly certain now that Dahyun has autism, but she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She knows that drawing attention to it now, especially when things are so hectic in Dahyun's little brain, will only make things harder for her.

"Uhm... what- what-" Dahyun huffs, frustrated with herself. Sana's seen this a hundred times in the week that they've had her and it breaks her heart. Dahyun starts to speak, has an idea of what she wants to ask about or talk about, but her words struggle to come out together.

"It's okay, Hyun. There's no rush." Usually, Sana says something like this. She noticed the first time she said it to the little girl, she'd never heard anything like that before. Sana hates thinking the worst, but she feels like Dahyun's never had someone be patient with her.

"Wh-what next?" Dahyun visibly relaxes once she asks what she wants. She pushes her plate away from her, signaling that she doesn't want to eat anymore.

"Well, since it's Christmas Eve, I was thinking that we can watch a movie." Sana smiles as she watches Dahyun's eyebrows raise a little. A small smile slowly makes its way to her lips. "We'll sit on the couch and get you cuddled up with Kaya and Butter. How does that sound?"

Dahyun takes her time to think about Sana's offer. She loves the doggies and they've become her favorites. They sleep with her and protect her from scary dreams before Sana comes in to sing her to sleep. She wishes they could talk, but she knows that doggies can't talk.

"Watch a movie," Dahyun repeats. She slides out of her seat and walks into the living room. Not noticing that Sana and Tzuyu are still eating their dinner, she patiently waits and pets Kaya and Butter. She likes that they sit so close to her. Sometimes Kaya will even sit on her lap.

Tzuyu and Sana finish their food, putting their plates in the dish washer before they join Dahyun on the couch. Sana opts to sit next to Tzuyu a few cushions away, knowing that the little girl usually likes to sit in between Kaya and Butter.

"Okay, Hyun. I'm going to look through the movies and you point when you see one that you like."

Dahyun nods, her eyes focused on the TV. Her hand continues to thread through Kaya's fur, Butter curled up into her side. All of the movies look so colorful and happy. They make Dahyun's brain feel better just looking at all the little characters on the posters. Eventually though, one catches her eye. She points excitedly at the screen, her little arm stretched out as far as she can.

"Frosty the Snowman it is." Sana sets the remote down after she presses play. Getting up, she grabs the blankets off the couch. She lays one over Tzuyu's lap then takes a few steps to drape Dahyun's over her and the dogs. As she lowers the blanket, she catches Dahyun's eyes. They're still full of confusion and sadness, but there's something soft that Sana hadn't seen the first time they met.

Before Sana can turn to sit back beside Tzuyu, Dahyun grabs onto her fingers. She looks up at Sana with big, brown eyes and gently tugs on her. "Me," Dahyun says quietly. She pats the space to her right that isn't being taken up by Butter and tugs on Sana again.

"A-are you sure?" Sana's breathing is a little unsteady as Dahyun's eyes stay locked with her own. It's taken days to get this little girl to open up even the tiniest bit and the last thing she wants to do is break the small amount of trust she has with her.

Dahyun nods and tugs on Sana again. After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Sana lowers into the cushion on Dahyun's right. She keeps her hands in her lap and slowly relaxes into her spot.

The movie is old and nostalgic for Sana and Tzuyu, and it seems like it's just enough for Dahyun. They've found that she likes old movies because there's less going on. She doesn't get as confused by the plots and the colors are less intense.

//

The movie's almost over and Sana's getting ready to remind Dahyun of their bedtime routine they created. Sana looks down and her breath catches in her throat as Dahyun's little head slowly falls into her lap. Her eyes wide, she glances over at Tzuyu who looks equally as shocked. The day was already unbelievable when Dahyun crawled into Tzuyu's lap.

Sana's as still as can be, now understanding why Tzuyu was stiff when Dahyun was on her lap. She looks back down at Dahyun, her breathing evened out. Her little hand is still resting on Kaya's lower back, Butter still snoozing away on her left.

The movie ends and Sana really wants to get Dahyun to sleep so she can fishing wrapping presents and get them under the tree, but she hasn't seen the girl this peaceful since she found her.

"I think I can pick her up," Tzuyu whispers as she slowly pushes herself off the couch.

Sana shakes her head and shifts a bit, squeezing her eyes shut when Dahyun lets out a small sigh. She cracks one eye open, thankful that she isn't actually waking up. "She's going to wake up if you move her."

Tzuyu kneels beside the couch, her hands carefully wrapping around Dahyun's tiny waist. She's afraid that the sound of her heart beating out of her chest is going to wake the poor girl up. Thankfully, Dahyun's breathing is still even as Tzuyu cradles her in her arms. She stands up on shaky legs, not being used to carrying anyone heavier than Kaya or Butter (and sometimes Sana).

Sana watches the two and holds her breath as Tzuyu slowly makes her way down the hall and into the guest room that's slowly turned into Dahyun's room. Once the door shuts behind Tzuyu, Sana can finally breathe.

"Did you see that?" Sana asks, still in slight disbelief of the past ten minutes. "She fell asleep on me."

Tzuyu chuckles and nods as she sits down beside her wife. She pulls Butter into her lap and pets Kaya. "I know. I thought she was going to wake up and panic."

//

Sana stayed up way later than she meant to, so when she's met with a tiny face about an inch away from her own as she opens her eyes, she nearly flies off the bed.

"Hey, Hyun," Sana says, trying to steady her voice and act like her heart isn't about to jump out of her chest. "What are you doing up?"

Dahyun's quiet, hand clutching the little stuffed dog that Tzuyu got her as an apology for scaring her earlier in the week. She points the Sana's alarm clock and shuffles impossibly close to her and Tzuyu's bed.

Sana rubs her eyes before she sits up and looks at the clock. "Oh, shoot," she mumbles as she reads '10:00am'. "I'm sorry, Hyun. I didn't mean to sleep in so late. Where's Tzu?" Sana slowly swings her legs over the edge of the bed as she stands up.

A small shock runs through Sana when Dahyun grabs onto her fingers, but she quickly lets it go as the little girl leads her into the living room. She hides behind Sana's legs, pointing to the presents under the tree.

"Would you look at that," Sana says with a soft smile. She bends down to Dahyun's level and points to Tzuyu who's sitting by the tree and presents. "It looks like Santa came and it looks like there's some presents for you."

Dahyun doesn't really know what a present is, but she does like the colorful paper on them. She's a little worried that they're bad because the last time she was surprised with something, it really hurt.

"It's okay, Hyun. Presents are super fun. They have all kinds of toys in them." Sana's voice is gentle. It causes a warmth to rise in Dahyun's chest and gives her a little courage to sit a little closer to the tree. She reaches out and gently pokes one of the presents. When it doesn't jump out at her, she pokes it again, deeming it safe.

Sana hands Dahyun a present, peeling a part of the wrapping paper to show her how to open it. They watch as Dahyun slowly peels back more of the wrapping paper, relaxing a little when the sound doesn't scare her.

"Doggy," Dahyun says as she holds a toy dog in her hand. It looks familiar. She thinks it's the kind of dog she met when she was younger. As she holds it, turning it around in her tiny hands, she smiles and pulls it into her chest.

Other than a few presents for the dogs and two presents each that Tzuyu and Sana got each other, the rest are for Dahyun. Coloring books, toys, and stuffed animals are scattered about the living room floor as Tzuyu picks up the shredded wrapping paper. Dahyun's busy excitedly flipping through a number coloring book while Sana takes pictures of the scene.

"Do you think she's ever had a Christmas?" Sana whispers to Tzuyu. Her wife shakes her head and it takes everything in Sana to hold back her tears. Knowing there's a possibility that they're giving the girl her first Christmas tears Sana up inside and warms her at the same time.

The rest of the day is spent playing with Dahyun's new toys. She's slowly coming out of her shell and warming up to her new caregivers. She knows that something like this won't last and it never does, but for now, she's happy to be in a warm house. And she really does like the doggies.

[meadow-mellow]

me, getting notifs on twitter: *baby's first time being harassed by unhinged Romys <3* Sure, go off, lol. *proceeds to draw Magneto eating Rogue out*

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Rolling around on the floor about LimDan again don’t mind me

[cuteniaarts]

Okay google play Dead Mom from Beetlejuice the musical

[joelscurls]

best kept secret

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 6.7k

summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3

Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.

It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it,  never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.

You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.

He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.

“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”

They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core. 

Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can. 

Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.

Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.

But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.

Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.

“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.

With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.  

He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.

You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.

Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel. 

For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more. 

It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has. 

That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.

He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.

But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.

“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine. 

“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.” 

Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.

Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.

“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.

���Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”

He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.

“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.” 

You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.

“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.

“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”

Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do. 

“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it. 

You slink home just as the street lights dim.

The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.

You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.

You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.

The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.

By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you. 

Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.

God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.

“Hey.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.

“Something on your mind?”

Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.

“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”

He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”

It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.

You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.

The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-

-there’s a knock at the door.

Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?

And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.

“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”

You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.

Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.

The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.

He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length. 

No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.

You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay. 

Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.

His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.

“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”

He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?

“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.

“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.” 

His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.

And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket. 

You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.

Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink. 

Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.

Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”

Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale. 

“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers. 

There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week. 

This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.

But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context. 

You shake your head, no. 

“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”

“When I was ten?” you retort. 

“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”

You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.  

“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.

“Well, you gotta get back out there!” 

Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”

You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch. 

I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.

Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.

Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.

“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”

“Will you just give her a chance?”

“Jesus; fine.”

The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.

Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.

He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through. 

“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket. 

“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”

Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He’s actually agreeing to this?

You need to get out of here before you say something rash.

The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder. 

Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.

The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late. 

The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.

It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.

The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.

Maybe he’d be happier with Deb. 

They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street  hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.

Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.

The day passes infuriatingly slow.

The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.

“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.

“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”

“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”

“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.

You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.

He picks up after two rings.

“Darlin’ — are you okay?”

It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.

But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.

“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest. 

“Why didn’t you say no?” 

“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”

He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”

“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don��t-“

You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.

“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”

Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.

It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.

Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor. 

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”

He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.

The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.

You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.

There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.

Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.

He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.

So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.

But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin. 

It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.

On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.

“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”

You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.

“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway. 

“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”

“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.

“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“

“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”

It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.

Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.

Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern. 

Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all. 

Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait. 

You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.

This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.

You jot the address down anyway.

Downtown Austin is buzzing with life. 

Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand. 

At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved. 

That’s not what you’re doing, of course.

No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.

It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up. 

You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?

You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.

From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.

Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.

And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.

Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.

But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb. 

She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.

She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.

You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.

But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers. 

He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday. 

Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer. 

She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.

You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.

And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.

He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.

Fuck.

He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.

With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side. 

He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down. 

The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.

“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.

You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?

When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”

“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”

This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.

“It wasn’t like that,” he grits

“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”

There’s a beat. Joel sighs. 

“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”

His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you admit.

He nods. Another beat.

“Did you kiss her?” you ask.

“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now. 

Your mouth goes dry.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t want her?” 

“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.” 

“Why not?” 

He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.

“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?” 

The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.

“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.

It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.

Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat. 

And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw. 

Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.

“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep. 

He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths. 

“Need you — please.”

He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs. 

Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.

“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.

Your breath catches. 

You know what he’s really asking: are you going to  let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?

But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.

You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”

Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.

“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.” 

He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.

He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.

You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”

His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist. 

You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.

“Gotta move baby — please move.”

He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.

Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.

Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life. 

It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.

One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop. 

Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.

“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“

“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”

His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.

His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.

“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”

He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.

You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.

You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.

Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.

“Joel,” you say.

He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.

“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.

“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”

And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”

“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”

You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.

You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.

Still, you’ll have to hide �� won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel. 

You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.

“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”

He looks at you like you have two heads.

He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.

Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.

“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”

Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.

“I’m yours?”

He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning. 

It all feels somehow sweeter, now.

“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”

end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.

Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)

tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

The great thing about having an awful memory is that you get along really well with people with Alzheimers. "Grandma kept forgetting your name I'm so sorry about that" I forgot her name in that conversation three times also. It's not a personal slight. "Grandpa keeps thinking he's still working on the farm they sold twenty years ago" yeah he can't remember much and he's extrapolating from older memories and context clues. Like me trying to remember where I know the woman who talked to me for ten minutes in the grocery store from. The last thing he remembers is being a farmer and he's holding a pitchfork in the garden, of course he's going to farm shit. If I can't remember why I came into the kitchen but there's a teabag in one hand and a mug in the other, I draw the obvious conclusion and make a cup of fucking tea. "Auntie May mustn't have long for this world, she keeps forgetting her parents died years ago" bitch I get a sudden burst of serotonin AT LEAST once per week when I'm thinking about my stepfather and suddenly remember that he's been dead for five years. Stop riding these old people so hard. Put anything poisonous somewhere they can't get into it and let them live their fucking lives. AND STOP REMINDING AUNTIE MAY THAT HER PARENTS ARE DEAD AND QUIZZING HER ON IF SHE CAN REMEMBER. SHE WONT "GET BETTER". YOU'RE UPSETTING HER FOR NO FUCKING REASON.

[girlrotterr]

⊹ ⠀࣪ She's thinking about me every night, oh! ⠀ ࣪˖

✧ ⁺˳ loser!ellie x stripper!reader headcanons! ֹ　 a/n: first attempt at headcanons!! soo this may be a little jumbled but I absolutely loved making this!!

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who swears it’s the last time she’s coming to see you because she can’t risk embarrassing herself again. But the moment she remembers the rhythm of your body, her mind drifts, and suddenly she’s back at the club, dollar in hand, cheeks warm as she recalls the tiny, breathless “Hello..” she squeaked out the last time. Before she knows it, she’s there again, telling herself it’s just one more time.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s made herself a regular at the club, nervously occupying the same table every night, hoping for just a glimpse of you. But her dorkiness draws attention; other dancers lean over, offering her dances with winks and playful smiles. She goes stiff, almost panicking, stuttering, “Oh, no—I mean, no, thank you,” glancing toward the stage, desperate for you to see that she’s loyal to one person only. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s just one dance.” Too polite to shut them down, she mumbles, “I, um…no, sorry,” rubbing the back of her neck and avoiding eye contact like her life depends on it. “I’m, like… kinda into someone already,” her voice is so quiet that the other dancers smirk, teasing her about her crush. She turns bright red, waving them off, mumbling, “It’s…not like that,” even as her eyes drift to the stage. 

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t help but stare when you’re on stage, entranced by every movement, forgetting herself so completely that she grips the edge of her seat, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. The second you look her way, though, her cheeks flush crimson, and she fumbles over her drink, trying to play it cool, but you see it—the way she’s completely, hopelessly hooked on you.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie  whenever she thinks she’ll act smooth next time, she ends up a flustered mess. Her hand trembles midair as she finally gathers the courage to slip a dollar between your thong; the moment their fingers brush, her eyes go wide, and she swears her heart might actually stop.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to mutter something cool under her breath, like “you’re so sexy,” but it comes out so soft and awkward that you have to lean in to hear her. Your knowing smile makes her cheeks heat up even more. 

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who barely finishes her shift at her part-time job before she’s rushing to her phone, pulling up her bank app to see if her paycheck hit. The second she sees it’s in, she’s already thinking about all the ways she can spend it on you. She might be broke for the next two weeks, but the thought of seeing your face light up is enough to keep her going.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie hyping herself up by imagining what she’ll surprise you with next. The moment her shift’s over, she’s browsing for little things you’d love: those fancy earrings you mentioned once, a necklace she thinks would look perfect on you, or that one bottle of perfume she remembers you ran out of. By the time she’s done, she’s practically holding an empty wallet, but she doesn’t even care.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who shows up at the club with a nervous grin and a freshly wrapped gift just for you, stuffed in a little paper bag she decorated herself to save money. She’s a bit embarrassed handing it to you, mumbling, “It’s nothing fancy,” but her heart’s racing as she watches you unwrap it. Every time you gasp or smile, her face lights up even brighter, totally worth every last cent.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who sits at home counting change, literally living off instant ramen, but with zero regrets because she already spent her last dollars on that pair of heels you were obsessing over. She pictures you wearing them, looking absolutely incredible, and can’t wait for your next dance. Even though she’s practically starving, she figures seeing you in them will more than make up for it.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who can’t even afford the gas to drive herself home but still manages to slip a folded bill to you at the club, the look on her face a mixture of pride and shyness as she mutters, “Just…y’know, for you.” It’s her last dollar, but when you smile and lean in to thank her, she’s practically glowing, whispering to herself that she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who hypes herself up to ask you out after your shift, but when she sees you coming her way, her mind goes blank. “You’re, like… really good at…” she blurts out, regretting it the instant it leaves her lips. Blushing hard, she watches you raise a brow, her heart racing as she shuffles awkwardly on the spot. But when you smile at her, she’s secretly thrilled.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie dresses in a rotation of baggy jeans that hang a little low on her hips, with boxers peeking out and a series of painfully awkward T-shirts proclaiming phrases like “Raw Sex” or “Big Dick Is Back In Town” in bold, obnoxious letters. She strolls in with her half-tucked T-shirt, completely unaware of how ridiculous she looks, thinking they make her seem cool.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who tries to keep her composure as you eye her stupid shirt, but the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. She fumbles, wishing she’d worn anything else, but it’s too late. You lean in, whispering, “Nice shirt,” and Ellie is left a red-faced mess, speechless, trying to figure out if you’re making fun of her or if you actually think it’s… well, nice. “It was laundry day…” She fidgets nervously with the hem of her shirt, tugging it down to cover the waistband of her jeans, as if you won’t notice the bold letters across her chest.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie  who goes completely stiff when you slide onto her lap, her eyes wide as she tries to figure out where to put her hands without losing her mind. Her palms are already clammy, and she stares up at you, clearly overwhelmed, the tips of her fingers hovering, barely daring to graze you. As you lean closer, brushing your chest against her, she bites her lip to keep from making a sound, her breath catching. When you take her hand and guide it to your waist, she’s sure you can feel her fingers trembling, cold against your skin. You whisper something teasing in her ear, and she’s suddenly even more nervous, her pulse racing as she clings to your words.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie who’s a flustered, shaky mess when her fingertips brush the soft skin , cheeks flushed red as she tries to avoid looking too overwhelmed. You can feel her hands flex slightly, as if she’s afraid to grip you too tightly and ruin the moment. Every little movement from you has her body tensing, her fingers trailing tentatively over you, and the way she’s practically holding her breath gives her away. When her fingers graze your ass, she flinches, almost pulling back, but your playful smile makes her stay put.

⋆  ⁺  ∿ Loser!Ellie whose cheeks are flushed, and she can barely make eye contact, her voice a hoarse whisper as she mumbles, “I—I don’t usually… um..” When you rest your hands on her shoulders, guiding her hands more firmly around you, her fingertips sink into your waist, icy and shaky. She tries to lean in like she knows what she’s doing, only for you to kiss her neck, leaving her a quivering mess. She tilts her head back, giving you full access, her breath hitching audibly, and she prays you don’t tease her about it. But you do, whispering against her ear, making her shift in her seat as her face flushes an even deeper shade of pink, almost whining in response.

[hamsternamedmarinette]

Realcat!plagg AU idea except I don't have the energy to draw a comic of it so you have to read a wall of text instead.

There is still magic and there are still kwamis. Kwamis can take a variety of forms. Tikki prefers to stay in the regular little sprite form we're familiar with on the show. Marinette gets her miraculous the same way she does in canon. Nothing on Marinette or Tikki's end deviates from canon, actually.

Adrien, on the other hand, gets his miraculous after a ratchet stray black cat wanders into his room carrying a strange jewelry box. He's mainly concerned with trying to get this cat out of his room without his father noticing, but after a while of trying and failing to capture it, he resigns himself to fiddling with the jewelry box and the ring inside of it. He discovers by accident that it's a magic ring that gives him superpowers. He forgets about the cat in his room (which is no longer in his room but in his ring) and goes off galavanting as a superhero the way he does in canon.

He's smart enough to deduce that the ring and his new fugly little cat are connected (since the ring gives him a black cat persona), but he has no reason not to think that the cat, now named Plagg (after the sound of him throwing up a hairball as per @buggachat 's comic, but also happening to be Plagg's actual real name, which Plagg finds hilarious but is also a little offended by) is anything other than a normal but very shady cat. Yeah, he's somehow connected to this magic ring, but he's just a normal, lazy cat who does normal, destructive cat things and shows no signs of higher intelligence. Adrien's conclusion is that as a counterbalance to becoming a superhero, he also now has to take care of this weird fleabag as a way to keep him humble. But he doesn't mind after a while.

Ladybug and Cat Noir don't talk about their kwamis that much at first. They're still getting the hang of the superhero thing and figuring out what's safe for them to talk about. But slowly they get more comfortable talking about different things, and that's when Cat Noir brings up the origins of their powers.

"So what happened when you got your miraculous? Was it just one ladybug bringing you your earrings, or like a whole swarm?"

"...What? It was my kwami."

"Your what?"

Adrien goes home that night and immediately demands answers from his cat. Plagg gaslights him for a while by remaining a normal, oblivious cat. Adrien eventually falters, thinking he's losing his mind, and ceases throwing accusations at his cat. And it is at this point that Plagg finishes the bit, finally transforms into his canon kwami form, and laughs at Adrien, who is screaming

[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Not Her Man

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Childhood friend!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Feathers fall gracefully slow

Warning: Girlrotting

Word Count: 3193

Part 1 • Part 3

You were always scared to do drugs.  

You saw Rafe at his highs, you were with him, keeping him from doing anything stupid like when he was so sure he could backflip from Tanneyhill’s rooftop and land on the grass perfectly. 

But you also wondered how difficult it was for him to get clean.  To suffer from withdrawals.  And as you lie on your fur carpet, staring at the glimmering crystals of your chandelier, with your closet half emptied and scattered all around your room, along with rolling wine bottles on the polished hardwood floor of your bedroom, you think you might have understood just a little.

Blocking him was the hardest thing you have ever done in your life, especially when it was your routine to giggle over whatever interaction you had through text that day.  The itch to open his account for any update made you want to bind your hands together.

Your parents are out of the country, busy overseeing their business, forgetting to oversee their daughter.  Your maids were there for you, at least they try to be.  They bring you food on schedule, even sliding in a few scoops of ice cream every now and then in your room when your sobs start to echo around the halls.

Rafe tried to contact you multiple times.  First, through your phone, but you blocked him.  Next, he tried to throw pebbles at your window, but your seventy-six year old gardener fired a shotgun at him, thinking that he was a burglar.  Next, he tried a different approach, he was sending you gigantic bouquets of your favorite flowers, making the hallway leading to your room look like a wedding set up, the flowers perfumed the entire house too, drawing a concerning amount of bees.  One epipen to your chef’s thigh later, Rafe stops sending them.

He never really does anything right.  All he does is mess up, create more problems for himself.  You almost wanted to give in, but you remind yourself of the things he said.  Anger and hurt quickly replaces pity.

A familiar chime of your phone had you groaning.  Your friends are probably going to have another attempt of making you step out of your room, like inviting you to have your nails done or shop, just to get your mind off of Rafe.

You just let the ringtone end and you go back to staring at the chandelier, wondering if you’ll be quick enough to get out of the way if it somehow falls.  Before you can plan a strategic roll, your phone rings again.

Blindly reaching underneath the scattered pillows, you finally locate the buzzing device.  You answer without looking at the caller ID. 

“Y/N speaking.”  You mumble lazily.

“Hey, girlie.”  There goes the high-pitched voice of your friend.  “Sooo, the girls and I-hush!”  You hear a bunch of girls giggling behind the line and your brows crease together in annoyance.  “We’re going on a party tonight and we’re thinking that maybe you’d liketocomewithus?”

You play with the lace of your dress, eyes just following the patterns when you hear your name being called again over the phone.

“I’m not in the mood for parties.” 

“You are never in the mood for anything anymore.”  She whines behind the line.  Her tone prompts you to sit up to pick up the stale wine you left out in the open for too long.  Taking a sip and ignoring the thin coat of dust it caught after you ransacked your closet for something that made you look confident, only for you to end up squeezing in the dress that Rafe got you as a present for your 13th birthday.  He didn’t pick it out for you, of course, but it still made you all fizzy and bubbly and excited inside.

You put down the wine to scratch at the waistband that is digging on the skin of your under bust, the fabric being stretched beyond its capacity.

“I know.”  You tried to sound apologetic.  “I just can’t, okay?”

She sighs, making you let out a grateful sigh.  There’s still some ceiling viewing you had to get back to.

“I’m picking you up at seven.”  She speaks with finality and before you can answer, she continues.  “Please don’t let that awful man get the satisfaction of knowing that he has this much effect on you.”  You can hear her begging behind the phone.  She and the other girls are just looking out for you.

With an unwilling heart, you decide to get on your feet, your socked foot nearly slipping the moment it touches the wooden floor.  Cursing, you finally crouch on the piled up clothes you threw earlier. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”  You roll your eyes.  “Dresscode?”

You hear an airy chuckle and you can imagine her pinching your cheeks if you were within her reach.  “Party’s open to all, Kooks or Pogues.  In the community beach house.  You dress however you like.  I’ll match your vibe, if you’d like.”

This makes a smile creep on your lips.  She’s definitely on the top 10 list of the most annoying people you know but you thank God everyday for a friend like her.  “You know I love you, right?”

She snorts before bursting out in a fit of laughter.  “Duh.  I love you too.”

“See you later.”  You grin.  “Tell the girls I’m coming too.”

“Sure, see you!” 

You hang up and get started on searching for the right outfit.  Well, there’s the classic white flowy dresses, but everybody wears them.  You could wear a short and a cute top, show some belly?  Blech, you’re not exactly in one of your maneater moods.  But perhaps if you covered it with that oversized white pinstriped polo, it could work?  Yeah, something casual yet put together.  It’s not like you’re dressing to impress anybody, or somebody in particular, you’d prioritize comfort over fashion tonight.

A knock on your bedroom door pulls you from your thoughts.  With a shrug, you throw your chosen clothes on your bed.

“Coming.”  You call while trudging over to open the door.  There stood your maid, she was looking anxious, wringing her wrinkly hands.  “What is it?”

She glances at your odd choice of clothing before she looks away so as to not make you uncomfortable.  “Well, uhm, Sir Cameron is here again, miss.  He’s waiting for you downstairs, in the drawing room.”

You press your lips in a firm line.  “Tell him I’m not here.”

Your maid smiles apologetically.  “He…he saw you in your bedroom window before he came in, miss.”

Huffing, you tap your feet impatiently.  “Just tell him I’m busy.”

“He said you’ll say that.”  She mutters, amusement in her tone.  “And he asked us to tell you that he can wait.”

You close your eyes to keep them from rolling.  “Whatever, he can stay as long as he likes, but I’m not coming down to meet him.”  You push the door a little wider and your maid’s eyes widen at the state of your room.  “I’m sorry, I know you’re busy but can you help me clean up?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent tidying up your room. 

It was dark out, a couple of minutes past seven when your phone buzzed.  Knowing that it’s your girlfriends, you pick your bag, filled with the usual party necessities and head downstairs.  It’s a habit, assigning yourself as the responsible friend who stays sober to look after the others.

You are slipping in the pearl bracelet your grandmother got for you last Christmas when you hear your name being called and in instinct, you turn around.

“Oh, right.”  You say with a tone that is drier than the Sahara desert.  “You’re here.”

Rafe’s standing just outside your drawing room, his hands falling to his side.

“Yeah.”  He spoke awkwardly, his eyes glancing at your outfit, familiarity crossing them before he looked at your eyes again.  “I was waiting for you.”

You exhale softly and he just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

“I know.”  You say simply.  “Gotta go.”  You start walking again to your door.

“Wait, Y/N.” He easily catches up.  “You’re…you’re coming to the party, right?”  He asks hopefully.

“Yes.”  You respond without looking at him.

Rafe smiles but it quickly dissipates when he sees a different car waiting for you.  “Hold on, I can drive you there.”  He says quickly, his hand gripping yours just to get you to listen to him.  “I can drive you to the party.”  He says in an uncharacteristically sheepish way.

For a second, you look at him, really look at him.  His smile grows wide.  He missed having your eyes on him.  You’re his best friend, and he’s used to doing everything with you by his side.  He also liked how dependent you were on him too, always asking for his approval.  You have a bit of an overbearing attitude but he would be lying if he’ll say that he doesn’t miss you doting on him too.  Perhaps you’re not the only one who’s dependent on this odd friendship you both have.

“No, thank you.”  You say before pulling your hand away with a sharp look thrown his way.  He watches you walk away to greet your friends.  He’s still stuck there, staring, even after the car drives away.

He doesn’t understand it.

You’re the emotional one, why are you doing so well without him?  You never go to parties with other people, it was always him that you stick close to.  Clinging on him, pulling him to the dance floor when he’s about to do a line of coke, or accidentally knocking his cup when he’s had too much drinks.

Running a hand through his face, Rafe decides to hop on his car and follow you to the party.  You’ll be in the same space as him in the next few hours.  He’ll get another chance there.  He’s certain of it.

He didn’t get the chance.

With you by his side all the time, you memorized his set of activities at parties and you evaded him perfectly.  Rafe decided that it was best to stand by the punch table.  You’d get thirsty eventually, and he’ll be there waiting if you do.

On the other side of the house, farthest from Rafe, there you sit by the porch swing, admiring the push and pull of the waves.  The party was at its climax and everybody was cramped inside the house, dancing and drinking, or doing unholy activities.  You don’t know how you managed to slip away from your friends but you’re glad you did.  You needed the fresh air.

You’re just starting to get comfortable when a man stumbles out the door.  You watch him struggle to keep himself up.  He looked lost? Or just flat out drunk.  You watch in amusement as he scratches his blonde head, he must be having a whiplash from all the blinding neon lights inside and suddenly his vision switches to the bright light provided by the LEDs. 

His feet twist and he starts to fall to the side, your head tilting to follow his fall.  You wince when you hear the loud thud of his body hitting the floor, followed by his muffled but loud groaning.

“Motherfu-”  He sits on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him as he shakes his head like a dog.

“You alright, JJ?”  You chuckle.

He whips his head to you, cursing again when his vision spins.  “Y/N?”  He drawls out while rubbing his eyes.  “You saw everything?”

Still laughing, you get up to crouch next to him.  “I did.”  You smile when he groans out again.  “Are you okay?”

He props up a knee and rests an arm there, he looks buzzed, his eyes are heavily lidded as he stares off into the ocean.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  He glances at you.  “Well, this is a strange sight.”

“What is?”  You mumble as you look away from him, deciding to play dumb.

He shrugs animatedly, hands gesturing to you and the entire space of the porch.  “Usually, wherever you are, your boyfriend is not that far behind.”  He points a thumb behind him.  “And if I wasn’t imagining it, I’m pretty sure I just saw him brooding over the drinks.”

You chuckle dryly as you bring your knees to your chest.  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

JJ looks at you with an unimpressed face.  “That’s all you heard.”

Playfully punching his shoulder, you sigh.  “We fought.”

He frowns, back straightening immediately.  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”  It’s kind of sweet how your words seemed to have sobered him really quick.

“No!  No, he didn’t.”  You reply right away.  “Well, at least not physically.”

You watch him grimace.  “Outside physical fights, I have little to no idea how to respond.”

“That’s okay, JJ.  I don’t wanna talk about it, anyway.”

He gives you a boyish grin, as if to reassure you before scratching at his jaw, your eyes mindlessly follow his movements and you see a scratch.

“You’re hurt.”  You tell him, pointing at your own jaw.

“Huh?”  He touches his jaw and winces.  “Ow!  Must’ve scratched myself when I…uhm.”

“When you decided to attack the floor.”  You finish for him and he clears his throat.  “You’ll have to disinfect it.”

“Pfft, it’s fine.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s just a scratch.”

But you are already grabbing your bag by the swing and you return with a small kit.

“I forgot to bring wipes.”  You mumble before crouching down in front of him.  He swallows at your close proximity.  “Come on, JJ.  It’s just antibacterial cream.”

He hesitantly shows you his face and you gently apply the cream, tutting when he dramatically pulls away.

You grab his face and tilt it slightly and JJ squeezes his eyes.

“It fucking stings.”  He nearly whines, making you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a baby!”  You huff and he stays still for a second, allowing you to smear the cream evenly and he rolls away from you as soon as you’re done.

JJ was muttering about God knows what while you’re busy putting your stuff away.  When you sit next to him again, he’s much calmer, a lazy smile back on his face again.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You throw him a playful glare.  “You’re welcome.”

He touches the scratch and you almost tell him off but he quickly pulls his hand away. 

“Why didn’t Cameron make you his girl?”

You blow out a big sigh.  “He doesn’t like me.”

“Bullshit.”  He laughs but he clears his throat when you look at him unamused.  “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  You smile at him genuinely before averting your eyes.  “I wouldn’t blame him.  I mean, you saw how I can be.”  You chuckle this time but there’s no humor on JJ’s face, he’s looking at you rather sadly.  “I care too much and everybody suffocates around me.”

“I don’t.”  He says quickly.  “I was just being dramatic earlier.”  He rubs his nape.  “I’m not used to having people tend to me, I mostly just do it myself.”  He seeks your eyes and you finally look at him. 

You hear a creak behind you but before you can look, JJ cups your face to keep you from breaking your eye contact, making your breath hitch.

“I liked being taken care of like that.”  He whispers and your lips part slightly.

“JJ.”  You say breathlessly and he grins, his face leaning dangerously close to you.  “You’re drunk.”

He gently bites his bottom lip and you have to look away from his blatant flirting.  “I’m sober enough to kiss, I promise.”

This…this isn’t right.  

You gently push him away and his lips immediately form a pout.  “You’re such a kid, JJ.”

He clicks his tongue and angrily stoops as he glares at the ocean.  “You had no idea how long it took me to build the courage to do that.”

“Five minutes?”  You jokingly bump his shoulders, making his act break at the edges, a smile threatening to crack on his lips.  “Seriously, J, I can’t kiss drunk guys.  It’s unethical.”

He mimics you in a childish voice and buries his face on his palms harshly.  He turns to you again, with his hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead and red blotches appearing on some areas of his face.  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am.”  The way he glances at your lips had your throat drying up.  “I really wanted to kiss you.”  Aside from Rafe, you have little to no experience with the male attention and frankly, you don’t know what to do.

You place a hand on his shoulder and stiffly pat it twice.  “You’ll get over it.”

JJ looks at you exasperatedly.  “You’re taking this too lightly, this is my feelings we are talking about.”

You stifle a laughter.  “Oh, so you have feelings for me.”  You raise a brow at him and he nods his head enthusiastically.

“Every guy on this island has a thing for you.”  He says animatedly.  “If it wasn’t for your bodyguard, we would have made our move long ago.”

You are deeply flattered, you can’t resist the girlish smile from tugging on your lips, your cheeks slowly heating up.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

He looks deeply offended and places a hand on his chest.

“You’re the ultimate dream girl, stupid!”  He dodges a punch from you.  “You’re like the total package.  You’re sweet, and smart, you’re also very pretty, you can be funny too when you let loose.”  He wiggles his eyebrows at you and this pulls a laughter from you, a real, genuine laughter that had your shoulders shaking.

“When are you gonna get serious, J?”  Wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, you get up.  “Wait here, I’ll get us a drink.”

He gives you a two finger salute before lying smack down on the floor, with his arms spread out.  You shake your head, chuckling when you open the door.

And your hair stands on end.

There stood the very person you have been avoiding the entire night.

But for once, he isn’t wearing a scowl or a condescending cocky smile.

He was looking at you like a man defeated and broken.

“Rafe.”  You whisper as you reach for him but you stop yourself before your skin can touch.  He looks at your hand and then your eyes.  You don’t know if it’s the trick of light but you could have sworn his eyes are glassy.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?”  JJ calls.

Rafe glances at JJ and then back at you, he nods slowly as he takes a step back.  Your heart aches as you watch him take another step away from you but you will yourself not to follow.  He runs a hand on his mouth and he turns away from you.

You stare at his back as he leaves, torn between choosing your own pride or running after him.  For what seemed like hours, you stood there, frozen.  Still lost in the onslaught of emotions that surged through you.

Not Your Girl • His Girl

[itsswritten]

wings

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, IC (platonic) x reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: 18+, smut, P in V, lots of fluff

Summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

"I distinctly remember," Mor began, her voice filled with excitement, drawing not only your attention from the comforting cocoon of Azriel's arms, but also the rooms. She sat opposite you, a slight mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned forward.

You were all nestled in one of the many living rooms at the House of Wind. 

Under the flickering faelight, you sat beside Azriel– your mate. His large presence ever the comfort, as he enveloped you in his arms. His fingers, tracing intricate patterns through your hair, each touch sending ripples of relaxation through your body. 

If it weren't for the loudness of your friends and family, their remarks not failing to echo through the room, Azriel’s touch alone could have lulled you into a blissful slumber. 

"It was a surprise for sure," Feyre chimed in, a playful smirk dancing across her lips as she glanced over at your slightly confused expression. Sensing your distraction, Azriel reluctantly released his hold on you, joining the conversation with a gentle touch of his hand settling on the small of your back.

"My experience was quite a shock," Cassian added with a grin.

“Mine, I have to say is one I’d like to forget” Rhys grimaced as Feyre gave him an annoyed knowing look.

Amren, rolled her eyes at her family's theatrics. "You all make such a big deal out of everything," she remarked, her tone dry.

Your brows furrowed as you pieced together the fragments of the conversation, realisation dawning as Mor's words began to paint a vivid picture.

The topic of discussion? The first time they laid eyes on your beautiful wings.

 𓇢𓆸

Mor, Feyre and Nesta.

It was one of Feyre’s first nights out since welcoming Nyx into the world; she’d been dying for a night off. Craving the simple joys of the company of her girlfriends. Sensing her desperation for a night to let loose, you, Mor, and Nesta had taken it upon yourselves to orchestrate the perfect girls night out for your High Lady.

The night quickly unfolded into a flurry of laughter and dancing. Drinks were spilled, songs were sung. Rita’s being your chosen sanctuary for the night. You all let yourselves get lost in the music and infectious energy of the bar. Drinks were flowing freely, and the hours quickly slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to rise again that you all quickly realised you needed to get home. You’re not sure how in their drunken states, but Mor and Feyre had successfully managed to winnow you all back to River House, all collapsing in a giggling heap in the foyer.

A fit of laughter overtook the group as you stumbled and pushed, trying to untangle yourselves from one another. You managed to push yourself onto unsteady feet, only to trip over Nesta’s dress and stumble back onto Mor. With your balance faltering, a shimmer of magic danced through the air as your wings burst forth, a kaleidoscope of iridescent pink hues unfurling into the air. Your wings, delicate and light, burst with specs of fairy dust that glowed around you.

The room fell silent, the trio frozen in awe at the sight before them. Then, like a spell breaking, laughter bubbled forth, filling the space with joyous echoes. Mor's eyes sparkled with delight as she pulled you into an embrace, Feyre's lips curled into a grin, and even Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile.

"You sneaky thing," Mor teased, reaching out to brush her fingers against the delicate wings "Keeping such beauty hidden away."

“I bet Azriel loves keeping this side of you to himself,” Nesta purred, her voice laced with mischief as something provocative glinted in her eyes.

You responded with a playful stick-out of your tongue at Nesta, before turning your attention to Mor and Feyre, who were now a pair of mesmerised females, giggling like children as they reached out to touch this new part of their friend they had never seen before.

They had always known you had wings, from the type of fae you were, but you had always kept them hidden and they never dared to ask for you to reveal them.

"Hands off!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of amusement and mock outrage as you swatted and smacked at their approaching fingers, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls.

Of course, they respectfully obeyed your wishes, but there was a warmth that filled their chests as you all stumbled arms wrapped around one another through the house, enjoying a new part of their friend that had been revealed.

 𓇢𓆸

Cassian.

Cassian's mischievous streak knew no bounds, especially when it came to playing pranks on you. He found something undeniably endearing about your reactions, and there was a certain satisfaction when he knew these teasing antics could also annoy Azriel too. 

On this particular day, you were busy in the kitchen, practising a cake recipe that Elain had shared with you. Determined to make the perfect cake for Azriel's upcoming birthday, you meticulously measured ingredients, oblivious to the looming presence of your giant friend.

Cassian's eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw his chance to play. With careful grace, he approached, holding his breath before unleashing his voice.

"BOO!" His voice boomed across the room, his figure looming over you with a triumphant grin.

Startled, you spun around in a flurry of flour, heart racing in your chest at the sudden noise. And then, in a moment of surprise, your magic wavered, and your wings unfurled in a burst of ethereal light.

The room fell silent as Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, laughter fading into awe at the sight before him. "What in the Cauldron," he breathed, barely a whisper, his finger pointing at the delicate appendage. "What are those?"

You fluttered your wings away, annoyance evident in your voice as you retaliated with a playful toss of flour in his direction. "Cassian!" you exclaimed.

"YOU HAVE WINGS!" Cassian's excitement was palpable, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I have wings, I'm a fairy," you retorted, arms outstretched in exasperation.

“AZRIEL…YOUR MATE HAS WINGS” he screamed knowing his vibrating voice would find his brother.

Azriel materialised from the shadows, concern evident in his eyes as he approached, brushing away the flour that had settled on your face. His expression shifted to admiration as he took in the sight of your wings shimmering behind you.

"Stop tormenting my mate, Cass," Azriel scolded gently, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulled you into a soft embrace, his lips pressing to the top of your head.

"She has wings!" Cassian exclaimed once more, disbelief colouring his tone. There was a touch of annoyance, as he realised he may have been the only one to not know this about you.

Cassian, like a moth attracted to a light, reached his giant hand out again wanting to get close to the wings that were so unlike his own.

"No touching" Azriel growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Cassian withdrew his hand, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features as he chewed his lip in an attempt to avoid pouting.

"So does this mean... we can go flying together?" Cassian asked as the revelation came to his mind, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Your brow quirked slightly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. Cassian watched you carefully, anticipation written across his features, while Azriel pulled away knowingly.

You nodded slowly, a challenge evident in your gaze. "I’ll race ya," you declared, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

With that, you pushed past Cassian and darted out of the room, your wings fluttering gracefully as you made your way to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, you leaped off the edge and into the open air, the wind rushing past you as you soared into the night sky.

Cassian was quick to follow, a grin spreading across his face as he embraced the exhilarating freedom of flight. And not far behind him, Azriel joined the fray, his own wings beating with a steady rhythm as he soared through the air.

Together, you three took to the skies, weaving and darting through the night sky.

 𓇢𓆸

Rhys and Nyx.

“And stretch them out…That’s it my boy” Rhys spoke proudly as he watched his son in front of him stretch and extend his wings.

You had found yourself in the company of one of Rhys’ flying lessons, nestled on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, a book in hand as you half-read, half-watched your High Lord teaching his son how to use his wings.

Nyx, though perhaps still a little too young to fly, was eager to learn. So desperate to be like his father and uncles. With Rhys' guidance, he tentatively stretched out his wings, mimicking his father's movements under the watchful gaze of the night sky.

Rhys, a picture of fatherly pride, stood by Nyx's side, his attention unwavering—until a sudden commotion from inside drew his focus for just a fleeting moment. In that brief lapse of attention, the sudden gust of wind caught Nyx and his perfectly poised wings off guard, sending him teetering towards the edge, a gasp escaping his lips.

Instinct surged through you like a bolt of lightning as your wings burst forth in a flurry of motion, carrying you across the expanse with a grace honed over centuries. With swift precision, you swooped in, catching Nyx in your embrace just as he hovered on the brink of danger.

Wide-eyed and breathless, Nyx looked up at you in awe, his innocent admiration pulling at the strings of your heart. "Pwetty," he murmured, his wonder mirrored in the glow of your own wings, illuminated by the moonlight.

You wasted no time in safely landing back onto the balcony, Rhys rushing to your side with bewilderment and shock etched on his features as a torrent of thank-yous spilled from his lips.

As Nyx pawed at your wings, you carefully fluttered them away from his reach, mindful of their delicate nature. Rhys, after the scare of what had just happened, or almost happened. Took a moment to truly appreciate the sight of your wings— beautiful and light, shimmering a pink glow that was a stark contrast to his own.

His relief was short-lived, however, as it became apparent that Feyre had witnessed the entire ordeal. With a swift scolding, she whisked Nyx from your arms, sending you a silent 'thank you' before retreating inside, cradling her son protectively.

"No flying lessons with Daddy from now on," Feyre scolded directly at her mate before she cooed at her son again. "What would we have done if Auntie Y/N hadn't been here?" she mused aloud, her words lingering in the night air.

Rhys glanced over at you, questions swirling in his head at how you had so quickly been there to rescue their son from danger. 

"They may be more delicate than your wings, but I am quicker, swifter, and more agile than you big Illyrian babies will ever be," you teased lightly, your words carrying a hint of playfulness.

"Thank the Cauldron you are," Rhys breathed with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the depths of his gratitude. You gently patted his shoulder before ushering him inside.

 𓇢𓆸

Azriel.

“Gods you are beautiful” Azriel groaned, sweat beading down his temple as he looked at you. Your own eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you continued to ride your mate.

You had both finally and officially accepted the mating bond, preparing Azriel’s favourite meal as a gesture of your acceptance. He had eagerly devoured the food, the golden thread connecting you both deeper and stronger than you ever thought possible.

You had felt his emotion rippling towards you that night. There was a sense of overwhelming gratitude, a deep-seated appreciation for finally having someone who understood him in ways no one else ever could. There was a feeling of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he had found someone who truly accepted him for who he was.

But above all, there was a profound sense of belonging—a feeling of being chosen, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a confidant, a soulmate.

As the night progressed, things escalated quickly. Your bodies entwined in a passionate frenzy. Finally, after months of yearning and longing, you found yourselves in each other's arms.

You straddled him, your breasts flushed against his hard chest, in an unbreakable embrace as his hands tightly gripped your lower back, moving with you as you rode out a dance of pleasure. His large wings stretched behind him, twitching slightly as a sign of his impending release.

"You feel so perfect, angel," he purred against your neck, peppering it with soft kisses before pulling away to watch your face.

Your features were contorted in a mix of pleasure and desire, moans escaping from your lips as you steadily climbed towards climax. His rhythm became deeper and more intense, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Azriel..." you moaned out his name, throwing your head back and arching your body as ecstasy coursed through you. 

“That’s it my love, that’s it…”

Azriel’s words got stuck in this throat as he watched you reach the peak of bliss, the air around you suddenly seemed to shimmer and a soft ethereal light enveloped your beings. Azriel's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. Glowing iridescent wings sprouted from your back, their delicate pink hues dancing in the dim light of your chamber. They fluttered gently, casting a mesmerising glow that bathed both of you in a radiant aura of magic.

Filled with wonder and awe, he was sent over the edge, his own release filling you as he held the most ethereal being in his arms. 

"So beautiful..." Azriel breathed out, almost in disbelief as he couldn't fathom how you could be any more breathtaking than you already were. 

Your wings twitched and fluttered as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the moment slowly subsiding as you rested your forehead against Azriel's, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realised what you had just revealed to him in your most vulnerable and intimate moment. The soft glow of your wings gradually settled, the dust they had created floating gently around the room like stardust.

"Azriel... I..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

But before you could find the words to express the depth of your feelings, Azriel's firm yet gentle voice cut through the air, his eyes flickering with warmth and adoration as he spoke.

"Let me say it first," he insisted, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "You are my guiding light in the darkness, my entire soul's devotion...I..- I love you."

Your wings, now settled and slightly slumped with the weight of the moment, trembled at his words, the warmth in your chest swelling with each syllable he uttered. Tears welled in your eyes, reflecting the tear that had already spilled from Azriel's.

"I love you, Azriel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I am yours forever, in this life and the next."

Your lips found one another again, bodies and souls intertwining under the soft glow of your wings.

 𓇢𓆸

As your friends reminisced about the first time they saw your wings, Azriel, ever the gentleman, only vaguely danced around his recollection. He shared that it had been when you accepted the mating bond for him. The vague blush that covered your cheeks was enough to dissuade further inquiry from your friends.

"Am I the only one who didn't realise you had wings?" Cassian asked incredulously, only to be met with a pillow thrown by Mor.

"You really need to brush up on your Fae race history and anatomy if you didn’t know she had wings" she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I can’t believe it all had to be so dramatic though," Amren remarked. "I simply asked her to show me the first week we met, and she obliged."

You smiled nervously at Amren's confession, feeling the weight of your friends' stares.

"So you're saying we could have just asked all this time?" Feyre exclaimed.

You chuckled sheepishly. "I only hide them because they’re delicate... and you guys can be, well…"

"We can be what?" Mor's gaze teased as she leaned in closer.

Instinctively, you moved closer to Azriel for protection, but he seemed to find humour in the situation.

"Clumsy... not always spatially aware," you admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" Cassian drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Mor.

"Show us your wings then," Nesta declared bluntly, slightly frustrated that Amren had gotten one up on her by simply asking you.

"No," you replied firmly, not wanting to suddenly bend to their will.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a knowing look, a mischievous plan forming between them. Without warning, they both lunged at you, their playful attack catching you off guard.

You cried out for Azriel's help, but to your dismay, he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Cassian's firm grip on your wrists pulled you closer to him, while Mor's embrace from behind left you feeling both trapped and ticklish.

"Not spatially aware, huh?" Mor teased, her fingers jabbing playfully at your waist, eliciting a cascade of laughter from you.

Your please for assistance only seemed to amuse Azriel further, his smirk betraying the mischief dancing in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” he chuckled, his voice laced with mirth. “But the outcome of this is one you know I love seeing.”

Your friends playful assault only continued, your giggles filling the room. And in the midst of it all, your wings unfurled, revealing the delicate, pink membranes that had been the topic of conversation for the past hour.

They fluttered from your back, casting a glowing aura across the room and around you. They resembled delicate petals kissed by the soft hues of dawn, shimmering an iridescent pink that mesmerised anyone who laid eyes on them. 

“There she is…” Azriel murmered under his breath. A fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could feel the pride filling his chest as he watched you, gazing at your beautiful wings in all their ethereal glory.

But it wasn’t just your mate gazing at your with love.

No, your family found themselves grinning ear to ear, looking at you with admiration as they watched you glow.

A glow they were forever grateful for.

a/n: not really my best work, but just some loveliness for you all to read! It was an idea I came up with that I instantly dumped on @illyrianbitch (as I always do) and she thought it was a sweet enough idea to write, so here it isssss!! Enjoy my loves <3

Hopefully will resume series writing soon - Lottie x

[soulwrencher]

minors and men dni!

ೃ⁀➷ellie and you go costume shopping for halloween, but you take a detour to the changing room, i guess ellie's costume is wearing you on her fingers... (getting fingered in a changing room? hell yeahhhh).ೃ࿐

"costume shopping is silly?" ellie whispers into your neck, hot air tickling your skin as she scoffs at the sight of you. you are pushed into the corner of the changing room, one hand pressed against the mirror smudging it and the other digging into her back, you just got a new set of stiletto nails ellie has been begging you to get and try them out on her. however, this was not how you have been imagining to leave scratch marks on her back, it was more of a 'you and her in bed', horizontally, or you on her lap. but it doesn't matter, your mind is occupied with figuring out how many fingers are inside of you and remembering the question ellie just asked you all while trying to keep quiet. and in result of that, only a mindless 'hmm?' escapes your mouth—if the auburn-haired woman wasn't asking you a question, then it was a moan for sure.

but it only makes ellie more cocky, you know by the way she curls her fingers inside of you, the way her grip around your waist tightens, like you're her possession. her face draws closer to your neck again, repeating her question, dragging word for word over your sensitive skin, you jolt back, eyes widening in surprise as your ass bangs against the wooden wall of the changing room.

"fuck," you mutter, but ellie slowing down her thrusts and whispering an 'it's okay' before kissing you softly makes you forget about possibly everyone hearing the two of you fucking. her fingers are still deep inside of you and she has no plans of getting them out of you anytime soon and while you don't like to show it, you don't want her to stop either. in fact you are so wet, you wish you could simply absorb her, you want more, you need more. so you pull away from ellie's soft kisses and slowly start thrusting your hips towards her, desperation overcomes you and you suddenly pick up the speed, making ellie lose her balance.

you watch her cheeks turn red and ellie looks so cute all flustered, but you are too horny to keep on waiting to cum.

"keep up," you whisper, eyes rolling back as your hips rock back and forth, fuck does she feel good. she blushes a little harder at your words, there's nothing else on this world she'd rather do than make what's hers feel good, hit that sweet spot of yours and watch you fall apart at her touch. your pussy clenches around her fingers, your teeth dragging at her lips as she glides her free hand over your body to squeeze your tits.

little moans escape from you, but you aren't the only one huffing and puffing, ellie's breath stagnates with every kiss she drags from your lips to your collarbones. it just makes you want to release, all the sloppy wet kisses and her fingers pushing inside you, filling you up. ellie could swear that you were dripping down her forearm, most likely leaving stains on her sleeves she forgot to cuff. but she doesn't care, all she cares about is making you cum.

"is three okay?" she asks, you nod hastily.

ellie is watching you, holding eye contact while she inserts another finger, your mind is far too gone to hold up eye contact, your eyes roll into the back of your mind.

so she leans in, her breath is steadier than yours, lips devouring you. ellie's fingers start out curling slowly and you push your pelvic harder into her hand.

you can't help it, your body just reacts to her and you are desperate, in a way ellie rarely gets to see. and it is exactly what keeps her going, your desperation for her, the way your body moves against hers, the taste of your lips and the sound of your breath. you are perfect and watching you struggle with every thrust satisfies her immense hunger. you feel so full but so weak, you can't keep up rocking your hips against her any longer, your legs begin to shake, nails digging into her arms to keep yourself from sinking. but you start clenching around her fingers harder and faster while it's getting more difficult to stay quiet being so breathless. you nuzzle your face into her neck in attempt to muffle your moans but she is fingering you so good, how could you not gasp for air? your movements become wilder, almost there, you think to yourself as

you try to ride her fingers, but ellie won't let you have it your way. you glance at her for once, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead, rosy cheeks and sweat pearls rolling down her neck, she looks so pretty like this. she's been putting a lot of work into you so instinctively you want to reach for her face and stroke her cheekbone, however your hand makes a full stop at her nape and your expression clarifies at the realization that you're about to cum. you're out of your mind, ellie pushes her fingers in diligently, the way you clench around her fingers makes her go insane. she nibbles on your ear, "you're doing well," she says.

you roll your eyes and before you're able to leave a snarky comment, your breaths become shorter, deeper, you drag out your exhales—you're just a hot mess of needy hums. all tensed up, your back is arched, you're sweaty and breathless.

and it doesn't take ellie long to figure out how to release all of that tension, just one look at you and she knows how to curl her fingers, how to fuck you. and she takes pride in that, it takes just one right angle for you to momentarily hold your breath, look into her green eyes, "go ahead," she whispers. and you do, your eyes roll back as you exhale shakily, unclench around her fingers and your legs completely lose its strength, she makes you cum just like that.

your body is twitching, her fingers are still inside of you and she stays inside for a second before taking them out to show you how wet you are. ellie pulls you closer and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you watch before she leans in for a kiss, slipping in her tongue for you to taste yourself. you pull away, "you're getting good at this," you whisper, her eyes light up before overconfidence plasters over her whole face.

"i've been telling you," she says, but asks in the same breath if you really thought so, she's adorable.

and then she helps you pull your pants back up, you adjust your hair and pull on your clothes to make sure you look less like you just got fucked well. the two of you leave, power walking out of the store avoiding eye contact from anyone, costumes long forgotten in the changing room.

"just wait until we get home," you say, not giving anything away. you just can't let ellie get away with the games she likes to play with you but luckily, the wand and the rabbit you charged this morning were awaiting the auburn-haired woman for a long and steamy night.

[wileys-russo]

forget me not II l.williamson x reader

forget me not II l.williamson x reader

"only me lee!" you called out, slipping out of your coat and hanging it by the door, tugging your beanie off and running a hand through your hair. you sighed happily at the much warmer temperature in the house compared to the brutal winter wind bellowing outside.

but there was nothing that could wipe the grin off of your face, having just wrapped up your final day of your degree and handing in your final thesis, you were on top of the world.

and at that moment, leah had been determined to keep you there.

"leah?" you called out for your girlfriend, eyebrows furrowing in concern when there was nothing in return, though you could smell the orange blossom throughout the house where she'd had the diffuser on, and her car had been parked right next to yours when you pulled in.

"babe?" you yelled a little louder, unwinding your scarf and slipping off your sneakers leaving them by the door, frown deepening as you wandered further and further into your home with still no sign of the blonde to be seen.

but you melted as you rounded the corner and laid eyes upon a perfectly set dining room table, takeaway from your most treasured italian restaurant plated up beautifully with a glass of champagne poured to accompany it, an expensive looking bottle sat in a bucket of ice in the middle of the table.

you could see the food was still steaming which must have meant that-

"congratulations!" you jumped almost a foot in the air at the booming voice behind you, jolting around for a split second before leah engulfed you in a bear hug, lifting you off your feet and cheering.

"leah!" you laughed, clutching onto her shoulders as the defender spun you around and carefully placed you back down on the ground. "i am so so unbelievably proud of you." her hands fell either side of your face, palms rough and callous but her touch warm and comforting as you melted into it.

"hold that thought." leahs finger smooshed against your lips for a second as she let go and stepped away, disappearing for a moment but returning with a huge bouquet of flowers in her arms.

"oh leah, you didn't need to do all this! i'd have been happy with a takeaway and a cheap bottle of wine." you exhaled with a soft smile, leah rolling her eyes affectionately and placing your flowers down on the table.

"only the best for the best. we can get wine drunk and have a greasy chinese any day of the week my girl, but its not every day that you graduate university with top marks, honors and three job offers!" your girlfriend reminded, shaking you proudly as you threw your head back with another laugh.

"i love you." you sighed, shaking your head and wrapping your arms around her neck, her own hands settling on your hips and drawing your body closer into hers, the scent of her perfume intoxicating as you drowned in it.

"i love you, i love our life, i love our home. and i love that i don't need to fight a big dusty stack of text books for your attention anymore!" the blonde teased as you grinned, leaning in to press a few short but sweet kisses against her lips.

"i knew that was coming." you sighed with a shake of your head, leah pulling a face and nodding, stealing another kiss and moving to pull your chair out for you, gesturing for you to sit down.

"i hate when you pull my chair out for me." you reminded as leah shrugged, pushing it in and stealing another kiss. "at restaurants, you didn't say anything about at home." leah winked taking her own seat as you rolled your eyes fondly.

"to you my love!" leah raised her glass with a beaming smile across the table, a fond grin on your own as a gentle clink sounded around the kitchen.

in that moment you felt loved and supported, as leah showered you with praise and hung off your every word as she asked you question after question about your finally completed thesis and how you were feeling.

if only you'd known it wouldn't last.

~

leah and you met through your cousin alessia.

the pair of you both the only girls in your immediate family and only a few months apart in age you'd grown up thick as thieves, adopting one another as the sisters you weren't given, both instead having older brothers.

you only grew closer as the years flew by, you making your way across the world to visit her when she was in college in america and the two of you vacationing together time and time again in italy with your families.

when alessia moved to manchester for football and you stayed in central london you saw less of one another, but still you did your best to make it to as many of her matches as you could, never gifted with much of a sporting ability which all three of your cousins had teased you for growing up.

you'd seen leah around in passing at the international games but never really had much to do with many of your cousins teammates bar the ones you saw more often that she played with at united or on the youth teams.

you had first been properly introduced to leah on a night out, arsenal playing united meant several of the england girls were going for dinner and given you'd gone to the game and hadn't seen alessia in well over a month she'd invited you to join them.

you hadn't interacted with leah all that much that night, spending most of your time glued to your cousins side making the most of your time with her, your exams now done for the semester you were making plans with her to go to ibiza after the season wrapped up.

but unknown to you, you'd stuck with leah a little more than she had with you.

you hadn't had anything else to do with her until a couple of weeks later, you were in between lectures and desperate for a coffee which actually tasted like coffee and not something from a gas station pod machine.

so you'd ducked out to a little cafe just down the road from the university, it was a fan favourite amongst studnets and often quite busy so you weren't surprised to see all the tables occupied and people stood shoulder to shoulder awaiting their takeaways.

you'd ordered your usual and a ham and cheese croissant to snack on along the way back, moving away from the counter to wait for your order, smiling apologetically at a blonde you'd accidentally backed up into.

you assumed that would be it, off in your own world as you started to daydream, which is why you missed the girl speak to you, only zoning in once she tapped you on the shoulder and you turned toward her with a curious frown.

"sorry, what?" you blinked realizing she'd said something and you'd missed it. "i said you look really familiar, have we met before?" the stranger asked and you let out a small puff of air in amusement. "is that supposed to be a pick up line?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow as the blondes eyes widened.

"no! honestly. i would never try to pick you up-" she started but with a small scoff of offence from you her eyes widened further. "no! not that i wouldn't try to pick you up at all you're not ugly, but i wouldn't do it like that?" she cringed at herself as you hummed, turning back toward the counter and crossing your arms over your chest.

"hey no please, i'm so sorry this is all coming out wrong." the girl huffed with a shake of her head as again you only hummed and she seemed to give it up as there was a few beats of silence.

"oh! i know. you're...someones cousin." the girl seemed to light up, seemingly quite happy with herself as you threw her a side eye. "aren't we all technically someones cousin?" you questioned still facing the counter as the girl rolled her eyes.

"well yes but i swear i've seen you somewhere before." the blonde huffed in frustration and you sagged a little in relief as your name was called.

"let me guess. in your dreams?" you chuckled, stepping forward to grab your coffee and the small paper bag, good mood returning at the overwhelming scent of the croissant which was toasted, warm and calling your name.

"look. you're not unattractive but the whole 'oh i know you!' thing? it doesn't work. really, do yourself a favor and get a new tactic!" you shook your head with a slight smile, leaving the blonde gobsmacked as you moved past her and shuffled your way out of the cafe.

only if you'd just waited another thirty seconds, you'd have heard her own coffee's called out, all under the name leah.

again a couple of months passed and the coffee shop interaction disappeared from your mind, alessia laughing about it with you a week later teasing that even if you didn't date boys you couldn't avoid shitty pick up lines.

you didn't run into leah again until the very first friendly leading up to englands home euros run where they beat belgium 3-0. you'd been sat with everyone in the family and friends section, wedged between gio and your own older brother leo. the rhyming names in which you and alessia had teased them for for years.

naturally after the game and the crowd had cleared everyone was mingling with their families, and you'd been so busy laughing at alessia's brothers taking the piss out of her for having kept count of how many times she tripped over in the game you missed a familiar blonde spot you across the room.

however you were made aware of her presence around a half an hour later as your family had started to break off into groups, all headed to a local restaurant for a nice meal to celebrate alessia and everyone being together again.

"want a lift?" alessia offered twirling her keys around on her finger as she finished saying goodbye to a few of the girls. "yes but i'd also like to arrive to dinner alive." you sighed as the girl scoffed and hit you on the shoulder.

"well i'm your last option so you can walk if you'd prefer piccoli ravioli!" your cousin cooed teasingly, pinching your cheek as your eyes narrowed and you shoved her taller form away.

"alessia. you promised you'd stop calling me that." "i did, but i've changed my mind now. it brings nonna so much joy...i'd like to also feel that joy." "would you also like to feel my fist against your cheek?" "aw you're so cute, piccoli ravioli!"

"i hate you." you sighed in defeat unable to muster the energy for a proper comeback as your cousin only grinned and waved goodbye to mary over your shoulder.

exchanging goodbyes with ella and promising you'd come visit manchester soon you turned to follow after your cousin and her long legs which were already halfway across the room when there was a tap on your shoulder.

"you look really familiar. have we met before?"

"you." you realized quickly, eyes widening at the smug grin on the familiar blondes face who stood before you, clad in the same england tracksuit your cousin was wearing which could only mean one thing.

"you mean you're-" "yes i am, and you are someones cousin. alessia's!" the girl grinned victoriously as you winced a little at your previous interaction.

"told you it wasn't a pick up strategy." the blonde beamed even brighter, rocking back and forth on her heels and shoving her hands into her pockets.

"well you could have just asked!" you rolled your eyes at her smugness. "i did and you bit my head off!" the blonde huffed in defense. "i mean directly. like 'oh i think you might be related to someone i play football with'." you mocked in an attempt at her accent.

"i don't talk like that!" "thats what you took away from that?"

"well i didn't want to freak you out." the girl rolled her eyes as you snickered. "and how well did that go? i've been calling you coffee shop creeper when i tell that story, and let me tell you it gets some laughs!" your voice dripped with sarcasm but that just seemed to cause her lips to curl up into a more prominent smile.

"well then you're welcome for the ice breaker, maybe now you'll have some more success reading cues of when someone is trying to chat you up or just asking a curious question. not everyone wants to date you right off the bat, sorry for the let down." the blonde pouted though the sarcasm was obvious in her own tone.

"leah." your own response was cut short as the girl held out her hand, grin still plastered on her face and damp hair pushed to one side of your head as you sized her up for a second before sighing and exchanging your own name.

the interaction was paused as alessia yelled out for you, gesturing from the door and tapping her wrist making you scoff given she was one to talk forever the last to show up at any family event and notoriously known her lateness.

"well leah, i'm glad we cleared this up. good game!" you smiled sincerely for the first time and leah felt her stomach flip as you turned to head over to your cousin.

"wait! can i get your number?" you glanced back in surprise to the blonde who shrugged at your raised eyebrow. "only following your advice and asking directly!" leah teased with a smirk that you couldn't lie and say wasn't a little endearing.

"fine, but just so you know i will be saving your contact as coffee shop creeper."

~

years down the track and the coffee shop creeper charm had won you over, you were very happily in a long term relationship and a few months ago had taken the next step of moving in together.

with alessia now living in london too it meant the pair of you were near inseparable much to both leahs delight and frustration that your cousin loved to invite herself over, often interrupting date night.

you'd been by leahs side throughout her injury, sticking by her through the highs and lows, the lashing out, the icing out, the apologies and the crying and eventually, the peace and the healing.

you'd be lying if you said that despite how clearly proud of her you were, you missed having leah around as much now she was medically cleared and back fit and fighting for her beloved arsenal.

date nights were often forgotten, leah hanging back in the gym to do some extra work or to meet one on one with the physios ensuring her recovery was still right on track.

despite your own studies you made sure to be at every single game each weekend if leah was playing or not. but when she used to greet you afterwards with a bear hug and a sneaky kiss, whisking the pair of you away back home for a night of takeaway and horrendously cheesy rom coms, had disappeared as she instead spent time looking back on game footage with the head defensive coach or watching at home on her own ipad, normally requesting some space to do so.

but as always, you knew what this meant to her. football wasn't just leah's passion it was her life, and you wouldn't be the person to stand in the way of her achieving everything she wanted to and more, you were always her biggest cheerleader.

there was an international camp coming up and you knew that was her next goal, her focus narrowed down to have her name on that squad list her sole vision for the next few weeks, and of course as usual you'd been nothing but supportive of her.

but you had your own milestones incoming, your own goals to lock in on and finalizing your thesis was one of the last. leah had of course showered you with praise and attention and affection that night and you felt like things had started to slip back where they left off.

but then a few days later and again you were left sat at the dining room table alone on date night, reading a book and looking longingly over to the door awaiting the jingle of your lovers keys in its lock, but by the time it came you were long asleep in bed, leahs dinner left wrapped in cling film in the fridge, untouched and discarded by you that next morning.

as much as you put on a brave face, there was always someone who saw through any attempt at a wall you threw up for your own defense, and that was your cousin.

it had taken a little bit of clever reverse psychology and a mountain of carbs in the form of your favorite pasta dish but eventually alessia had you opening up about feelings you'd pushed down and down and down.

having known you longer and family meaning everything to alessia you knew the blonde would take your side, not that there was even an argument or 'sides' to be taken at all. but also always level headed and your go to for advice your entire life you took on board what she had to say.

she encouraged you to open up to leah and talk everything out, urging that the older girl was clearly head over heels for you and likely didn't even realise her actions were making you feel like this.

alessia cautioned that the longer you let these feelings sit the bigger chance they could begin to turn into resentment, to fester away and become much more negative, eating away at you piece by piece, the more likely that leah would continue on forward blindly, unaware of your feelings of neglect and you could both wind up hurt.

you wished you'd listened to her.

finally a week later your final hurdle arrived, your graduation.

given it was quite the extensive class you'd been apart of you only had a small handful of tickets to extend, but of course your cousin and your girlfriend had received their invitations weeks ago.

alessia had taken you out shopping a few days ago to find a dress, leah very kindly offering to come but you could see the slight grimace on her face at the thought and dismissed it with a smile, thanking her with a soft kiss for offering.

you needed to arrive earlier than your family, so alessia had texted leah the night before offering to pick her up and carpool. your girlfriend however assumed the blonde had meant a lift to training that next morning and declined, advising she would make her own way.

you'd also of course spoken about your nerves for tomorrow, leah only half listening as she studied the training footage she'd requested on her ipad, assuring everything would be fine and kissing your forehead as you hummed and settled down in bed beside her.

you were used to falling asleep first, back turned to your girlfriend as her fingers drummed away against her screen, wishing for nothing more than the nights where leah would be pressed up against you.

where she was present, involved, attentive. but again you chose not to mention it, afraid she'd take your feelings of neglect for neediness and the voices in your head warned it would mean your blonde lover would pull away even further out of reach.

it wasn't unusual for you to be up and gone when leah woke for trainings some mornings, the early bird out of the pair of you you often loved a morning run to clear your head, having long given up trying to convince your sleep loving bed hogging girlfriend to join you.

so she thought nothing of it when the time ticked by and still you hadn't returned, chalking it up to you maybe going for breakfast afterwards with a friend.

if she'd been paying attention when she raced out to her car, piece of toast hanging out of her mouth and her shoes in hand she might have noted your car was gone too.

leah was so wrapped up in training preparing for this weeks game, knowing sarina would be there to watch, she hadn't even tweaked your cousins absence, missing the flittering conversations that alessia had a family commitment.

never having her phone on her during training, leah was surprised to check it after showering to see an abundance of missed calls, messages and facetime attempts from a handful of different people.

"what the fuck?" the blonde mumbled, muttering her goodbyes to her teammates as she made her way quickly out of colney and sat down in her car, deciding to just start from the last missed call she had which was from her mum.

the girl couldn't even get a word in to ask what had happened before amanda was speaking, exhaling in relief at her daughters contact popping up on her phone.

“finally! I understand you might not have been allowed your phone for a face time during the ceremony but you better have some photos and videos to send me." amanda laughed, leahs frown only deepening but again she couldn't get a word in.

"god i bet she looked beautiful, she's such a gorgeous girl i've always said that! but now with a doctorate. oh leah did you cry? i bet your brother you'd cry!" amanda laughed as leah opened and closed her mouth in confusion.

"sorry, mum what are you on about?" leah finally managed to speak, a brief pause of silence on the other end. "fine so you didn't cry! you are a softie though bubba you can't deny me that. but i'm with your grandma so send me some photos at least to show her!" amanda encouraged as leahs eyebrows furrowed.

“sorry i'm a bit lost here. photos of what mum?” "the graduation of course, what else?" "whose graduation? you're not making any sense."

there was a few beats of silence, amanda having moved away for a moment to somewhere a bit more private.

"leah if this is a joke, it isn’t funny.” her mum warned seriously, tone shifting as leah scoffed. "of course its not a joke! i don't know what you're on about with this gradua-" but the words died in her mouth as finally things seemed to click.

"oh no no no fucking hell please no!” leah panicked, putting the phone down on her centre console as her chest tightened and her heart began to race.

"leah catherine williamson. please tell me you didn't forget your own girlfriends graduation ceremony." amanda spoke much more quietly, disbelief evident in her voice as leah fumbled around, knowing it was in here somewhere.

then she found it, the invitation.

you'd both been in the car when you'd shown it to her, leah having picked you up from a friends house where you'd had a few too many drinks for her to want you in an uber, smiling in amusement as you toddled your way down the driveway to her.

she hadn't seen you all day but the moment she'd gotten you safely in the car you'd presented her with the small slip of paper, leah's eyes widening in pride for a moment before her lips were showering every inch of your face in kisses as you'd laughed and shoved her off.

but the melodic sound of your laughter was a stark comparison to the stuffy horrendous silence which filled her car now as leah stared in both horror and disgust at the date on the paper clenched tightly in her fist.

"mum i need to go."