#i really tried to fight off that one a little bit at least until fall but

[nobodynotbymitski]

well folks, the obsession with funky summery coulourful band is fading, the obsession with incredibly sad wretched miserable tragic pitiful depression band is in .

[hoshifighting]

when you make seventeen cry in an argument WARNINGS: angst, lots of crying. a/n: just a question, why do u guys enjoy angst this much?

seungcheol he hates crying in front of you, hates feeling vulnerable. he’s the type to hold everything in, trying to stay strong for the both of you, even when the argument gets intense. but when the words cut too deep, when he feels like he’s failing you, you’ll see his eyes gloss over. he won’t let the tears fall right away; he’ll turn his head, rub the back of his neck, trying to keep it together. but when you keep pushing, maybe saying something that hits a little too close to home, his voice will crack. “i’m just trying to make this work,” he’ll say, and that’s when you know he’s really hurting.

jeonghan is the last person you’d expect to see cry during an argument. but he won’t cry unless he feels completely misunderstood. he can handle a lot, can take the back-and-forth of a heated argument, but when he feels like you don’t see him for who he is, that’s when the tears start to build. he quickly turns his head, not wanting you to see. “do you really think that about me?” when the tears come, they’re quiet, more like a silent plea for you to understand him. hates that you’re seeing him like this, but he can’t help it.

joshua tries so hard to stay composed during an argument. he’s the peacemaker, the one who wants to talk things out rationally, but when the argument drags on and you keep circling back to the same painful points, it wears him down. he’ll keep his tone calm, even when his heart is breaking “i don’t want to lose you over this,” he’ll say, his voice shaking as tears spill down his cheeks. it’s the thought of losing you that makes him break.

junhui is a bit of a mystery when it comes to his emotions tbh. he’ll stay quiet during most arguments, letting you vent, but when he starts to feel like he’s being taken for granted or misinterpreted, that’s when the tears threaten to spill. he’ll bite his lip, trying to keep it together, but when you push just a little too hard, he’ll crack. “why do you think i don’t care?” it’s not that he’s weak; it’s that he cares too much.

soonyoung is passionate in everything he does, and that includes arguing. he’ll fight hard, push his point, but he’s also quick to feel the weight of the argument. he cries when he feels misunderstood, when he feels like no matter what he says, it’s not getting through. the tears come when the frustration boils over, when he feels like he’s failing to communicate how much he cares. “why can’t we just talk this out…,” he’ll say, his voice breaking as the tears start to fall, showing just how much he’s been holding in.

wonwoo is the type to hold everything in until he can’t anymore. he’ll stay quiet during an argument, letting you say what you need to say, but when he feels like you’re not hearing him, not seeing him, that’s when the tears start to build. he won’t cry easily; it takes a lot to get him to that point, but when he does, it’s heartbreaking. “i just want you to understand!”

woozi is tough, or at least he tries to be. he doesn’t like showing weakness, especially during an argument. he’ll try to fight it, to keep going, but his voice will start to crack. “why do you have to say it like that?” he’ll ask, and you’ll see the tears welling up in his eyes. he won’t let them fall right away; he’ll try to brush it off, to focus on the argument, but eventually, he’ll have to turn away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, hating that he’s crying but unable to stop.

minghao is usually the one trying to keep things calm, trying to deescalate the argument before it gets too heated. he’s not quick to cry, but when he does, it’s because the fight has gone too far. when the tears start, he can’t stop them. they come silently, slipping down his cheeks as he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “this isn’t what i wanted,” he says, voice trembling. he hates that it’s come to this, hates that he’s crying in the middle of a fight.

mingyu is sensitive, and that sensitivity often makes him emotional during arguments. he tries to keep it together, tries to stay strong, but it doesn’t take much to push him to the point of tears. it’s when the fight gets too intense, when it feels like you’re pulling away from him, that he starts to break down. he doesn’t try to hide it, doesn’t try to stop the tears from falling—he just lets them come, his shoulders shaking as he sobs. the fear that this fight could be the end of something he cares so deeply about.

seokmin always try to avoid conflict whenever possible. but when the argument gets serious, he can’t help but cry. just the sight of you upset, the sound of your voice cracking under the weight of the fight, and his own tears start to flow. he’s not good at hiding it, not good at keeping his emotions in bottled, so when he starts crying, and it’s hard for him to stop.

seungkwan wears his heart on his sleeve, and that makes him quick to cry during arguments. he’s not ashamed of it, not afraid to show his emotions, but that doesn’t make it any easier when the tears start to fall. he tries to keep talking, tries to work through the argument, but his voice breaks, and suddenly he’s crying, his shoulders vibrating, and he can’t hold it back once it starts.

vernon is usually pretty laid-back, but when something really matters to him, he’ll fight for it. he doesn’t cry easily, but when it feels like it’s breaking something between you two, it hits him hard. the tears come when he feels like he’s losing you, like the fight is pushing you further apart, and then the tears will come, slow at first but then all at once. he’ll hate that he’s crying, hate that he’s showing this side of himself.

chan is still figuring things out, still learning how to navigate arguments and everything. he is sensitive, but he’s not quick to cry during an argument. but there’s a limit to how much he can take. when he feels a lump form in his throat. he tries to push it down, tries to keep his voice steady, but when he sees the pain in your expression, it’s too much. his eyes well up, and he has to pause, taking a deep breath to keep from breaking down completely. he can't understand.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley has a plan of action, but he needs to make sure you're a little distracted before he can proceed.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, 18+

Length: 3400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Today was exhausting," you whispered, pulling your legs up so you were sitting on Bradley's lap on the couch. His flight suit was a little scratchy, and you were still wearing your dress, but you yawned and nuzzled against his chest in surrender. "Please don't make me move yet."

You could feel and hear his laughter as one big hand came up to squeeze your shoulder before gliding down your side to your waist. "Make you move? I want to keep you with me forever, Gorgeous."

Did he know the extent to which his words excited you every time he said forever? You tried to play it cool, wrapping your arm around his waist, but as soon as his lips met your forehead in a gentle kiss, you whispered, "Forever sounds really good."

His posture stiffened a little bit as his fingers flexed on your waist. You could feel him fighting the urge to jump to his feet with you in his lap.

"What's wrong?" you asked, stifling another yawn.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, but you could tell he was antsy. "Just getting hungry."

"Of course you are," you murmured, letting your hand rest on his flat belly. He only took a quick lunch break earlier during Career Day before pulling off the flyover surprise that had your whole school buzzing with excitement. "I don't think you ate enough today. Let's remedy that."

"No," he insisted, pulling you back down when you tried to stand. "I can wait a bit longer. We were just getting comfortable."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Did you notice Marty and Ms. Masters earlier? I think there might be something there."

"I did notice," he whispered. "There has to be something there. He was looking at her the way I look at you."

With a smile on your lips, you felt yourself succumbing to the warmth of his body and his deep voice and his big hands.

Soon your eyes were closed, and you were drifting to sleep.

---------------------------

Bradley's growling stomach was the least of his concerns as you dozed in his arms and drooled on his Golden Warriors patch. You were clearly exhausted from how busy and emotional this week was. He'd only just returned from a mission where you and he hadn't spoken for weeks, and then you hosted Career Day at work. Hell, he was still tired, and he'd taken the week off from work.

He thought he had himself under control. He thought he would be able to bring you home and let you have a relaxing Friday night. After all, he was in no hurry. But as soon as you told him forever sounded really good, he felt his muscles coil with anticipation. His body told him to get up and prove to you that forever was what he needed. All he had to do was walk into the bathroom and get the engagement ring.

You seemed to be able to feel the energy he was trying to reel in even as you started to fall asleep. Tonight was not the night. Truly all he wanted to do was hold you until tomorrow morning and let you rest, but his foot was bouncing gently. There was always the chance you'd say no or that you weren't ready to be engaged yet, and he couldn't stop thinking about it. But previous conversations indicated otherwise, and he knew he was ready for everything.

His head tipped back against the couch in frustration. He should have told Nat that he wanted to propose sooner rather than later, but she didn't even know he actually had his mother's ring. His best friend would have riled him up more before helping him calm down.

After kissing your forehead a few times to test how asleep you were, he unzipped the side pocket of his flight suit and carefully removed his phone. You shifted a bit, and your nose twitched in the most adorable way, but you dozed on while he texted Nat to see if she could help him out tomorrow. She already told him numerous times that she liked hanging out with you.

"Bradley," you mumbled, arching your back and stretching as soon as he set his phone down on the couch. "You need dinner," you told him with a soft kiss before standing and reaching for him. He took your left hand in his right one, hoping this might be the last night that you weren't wearing the ring that would signify to everyone else that you'd be his wife someday.

"I came up with a plan while you napped," he said softly. "Dinner and then a shower together and then we'll get in bed early. You look so tired after nailing Career Day, Gorgeous. You need a little break."

His stomach growled obnoxiously. "And you need to eat," you told him with a laugh. "Come on. I'll make you something."

"Nope," he replied, gripping you tight as he stood up with you in his arms. "I'm going to take care of it."

You held on as you guided your legs around his waist. Your lips on his scarred cheek took him all the way back to the early days of those flirtatious emails. "Okay, handsome," you whispered, kissing him softly. "I'm not going to argue with you tonight. It's our first weekend with you back home, and I've been missing all of this. I'm finally off tomorrow, and we can relax all day."

When Bradley set you down on the kitchen counter with a kiss to your perfect lips, he heard your phone vibrating on the coffee table and tried not to grin as he asked, "Want me to grab that for you?"

"Please," you replied, looking beyond cute perched between the stove and the wilted bouquet in the makeshift Miller High Life vase. When he backtracked and picked up your phone, Bradley saw that the text notification was from Nat, and he knew he was going to have to take her out for another steak dinner soon as a thank you.

"Oh," you said when you tapped your screen. "Natasha texted me."

"Really?" he asked, feigning surprise as he took inventory of what the refrigerator had to offer. It was honestly a little scary how much he'd eaten since Monday.

"Yeah," you murmured, eyes skimming the message. "She thanked me for inviting her to Career Day. And," you added, giving him a cautious look, "she wants to know if I want to hang out with her tomorrow afternoon. We still have money left on the winery gift card."

"You should go," he urged, pulling everything out to make pancakes for dinner. "I love that my girl gets along with my best friend."

You were chewing your lip nervously. "Yeah?" you asked, thumbs poised like you were ready to type back. "Even though I literally just told you I can't wait to relax with you tomorrow?"

Bradley chuckled, knowing he was leading you in the direction he wanted you to go. But of course you'd be in good hands. "Gorgeous, we can still sleep in late. And as soon as you get home, I'm hoping you'll feel so in love, you'll want to cuddle with me for the rest of the night."

"I always feel so in love with you, Bradley."

He abandoned the eggs and butter as he whispered, "Say my name again?"

"Bradley."

It was another hour before the pancakes were ready.

-----------------------------------

"I thought we were going to sleep in," you whispered, lips brushing Bradley's as his hands explored your naked body. It was around the time you usually woke up for work, and you were still tired. But his words had you pushing him onto his back.

"I missed you so much, I'm still making up for lost time."

His hands were big and rough as you took them in yours and pinned them above his head. His body was beautiful in the early light, all muscular angles and ruddy cheeks. You kissed his biceps and then his stubbled cheek and then his lips. He was already hard, you could feel him. Bradley was strong and sexy, and he was yours.

"I'm not going to lie... I love how much you missed me," you told him before kissing your way along the side of his nose. "Because that's how much I missed you, too."

Bradley's kisses were sweet, yet they lingered. Your hips moved slowly against his body, setting the pace exactly how you wanted it. Your reaction to him was always effortless. His wide pupils let you know it was the same for him. 

"Baby," he whined as you tightened your hold on his wrists. He was rubbing himself up against you, looking for the friction you needed as well. Slick with arousal, your pussy welcomed the tip of him, and you rolled your hips slowly, taking him inch by inch until you were full. "Oh, fuck, Gorgeous," he rasped, lips parted as he looked up at you with those pretty brown eyes. "You feel so good."

You went slowly, and your hands eventually found their way to his shoulders. Bradley coaxed you closer until you were kissing him as you worked your hips in a steady rhythm that you knew would give you both what you wanted. You thought about every cold morning you woke up here without him while a bead of sweat rolled down along your spine. You got lost in the way he smelled and how his hair felt between your fingers. He was yours.

"I love you," he groaned. "Oh, I love you so much."

You came on his cock as your movements turned jerky, and he filled you with cum as you whimpered his name. Then you eased your body down so you were laying on top of him. "This is how I want to spend the rest of my life," Bradley whispered. "Loving you and fucking you and cuddling."

With a soft laugh, you relaxed enough to fall asleep again while he ran his fingers along your back.

The next time you woke up, it was three hours later, and Bradley wasn't in bed. He wasn't even at home. After you pulled on his sweatshirt, you found a note on top of the sandwich he made for your lunch in the refrigerator. 

Out for a quick run with Nat, and then I'm stopping at Home Depot for Edith. I love you.

You enjoyed your sandwich quietly in the kitchen while taking inventory of the grocery situation. Bradley already ate everything which made you smile. It would take a few weeks, but you'd make sure he bulked up again. Maybe you could get him to go shopping with you tomorrow morning.

When you sat down on the couch with your phone, you were pleasantly reminded of how sore you still were from the past few days with Bradley back from deployment. The gentle ache brought with it the memory of how much better your orgasms were with him than alone. You really needed to start getting dressed since you were sure Nat was going to want to head to the winery after they finished their run, but you stayed sprawled out on the couch until Bradley walked back inside.

"Hey, Gorgeous," he rasped, still a little sweaty in his gym clothes and carrying a bag from the hardware store. "You got enough rest?"

"I did," you giggled as he tossed the bag onto the coffee table and straddled your waist. "Do you think we should buy a bigger couch at some point?"

"Nah. This one's more fun," he replied as your fingers threaded through his damp hair. "Means I can get nice and close." 

Would this needy feeling for him ever go away? You hoped not. But just as soon as he really kissed you nice and hard, he was pulling away. Bradley smacked you lightly on your rear end where he spanked you the other night.

"You better get ready to go with Nat. And I need to fix Edith's mailbox and get my free piano lesson."

"And then when I get home, we're cuddling and watching a movie right here," you told him firmly, patting the couch cushion.

"As long as you still want to."

You rolled your eyes. Of course that's what you were going to want to do. Maybe you and he could even enjoy some more wine after you had wine with his friend. You were smiling as you thought about the plethora of wine you might be enjoying today as you got dressed in some jeans and an oversized sweater. You skipped makeup, because it was Saturday, and when Natasha arrived, you walked outside with Bradley.

"I love you. Call if you need me," he crooned, kissing you and waving before turning toward Edith's house.

You must have been watching the sexy way he walked for a little too long, because Natasha honked her horn and yelled out the window, "I want some wine!"

"Sorry!" you told her, laughing as you climbed in the passenger seat.

She was pulling away from the curb when she replied, "It's nice to see you so happy again. You seemed to have a good time at Career Day, and now you're all smiles for your boyfriend."

"I missed him so much," you said, watching Bradley get smaller in the side view mirror as she drove. "I felt instantly better when he got home from Norfolk."

"You're going to freak out later," she mumbled, making a left turn.

"What?" You weren't sure you'd heard her correctly.

"Nothing. You ready for some wine?"

"Absolutely. We can finish off the gift card," you told her. "And I found another winery for us to try next time that serves frozen wine slushies."

"That sounds like heaven. Thank god you fell in love with Bradley so we can have girls' days."

That put a permanent smile on your face. Just knowing that Natasha thought you and he were a good match really meant a lot. She'd known him for a long time.

"How was your run earlier?" you asked, settling in for the ride.

"Running in February is always better than running in July or August," she replied easily. "I might have to start bringing headphones again though, because the man will not shut up about you the whole time."

You covered your face with your hands while she laughed. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was so bad at times before he met you, I used to have to put my earbuds in and pretend I was listening to him complain about his exes. It was always the same thing. Nat, I don't know how to break up with her, but she's kind of mean to me. Nat, I can't keep taking her to the bar, because she flirts with everyone else. Nat, why is she being so selfish? Nat, I feel like she's just using me. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat. Nat." Her voice softened as she said, "It's not like that with you at all. Now he just wants to know if I think his date ideas sound stupid or romantic. And if I think he's crazy for already having you move in."

"What did you tell him?" you asked immediately.

She grinned as she switched lanes. "Trust me when I say I've given him some solid date ideas. And I told him he would have been miserable if he waited any longer to ask you to live with him. That man is so solidly in love with you, it is disgusting."

"The feeling is mutual," you whispered as your cheeks burned.

"I know. Now let's enjoy some wine while we talk shit about him. I've been way too nice today up to this point."

------------------------------------

When Natasha dropped you off after four hours of wine and conversation, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You were already looking forward to hanging out with her again soon.

"Want me to tell Bradley you'll run with him tomorrow morning?" you asked, leaning back in the passenger side door as you stood next to her car.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "There's no way he's going to want to get up and run in the morning. Tell him I'll see him at work."

"Okay," you replied, confused by her thought process. Bradley usually liked getting his cardio workouts in with a partner rather than alone. You'd follow up with him about it in a minute. "Thanks for driving. Wine slushies next time?"

"Wine slushies next time. Enjoy your night," she said with a wink.

You waved as she drove off, the sky getting dark and the air cooling down even further around you. Edith's mailbox next door looked perfect once more, so Bradley must have finished that project. You shivered as you hustled up to your front door ready to get inside and into the warmth of his arms.

The living room was a little darker than usual when you walked in, and then you realized it was because the only light was coming from your candles which had been placed around the room. You were about to call out for Bradley and ask him why he was burning every single candle you brought with you when you moved in, but then you froze.

"Oh my god," you gasped, taking one stumbling step further into the room to get a closer look. The flickering light illuminated dozens and dozens of paper airplanes all folded up and taped to the dark blue wall above the couch. They were arranged beautifully, and you swallowed hard when you realized they spelled out a message.

MARRY ME?

It was just two words, but they took up the whole wall. Your fingers were shaking as you brought them up to your lips, and then you heard Bradley's voice.

"Hey, Gorgeous," came that familiar rasp. You turned to face him as he stood there in one of his tropical print shirts and his worn out jeans with a nervous smile on his face.

"Bradley?" You glanced at the wall and then back at his face. You weren't even sure if your words were intelligible as you muttered, "Paper planes?"

His smile widened. "It's all the letters you and your class sent to me. You know... when you were looking for a Naval aviator to write back and answer a few questions? I guess a few questions turned into a lot more than that. And a simple correspondence with a gorgeous fourth grade teacher soon made me realize that you're the woman of my dreams. My pen pals changed my whole life." He nodded toward the wall. "Your students helped me fold them up yesterday."

"They did?" you managed as he took a step closer until he was right in front of you, and then and sank down onto one knee. 

"They did." He was all vulnerable brown eyes and sincerity as he looked up at you and said, "I love you. And I have something for you, Gorgeous." He swallowed hard. "It was my mom's." He held up his right hand, fingers curled in a loose fist. You watched as he carefully unfurled them, revealing a ring resting on his palm. "I want you to have it. Unless you don't like it. It's from 1984, and it's definitely vintage, so I won't be upset if you tell me you'd rather have something more modern." He was rambling, but you could barely breathe from the butterflies which were fluttering hard against your ribcage. "Maverick was holding onto her engagement ring for safekeeping. I had no idea until he heard me talking about how desperately I want to marry you."

"Bradley," you gasped, trying to hold back your tears as you sucked in shallow breaths. "Are you serious?"

You'd known him for less than a year, but you never felt this comfortable or safe around another person before. You never felt so loved. When he raised his hand a little higher like he was ready to hand you the ring along with his heart, he said, "I'm serious. You told me forever sounds good to you. It sounds good to me, too. I think we should do it. Will you marry me?"

There was really only one acceptable answer when you knew he belonged with you. When you were certain your future and his matched up perfectly. When there was no chance you could love anyone else like you loved him.

"Yes."

-----------------------------

Yes. Yes. Yesss! Thanks kiddos, for making it extra special. I don't think any of them will be surprised to find their teacher sporting some new jewelry at school. Bradley plus Gorgeous equals forever.

PART 27

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[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The fight was ugly. The first fight that you and Eddie had turned from a quiet disagreement to a full blown yelling match.

Truthfully you couldn't remember what the fight was actually about. Something silly, something miniscule that turned into a big thing.

A big argument with some horrible things said; you still couldn't get Eddie's words out of your head.

"Why would this mean anything? It's just sex isn't it?" Eddie snapped and your heart broke into a million tiny pieces. Just sex. Right. Of course that's what you two were.

Truthfully you were a mess and you should have just gone straight back home after storming out of the trailer.

Eddie has tried to go after you but you were faster and ran before he could catch up with you.

Instead you bumped into a few of your friends and hitched a ride to some party that one of Jason Carver's friends were throwing. Robin noticed your tear streaked cheeks and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

She was the only one of your friends who knew about Eddie; maybe Steve as well as him and Robin were as thick as thieves. Like platonic soulmates or something.

You and Eddie got together two months ago, passing off the hook ups as just mind-blowing sex and that worked at first. That's until you begun to get to know Eddie better and the two of you spent more time together.

Eddie was easy to fall in love with. His reputation portrayed him as mean and scary, satan obsessed and someone people should stay away from.

He was none of those things, he was kind and fiercely loyal to his friends and uncle, he was passionate and badass and really it was no surprise that you fell in love with him.

At least now you know that he doesn't feel the same way, at least you found out now before it was too late and you were even more in love with him than you are now.

Maybe you could just hang with your friends and forget the words that had broken your heart tonight.

At least you hoped that was possible.

❤️

Fuck, you really should have went home. Your head was pounding, the two beers you had made you even more anxious and upset. To make matters worse Tyler Harvey wouldn't leave you alone, he had zeroed in on you from the second you had walked through the door.

As much as you tried to avoid him, he followed you around and it was beginning to give you the creeps.

He manages to corner you when you're trying to get up to the bathroom with Robin. He stinks of beer, smoke and sweat and it turns your stomach a little bit.

Leather, smoke and the hints of woods and musk were your favourite scents in the world right now and that had to do with the man you were trying not to think about.

You cringe away from Tyler but he's so drunk that he doesn't seem to notice, he moves closer to you and you instinctively step back.

"Can you move please? Robin and I need to go upstairs" you ask him but he doesn't appear to be listening.

"Aww why don't you come upstairs with me? I'll take care of you" Tyler smirks but you don't like the look in his eyes and immediately step away from him. Yeah...no thanks. Robin is at your side at once and glares at Tyler.

"Take the hint asshole. She's not interested" Robin gently guides you away but Tyler grabs your arm at the same time and you stumble, landing hard on the floor. It knocks the wind out of you and your body throbs from the contact with the floor.

Tyler scrapers from the scene without even checking to see if you're alright. Robin is cursing out Tyler and helps you up. You're sore, annoyed and just want to go home.

Steve appears out of nowhere and Robin mentions that she called Steve when you mentioned you were getting a migraine. Relief fills you, at least you could go to Steve's for a little while and try and salvage some of the night with him and Robin.

There's a tiny voice inside of you that is aching for Eddie and it's growing stronger. You dismiss the idea, you're sure that Eddie was glad to be rid of you. That thought caused a new throbbing ache in your chest and you hurried outside with Steve and Robin determined not to think about Eddie and his big brown eyes.

❤️

As soon as you're at Steve's he puts in a movie and you settle up on the couch with Robin while Steve makes snacks. Being here is soothing and you rest your head on Robin's

Steve's landline ringing breaks you out of your sleep, Steve hurries to answer it and your heart skips a beat when you realise it's Eddie.

"Yeah, yeah dude she's with me and Robin. Some shit went down at a party we were at... Oh that asshole friend of Jason was being a prick. Yeah Tyler is it? Woah calm down man, she's fine. She's just tired"

You get up which is a little tricky as the sudden movement makes your migraine feel ten times worse but you really want to speak to Eddie.

Steve passes the phone over to you and you smile a tiny bit as Eddie is still ranting about what he wants to do to Tyler.

"Eddie, I'm okay" you murmur and he stops his rant and breathes a sigh of relief.

"Sweetheart. Fuck, I've been so worried princess. I went to your house, then Family Video. I even dropped around Wheeler's house which was a shock for Mama Wheeler to see if you were there. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I was a butthead"

The ache in your chest subsides a little bit and you relax. "I'm sorry too. I'm really sorry" tears spill down your cheeks and it's cathartic to finally let them out.

"I'm going to come and pick you up Kay? I'm not going to relax until I see that you're okay. I'll see you in about ten minutes okay?"

The tension you're feeling begins to disappear and you wait for Eddie to arrive, thanking Robin and Steve for being so amazing tonight.

True to his word Eddie arrives as quickly as he says he would and gives Steve and Robin a quick nod in greeting, he immediately pulls you close to him.

His lips press against hair and he briefly talks to Steve before guiding you out the door and into his van.

You're so exhausted from the nights escapades that you're asleep instantly.

❤️

When you wake up you're in Eddie's bed, Eddie is laying beside you and reading Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers. When he realises you're awake he presses his lips to your forehead and he tucks the covers around you, cuddles up at your side and holds you close.

"I'm sorry I was such a dickhead. You have no idea how much you mean to me, you mean everything to me and I was so scared to tell you. So I lashed out and said stupid shit. Things I didn't mean"

There's something unspoken hanging in the air, a familiar tension that's been playing the two of you for a little while now.

"I thought that you were sick of me and that's why you said those things" you confess and play with a start thread on his plaid shirt.

Eddie's jaw drops and he's silent for a moment, "Princess how could you even think that? You're...shit, I've never felt this way about anyone and it's terrifying trying to think of the right words, wondering if you feel the same way" he pauses as he lets the words sink in.

He's blushing, restless and anxious as his eyes meet yours; You sit up and cup Eddie's cheek with your hand.

"How do you feel about me Eddie?" It feels pretty certain now but you'd like to make sure. You'd like to hear him say it.

"I'm in love with you princess. How can you not see that? I guess I was just scared to tell you because I'm not exactly the perfect guy am I?" He scoffs as he says this and you scowl at the way his eyes turn sad.

"I don't care about that Eddie. Who wants perfect? I don't. I think you're amazing and handsome, you're sweet and kind, a gentleman. You make my heart skip a beat when you look at me and I feel at ease and content when I'm with you" his fingers entwined with yours and he sighs.

"You know so many people think I'm a freak, normally I don't give a fuck but I do care what others think about you" you soften and press gentle kisses over his cheek, the action causes him to smile shyly and his tense body relaxes.

"Eddie I don't give a shit what anyone says or thinks. Are you going to give us up just because of some idiots who don't matter? The only people that matter in this relationship are you and me. I love you Eddie, I'm so in love with you"

He looks up at you stunned and then he kisses you fiercely, "No I'm not giving us up. I love you sweetheart so much. You're my girl and I'm not letting you go because of some dumb assholes opinion"

The two of you spend the rest of the night making up and when you're tucked up in Eddie's arms as he falls asleep, you're left with the gentle feeling of this being where you're meant to be.

This trailer, Eddie's room, his arms around you as his soft snores fill the air. The sound of the wind blowing against the windows as you're lulled to sleep.

This felt like home.

💕

I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you

It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come, your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do

I get to love you, I get to love you.

I Get To Love You- Ruelle

[nmakii]

somewhere in the crowd, there’s you.

— happy birthday, @itoshiluvbot. sweet sixteen, but you’re sweeter than fiction.

— celebrating your birthday alone was pretty depressing, but sae decided to surprise you.

part 2 in the sae fic? heh.. chat, this might be it.. IM NOT GAY I SWEAR!!!!! HUGS AND KISSES XOXO ps: j cant stop ending my sae fics the same way its so addictive but also so lazy

you knew that your boyfriend’s job caused him to travel a lot. he’d be all over in italy, america, and even japan, competing in different leagues. and even when he was in spain, he’d always be training.

it was hard to work with, but he made it worth it

stress the fact that it’s hard to work with. what with him always being busy, the media always trying to get into your business, sae’s own emotional constipation, and the hard work of just being a generally functioning person, your relationship with sae was… strained, to say the least.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you love him— that’s more than just fact. and there’s no doubt amidst journalists that sae is truly infatuated with you, what with his off-handed mentions to how you use the delicate touch of your thumb to wipe off a bit of egg caught on his lip when the two of you cook breakfast in the morning together. or, the way he listens intently to whatever it is you’re rambling about again; how the paparazzis stalking another one of your dates perfectly captures the sight of sae’s cheek resting in his palm, fighting back the urge to smile at the way you talk with your hands.

there was just no denying it.

but while it all was true, you couldn’t help the inkling feeling you had. that small part of your heart that wishes that you had a normal boyfriend with a regular job. you always felt guilty whenever you wished for it, but you always wished that sae wasn’t a football player at times.

“amor, ill be back in a week. the embassy is taking a while to renew my visa…” sae sighs through the facetime. by the looks of it, it’s about 7 PM in japan. it looks as if the temperature is almost subzero from the look of the snow that falls on sae, melting and dampening his reddish-brown hair.

unlike there in japan, it’s only noon. and while it is cold outside, the warm kiss of the spanish sun shines bright on the surface of barcelona.

“a week..?” you frown, “but, ah… my birthday’s in 2 days though…” your eyes trail away from the camera. sae’s eyebrows crease at your disappointment— he can hear your little heart breaking, even while he’s continents away. “i know…” his downturned eyes show his evident disappointment. “i’ll send you ten thousand euros, and buy yourself something. okay?”

“ten thousand euros..?! sae, that’s way too much!” your widened eyes yell out to him. “it’s your birthday gift. and considering that it’s supposed to make up for my disappearance, it’s not enough.”

you’d try to argue with him about it, but you’ve already known sae long enough to learn that it’s easier to accept his gifts, rather than fight him over it. “i… alright…” you sigh in surrender, “but, you really don’t have do all of this.”

“but i want to.” is all he says back. “so, just accept it, okay? treat yourself to something nice, amor.” he smiles.

“i wish i could be in japan with you, sae…” you sigh, a big pout visible. sae only hums and responds, “i know, but it’d be a hassle for your work schedule. i shouldn’t bother you to travel with me.”

his reasons are solid enough, but it doesn’t stop you from being upset. sae can see it in your face, so he tries to fix it. “hey, what about… i take you to japan during the off-season? ill even take you to mt. fuji.”

his offer sounds quite enticing, and it gets you out of your slump. “really?” you smile. and he nods back, “really. i promise you. so, stop frowning. it’s not a good look on you.” he teases, yet still in his ever so flat tone, it’s hard to tell he’s joking.

the rest of your call isn’t too different from all your other long-distance travel calls, you call him until sae has to go to sleep. and, you leave the call feeling slightly disappointed. stupid embassy… keeping sae in japan on your birthday…

you roll your eyes from the thought, before a notification catches your attention. it’s from your cash app.

“YOU HAVE RECEIVED €15,000 FROM S*E IT***I”

‘happy birthday, amorcita. i love you, i’m sorry. 💗’

your jaw is slack from the egregiously large amount of cash, not to mention the fact that he added in an extra five thousand euros. but when sae tells you to spend his cash, you can’t tell him no. it’s something he won’t accept.

the next day; saturday, came about, and you went out on the town. a hang out with all your friends, going about and doing whatever, and spending the €15,000 sae had generously given you.

the day ended by 11 PM. your friends had insisted that you hang out until your birthday at 12. but without sae, all you really wanted was to be alone. maybe if you were lucky, you could call him before the clock strikes.

your luxury apartment felt sadder than usual. your basket of laundry on the table, waiting to be put away. sae’s arrangement of soccer cleats and rubber shoes by the front door, as well as the awkward space by the door in which his luggage typically fills. you miss him.

you take a shower, and change into your pajamas. 11:43… should you stay up? you might as well, it’s only about 15 more minutes.

you waste some moments scrolling on tiktok in the dark. until that constant flashing from the window start to annoy you. your complex is filled with tons of celebrities, so it’s not a surprise. but, it’s still annoying nonetheless.

you move to the window, thinking ‘oh, great. who is it this time?’. you internally roll your eyes at the swarm of paparazzi’s blocking your view, until you see who it actually is.

sae?

but, he was supposed to be in japan, right?! he can’t legally be in spain..!

you put on a cardigan, and run to the elevator. waiting to reach the bottom felt like forever! you anxiously paced the enclosed space, wondering if it was really sae, or if what you saw was even real!

when the elevator door finally opens, you’re greeted with sae who was impatiently waiting for the elevator. his frown suddenly ridding itself from his face when he sees you.

“so, you were the one holding it up.” he scoffs, his accusatory tone holding no actual malice. and you didn’t know what else to do, but just hug him.

the hug wasn’t expected, but it wasn’t unwelcomed either. he paused for a moment to process, before reciprocating your hug. his left hand resting at your waist, the band of his watch pressing itself on your back, while his right hand cradles the back of your head with his soft palm.

his posture softens as he rests his jaw on your head. he raises his left arm to check the clock on his watch. it’s 12:00.

“happy birthday, amorcita.” sae mutters, kissing the crown of your head. your phone starts blowing up in the pocket of your coat, all of your friends greeting you happy birthday. but, the only greeting that mattered right now was sae’s.

“…thanks.” you mumble back. the hug lasts for what seems forever. all of the subtle movements or gestures being a silent ‘i missed you’ or ‘i love you’

and, when you finally pull away, you notice that there’s a strange lump in sae’s team jacket. sharp and edged, you can’t help but wonder what it is.

“you said you wouldn’t be back in until next friday..! why are you here?!” you question. sae looks to the side, not even trying to hide the cheeky smirk on his face. “i.. lied. the embassy renewed my visa just in time. but, i wanted to surprise you.” he admits.

“huh..?! for what..?” your eyebrows scrunch, trying to comprehend the mysteriousness of his words. “…it might be too early for that. but, i promise you’ll know in time.” he promises.

“for now, this’ll have to make up for it.” he opens the width of his suitcase, and reveals the treasure of gifts he bought for you. a big stand-out being the large, traditional incense holder. it looks to be made of tin, as well containing a miniature replica of mt. fuji’s view.

he seems to have noticed that you saw the incense holder, so he says, “i can’t exactly bring you to mt. fuji right now. so, i brought mt. fuji to you.”

the line was incredibly corny. nothing sae would typically say. it was such a bad line, you started laughing into your palm. “hah..! were you waiting to say that line?”

“…” he pauses, hesitant to answer.

“…just a bit.” he admits, and that’s the punchline that really gets you to laugh.

you grab on to the suitcase, trying your best to stabilize yourself, but nothing you do can stop the tears of laughter dripping from your tears ducts.

sae notices your tears, the redness of your face from laughing too much, the wrinkles in your shut eyes, and the way your lips strains to contain your smile— and is a victim to that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach of butterflies; the lump in his throat being swallowed and caught in his heart as it attempts to stretch and make way for all the love he has for you. it spreads like a wildfire to the rest of his body as he has the urge to hide his face in embarrassment

sae was never the type to get nervous or embarrassed. but everything hit different when he was doing it in front of you. at games, he’d abandon his midfielder post and try to score his own goals in order to show you how capable he was, and on your first date, he wore his sunday’s best and brought roses. and now, when you’re clinging to his suitcase for dear life, red in the face and tears in your eyes, laughing at his expense, he’s wondering how he got so lucky.

a girl who’s willing to stick with him even when it’s hard, and a girl who balances out his no-nonsense temperament with her fun-loving and charismatic personality. he’s serious about you.

he knew it from the moment he picked out that ring for you.

a pink diamond engagement ring, a gold band gracefully enclosing the diamond in its center, and both your’s and sae’s initials delicately carved on the inside. it was perfect for you.

but with your busy life, and sae’s schedule, he knew that now wasn’t the right time. he’d probably have to wait a few more years, when you’re both ready.

his train of thought is stopped when he notices you’ve gotten up from his suitcase, and switched to grabbing on to his shoulders, and cry-laughing into his chest.

“…it’s not that funny, don’t laugh…” he huffs, frowning like the sore loser that he really is. “it’s not..! but, it’s funny cause you said it..!” your body shakes with laughter, and it makes sae pout more than he already had.

he sighs, letting you laugh freely, subtly moving his jacket pocket to the side and making sure that your body doesn’t feel the sharp edge of the engagement ring box, a sable black velvet casing the box which contains your ring.

“right…” he frowns, his nostrils flared from frustration.

your laughter finally ceases, and you move to kiss sae, a feeling he’s missed. the soft plush of your lips pressing against his, and your hand below moving to intertwine with his as his other uses his thumb and index finger to lovingly pull your face up. oh, how he loves you.

when you finally pull away, his eyebrows scrunches in annoyance. but manages to soften when you run your hands through the short silky strands of his hair.

“i love you.” you whisper to him, and he smiles. “happy birthday, amorcita. now that you’ve had your fun with your friends, i get you all to myself now, right?” he asks, hopeful in his tone.

you giggle at his question, but nod nonetheless. “yeah. today, i’m all your’s.” to which sae hastily moves to kiss you once again, leaning over to press the elevator button.

the kiss catches you off guard, but once the elevator doors open again, he pulls away. “good. i didn’t plan on letting you sneak away from me today.”

his hand resting at your waist pulls you forward into the elevator with him, and pressing the button to your floor. you lean to rest on his side, checking all the messages from your friends. while sae looks down and simply admires you.

how he’d go to the ends of the earth to return to you couldn’t even be described with the most detailed of words in the world. every day in japan that he’d wait for that damned jeweller to complete the perfect ring for his more than perfect girl was as if his skin was on fire. sure, japan was his home country. but how could he think that any other place is home, when he’s got a girl on the other side of the world waiting for him to return?

he turns his head, and he can see your thumbs rapidly moving to text your friends. and his heart warms and twists, seeing what you’ve texted…

OMG HE LIED TO SURPRISE ME

IM GONNA SRSLY MARRY THIS MANNNN 😻😻😻

and though to sae, it sounded like a joke; another one of your unserious declarations, you really meant it.

even though it was hard, he made all of it worth it.

[hersweethrt]

𝓔AT YOUR YOUNG ೨౿ luke castellan

content warning : dark!luke, kidnapping, smut, cursing, innocence kink, daughter of aphrodite!reader, stalking/obsessive behaviors, violence, 18+ content ྀི in which luke thinks you can fix him

There's a greed that arises from hatred or rather from envy.

Insatiable, no matter how many tries he attempts to satiate the huger that claws at him. He's empty, wafting through camp like a ghost because really? he doesnt think he's ever really been there. His minds somewhere else, the only thing bringing him down to earth is the rush he gets from sword fighting.

He's volatile, even, like a ticking time bomb, the sound revolving in his head, relentlessly. Its louder when he forgets the hypocrisy, the rejection and for a second? something sick like sympathy snakes into his mind. His hand traces over his scar on instinct because if he presses hard enough? It burns-stings.

And eradicates any solicitude he thought he had.

Tick. Tock.

Campfires were never luke's thing. He sits towards the back, eyes downcast and shadows coveting him due to the flame. His hands drum against backbiter, something he uses to keep himself busy until he can go back to the cabin. The orange hues that bring him back so much so, that he quickly averts his gaze.

Tick.

His fingers trace the line of his sword, and he swallows. He'll be gone soon enough. Laughter echoes in his head at that statement, but he ignores it.

Tock.

Luke's mind is buzzing, thoughts spiraling like his head has a heartbeat. It drives him mad. He's about to leave, sneak and tell some lie to Chiron about forgetting to lock up the stables. Anything, if he can just get out. He walks, caught so much in his head, he doesnt see where hes going.

And walks right into you.

You stumble backwards, as he holds you to stop your fall. You look up at him with wide eyes, a hurried apology emitting from you as he takes you in.

"shit-'m sorry, i didnt hurt you, did i?"

He bites his tongue, retracting what would have been a sarcastic comment, and shakes his head.

"Should be me apologizing to you, sweetheart, didnt see you-"

You smile at him, shaking it off though he's sure you're head is pounding. "'Its okay ,'m not even hurt-nothing ambrosia cant fix-"

You've regained your balance, staring up at him while the gods knows what makes his chest feel tight.

Adrenaline, he tells himself , Adrenaline.

He brings a hand to your head, an innocent gesture meant for him to just check if you're really okay. But really? he just wants an excuse to touch you again after feeling the loss of heat from your body, and like he guessed, you're face burns again from the movement.

Cute.

You've regained your balance, staring up at him. Your eyes are slightly dilated, probably drunk of something a camper snuck into camp and if he was a good camp counselor-he would have reprimanded you, probably sent you to chiron to get punished.

But he's not, the term "good" almost foreign to him by now.

So he lets his eyes trail from yours to your mouth where your lip now threads between your teeth. Maybe you think he knows, and some part of him likes watching you squirm a little bit. Another comment dies in his throat when cold blue eyes meet his, ones that he knows too well,

No.

Your face falls when he steps back, your lips forming into a subtle pout as his indifference.

"Just be careful next time, yeah?"

He doesnt even give you a chance to respond, brushing past you as your face contorts into confusion, and for a second luke feels something rising in him, that he quickly snuffs out.

He's not stupid enough to fuck with silena beauregards little sister.

Luke cant sleep.

Insomnia's not uncommon for him-far used to the nightmares by now. But this-this, is different and he knows exactly why, no matter how much he denies it.

He thinks its aphrodite magic, that you've found someway to fuck with his head with those damn eyes of yours.

( at least that would allow him to hate you)

But it kills him.

Cause you're sweet . He knows aphrodite girls, that most would have given him a dirty look or mutter something under their breath when he left so abruptly, no apology gracing your ears or emitting from his lips. But you smiled at him, sweet voice serenading him until he's dizzy, and he thinks about it now until he feels light.

( The timers stopped, something that flies over his head now, his thoughts only centered on one thing)

He supposes you're to blame, for not screaming at him?, calling him a dick and moving on?

Really, any of the scenarios would give him more ease. Curiosity aches to get the better of him, that maybe it would give him an answer to the enigma that you are. Piercing blue eyes resound in his head, and he sucks in a breath between his teeth, eradicating any thoughts of any further pursuit after tonight.

And its good.

He doesn't need a distraction or silena gunning for him again. He convinces himself that he can abstain from you-the possibility of hearing that stupidly inviting voice again and falls into his bed.

But his eyes don't close and his mind refuses to shut off.

( And in the quiet, he hears the subtle noise start up again. Tick. Tock)

Irritation already settles on your face, by the time you get to the cabin. Words go in and out of your ears, none of them making a single impression as you roll your eyes.

“He was being nice, for christs sake!” you say as she stops, and turns to you. “it’s not like he shouted at me or something-it was my fault, okay? and my heads fine-“

She sighs, her figure relaxing slightly as she dips into the bed beside you. Its weird, her reaction, for many reasons-but especially how much emphasis she's putting on him in particular. You know there's more-that she's not telling you something. But you're too tired to ask.

(Or maybe you'd just rather not know what really goes on inside luke castellans head)

"Just stay away from him, okay? and im serious about this-"

You just nod, not for any reason but for hope that she'll get off your back about it as she leans back into the cushions off the bed and you try to feel comfortable in yours.

But you dont.

Maybe its the buzz of your short lived high, or the fact that you've never been a good sleeper or what you know it to already be, the drumming of a fake promise that resounds throughout your head. Because if its one thing you never were, its honest.

He sees you first.

You're upset, evidently, eyebrows furrowed and face formed into a scowl as you make your way to the sword fighting arena. He uses an excuse instead of the actual reason for dragging you here-that he just needed a way to see you and say sorry without being too presumptuous.

(Which is ridiculous, because even he knows that the boundary lines blurred the second he removed your name from archery to swordsmanship.)

His brain is fuzzy when you talk to him though. You mumble about being switched over-your tone indicating you're irritation though despite your attempt to cover it, his brown irises watching so intently that you wish you skipped.

"but i swear i can get them to switch it back if you're busy-, clarisse is a bitch about timetables but im pretty sure i can get her to do it if i-"

No, is what immediately pops into his head and just as quickly comes from his mouth. Its abrupt and makes you pause for a second, staring back up at him.

"Wouldnt want to make you take an entire mile across camp for somethin' like that" he says as if he didnt make you take the journey before. "can probably find space"

He'd kick out every damn demigod in there if he had to.

Despite your protests, he does eventually get a sword into your hand. Positioning himself behind you, as his hands lock onto your waist, slow, intricate movements along your side under the pretense of 'steadying you'.

It has its adverse effects, what luke really intended to happen, as heat rushes up your spine, leaving you as distracted as ever. You try to ignore the urge to turn around, failing miserably as you turn to him. His grip tightens, as he shifts your body back around by your hips, his chest pressed against your back.

"Eyes up front, pretty girl"

A whisper-the nickname-so quiet you're surprised you even caught it and lukes even more shocked that he even uttered it. He should stop, take a step back, he knows hes well past that little boundary line he tried to imagine for himself. He knows hes enjoying it all way too much. But his hands dont leave your hips, his breath doesnt stop warming your neck because he'd be right back at your knees like a dog to its owner if he stopped-coming right back just to have that one moment of redamancy-even if its just out of pity. He snaps out of it though, reminding himself that he at least needs to finish his lesson like a dutiful counselor.

Distracted.

Its what he knows he is and what causes kronos's mocking voice to pop back in his head in the nights. He can only make excuses for so long-knowing that he needs to atleast put something in place before the solstice-before all hell breaks loose.

(Its starting again-he feels it, the low drumming that will eventually become a migraine, and turn into something more. A resounding noise that he's been able to escape with you, letting him turn off his head before his sciamachy begins and he paces like a madman. He wants-needs- to go, its why the damn clock wont stop, why he cant seem to close his eyes for too long.)

Despite his apprehension, he trails you around camp. Even staying at those stupid campfires, just long enough so he can see your smile when your eyes meet. A single moment before your face turn sullen as silena gives you a look.

You say something back, a comment silena seems to dislike as her face contorts into something irritated. Whatever comes out next, though, hits a nerve. He sees the way your eyes still and you swallow, a nod as you walk off before silena can open her mouth again.

And he follows you, making sure you’re okay, of course-nothing more, nothing less, like a good counselor should.

(Another feign play at innocence)

You don’t seem to know where you’re going either-weaving through the cabins, even passing your own. He’s fine with his distance, he’ll just watch, not interfere-he’s good like this.

That is until you stop, turning around with a look on your face that he prays isn’t for him.

“Stalking me now, castellan?”

Eyebrows raised, as you fold your arms. “Didn’t take you for a creep”

(He scoffs, though his reaction is only because you’re right.)

“Just making sure you're alright” he mutters, taking a step forward-closer-too close-for either of your liking.

You stiffen, at his proximity, at his words-instinctively moving a hand to wipe your face of any remnants of tears.

“I’m fine-it’s hot over there y’know-”

Another step.

“The-the humidity-hot air, all stuffy and-“ you stop when he somehow finds a way to get closer, rambling briefly paused as you stare up at him with your face flushed. “shit-”

The silence doesn’t help. If anything it’s worse-even more intoxicating for him as he smells your perfume. Subconsciously, his hands move to your shirt, fiddling with the hem as you take a sharp inhale.

“Luke.”

He hates how you say his name.

It makes him feel sick-how pretty you make something so depraved sound in your mouth.

(But he’d rather hear it in another context-see how far he could push you, how sacred his name could really sound when his head is between your thighs and your hands in his hair as he kneels like he’s at some altar. maybe thats the closest thing to a prayer the gods will get from him )

You only exhale when his eyes meet yours, and he allows a hand to snake up your abdomen.

“Yeah?”

So casual, relaxed, the exact opposite of the alarms sounding in your head to get him to stop. You should-need to, for both of your sakes.

You don’t.

Instead you let him, when his hands reach the softness of your breasts- you let him touch you. Let him run his hands over your sensitive nipples and pinch them when they harden. You’re just as greedy as him-he realizes, when he watches you arch your back in a desperate attempt for friction.

A slap on the hips is what gets you to snap out of it.

“Such a needy fuckin’ thing” he hums, trailing back to your thighs, “don’t think you deserve it though, pet ”

You’re eyes almost cross when he kneels. A short lived victory, however, when you hear the footsteps of the returning campers. He hears the -he has to but he either doesn’t care or is too caught up to move.

“Luke”

A futile attempt to get him to focus-to fucking move before someone sees you too. Instead a finger presses against the wetness of your panties as a squeal leaves you-a testament to his earlier thoughts about your sensitivity.

Cute.

You buck your hips for more, but he just tuts as he gets up.

“Should be careful sweetheart, not everyones as lenient about the rules as I am”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead leaving your wetness on his fingers as he turns his back to you and your legs wobbly when you walk back to your cabin.

[kiribakuswife]

In Need of a Hero

Kirishima x Reader

Kinktober day 2

You have become the stereotype. It was honestly a mistake, your heat wasn’t supposed to start for a few days, and you were on the way to get suppressants, honestly. Work had been insane lately and by the time you got off the drug store near you was closed. You had decided the best thing to do was make the long trek across town to the 24 hour store. The last thing you expected, let alone happen, was getting hit hard with your heat in the middle of your walk home.

Your skin instantly felt hot, your brain beginning to fog over. You only had 20 minutes left, picking up your speed as your breathing began to grow more labored. You would make it home if it killed you. Thankfully, the streets were fairly empty, the moon high in the sky as the last of the last remaining drunken bar patrons stumbled home. You ripped open the bag as you walked, popping one of the pills that wouldn’t do anything at least until tomorrow afternoon, pulling your hood up and tucking in as an attempt to block the scent you were sure you were giving off at this moment. 15 more minutes that was all you needed and you would be safe in your own bed.

Your head was too hazy though, unable to smell the towering alpha that stumbled out of the alley before you. He stunk, his scent a terrible mix of musk and whiskey that made your nose curl as your omega shrank back in fear.

“Has no one ever told you not to walk alone?” He snarled, stepping before you, blocking your path.

“Excuse me.” Your voice was pathetic, and as soon as you heard it you couldn’t blame his laugh that cut through the silent night.

“Oh you're not going anywhere!” He laughed, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you back to the dark alleyway. “I could smell you a mile away, little omega. Let me show you what a real alpha can do.” He spoke in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you tried to pull away.

“Let me go!” You tried to scream, but he just kept dragging your fighting form. For how tall he was, he was thankfully pretty scrawny, allowing you to put up at least a little bit of a fight, but he seemed determined, unwilling to release you.

“(y/n)?” You heard a familiar voice call out, sounding distant, but not too far. Your eyes widened in realization. You had met only a few times, he was friends with one of your friend’s boyfriend. Definitely not close by any means, but he was a Pro.

“Kiri-!” Your shout was cut off by the hand of the disgusting man covering your mouth. You bit down on his hand hard, the taste of dirt and blood and something else you filling your mouth.

“You bitch!” He yelled back, elbowing you hard in the chest as he jerked his hand away. “You’ll pay for that!” As you tried to spit the foul taste from your mouth he grabbed you rougher this time, pinning your arms to your side.

“Hey!” You heard another voice shout, head spinning to find the pro hero Red Riot in all his glory, running towards you both. “Release her at once!” He wasn’t in his hero costume, instead in a casual pair of sweats and a tight black t-shirt, dropping a bag of take out as he got closer. His smell hit you at once making your knees weak as much as that was so unhelpful in your current situation. The strong smell of pine and a hit of rain filled your lungs as he reached you. The man released you instantly, hands up as you fell to the ground.

“Hey man, I didn’t mean anything by it, really! You can smell her! I was just trying to help.” He rambled, his footsteps stumbling as the hero stepped closer around you.

“Bullshit man, not cool.” Was all he said before a thud could be heard, turning to see the man fall to the ground as Kirishima made his way back to you, dragging the man behind him. “Are you okay?” He looked like he barely broke a sweat while the other man had a trickle of blood beginning to appear on his head.

“I think so.” You squeaked, looking up at him. His red hair that was usually styled was instead down, a few loose strands falling in his face as he tilted his head at you, trying to read you. You could tell the moment he caught your scent, his nose scrunching up briefly as he took a deep breath and shook his head. You had thought he was cute before all this, avoiding him out of nerves at your friends' dinner parties, but now? Your mind flashed truly embarrassing thoughts of him as you avoided his gaze. If you were feeling warm before, you were absolutely burning now.

“Let me call someone to get this loser. I’ll walk you home.” He nodded to himself, dragging the still limp man over to a wall of the building, already on the phone as he explained the situation to someone. He continued to talk as he walked, grabbing his food and your own bag. You couldn’t look away from him, no matter how much watching his taut form was making you squirm with need.

“Are you sure you’re alright? Nothing hurts?” His voice broke you fr

om your trance as he approached, causing your cheeks to heat. Hopefully it was dark enough that he wouldn’t see, the street light right above you dashing your hopes. At his question though, the adrenaline wearing off, your chest began to hurt where his elbow had caught you.

“My chest…” You mumbled, trying to look anywhere but him, pulling your hoodie tight around you.

“Do you want to check? How bad?” He asked, coming closer, causing you to gasp as his scent hit you full force again. You must have reeked with the scent of your heat by now, but he acted as if there was nothing wrong.

“No! I’m okay!” You basically shouted, putting out a hand as if you could block him from any closer. He only chuckled lightly, shaking his head as he sat before you.

“Todoroki should be here soon then we can go.” He said instead, “Mind if I eat? I’m starving.” He laughed with a huge hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Of course.” You whispered, meeting his eyes before quickly looking away. Maybe it was part of their hero training, to have some sort of immunity against the smell, looking unbothered as he dug into his sandwich.

“Thank you…” You mumbled as he ate, earning a smile and a thumbs up in response.

“All in a day's work!” He replied. The air felt heavy as he ate, but it was like he didn’t notice anything, only making you squirm more, chewing on your thumb as you waited. Like he had said, Todoroki arrived soon, Kirishima getting up to meet him halfway as he moved toward you. They spoke quietly as they approached the still unconscious man. You waved halfhearted to Todoroki as he looked at you, heaving the villain on his shoulder. His eyes flashed briefly as they met yours, no doubt catching your scent before he turned abruptly, hurrying away.

“Ready?” Kirishima asked, turning back towards you with a smile on his face, like this was the most normal night he had all week. You nodded meekly as you tried to stand, but you legs betrayed you, still far too shakey. Before you hit the ground though, his hand gripped your arm to steady you, right where the villan had held you, causing a confusing mix of a moan and a groan to escape you, your omega beyond pleased to finally have his hands on you.

At your sound his hand jerked away, closing his eyes tight for a moment, as if he stopped breathing before letting out a sigh, moving to grip your elbow instead. “Let’s get you home.” Was all he said, letting you lead the way.

The silence felt thick as you walked, and you couldn’t help but glance in his direction every few minutes. His jaw was tight, but besides that he looked so normal, so natural. It made that stupid voice inside your head preen. He had to the most respectful man in the world to completely ignore at this moment, and that just made you want him more, need him more.

“Kirishima?” You asked finally, earning a hmm in response. “Thank you really, I’m sure this must suck for you too.” You tried to make a joke, an uncomfortable too forceful laugh bubbling up.

“Eijiro, you can call me that I mean,” He said, joining in on your weird laughter. “I think we’ve crossed that line.”

“Eijiro then, thank you.” Your laughter was becoming more real as you gave into the absurdity of the situation. He hmmed in response as you scrambled to explain yourself “Really I didn’t plan this! I know some omegas do to…well you know, but these are my suppressants!” You held up the bag as proof and he just rolled his eyes playfully.

“It’s fine (y/n). I’m happy to help!” That made you shiver. You were close to home now, and the thought of him leaving was making you feel incredibly anxious, like something bad would happen if he wasn’t with you. Maybe you could ask him to stay? Just until you were asleep? He could sit in the living room and you could retire to your room and by the time the heat between your legs became so unbearable it woke you up, he’d be gone. He had saved your life, if he was going to hurt you he would have by now right? It seemed reasonable to you now, but would you feel the same when your head was screwed back on correctly. You liked Eijiro, and you were kicking yourself for avoiding him before. He was so much nicer than you had thought, and maybe you really wanted to see if being interested in him would actually go anywhere. Would asking him inside ruin it all though?

As you reached your street your heart rate started to pick up, vision beginning to narrow, your omega beginning to panic. You were thankful for his warm hand on your arm, feeling almost dizzy from the contending lust and panic.

“(y/n)? Are you okay? Is it your chest? Breath honey it’s alright.” He suddenly stopped, forcing you to look at him. Your chest was rising rapidly as you shook your head at his question. “What is it then?” He raised an eyebrow, growing more concerned as you tried to steady your breathing.

“Eijiro, please…” It was basically a whine and you didn’t even have the wherewithal to feel embarrassed. He stiffened instantly, eyes growing a shade darker before they slammed shut, holding his breath again. “Please come inside, please stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?” You were begging at this point, and you know it with virtually no shame, gripping his large hand in both of your own. “Eijiro?”

He groaned heavily, using his free hand to wipe his face. A glance down showed you he wasn’t entirely immune to your antics, a prominent bulge appearing in his sweats, and you almost wish you hadn��t looked with the way your core throbbed. You were already wet before, but at this rate you were going to leak through your thin leggings. As your scent hit him again he let out another groan before almost an entire 180, relaxing his shoulders and lacing his fingers with your own.

“Of course (y/n)! What kind of hero would I be if I left a lady in distress?” He cleared his throat, swallowing thickly as he smiled brightly, but his eyes hid something in them. Something you died to unlock, shame be damned. As you made your way to the door, fumbling with your keys your eyes met his, catching the light dusty of pink on his cheeks and the heavy look in his eyes. Your eyes were caught in his, sharing a silent word until he cleared his throat again.

“Let’s get you to bed, ‘mega.” His voice was low, a clear order from his alpha that made you jerk away, unlocking your door and stumbling inside, abandoning your shoes and jacket by the door as you moved towards the living room, him following along, locking the door behind. The air felt stifling, the heat wasn’t even on, but you felt like you were in a furnace. His scent fluffed around your tiny apartment as you gestured to the couch.

“I think I need a shower.” You laughed, uncomfortable but anything but afraid. “The remotes on the table.”

“Just shout if you need anything.” He flopped down onto the couch, smiling up at you. Your mind ran as you made your way back to the bathroom. You had actually invited him and he actually agreed? You felt so conflicted, one part of you wanting to drag him under the warm water with you as it started to fill the bathroom with steam and the other part of you wanting to send him right back outside, blaming your heat for your lack of a filter. It wasn’t just your heat though, and you knew that. You would want him here regardless, you just weren’t bold enough to actually tell him that. As you stepped under the water your mind filled with scenarios of how he could help you in more ways than just guarding your door.

The large red mark on your chest would surly bruise, tender to the touch between your breasts as you scrubbed the skin, trying to remove any bit of the disgusting scent that seemed to cling to you no matter how hard you tried to scrub it off, your omega almost frantic to remove it as you gave up, stepping out of the shower and pulling on your robe. You could always ask Eijiro to scent you, but that felt like too far after dragging him into your house.

Deciding against it, you let out a whine before opening the door, jumping back as you almost ran into a broad chest.

“You smelled upset I’m sorry I-I had to make sure you were…okay” He seemed to have a hard time finding words, eyes completely shifted to the alpha yellow as he looked down at you, gaze searching for any sign of danger. It was now or never you guessed.

“The smell…” You pouted up at him. “I smell like him, could you um?” Before a silence could fill the air his hands shot out gripping your hips tightly before dragging his scent glands over your wet hair, slowly moving down as he scented your neck, your back ramrod straight as you let out a breathy gasp. His lips grazed over your own scent gland, causing you to shiver in his arms as he moved further down still. Your robe had fallen open, not yet exposing your breasts, but the space between them, red and starting to bruise open to the air. He growled low, lightly rubbing his cheek over the spot before placing a chaste kiss over it. That made your knees collapse, and if it wasn’t for his grip you would be a puddle on the floor.

“Sorry ‘mega.” His voice was gruff as he pulled away, causing you to whine as he looked down on you, “I couldn’t help myself. Let’s actually get you to bed.” Your mind was cloudy, feeling like you were floating as he guided you down the hall and to your room. He stood at your door as you made your way inside, allowing your robe to drop off as your mind became laser focused on reaching your nest, momentarily forgetting he was there entirely.

He was sure any other alpha would have ripped into your room instantly at the sight, but he had to control himself. You had already been traumatized once tonight and the last thing you needed was a burly alpha like himself ruining your safe space as you flopped into your nest, rearranging the blankets and pillows that filled it with a huff, brows furrowed. You only seemed to get more agitated as you worked, head finally snapping back to him with a huff.

“Alpha needa smell like you.” Your voice almost slurred as you spoke, almost snapping his fraying resolve. He knew he should have stayed in the living room, but the sour switch of your fruity scent had almost made him feral, and he just couldn’t leave you. Couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you pouted to him. “Want you.” You mumbled to him and he was done. String snapping he made his way through your room to your nest,hesitating at the edge before you grabbed his arm with surprising strength, pulling his willing body in with you. Your body instantly molded to his, despite your heated skin his warmth feeling amazing as you scented him.

“Alpha please.” You didn’t even know what you needed as you begged for something, anything as he stayed stiff, arms at his side as you burrowed against his chest.

“Shh, you’re okay.” He said, finally wrapping his arms around you as he maneuvered you, laying with his back against the plush fortress. “You should sleep ‘mega.” That nickname made your skin tingle like it was on fire. You whined again at him as you pulled up, locking eyes with him. He looked at home in here and you had half a mind to never let him leave your nest again.

“Needa knot first.” The words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, that being even too far for your current state, instantly breaking eye contact as you pulled further away, looking away as his hand came up to cover his eyes, breaths ragged as he took in your words.

“(y/n)...I need to know if you mean that. If you really want me, or if it’s just your heat.” It wasn’t just your heat. You had fantasized about this before, you had thought of him more times than you would like to admit and not just in this way.

“Only want you, Eijiro, only ever you alpha.” You babbled in response, hoping that he believed you. There must have been something in your face, because as he lifted his hand from his eyes and stared at you for a moment he finally nodded his head.

“Alright ‘mega,” His voice had changed ever so slightly, the commanding alpha tone back, “You’ll tell me if anything is too far. If anything hurts. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Are you on birth control?” You instantly defeated at his words, the stress leaving your shoulders as you fell to him.

“Yes alpha, I am and I will!” You said back eagerly. “I want you.” He laughed lightly at you, shaking his head as he sat up, catching your mouth in a kiss that soon morphed into something less than innocent, tongues tangling as he eased you onto your back. His hands gripped your hips pulling you closer as one hand began drifting towards your center.

“Jesus ‘mega, you’re soaked.” He pulled away speaking against your lips as you mewled.

“Need your knot.” You said as a response. He shook his head lightly.

“Need to make sure you can take it pretty girl.” He said, a finger slipping in easily, soon adding a second, pumping in a way that made your spine curl. You moaned as his lips connected to your chest, tongue encircling the bud of your peaked nipple causing you to cry out as he began to scissor his fingers. You could feel yourself getting close, already so close to the edge before he even touched you.

“Cum and I’ll give you my knot ‘mega. Need you ready for this dick.” His words seemed to melt into your skin, lighting you up inside, sending you hurtling over the edge as his fingers reached a specific spot inside you as your toes curled, crying out his name as you did just that.

“Good girl, such a good ‘mega.” He praised you as he continued to move his fingers allowing you to ride out your orgasm as you groaned at his words. “How do you want this pretty girl, it’s up to you this time.” His words of “this time” swirled through your head as you tried to answer him through your moans, eventually reaching down to grab his wrist, stopping his movement for long enough to catch your breath.

“Want to see you.” You huffed out, hoping he understood what you meant, and to your glee he seemed to be on the same page. He pulled out his hand slowly, your pussy clenching around nothing as he pulled your legs up, allowing them to rest on his shoulders. You weren’t sure when he took off his shirt but were beyond happy with the view it granted you, his huge muscular chest making you clench weakly.

“Look at me.” He commanded roughly, causing your eyes to snap to his as he shimmied down his pants, allowing the leaking head of his cock to trace over you. “You will tell me if it’s too much; tell me to stop and I will, one word and it’s over okay?” His words made you want to fold in on yourself, allow him to take whatever he wanted, but his eyes were different. They almost looked nervous like he was worried for you and holding himself back. He looked like he truly cared, almost like-

“I will, Eijiro.” It was like a piece of your mind had finally come back to you, and at your words he nodded, allowing his cock to slide in, inch by inch. Despite stretching you earlier, there was still a delicious burn as he sunk in bit by bit. If he didn’t want you after this, you didn’t know what you would do, never feeling so full before, his knot not even fully inflated at this point.

“You okay?” His voice was gruff, like he was holding himself back as he looked down at you intently, trying to read your face.

“Please, alpha fill me please please please.” You begged under him, trying to wiggle your hips as he let out a groan, hands moving to grip the back of your thighs, bending them to your chest.

“Anything for you, ‘mega.” Before you could even process his words, he snapped his hips, causing you to cry out as your head fell back, at his complete mercy as he began to fuck you hard into your carefully crafted fortess. It was like your brain was disconnected, short circuited as his hips pistoned into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room, drowned out by your near sceam- moaning.

“You’re mine now ‘mega. No one else will ever lay a finger on you or I’ll break their fucking arm.” He grunted out, pushing your legs higher as you cried below him, babbling nonsense as you tried to connect back to your brain, clenching tight at his words.

“All yours alpha.” You moaned out. You were embarrassingly close again. If he meant what he said though, you would at least have a day or two more of this as he helped you through your heat.

“Gonna fill you up so much no one will even smell your heat on you. All they’ll be able to smell is me. They’ll know who this cunt belongs to.” His words were filthy as he spoke to you. “Are you gonna cum again? All over my knot ‘mega?” You could only moan at his words, knowing he was right. “You know I’ve wanted this for months, every time I saw you I wanted to drag you away and show you who you should belong to…show you why you should choose me.” Your vision was beginning to grow hazy, seconds away from crashing over the edge. “You know what? It wasn’t even your tight pussy or your ass that I couldn’t get out of my mind.” His words made you pause, gasping as his eyes meant yours. “It’s those fucking eyes, I couldn’t get them out of my head.” He said with a particularly sharp thrust as your head fell back again. “Look at me as you cum.” As soon as your eyes met his you fell, the tight cord inside of you snapping as you gushed around him, a few more thrust before he too was cumming, hot seed filling you as his knot locked you together, feeling almost uncomfortably full as he let your legs fall back down, resting his head on your collar bone as you both tried to catch your breath.

He soon raised his head, puppeting you to a more comfortable position as you waited for his knot to deflate, already half asleep as you snuggled up to him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I mean it, you know.” He said, your turn to hum in response. “I want to take you out ‘mega. I’ll prove to you, I’m worthy of you.”

“You are worthy, Eijiro.” You mumbled out, kissing his arm as you snuggled impossibly closer. “Sleep alpha.”

“Sleep ‘mega.” He agreed with a laugh as you faded into the most restful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

[dancingtotuyo]

High Infidelity Part V

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature Explicit

Summary: Tommy is released, but he only pushes you further into Joel's arms.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: prison, mentions of war, fighting, LOTS OF TEARS, emotional and physical affair, cheating boundaries, smut (P in V), Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: And so we reach the end of this story. I know there's a lot to wrap up. Thank you all for all your amazing comments and thoughts over the last month. It really means the world to me.

I know I say this every chapter but a huge thanks to @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. They have beta'ed every chapter one top of listening to me scream about this story for hours over the course of months! I adore you both so much

Words: 7234

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

They warn you that Tommy’s transition home will be difficult. An adjustment period they call it. You prepare for him to struggle, thinking he would try to leave the house in search of trouble, but it’s the opposite. Joel picks him up from work in the morning and drops him off in the evening. Then he goes out on the back deck and drinks sitting out there in utter silence. At first, you join him, letting Nathaniel play in the backyard but he refuses to talk, hardly looks your way. Sometimes he tracks Nathaniel, but not all the time. He seems so far away, like he had those first couple months home after Desert Storm, but he came back to you, as Your Tommy. At least for a little bit. 

At night, he pulls you into his arms without a word. He holds you until you fall asleep, but on several occasions, you wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Usually he’s sitting on the bed or standing as he stares out the window. Sometimes you hear him pacing the house. You don’t talk about it. You don’t talk about much anymore except for the weather. He’s ultra focused on the weather it seems. 

He hasn’t tried to touch you. Sexually that is. Any kiss he lays on you is chaste almost like it’s his duty, but sometimes you catch more behind it, like he’s pushing down his own desires. When you try to progress things, he walks away. 

It hurts. A lot. 

You have Julia and Micky over for dinner a month after Tommy’s release. Tommy comes out of his shell a little bit. He wears a smile, laughs with his head thrown back at some inside joke Micky cracks. He looks easy, relaxed for once. Under the table, his hand lands on your thigh sending little jolts of electricity through your body. He’s feeding you more and more loose threads of his old self to hold on to. The ever present tension in your chest eases. You hate that it feels like you can breathe again. A small, small assurance that he will come back to you in time. 

Micky and Tommy take the boys outside after dinner. Micky talks about a support group for Veterans he goes to. You watch from the window, you can’t hear them, but you see when  Tommy brushes him off, his body going rigid. You try to push it out of your mind, but you already feel the threads slipping through your fingers as you push back tears with a glass of water. 

Tommy goes to bed before you that night, but when you slip into bed, he still pulls you into his arms. When you wake up a couple hours later, Tommy stands by the window, gazing out of it like a statue keeping watch. 

You don’t usually say anything. You don’t let him know you know he’s not sleeping, but something tugs you into an upright position. “Tommy.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. You get no indication that he even hears you. You throw back the covers, joining him next to the window. You repeat his name, laying a hand on his shoulder. You catch a small twinge in his jaw. “Come back to bed?”

His eyes dart from the moon to his feet. He leans away from you, just enough for you to pick up on it. You can’t ignore the stab of hurt that shoots through your body. Your hands fall back like you’ve been burned. You wish you had the energy to yell at him, fight him, but you don’t, so you crawl back into bed, back turned to him. Silent tears soak your pillow before you fall back asleep. 

Tommy’s gaze moves to your still frame, praying for a release from the chains he can’t seem to shake. The ones that he keeps hurting you with, but he doesn't know where to find the keys. 

So life continues like that. Weekly dinners with Micky and Julia, glimpses of Tommy and threads that slip through your fingers. Most days it feels like one step forward and two steps back. Your patiences frays, your emotions unraveling each time he pushes you away only to pull you close at the end of the day. You’re not sure what does it, if you’ve reached the end of your rope, completely unraveled, or multiple tantrums Nathaniel threw all day, but when he reaches for you one night, you snap. 

“Stop.” You pull out of his reach.

“What’s wrong?”

Dry laughter falls out of you as you roll out of the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s not wrong?”

“Baby…”

“No, you don’t get to try and soothe me!” You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears of the past months from your eyes. You can’t break down right now, in front of him. “You’re pushing me away! I’m trying to be here for you, I really am, Tommy, but I am exhausted! I don’t know what to do.”

He looks away, body looking deflated. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

“No- Stop,” you hold your hands up. “You know why I’m here. I love you, but love only gets us so far.”

“I’m trying-”

“No, you’re not.”

“You don’t know-”

“People who are trying don’t sit out on the porch and ignore their family every night! They don’t ignore their wife!”

“If that’s how you feel, maybe you should just leave me now!” he snaps. “No need to delay the inevitable.”

It pulls the air from you like a punch to the gut. Tears well in your eyes. “Is that what you want?”

He looks away from you again. You march up to him, grabbing his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Tell me!” 

There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re the same eyes you fell in love with, but they’re hollow now. It sends a heartbreaking chill through your body. His eyes fall to the corner, the only way he can get away from your searing gaze. 

You drop his face, stepping away before you lose it in front of him. “Okay then.” 

You can’t stay here, in the room, in your home. Tommy hangs his head as you flee from his presence. The house rattles when the front door slams behind you. Only then, does Tommy let the apathy bleed out of his body and the tears fall. 

A knock on the front door jolts Joel awake. The TV plays lowly, casting harsh light and shadows across the dark living room. He feels confused, disoriented. Another knock pulls him through the fog a little bit. He opens the door to find you, tears streaming down your face. You push past him, crossing the threshold without an invitation. You don’t need one. 

“What’s wrong, Darlin?”

You inhale, preparing to let the words out, to scream if necessary, and then your whole chest quivers, and the tears pour out again sending you into a blubbering mess. Joel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you to the couch before you collapse right in front of him. 

He leaves you for a minute. The faucet runs in the kitchen. Joel sets a cool, heavy glass in your hands, watching over you with concern knit brows. Every time you try to talk, your chest rattles again and tears overpower you.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

You sip at the water, rotating between complete serenity and total chaos. Every time you think you might be able to speak, the words turn into incoherent sobs. Finally, you give up trying to talk until the glass is empty. Joel takes the glass from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. You don’t attempt to talk until your breathing is fully evened out. Joel holds your shoulders, thumbs running smoothly over your skin.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” you say. “All the time.”

Joel frowns. “Tommy?”

“He won’t talk to me.” The tears gather behind your eyes again, creating pressure in your head. You feel the blubbering start to return. “I knew things would be hard, but he just acts like I’m not even there half the time.”

“Is he going out again?” 

You shake your head. “No- he’s home all the time, sulking, being mad at the world for whatever reason he can come up with. I’ve tried so hard. I don’t know what else to do.” Hot tears spill from your eyes. “It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m used to doing everything alone- but now I’m doing it with a ghost in my home. It wears on a person, and tonight- “ It hurts like citrus in a fresh cut to think about.  

“Come here.” Joel sighs, feeling his heartache for you. He pulls you into his chest, allowing you to soak his shirt until it sticks to his skin. His hand caresses your back, doing his best to soothe you as best he can. Though by now, he’s a pro at it. 

Eventually, your head falls into his lap. The sobs don't seem to rattle your body the same, but the tears don’t stop. 

Annoyance begins to grow in Joel. How many more times does he have to do this before you come to your senses? He thought Tommy’s stint in prison would help, yet here you are still crying on his couch. This can’t keep happening. It’s not fair to you. 

Joel loves his brother. He would do anything in this world for him, except when it comes to you. Because Joel loves you too. He loves you more and in more ways than a brother-in-law should. He hasn’t minded being just your brother-in-law and friend until now. You deserve better. 

When you finally sit up, wiping the tears from your eyes, he knows he won’t be able to stop the words at the cusp of his mouth. 

“What time is it?” You look at the clock on the wall with a sigh. “I should go home.”

“Darlin,” Joel grabs your chin. Your eyes snap to his. There’s a seriousness in his eyes you’re not sure you’ve seen before. “How long are you gonna let him keep doing this to you?”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

You close your eyes for a second. Another tear falls with your eyelashes. Joel swipes it away with his thumb. “What am I supposed to do, Joel? Where would we go?”

“You could stay here until you find somethin.”

A little huff of laughter manages to escape. “Yes, I’m sure Sarah would love having us invade her space when there’s a perfectly good house down the street.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to leave him.” You put your hand on Joel’s wrist. “He’s a dick, but I love him.”

“It’s killing me to see you like this. You deserve better.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, but there’s something else in his eyes. The way he’s looking at you. There’s a heat in his gaze, something that feels so familiar, but you haven’t seen Tommy in years, the same look you saw that night at the beach. It sends tingles through your bloodstream, little pinpricks of excitement like the night you got yourself off in his bed, said his name and then heard him. You’ve managed to push down the question until now, but you know for certain now. He heard you. You swallow, your breath feeling like it’s being pulled out of your lungs. 

Do you tell him what Tommy said tonight? Do you tell him that you heard him that night? Do you tell him you’re being pulled into different directions?

“Joel…”

His hand falls to your waist. The other cups your neck. You feel like you’re falling toward him, helpless to stop the inevitable. “I’ve got you, Darlin.”

He’s been here. He’s always been here for you at the drop of a hat. Your firm foundation when it felt like the rest of the world was sinking. You always assumed you were just a promise he made to his brother, but what he’s been to you and what you’ve been to him, it’s more than a promise to a brother. It’s more than a love for family. 

It sparks a flame inside you. You haven’t been looked at like that in years. Haven’t been touched in just as long. Tommy hasn’t made a single move on you since he got out. He’s run every time you’ve tried to initiate something. 

Your eyes dip to his lips, centimeters from your own. Joel echoes the statement again, quieter this time as your lips touch his. He shutters under you, lips quick to take over. Arms wrap around your waist. You’re thankful for it. Thankful not to have to think about any of it. Content to let him have complete control as you straddle him.

He inhales with a faint shake to his breath, lips still touching yours. Then, he returns in full force, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth. His hands crawl up your body, greedy and searching. You give in, nails wracking through his hair. Years of pent-up desire behind both of your movements. 

You play with the top buttoning of his shirt, popping them open, lightly scraping your nails across his chest. A moan reverberates from his chest. The bulge in his pants grows against your crotch, sending electricity through your veins. You tug at another button before Joel’s hand covers yours. He manages to pull away just barely. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Not here.” He pants. “Sarah.”

Your eyes widen, realizing how easily you could’ve been spotted by your niece. Joel caresses your jaw, eyes hooded with lust. He bucks his hips up, brushing your clothed crotch again. You gasp, making him smirk. 

His voice is raspy with need. “Gotta get you into my bed, Darlin.”

You barely manage to pull yourself off his lap, your legs feeling like wet noodles. Joel smiles, he grabs your hand, tugging you behind him. He’s quiet on the stairs, eyes glued to Sarah’s bedroom door the entire way up. 

His bedroom door clicks softly behind you, your shirt thrown off before Joel can turn around. He lets out an appreciative groan, pulling his own shirt off as he stalks toward you. Want pools low in your belly, the walls of your aching cunt clench. Your breath quickens as he edges nearer, a solid arm wrapping around your waist. His contained erection pushes against you making you grin. “Happy to see me?”

“More than you know,” he growls, kissing you again. Hand roaming your exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You moan softly and then a little bit louder. Joel shakes his head. “Music to my fucking ears baby.”

He pulls and tugs at your bra, unable to get it opened to the point you’re worried he broke a clasp. Finally, you pull it over your head and let it land with your shirt. He takes you in, topless in his bedroom for just him to see. You’re a fucking work of art, water to a wanderer in the desert. 

He cups one of your breasts, pulls the other one into his mouth. You gasp, head falling back, moisture collecting in your underwear. His thumb plays with your exposed nipples while his tongue swirls over the other. You moan his name softly, being cautious of your volume.

He palms himself through his jeans, switching to your other breast as he does. You fight the urge to fall back on the bed, hands playing in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He hums softly against your chest, sending an extra wave of pleasure through your body. He pulls back, saliva connecting the two of you, eyes glued to yours. He kisses you until the back of your knees hit his mattress, but he doesn’t let you fall to the bed yet. 

“How long has it been?” he says, muffled against your lips. His fingers play with the button of your pants

“What?”

“How long has it been?” He pulls back, the button of your pants popping open as he sinks to his knees.

Confusion flashes through your face until you realize what he’s saying, what he’s asking. You swallow, unsure of how to answer. 

“Darlin?”

It’s embarrassing because you can’t remember the last time you were touched like this. You shake your head. “I don’t know. Before?”

The sound from his throat is guttural, almost a growl. He’s been out for three months. Three fucking months and he hasn’t bothered to touch his wife. 

Joel tugs your jeans down, pressing a kiss just below your belly button, continuing down to the band of your underwear. Your pussy clenches again, dripping with need. 

“Lay down.”

You obey, bottom hitting the soft mattress first and then your back. His smell is everywhere now, seeping into your skin, just as it always has when you curled up in his bed. 

His hands run up the length of your torso, tweaking your nipples before sliding down, continuing over your thighs. He pulls your jeans free, pressing his nose to your center. “Smell so good for me, baby.”

Your stomach flutters, hips pressing into his face. He lets out a low chuckle. “I’m going to take care of you, Darlin. Don’t you worry.” 

You whine, hands gripping the sheets beside you. “Please, Joel.”

He tugs your underwear down, tortuously slow. His fingers trace down the entirety of your legs. You can see just enough under the hood of your lust-filled eyes. He props both of your legs on his shoulders, pressing slow kisses to the inside of each leg as he edges closer and closer to your core. 

When he gets there, he pauses, eyes locking on yours. It’s intentional. You have the urge to cuss him out if he doesn’t put his mouth on you soon. The need is strong enough you could cry or scream of frustration. 

Slowly, he spreads your legs, fingers creeping toward your sopping folds. He runs his pinky through them, barely nudging your clit, but it’s enough to have your back arching off the mattress. He grins up at you. He spreads you further. The evidence of your arousal glistens in the dim lights. “Fuck, Baby. So wet for me.”

You bite your lip to keep from yelling at him. “Please, Joel.” Your voice is hoarse and strained already. 

He groans, practically falling into your spread pussy. His tongue flattens against you, running the length of your folds. Your hands tangle in his hair, repeated moans falling from your lips, ones you both know you’re holding back for the sake of being quiet. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely touched you. 

Joel wants to take his time, savor the moment, memorize every piece of you. He wants to pull you apart piece by piece and put you back together again. He knows he may not get another opportunity again, but you’re addicting. He wants to pull those sounds from you on a loop and feast on your juices. He sucks your clit, swirling his tongue around it, eliciting another glorious moan from you. Each one grows louder until he pulls away for the briefest second and a pillow hits your face. 

“As much as I wanna hear you, Darlin. Use that.” He grins. “Don’t hold back on me anymore.”

His mouth is on you, doubling his efforts. Bringing you to the edge of bliss. You’re so close, moans filling the pillow case that smells like him. He inserts a finger, giving you something to clench around, softly brushing against your walls. His tongue laps over your clit and the tension building in you snaps in one beautiful crescendo. 

His thumb replaces his tongue as he works you through your orgasm, chest heaving as you catch your breath. “That’s right. Just like that.”

You toss the pillow to the side, locking eyes with him. He smirks at you, pressing a kiss over your hip. He leaves behind some of your juices, his face slick with them. Standing back to his feet, he undoes his belt shucking off his jeans and boxers. 

Your breath catches again as you hurry to sit up. He chuckles at you, catching your hands in his as you reach for him, for his cock. He pushes you back down to the bed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “As much as I’d enjoy that, Darlin. It was all I could do not to finish in my pants like a damn teenager.” 

Your breath quivers against him, words barely coherent in your brain. He releases one of your hands, reaching into his drawer for a condom.

 “Joel, I-” Your hand runs down his side, soaking in the feel of his skin. “Please.” It’s all you can manage. Years of pent-up desire begging to be freed. 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on him. 

He rips open the foil packet. Your eyes follow his every movement as he rolls it over his cock. Once it’s on he crawls onto the bed, hovering over you, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and stars. He’s your oasis in the desert and you’re his. Your hands roam his back and shoulders and hair. He leans into your touch, soft noises of contentment falling from his lips. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you manage to flip him onto his back. His arms fly out, a thunk sounding through the room as his wrist collides with the night stand. 

You can’t help the laughter that spills from your lips as you settle on top of him. “Are you okay?”

“Glad to see you’re so concerned for my well being.” He chuckles.

“No- Really.” But you can’t stop laughing. “Are you okay?”

“My watch caught it. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles, cradling your face in his hands. 

You lean down, hands spread over his chest as you press your lips to his. His hands are all over your bare skin again. He shifts your hips, positioning you over him, ready for you to sink down on to him, feel you wrap around him. 

You run your thumb over his bottom lip as his eyes roam over your face, breath held in anticipation, waiting for you.

“Are you sure?” you ask, barely a whisper. 

“Never been more sure.” His hands settle over your hips, holding them softly. 

The air seems to evaporate from the room and the world goes silent before you take that final, fatal move and sink onto him. A soft whimper leaves your lips before Joel captures your lips, swallowing it.

The moonlight reflects off his watch face. Neither of you are aware that it’s stopped, sealing your sins under its glass. 

You lay in Joel's arms long after you’ve both finished, sweaty and bare. The ceiling fan turns above you offering little reprieve. It’s nice, at first, but the longer you lay there, the longer it begins to sink in, the more you start to feel the stickiness on your skin and the unexplainable need for a shower. 

You pull out of Joel's arm’s without a word, eyes searching for your clothes strewn across the room. Why does it feel like the walls are closing in? You need to get out and think. 

“Darlin?” Joel sits up, reaching for your shoulder. 

“I should go home,” you say, rising to your feet before he can touch you. “I need to go home.”

“I told you you can stay.”

“I need to go home!” you snap, tears glistening in your eyes. This is wrong. It’s all wrong. 

“Shit,” Joel’s head drops. He lets out a huff, a hint of sarcasm to it. You grab your shirt, pulling it on, too busy locating your items to pay him any mind. “So that’s it? You’re just going to go back? Nothing’s gonna change.”

Your head snaps up as you pull on your jeans. “This can’t happen.” Your chest shakes. “It shouldn’t have happened, Joel. We both know that.”

“Or maybe it was supposed to.” He slides out of the bed, pulling on his boxers.

“Joel-”

“He doesn’t treat you right. We both know that.”

“He’s my husband!”

“He doesn’t get to walk all over you just because he’s your husband!”

“That doesn’t make this right!”

“It was the most right my life’s felt in years,” Joel says, eyes landing on yours. You bite back tears, trying not to let him get to you as you turn away, but he grabs your wrist. “It always does with you.”

You turn your head away from him without a response.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” His thumbs press into your palm. 

You slip his grip. “I love him. I know I shouldn’t anymore, after everything, but I do.” 

“I’ve always been here.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” You want to curse as your emotion wells up again. How much can a person take in a single night? “My life would be so much simpler if it was you.”

“It could be.”

“No,” your head shakes. It hurts more than you expect it too. You do love him. You wish it could be him. As if the past three years weren’t enough, you know what it’s like to be with him now, but it’s still Tommy, and you hate yourself for it. 

Joel seems to read it in your eyes, the sadness, the acceptance, lingering longing for what could have been. His throat bobbles as he steps back to give you space. You release a slow breath. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Don't apologize. I should have known better.”

You cringe. You want to tell him it’s not all on him, but he’s giving you an out. You’re too exhausted not to take it. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah.” Joel moves about his room like he’s searching for something. 

You’re not sure if you should say something more, or leave. Leaving would be easier. A clean break, and you take it, but Joel’s voice stops you before you can open the door. “He wasn’t faithful to you.”

Your hand freezes over the door knob, eyes squeezing shut. You can’t do this. You can’t have this conversation right now, but your body is frozen in place. 

“I think you should know.”

Nails bite into your palms as you steady your breath, eyes focused on the wood of the door in front of you as rage begins to grow in you. “He already told me, but thanks for dredging that hurt back up three years after the fact.”

“Darlin-”

You spin on your heels. “Fuck you, Joel!” 

Joel’s eye’s fly wide. “I just thought you should know!”

“No, you were using that for your own good!” You can’t take this. Joel throwing Tommy’s betrayal in your face years after the fact is its own form of treachery.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I live in a constant state of hurt! You were supposed to be my reprieve!” Your fists shake, voice raising. You don’t care if you wake Sarah, you don’t care if your sins come to light. There’s only so much a person can take in a single night. “If you actually cared about me, you wouldn’t have kept that a secret for years! And you damn sure wouldn’t have used it for your own good!”

Joel doesn’t break eye contact with you, but you see the regret fill his eyes. Fire buzzes in your bloodstream and tears prickle your eyes. You’re not sure how you have any left to shed. In the blink of an eye, you flee from his room and home before he can attempt to draw you back in.

You take the long way home, letting the Texas darkness swallow you whole until you’re ready to go back home. 

The house is dark and quiet. You flip on the lamp, a deep tension forming in your head. Tommy sits on the couch, eyes latching onto yours. He looks like a lost puppy. Your breath catches. You must look a mess- eyes stained red, and clothes wrinkled. You worry you smell like sex or Joel, running over the nights happening for any chance Joel left a mark on you- not that Tommy would notice that. 

“I was getting worried about you.”

You toss your keys on the end table, throwing off your shoes with a sarcastic huff. “That’s ironic.” Tommy cringes. For once, you’re the closed-off one, too emotionally hardened or drained for his antics. 

“I deserve that.”

“Ya think?” You cross your arms. 

“Baby…” He eases to his feet. “I’m sorry- for all of it.”

“Sorry? Sorry! What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Tommy!”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It reminds you of Joel. The thought makes your blood run cold. “I don’t know.”

A humorless laugh leaves your throat. “You don’t know?”

“What the fuck can I say? I fucked up. Quite frankly, I don’t know why you’re still here!”

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Why!?”

The question catches you off guard. “What the fuck do you mean? ‘Why?’”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Wow, you’re on a roll tonight.” Your eyes roll. 

“I mean it.”

“Do you want me to leave, Tommy?” Yours and his transgressions filter before your eyes, making you cringe. Two wrongs don’t make a right. “You're done with me and you can’t bring yourself to say it?”

“I’m not good enough for you anymore!” Tears swell in his eyes. “I’ve done nothing but hurt you! But I can’t let you go!”

“I don’t want you to let me go, you big idiot!”

“Why?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. Joel behind your eyelids. His stability. His care. His love. You could have that, but it would never quench your longing for Tommy. For better or worse, he’s yours. You want him even if it’s bad for you. “I don’t know.”

Tommy enters your space. His arms slip around your waist, eliciting a soft gasp from a place inside you you thought long gone. 

“You still believe in me?” He presses his forehead against yours. The callus on your heart starts to lift away, easier than you want to admit. He’s still in there somewhere, the man you fell in love with. You’re seeing more of him than you have in a long time. His hands feel hot against your back and he tugs you closer. You’re compliant under his touch. Whatever he wants from you, you’ll let him have it if he’ll just stays like this. 

You sniff back the tears, head nodding. “Yeah. I think I always will.”

“Let me make it better. I’m going to do better, Baby.” His breath is hot on your ear, lips pressing right behind it, and then to the corner of your jaw. Your body takes over as you lean into his touch. “I’m going to be here and present for you and Nathaniel.”

“You promise?” If the Tommy you fell in love with comes back to you, you won’t survive losing him again. You feel his hands in places he’s not even touching, heat sprouting all over your body. 

“I promise, Baby.” He kisses your cheek and then your forehead. 

You feel the pull of his current tugging you back under, clouding your judgment. You should send him packing or at least to the guest room until you wash his brother’s scent from your skin, but your body calls for him. Tommy’s touch is your addiction, your late nights running wild, your stint in prison. 

His breath fans over your face and before you know it, you’re pulling his lips to yours. The undertow sweeps you away, tugging you under the surface. Tommy’s never been the safe option, but you never claimed to need safe. 

He tugs you up the stairs. The lock on your bedroom door clicks and he’s on you like a starved man, hands wreaking havoc on your body, pulling clothing from your body like pretty wrapping paper on christmas morning. It doesn’t matter that you were sated well over an hour ago, your body responds to Tommy like a horny teenager. He knows you. He knows how to touch your body just right, he knows exactly how to make you writhe and moan and scream, and he hasn’t forgotten either. He plans to put his memory to good use tonight. 

Your hands are as ravenous as his, tugging his hair, at the buttons of his shirt, and pants. His teeth scrapes your bottom lip before he lays you down on the bed, bared to him and the moon streaming through the curtains. He smiles at you. It’s breathtaking. 

He takes his dear, sweet time with you, pulling you apart piece by piece and gluing you back together. Each time your brain dares to wonder into forbidden territory, he reminds you why he’s your husband, that he still knows you better than anyone else. It erases the rest of the night from your memory and the last two years until it’s just you and him, coming together as one like it was always meant to be. You and him. Bonnie and Clyde. 

He finishes deep inside of you, a feeling you’ve missed. All of it you’ve missed. His skin on yours, sweat mingling together. You lay there staring up at him in awe. He locks eyes with you. He’s there. Your Tommy. The Tommy you see every time you think about him, with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

He leans down, lips pressing to your forehead. He wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I never want to be the cause of these again.”

“Let’s be real, Tommy, you made me cry even when things were good.”

He chuckles, falling beside you. His chest moves with his heavy panting. You think he might be the most handsome man you’ve ever met. “Yeah, suppose I did.” 

“You’re gonna try, for real?”

“I’ll probably fuck up here and there.” He gathers you into his arms, skin pressed to skin as you breathe in the same air. 

“I know you will.” You tease. He scowls, but it’s all in good fun. Another flash of fresh air, a promise that things could go back to normal. 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You laugh, fingers tangling in his black waves. His hair has gotten so long. You wonder if he’ll keep it this way. “It’s gonna take at least that.”

He nods, a hint of seriousness showing in his face. “I know.”

And you know he means it. 

“I think you should go to that group Micky mentioned. You need people who understand.”

Tommy shifts slightly. He doesn’t like the idea. That much is clear. “Baby…”

“This is how you do better, Tommy.” The firmness in your voice catches you off guard. Tommy too. 

He nods, Adam's Apple bobbing. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Every week?”

“Every week.”

The next morning, you wake up the same way you fell asleep, in your husband’s arms. 

Tommy never says a word, but he smells it on you that night. Something familiar, but out of place. It doesn’t belong on you, but he can’t put his finger on it. He knows what it means. He’s no idiot, and he doesn’t blame you for any of it. He’s had his indiscretions. Lord knows you’re allowed yours. 

You sit on the front porch with your coffee the next morning, the creaking of the porch swing playing in the background of your racing mind. You feel guilty for all of it. What you did to Tommy. What you did to Joel. But more so, you feel guilty because you know you can keep this buried for the rest of your life if it means keeping Tommy, and you’re pretty sure it makes you no better than him. At least Tommy had the balls to own up to what he did, but Joel isn’t some random girl at a bar. He’s your friend. Tommy’s brother. If it had been some random man, you could own up to it, but not this. Not Joel. 

“Aunt Bonnie!” 

The familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts as Sarah waves from the sidewalk, other hand clutched tightly in Joel’s. 

“Hey!” You force a smile to your face, waving back to her as they climb the porch stairs. She rushes over to you, arms open to give you a hug. You return the gesture, crushing her against your frame. “What’s up?”

“We’re just walking. I wanted to come say hi.”

You kiss her cheek. “Well I feel honored. Nathaniel and Uncle Tommy are inside if you want to say hi to them too.”

“Okay,” Sarah returns your kiss, curls bouncing behind her as she darts inside. 

You keep your eyes focused off to the side as Joel’s footsteps draw closer. Your finger plays along the rim of your coffee mug. You feel small, like a child in trouble. Joel eases next to you on the swing, shoulder brushing yours as he does. You bite your lip, knee bouncing softly.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says. “I shouldn’t have let that happen last night.”

Your eyes glaze over. “It’s not all on you.”

“Let it.” Your head snaps toward him. He looks tired, like he didn’t sleep much last night. He clasps his hands together, leaning over his knees. “You weren’t in a good place. I took advantage of that. Let it be my fault.”

Tears glaze over your eyes. He’s giving you an out. 

“Joel…”

He nods at you, a silent assurance. You shouldn’t take it, but you do. You lean into it, and it covers the guilt some, even if it’s all lies. You knew what you were doing. 

He kisses your forehead as the words leave your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Darlin.” More lies to make you feel less guilty. He’ll feed them to you as long as you need him to. 

He stands up, eyes flickering between your door and the way back to his house. 

“I can walk Sarah home later.” 

“Thanks.” He nods before leaving your front porch. He doesn’t look back.  

Things with Tommy don’t magically get better overnight. Life doesn’t work that way. It takes time. It’s gradual, sometimes it feels like you’re moving backward, but slowly Tommy comes back into himself. He’s never the exact man you fell in love with, the one you married, but you’re not the same person either. Time changes things. People grow, but with some work, you find new versions of yourselves that still fit together. Most importantly, this new version is still your Tommy.

Your memories with Joel don’t go away. You keep them tucked deep in your soul, but the two of you find your new rhythm, your friendship too important to lose. 

One Year Later

The five of you gather at Joel’s on Sunday morning for breakfast, rotating houses each week. It’s a carry over from the routine you and Joel developed. It’s different, obviously. You and Nathaniel don’t stay the night. It takes time for Tommy to find his place in the well oiled unit the two of you became. It feels awkward and clunky at times, but you get through it and slowly the kinks work themselves out. 

Joel bounds down the stairs, hair wet from his shower as he joins you and Tommy around the coffee pot. 

“Figured y'all would have breakfast ready by now,” Joel says, squeezing next to Tommy to get to the coffee. 

“Last I checked, we’re guests in your house,” you say, quirking an eyebrow, teasing lilt in your voice. Joel’s eyes roll but a smirk quirks his lips none the less.

Tommy hears a ringing in his ears as the scent of Joel’s body wash filters through his senses, still strong on his brother’s skin. His eyes narrow at your and Joel’s banter. There’s nothing unusual about it. He knows you two are close. It doesn’t bother him, but he knows that scent. His mind pulls it from the fading archives quickly. He smelled it on you that night.  

Tommy sets his mug down, not saying anything as you and Joel go back and forth over breakfast traditions, the two of you falling into predetermined roles in the kitchen. You dance around each other, like a sixth sense, always knowing where the other one is and where they’re going. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tommy’s  not sure how he hadn’t caught it before. Maybe his brain wasn’t ready. He’s lived a lot of his recent life in a fog, maybe it had just cleared enough now. 

He doesn’t catch any longing glances or stolen touches. Everything is above board. He knows he has no right to be angry, not after what he's done. He’d pushed you away. Maybe he even pushed you into Joel’s bed that night. Maybe there were nights before, but he hasn’t smelled another man, hasn’t smelled Joel on your skin since. You’ve spent every night next to him, in his arms, body pressed against his. At the end of the day, that’s all he needs. 

He can get past the hurt like you did for him. He can push away the questions. How long did you wait? How often did you find solace in his brother’s bed? He wants to ignore the questions, stomp them down so they don’t fester, don’t ruin what you’ve helped him rebuild. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel tugs on Tommy’s shirt, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He smiles, pulling his son into his arms with an exaggerated groan. At five and a half, it won’t be much longer before he’s too big to pick up. It hits again, like a sledgehammer to a cinderblock wall, how much of his son’s life he’s missed. Nathaniel laughs, pressing his forehead to Tommy’s. Is there a sweeter sound in this world? 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I love you.” He whisper yells.

Tommy chuckles mimicking Nathaniel’s tone. “I love you too.”

Your laugh floats through. Tommy looks up to find you smiling at them, so much love and affection sparkling in your eyes. Something stirs in him, possessiveness, maybe as he strides across the room, shifting Nathaniel to his side so he can pull you flush against him. You melt against him. That’s how he knows, knows you’re still his and he's yours. He won’t ever say a word. He won’t risk losing you again or causing you more grief than he has.

Tommy grins at you, voice lowering to a growl. “And I love you, Momma.” Then he kisses you like he’d reclaiming you. 

Neither of you catches the way Joel turns his back and puts himself out of ear shot. You never catch the way his gaze lingers. He conceals the way his fingers itch to touch you like he used to. 

Nathaniel squeals in disgust, sliding out of his father’s arms. You both share a laugh and then both Tommy’s arms are tightly around your waist, lips pressed to yours again. Your hands rake through his long curls.

As long as you still look at him like that, continue to touch him like that, Tommy doesn’t care that you fucked his brother. Your heart belongs to him. 

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@theorakaenslayer

[lou-struck]

Make a Move

Atsumu Miya x reader

~Sometimes when two idiots fall in love with each other, all it takes is a little motivation to get the ball rolling. 

W.C 2.6k

Warnings; Kissing, awkwardness, trickery, clichés, and Osamu Miya being a pretty good wingman.

The smell of roasted coffee beans and flaky pastries float through the air surrounding your little table. The caffeinated cloud invigorates you, ripping the last remnants of drowsiness from your brain.

Warm beams of sunlight pour in through the large scenic windows and dance upon the leaves of the large indoor plants that surround your secluded coffee spot. The one where you and your dear friend, Atsumu Miya spend many an afternoon shooting the breeze and pretending that there isn't anything more to your friendship. 

The Faux-blonde athlete is all smiles as he animatedly tells you a story about what happened on his most recent away trip with his professional volleyball team, the MSBY Jackals.

"Can ya believe it y/n?" he grins, unaware of the chocolate-drizzled whipped cream that clings to his cheek. "Turns out, that idiot was so dead tired after the match, he passed out on the Bus' toilet. His pants were at his ankles, and he was droolin' over all the toilet paper."

"At least he was wearing his underwear," you laugh, doing your best not to cackle over the soft sound of the cafe's radio. 

Atsumu's crooked smile never falters as he continues to speak adamantly, only pausing to take a long slip from his drink from his coffee with a too-short straw. Although, with energy like his you doubt he needs it.

By the time he sets the drink down, even more whipped cream has gotten onto his face. The sight makes you chuckle.

"What ya lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, the pink of his cheeks becoming more visible against the whip as he furrows his brow. 

"You have a little something on your face, Tsumu," you giggle 

"R-really?" his brown eyes widen as he wipes at his face with one of the paper napkins crumpled on the center of the table. He takes a bit of the mess with him, but there is still quite a bit of sugar smeared against his skin. "Did I get it?" 

"Not quite. You still have some on your cheek," you answer, tapping your own cheek for reference.

He tries to mirror your movements but wipes the wrong side with a confidence that makes your heart melt. "How about now?" he asks, looking at you expectantly. Fighting the laughter, you shake your head. "Damn, I really thought I had it this time."

"Here, let me," you say. And you don't know what compels you to do this, but you gently reach across the table and tenderly sweep the sweet cream off his chin. His skin is smoother than you thought it would be; Now that you think of it, you have never seen him with any kind of facial hair. You wonder if he can grow it at all.

Lost in thought, you don't realize how long you have been touching his face until his eyes go wide and flicker to yours. "Sorry, I-I don't know why I did that," you murmur embarrassedly. The flustered heat crawls up your skin, and you want the ground beneath you to open up and swallow you whole. "I-it was just a reflex."

If he was your boyfriend, this gesture would've been wholesome albeit the slightest bit cringy, but the fact of the matter, and the fuel to the fire of shame that flushes your skin, is simply this; 

Atsumu Miya is not yours; He doesn't love you. 

He regains his composure faster than you would give him credit for and meets your gaze. "Hah, thanks for that." he grins. "I guess I couldn't get it on my own."

Relieved that he wasn't creeped out by your sudden unintentional boldness, the two of you continue your coffee break, but despite your smile, you cannot ignore the painful twisting in your chest. 

~

There is a spring in Atsumu's step as he walks to his front door. His keys rattle along to the tune of the silly little song he hums to himself. Between the massive win from yesterday and lunch with you today, he finds himself on cloud nine. 

He opens the front door to his penthouse apartment to find his twin brother sprawled out on the couch, video game controller in his hands as he speaks through a headset chatting with his friends as they play online.

He gives him a nod and grabs an extra controller from the coffee table to hand to his Brother. "Where were you today Tsumu? Ya didn't have practice."

He grabs the controller and settles down on the couch. "I was out getting coffee with y/n"

Osamu's lips curl into a knowing smirk as he chuckles into the mic, "For the third time in a week."

"Oooh, Tsum Tsum's gotta crush?" a slightly-staticy voice gushes from the microphone. He recognizes it as his Jackals teammate Bokuto.

"Yeah, he's crazy about them. Every single time you guys have an off day, he is out with them and comes back with that dopey grin on his face."

"Ohhh is that the same person he is always facetiming with when we are in the hotels?" Another, slightly higher-pitched voice asks. 

Atsumu's cheeks redden as he pulls the microphone away from his Brother's mouth and yells into it." Hey! Stop snitching on me, Shoyo. It's completely normal for friends to hang out and talk on the phone."

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Osamu's dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Oh, just friends? You aren't together?" 

Atsumu takes a deep breath and clenches his fists as everyone pauses to hear his answer. "No, we aren't together." but as the sentence leaves his lips he feels something akin to guilt clinging on to his heart. 

Why do those words not sound right?

"Ohh I see," he Brother replies as his identical features twist into a smug smirk. "Then you wouldn't mind if I asked them out?"

"W-what?"

"Ohhh, plot twist," Bokuto squeals over the mic. "Samu's stepping into the ring."

"It's like one of those reality TV shows," Hinata adds enthusiastically. 

"Why would you ask e'm out?" Atsumu asks his twin. The question sounds more like an accusation as the coffee he drank earlier swirls around dangerously in his stomach. 

"Because I think they're cute," Samu says plainly. "And if ya aren't into them, you shouldn't have a problem with it."

He grits his teeth and childishly tosses his controller onto the couch. There are too many emotions inside of him, he cannot process it. Screw the game, he just needs to get away.

"Hey, Tsumu?" his Brother calls, watching him storm off down the hall. "Where ya going?"

"Shower," he grunts, stomping off toward the bathroom in hopes that some time under the hot water could help him make sense of things. 

As he locks himself in the bathroom, he fails to notice the mischievous smile that curves his Brother's lips. 

~

It's been a few days since your awkwardness at the coffee shop with Atsumu, and you have shaken off the shame that had been clinging to you like a leech…mostly. 

Okay, some of it may still be hanging on, but you ignore the unwelcome weight as you get closer and closer to the tall door to the twins' apartment. Although it is not Atsumu you are spending time with today, Osamu was the one to extend the invite this time around. 

The young chef called you yesterday afternoon, inviting you to swing by and test out a few potential items he wants to add to his restaurant's menu. Never one to turn down helping out a friend or the chance to eat some of his cooking for free, you hastily agreed.

The rubber soles of your sneakers hit the welcome mat as you step across the threshold like it's second nature. 

Osamu is hard at work in the kitchen, dicing vegetables with an impressive-looking knife. His dark brows furrowed in concentration as he makes quick work of an onion. The fumes waft through the air, threatening to bring tears to your eyes as he works, seemingly unaffected. 

Hey, ya made it!" he beams, setting the knife down when he notices your lingering presence.  I'm still prepping some stuff, but make yourself at home."

"Thanks," you say, setting your bag on the other side of the massive marble island. "Is there anything I can help with?" 

"Nah, I think I have everything taken care of." he says, turning quickly to stir a simmering pot on the stove. 

"Okay," you murmur, glancing around the surprisingly clean apartment looking for any sign of life. "So where's Atsumu today?"

"Still at practice I think," Osamu replies, his back to you as he works. "He'll be home later."

"Oh, I see." You frown slightly. Poorly concealed disappointment is woven into your tone. 

"Wow, tell me how ya really feel." Osamu chuckles, calling you out on your subtle favoritism.

An embarrassed heat rushes to your cheek as you struggle to find a way out of the mess you have made for yourself. "I'm sorry Samu, it's just Tsumu and I had kind of an awkward moment the other day and I had hoped that we could get back to normal."

His eyebrows shoot up in curiosity. "Oh? Awkward how?"

Taking a deep breath, you explain the whole whipped cream thing from the other day, and by the time you are done, Hyena-like cackles fill the room as he wipes tears from his eyes.

"I can't believe that," he gasps, holding his stomach, finding humor in the situation that is lost on you. "Ya really wiped his face and everything?"

"I didn't think it was that bad," you frown. Osamu knows his twin better than anyone. Is it possible that his reaction is similar to what Atsumu was thinking when you first did it? Have you ruined any chance of returning to the way things were?

All the 'what if's' pull you deeper into your own head as your moarle sinks deeper into it's depths. You don't even realize that Osamu has slid a plate in front of you until the steam from the rice and seasonings reaches your nose. 

"Order up," he says, "Looks like I lost ya there." 

You clear your throat "Sorry, I'm back, I was just thinking." 

"Well, it's time to think about the food," he places his hand on his heart dramatically. "This is my livelihood y/n."

Steam rises off three freshly shaped rice balls, each one is topped simply, but you have a feeling that the fillings within are anything but. "These look so good," you relent, shifting your attention. You poke the one closest to you curiously. "Which is which?'

He smirks and sits across from you at the kitchen table. "It's a surprise, you'll have to' guess what's inside."

Your stomach growls as you reach for one, but freeze when the front door swings open. Atsumu stands in the doorway, his eyes darting between you and his Brother.

"Oh, you're back," you say, giving him your best attempt of an unembarrassed smile. Your words spur him forward, but he walks straight past you and over to his Brother. Osamu is now wearing a smug smirk on his face.

"What are you doing, Samu?" he says darkly. 

"Nothing at all Tsumu, just what I was talking about the other day." He coos, continuing the staredown. 

Watching the Twins have a stand-off like this is strange; you have seen them bicker amongst themselves hundreds of times, but those arguments have this warm energy to them. This one is cold, and a deep shiver rattles your spine, chilling you to the bone. They seem to be speaking to each other telepathically making your spot at the countertop seem like one in the corner. 

It's awkward, and you feel that it is not your place to intrude. 

You should go.

As quiet as a mouse, you slip off of your barstool. If you can leave the apartment without being caught, twins will be able to work through whatever problem they are having with each other a little faster.

But apparently, the stool you were on doesn't quite get the memo and scrapes noisily against the floor. The ungraceful sound stops the twin's silent staredown as the turn to look at you instead. 

Your cheeks warm under Atsumu's gaze, and your mouth grows painfully dry. "Sorry, I'll be going now, I'll see you guys later.."

"Y/n, wait." Atsumu says, his eyes are wide as he rushes over to you.

"Tsumu? what are yo~" Those trembling hands of his take hold of you, your chin tilted upward as he clumsily places his lips on your own. You don't even think about it as you kiss him back, pouring your years of pining into the act, but instead of feeling empty, your heart overflows as the one person you have wanted for so long is yours. 

Your head spins as the familiar taste of whipped cream tingles your taste buds, but you're pretty sure you're hallucinating it due to the lack of oxygen. 

He's panting when he pulls away, his lips kiss swollen and pupils dilated as they stare into yours. But neither of you want to break the spell.

You need to talk about this.

You need to make sure this isn't just a one-time thing. 

But your fuzzy, floaty brain can't bring itself to act, not now. 

"Wow, that could've worked out any better," Osamu, who you forgot was still in the room, says clasping his hands together. The distraction was just what you needed to rewire your brain and pull away from his Twin. The grey-haired man has a look of pure victory on his face as he glances between the two of you. "I'll leave you kids to talk it out now."

"What are ya talking about, Samu?" Atsumu exclaims, his hand grabs your own as his Brother passes the two of you as if he were afraid that his twin will walk right out the door with you. "Are ya saying ya planned this whole thing?"

Osamu pauses briefly in the doorway, fingers lingering on the wood as he smiles, shooting you guys a wink. "Yep. See you later, lovebirds."

The door slams behind him, leaving you and Atsumu alone in the apartment. The space feels much bigger than it did a few minutes ago. 

"Hey." your thumb brushes against his knuckles gently and you give him a smile.  "Soooo, I guess this means that you like me too."

"Too?" he says, his tone laced in elated surprise as if his tongue wasn't just down your throat. "Do ya really like me then?" he asks hopefully. 

"Yes," you laugh. "I've liked you for a while, actually. But I was worried that I was too obvious about it, and I made you uncomfortable."

Mind. Blown.

Atsumu seems to be having an eureka moment. His features go from confusion to contemplation to realization as he replays your previous interactions in his head.  "Woah, I guess I had no clue. I was too focused on not makin a fool of myself to notice," he says at last. "But Samu saw right through us. Huh?"

"I guess he did." you chuckle; before this, you have only thought that this level of denseness only existed in bad fanfiction or made-for-television romcoms, but here you are.

"Damn, I'll have to thank him," he breathes; there is nothing but affection in his gaze as he cups your face. "But first, we gotta make up for lost time." 

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[wintersoldiersoul]

Get Him Back

A/N: Kind of loosely based on Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo but then it took a turn and got away from me??? I blame it all on this pic of Seb.

Warnings: Smut, Daddy Kink

It had been a month since it happened. Everything was fine until that night when Bucky came home and slammed the door. You could tell that he had a hard day. You trying to comfort him ended in screaming, tears, and a lot of broken objects thrown across the room by both of you. The two of you had had fights before but nothing like this. No, this was the one that broke you apart. Bucky stormed out of the apartment that night, mumbling something about going to Steve’s. You hadn’t seen him since. Apparently he had to go on an emergency mission in Russia. Or at least that was the story fed to you by the other Avengers. 

But now he was back. And tonight would be the first time you saw him since the breakup. The party at Stark Tower was in full swing when you arrived at 10pm. Every part of your look was carefully curated for one reason and one reason only. Make him jealous. Make him feel bad about losing the best girlfriend he’d ever have.

You were wearing THE dress. The one Bucky found you so irresistible in. Dark red with a plunging neckline and a slit up the skirt. As you slipped it on, you recalled how many times Bucky had nearly destroyed it by ripping it off of you when the two of you were alone. The memories made you sad.

But you had a mission tonight. Make the supersoldier ex-assassin fall to his knees and beg for mercy as you shunned him. 

“Oh you’re evil,” Natasha grinned as you strutted into the party. “You really wanna make him miserable, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” The corners of your cherry painted lips lifted up into a sly smirk. “Revenge really is sweet, Natasha.” You tried your best to come off as confident but truly, you were a nervous wreck. Sure, you wanted to make Bucky jealous. But this was the man that you had loved for years. The man who held you while you cried, who bought you flowers for no reason, who made sure that no matter what, you always knew how much he loved you. As much as you tried to convince yourself and everyone around you that you were fine, the heart inside of your chest was shattered. The angel and the devil in your head were fighting about whether you should try to get him back, or make him jealous as hell to torture him. 

You took a large sip of the whiskey in your glass, praying that the liquid courage would make it easier when you finally spotted him. 

“Y/N,” Nat grabbed your arm. “He’s here. How do you wanna play this?”

“I got this,” you smirked, standing up from the couch you had taken a seat on. Whiskey in hand, you strutted over to his direction, making a show of the way your curled hair bounced with each step you took in your black stiletto heels. 

Bucky was standing in a corner with Sam. And damn, he looked good. His long brown hair was pulled back into a bun and the white wife-beater shirt he was wearing perfectly displayed his toned flesh arm and the metal one. You always found him sexiest when both of his arms were on display. It was abundantly clear that you weren’t the only one with a plan tonight. But you didn’t let yourself falter. Didn’t let it show that his look made you want to clench your legs together for even the smallest bit of relief.

“Bucky,” you said, curtly as you approached. You watched his blue gaze trail up and down your body. His tongue jutted out as he slowly licked over his bottom lip. This was going to be even harder than you anticipated.

“Y/N,” he nodded. “You look nice.”

“You, too. I see you didn’t get too banged up on your mission?” 

He smirked. “Definitely got a little banged up,” he emphasized, causing jealousy to pulse through your veins. “But nothing too bad.” 

“Good.” The word came out as if you were a petty teenager fighting with a sibling.

“Yeah,” he retorted. “Good.”

You turned on your heel and walked back towards Natasha. There was only so much you could handle. 15 minutes later, when you had finally gathered yourself, you felt your phone buzz. 

Bucky: Your room. Now. Wait for me. 

You cleared your throat. “Excuse me,” you said to the group of people who had joined you and Nat on the couch. “I just have to grab something from my room.” You walked away and got in the elevator, taking it up 3 floors to your designated room at the compound. Being in it was weird now. You rarely stayed in it anymore since moving out but you knew you’d always have a space. But being in it now just reminded you of Bucky. All of the mornings and nights spent together before you found your own place. 

You sat on the bed, heart racing, trying to plan out what you would say to him. Be strong, Y/N, you tried to tell yourself. But as soon as Bucky sauntered into the room, you knew that would be nearly impossible.

“You trying to kill me, darlin’?” He said as his tall frame leaned over you. “That dress… fuck. You wore that on purpose.” 

“Oh, like you didn’t wear that on purpose to torture me?” 

He laughed. “Fair point, doll. Fair point.” His eyes softened and he transformed from someone you were trying to hate into someone you never could. Your Bucky. Your soft, sweet Bucky. “Y/N… I- I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to express how sorry I am for everything.”

Stay strong. Don’t give in. You were trying so hard but fuck, he took a step closer and you smelled his cologne, driving you crazy.

“Bucky… you left. You just left. We broke up in one night and then you were just…gone.” 

“I’m so sorry my love-” “No,” you interrupted. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.” 

You could see the hurt flash in his eyes. “Please, angel. I fucked up that night. I know I did. I would do anything to take it all back. I’d let HYDRA torture me til the end of time if it meant I could at least take back the things I said that hurt you.” He took another step closer. “Please, please just give me one more chance.”

He bent down so you were face to face. You couldn’t resist anymore. You grabbed his head and brought his mouth to yours, lips smashing together in a fit of passion and need. He picked you up and through you onto the bed.

“Wait… I have to tell you something.” You knew that what you were about to say could ruin everything again. But you had to tell him. “I…I slept with someone else. Just once. I was so broken Bucky I went to a bar and got drunk and had sex with another man.” You braced yourself for the reaction of hurt and anger. You got ready for him to storm out of the bedroom and back down to the party. 

But instead he just brought his lips to your ear and whispered, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck you extra hard to get him out of your system.” His lips connected with your neck, sucking hard in the spot right under your jawline. The spot he knew drove you crazy. You cried out at the pleasure, already feeling your underwear getting ruined by how wet you were. “Lemme ask you something sweetheart,” he said seductively. “Did he make you this needy without even touching your sweet pussy?” 

You moaned at his words. “N-no, Bucky.” 

He smirked as he grabbed one of your legs, stroking over your calf with a feather light touch. His hand moved higher and higher until he was running his finger tips over your inner thigh.

“Bucky, please! I need you to touch me.”

He made a “tsk” sound and said, “Now angel, you know that’s not my name.” 

“Daddy, please!” You cried out. 

He practically growled at the name, gripping his fingers under your lace panties and dragging them down your legs. He held your knees apart, looking at your pussy feverishly. “God, I missed this sweet cunt. Soaking wet honey, you’re glistening. Is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you.” Your plan of staying strong had completely gone out the window. You just needed him to touch you and you were willing to do anything to make that happen. 

“Fuck you’re so beautiful. That dress… you make me speechless.” He gently ran a finger through your slit before pressing down hard on your clit, making you jump. “So responsive tonight. What a good girl.” 

He knew the nickname would make you even more desperate. “Daddy please!” “Please what, baby girl? What do you want from me?”

“Anything!” You practically yelled. “Your mouth on my clit, your fingers inside of me, please!”

He smiled before plunging a finger into you without warning. He added a second one, curling them inside and immediately finding your g-spot. 

“Bet he couldn’t find that special spot. I know your body so fucking well. I know that if I do this…” he scissored his fingers to stretch you out even more, just the way that you liked. You screamed, bucking your hips off the bed. “You’ll do that.” He finished, smugly. His head was right in front of your pussy, watching closely as he continued to move his fingers. “Oh baby, your little clit is so swollen. It looks so neglected.” The combination of his movements and words made you whimper. 

“Need you. Need your mouth. Please!” You whimpered. 

Bucky laughed darkly at your words. “I’m gonna take care of you, honey.” He wrapped his soft lips around your clit and sucked hard. Your head fell back on the pillow, the pleasure all consuming. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see the look in your eyes as you cum all over my tongue.”

You forced your head up to watch the sinful man between your legs. “D-daddy, I-”

“I know, baby. I can feel it. Don’t forget. I know your body. I know your body better than anyone in the entire fucking world.” 

He continued his movements with his mouth and fingers and you exploded.

“Oh, good girl. Such a good fucking girl for me.” The bottom half of his face was covered in your wetness. “Gonna give you my cock now. Gonna stretch you out so good.” He swiftly removed his pants and underwear, causing his length to spring free. You reached out to grab it, desperate to make him feel good. “No, no, no,” he scolded, removing your hand. “Need to feel your tight little pussy around me. Need it now. Legs open.” 

You quickly obliged, spreading your legs as far as you could to make room for the man in front of you. He grabbed his dick and used it to toy with you, rubbing it over your slit and tapping it on your clit. Slowly, he began to push into you.

“Bucky!” You cried out as he filled you.

“I know, baby, oh fuck, I know.” The pleasure was consuming him so much that he couldn’t even scold you for calling him by his real name. “Look at you. Little cunt split open for my thick cock. Look at how you’re sucking me in. You needed this bad, didn’t you angel? Other guy couldn’t fuck you right? Couldn’t make this perfect pussy feel good?” As he spoke, he thrusted into you hard and deep. 

Tears streamed down your face at the intense pleasure that had your whole body on fire. “Only you, Daddy! Only you make me feel this good.”

“That’s right, my sweet girl. Never forget who knows this body better than even you.” 

You felt your high approaching rapidly, especially as he brought his metal hand down to toy with your clit. You couldn’t even speak at this point, the only sounds coming out of you were moans.

“Feel you fluttering around me, angel. You gonna come when I tell you to like my good little slut?” You nodded your head quickly, unable to speak. “Cum around my thick cock. Now,” he commanded, his voice full of sin. Your body obeyed and your walls clenched around him, hard. His movements began to falter as he came, fucking ropes of thick cum into your pussy. 

When you were both done, he removed himself from you. You both sat in silence, catching your breath.

“Y/N…” he looked at you. His eyes, which had been dark and feral moments before were now soft and full of nothing but sorrow and love. “I am so sorry. I wish I could take it all back. I love you so much and I just-” his voice broke as he tried to hold back tears. 

You crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting your bodies press up against each other, just taking in the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Me too, Bucky. All of it. I’m sorry too. I love you.”

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 9

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Okay remember when I said there would be a lot more angst? Well here we are. We have arrived at angst station, everybody off the train. This part is so dramatic I really laid it on thick here. Regardless I hope you enjoy and I will try to get part 10 up ASAP!!!

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, super heavy angst, this got really dark, violence, blood, implied rape (but not described), did I mention violence?, (I'm sorry you guys.)

Word Count: 6,333

The next morning I wake up in my own bed and I don’t move for hours. 

Thankfully, after about an hour of crying by the Sidra, Azriel found me and took me back to the House of Wind.  Apparently Cassian had sent him, which gave me a little bit  of hope. That is until I went to his door and found his room empty. According to Azriel he left for Windhaven after returning home to pack a bag.  I didn’t need to interrogate further to know that Cassian wouldn’t be back before the wedding. 

I spent the entire day before the wedding in bed, staring at the sliver of light on the floor that the curtains let into the darkened room. Everytime I close my eyes I could hear Cassian and I’s laughter, which made me unable to fall asleep. When I wasn’t reminiscing over memories of Cassian I was listening intently to the sounds of the house, hoping I would hear his heavy boots thudding back to his room. I just wanted to see him one last time. 

However, those footsteps never came, and I found myself staring at the wall until my body gave up on me, from either exhaustion or hunger and I fell asleep.

Cassian’s pov: 

The second I landed in Windhaven I cracked open a bottle of whiskey and downed a glass praying it would allow me to sleep. Of course I was wrong. 

The entire night I saw images of y/n holding that little girl in her arms. God I had practically melted right then and there, thinking about what she would look like holding our own children. How adorable they would be with their tiny wings. 

My sleepless night had carried over with me the next day, everything and everyone putting me on edge. A young Illyrian had dropped their sword while sparring and I blew up at him. Devlon tried to argue that the females shouldn’t be training and I nearly slammed his head into a wall.

I was aggressively sharpening my swords on the edge of the sparring ring when Azriel found me, my brother simply  nodded his head towards the center as if to say “blow off some steam big fella.” I couldn’t turn him down, as he was the only one who could give me a run for my money, and today he sure did. 

“You fight like shit and you look like shit too brother,” Azriel barked after beating me again. He tossed his sword to the ground seemingly calling it quits for the day. 

“Yeah well my mate is about to marry another male in the next 12 hours so how did you expect to find me?” I gripe at him taking my seat on a weathered rock. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t know what to do in your situation either,” he admitted, taking a seat next to me. 

“Seems about right for me. Grew up a bastard and lived in the mud till you and Rhys’ sorry asses came along. Lost my mother and never even got to bury her, fought for 500 years, and then became mated to the princess, who is marrying another male.”  I scoff, shaking my head at the ridiculousness. “I’ll give the mother one thing, at least she’s consistent.”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, as if taking in what I had said before clapping a hand on my back, “The pain, it will go away Cass. It will take time, but I will be there with you every step of the way.” he assured me, and for a moment I felt a little lighter. 

“Get wasted with me tomorrow?” I ask more seriously than I should.

“You know I will,” he said, offering me a slight smile. 

I hoped that Rhys had gotten some more whiskey since the last time I raided his cabinet, because I don’t think any amount of drink could make me forget the way she looked at me the first morning we woke up together. The way she would laugh when I kissed her cheeks, the feeling of her delicate hands running soap over my wings. How she would say “you need a bath!” when I would give her a sweaty hug after training. The face she made when I distracted her from one of her romance novels by tickling her feet that rested in my lap.  

By the cauldron, I was a dead man. 

y/n's pov:

Stepping into the Autumn Court felt like I was walking to my own execution. Instead of Eris being at the end of that aisle there would be a guillotine. I almost wished for that instead. Any comment made by Rhys about how I seemed tired I chalked up to pre-wedding nerves and thankfully he didn’t push after that. 

The entire morning had been spent poking and prodding at my skin, my hair and my eyes.  If I thought that Nuala and Cerridwen were meticulous I was sorely mistaken. The ladies of the Autumn Court didn’t mess around and if this was my life going forward (which sadly it was), cauldron boil me. 

The ladies in wait primped me up until a half an hour before I walked down the aisle. I had to literally commande them out of my suite in order to have a moment alone. I sat staring at myself in the floor length mirror. For what it was worth, I looked beautiful. I half expected the dress that was chosen for me to be  awful and gaudy, however it was elegant. The lace along the neckline mimicking the flames associated with Eris’ power. Had I been walking down the aisle to a different groom, I might venture to say that I was excited to be married. However as I stared at myself in my white wedding dress I couldn’t help but feel a tear slide down my face. 

A tentative knock reverberated through the room, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I took a deep breath and wiped away a stray tear. 

“Come in,” I said with shaky words looking at the double oak doors through the mirror before me.

The door opened slowly, whoever it was looking around the room before entering. A large figure finally popped it’s head in, eyes finding me immediately. I would know that jet black hair anywhere. 

Cassian. 

I whirled around to meet his gaze as he shut the door, taking slow and tentative steps towards me. His eyes searched my face for any hint of anger or resentment. 

“Cass,” I breathed, as if to assure myself he was really there. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled looking me up and down, but I could see the veiled sadness on his face. He was putting on a front, and a bad one at that.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a tentative step towards him. “How did you get in here?”

“They don’t have you that well guarded,” he chuckled, stepping closer till he stood before me. Neither of us reached for one another, unsure of where we both stood. It felt wrong not to instantly wrap my arms around him. “I don’t like where we left things,” he continued.

“Neither do I,”   

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I yelled at you that night. I’m sorry about the things I said,” he starts again. His hands reach for mine but pull back as if afraid to touch me. “I wanted to say that I understand now. And that I think you are incredibly brave to be doing this for Velaris. I’ll never be happy that you’re marrying Eris, and I’ll always wish it was me. But I understand now, and I respect the love you have for your people, and the lengths you’re willing to go to to keep them safe. Will you forgive me?” 

I feel the stray tear pricking my eye once more, “There was never anything to forgive Cass. I was more upset with myself for giving you false hope. For going along and loving you and acting like things were going to be alright when I couldn’t guarantee it.” I sigh, casting my head down, unable to face him.

I feel his gentle calloused hand tip my chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes, that beautiful hazel, glassed over. Despite it all, despite what I put him through, there is still so much love in them, and I know I’ll never really deserve it.

“Loving you was the greatest gift I’ve ever known, and ever will know,” he smiles as if he’s remembering the short time we did have together. “I’ll be here waiting if you should ever change your mind or in case something ever happens.” 

“Cass,” I start to protest but he stops me.

“I’ve loved you for so many years y/n. There can be no one else but you. If I don’t get to have you until we are both old and gray so be it. I’ve waited this long,” he assures me cupping my cheek.  

I don’t even have words to reply to his confession. Boundaries be damned. I threw myself around him pulling him as close as possible. His arms tighten around me like he had been waiting for me to make a move. In the embrace there’s an understanding, an unsaid agreement.

I back away to see those hazel eyes once more, my own eyes raking over his body. I notice he’s not dressed in a fine suit jacket, or even his fighting leathers. Instead, he’s donning a loose fitted shirt, something completely unfit for a royal wedding. 

“You’re not staying are you?” I ask, pressing a hand to his stubbled cheek that tells me he didn’t shave this morning.

“No, I just had to see you one last time,”  he answers, taking my hand from his cheek so he could hold both of them. 

The weight of his words shoot right through me, and as I look at him, I let them sink in. I watched as a tear slid down his own cheek, it was the only time I had ever seen the general cry. 

“One last time,” I repeated, letting the words consume me. 

His eyes glanced down at my lips, a silent plea to taste them again,

“Can I?” he whispered. 

“Gods yes,” I sigh. 

A hand drifted up cupping my cheek and pulling me into a kiss. The last kiss we might ever share. I poured every ounce of love into it trying to give him something to remember me by, trying to savor every moment of it for when my days ahead were darkest. My chest heaved as if being pulled forward and then…

Snap.

It was as if a piece of me was returned, one I never knew I lost. I pulled back to meet his gaze and by the way he looked at me I could tell he knew, had known. I felt like I was truly seeing him for the first time as that shimmering golden bond glowed between us.

“You’re my-” I started but I jumped at the bang sounding throughout the room. 

My eyes met the fiery auburn of Eris’ as he entered the room, at least twenty autumn court soldiers behind him. I didn’t have time to step away as he winnowed to me pulling me away from Cassian. 

“You!” he seethed at my general who was already assessing the situation. “I had my suspicions but never the proof and you fell into my trap so easily.” he boasted.  

My thoughts scrambled to what Cassian had said earlier…”They don’t have you that well guarded.”

“Restrain the bastard!” Eris ordered his grip on my arm tightening at the command. 

“No!” I screamed lurching for Cassian but Eris hauled me back to him. 

The soldiers were on him in an instant all of them falling like dominos before The Lord of Bloodshed. Cassian’s eyes blazed with a fury by the likes of which I had never seen before, he wasn’t a general protecting his princess. He was a male protecting his mate. 

Eris’ body tensed behind mine as soldier after soldier fell. In an act of desperation I felt him unsheathe the dagger at his thigh, pressing the blade to my throat. 

“Oh general,” Eris sang. 

It was enough to catch Cassian’s attention for a split second, his eyes widening as he saw the position I was in. A  rogue soldier used the small window of time to pull his dagger and stab it through Cassian’s side. 

“NO!” I screamed as Cassian hissed, his knees hitting the floor. Immediately the rest of the soldiers were on him, restraining him and binding his wings. His siphons tried to come to light but sputtered out.

“Bloodbane,” Eris smiles, lowering the dagger from my throat. “Stings like a bitch doesn’t it?” 

“Eris please, don’t do this. He’s my mate, I didn’t know until now and-” 

“I would choose your next words very carefully, pet,” he cuts me off. “Right now your ‘mate’ has been stabbed with a dagger laced in bloodbane, which means that even if your dear brother did know he was here he couldn't communicate with him. As for Rhysand, he now sits in a wedding chapel completely unaware and unarmed with a bloodbane arrow aimed for his fucking throat. And last time I checked the only asset you had was a magic cunt.” 

Cassain growled from the other side of the room at Eris’ vulgar words. My eyes flitted to where he was pulling against the restraints. 

“However, I consider myself a merciful ruler,” Eris taunted, grabbing my face to meet his stare. “I’ll give you a choice. You either walk down that aisle, be a good little wife, and pop out a couple of heirs as promised, or you call off the wedding and I’ll gut your precious general where he kneels.” 

“y/n, no!” Cassian gritted through bared teeth. 

I watched my mate struggle to break free, the bloodbane in his system beginning to take over. I looked to Eris who stared at me with hungry eyes. I tried to think of some way out of this, but Eris was right. We had fallen right into this trap, and my hands were tied.

My gaze met Cassian who could read my face like a book, “I’m sorry Cassian, but I once told you that I could never live with myself if something happened to you and I had the power to stop it.” I turn to face Eris and his shit eating grin. “If you promise not to hurt him, or my brother, I will go with you.” 

“You will submit to me fully?” Eris asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” I nod, my mind flashing back to when Rhys was in the same position. 

Eris steps closer to me, tilting my head up in an act of dominance, his mouth too close to mine for comfort. I could hear Cassian’s grunts as he continued to try and break free. 

“And you’ll warm my cock whenever I please?” he muses, clearly loving the control he has over me. 

“Yes,” I grit. 

He smiled triumphantly, releasing my chin as he turned to his guards, “Take him away and lock him in the dungeons.” 

“You said-”

“When you walk down that aisle and say ‘I do’ then I shall send him back to the Night Court, Jewel of Prythian. I won’t be taking any chances.” Eris growls in my face before turning to Cassian who had now been brought to his feet. “If I ever see you in my court, or anywhere near my wife again Prince of Bastards, I will make sure that she pays the price.” 

“You fucking bastard!” Cassian roars, body nearly limp from the bloodbane as he’s hauled off by the guards. 

“Wait, let me say goodbye!” I cry running to him, but I’m yanked back by my arm so roughly it nearly pops out of its socket.

“Your obedience begins now!” Eris grits but I pay him no mind thrashing about in his grasp trying to touch my mate once last time as he disappears behind the oak doors. 

“Cassian!” I scream for him, tears waterfalling over my eyes.

“y/n!” he shouts back. 

But it’s too late. The doors close with a definite slam and I’m left weeping in Eris’ grasp as I hear the sounds of Cassian struggling down the hall. 

Cassian’s pov: 

Eris was right, the bloodbane hurt like a bitch. Even an hour later as I sat on the cold, wet floor of the Autumn Court cell, the toxin still made me feel lethargic. As if I had taken the world's strongest sleeping tonic. 

The worst part of it all was that I could hear everything. The organ playing signaling that y/n was walking down the aisle and the cheers of the people as they finally said their vows. The worst and loudest of them all were the bells. 

They rang with such clarity, and joy. The happy little melody could be heard from everyone in the Autumn Court, announcing that the Eris and y/n were finally wed.  The ringing made me double over with grief, their sound a reminder that I was the only male in Prythian who could not protect his mate. A shame greater than being a bastard, and one I would carry with me until the end of my days. 

Metal on metal screeched from somewhere in the dungeon as a light poured in. The jingling of keys and stomping of boots stopped at the door to my cell and I didn’t even bother to look up. Nothing mattered anymore anyways. 

“Come on ‘Prince of Bastards’, time for you to go back to your own court,” the guard grumbled, like hauling me home was a huge inconvenience to him. 

I rose to my feet and stepped languidly out of the door. The restraints on my wrists and wings  were removed, the skin on my wrists rubbed raw from the blue stone shackles. I was led up the stairs to where the wards ended and was immediately winnowed to the border of the Autumn and Winter Court. The cold blizzards of winter whipping around us and chilling my wings. 

“Prince Eris has asked me to remind you that you are now banished from this court. He also says that should you choose to seek out his wife once more you know what the consequences will be.” the guard relayed. 

Before I could even think about punching the asshole square in his jaw he disappeared into thin air, no doubt going back to his post in the basement of the palace.

I was left with nothing but the sound of my own thoughts, and the feelings of my own guilt as I flew home towards the House of Wind where I knew Azriel was waiting. The flight was the longest one I had ever been on, as normally I took this route with y/n in my arms.

 I had never been so happy to touch down on solid ground once more. Azriel tentatively walked out onto the balcony, two glasses of whiskey in hand. His shadows told him that something was very wrong. 

“What the hell happened?” He asked, an alarm ringing in his voice. 

The lump in my throat returns as I remember how it all went down.  “The bond snapped for her, and she changed her mind. Eris found us, said he had set the whole thing up. I was stabbed with a bloodbane dagger,” I say, lifting my arm to assess the blood leaking from my side. “He told her that if she didn’t marry him he would gut me and Rhys.” 

The next words teeter on my lips as I feel my eyes brimming with tears. It felt like pieces of me were being ripped out as I finally confessed to my failure. 

“I couldn’t save her,” I choked out, voice cracking halfway through. 

The words being uttered into the world was enough to have my  knees crashing to the ground. The impact radiating through my body to the open wound on my side that still hadn’t healed.  I was sure that Azriel had said something as I heard the glasses of whiskey clatter to the ground. But the roaring in my ears was so loud, so unbearable, that the only thing that assured me he was still there was the arm he slung around my back as he knelt next to me.  

y/n’s pov:

The wedding was uneventful and to be honest the only part of it I remembered was when the priestess said, “If there is anyone present who can show just cause why these two may not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” 

The silence that had fallen upon the crowd was so deafening I nearly shuddered. I was stupid to hope that he would come charging in like some fairytale I had read as a child.  The smug look on Eris' face as the priestess continued with the nuptials made my blood go cold. 

The reception was even worse. I had spent the entire time sipping wine with a bland expression on my face. It seemed as though Eris’ new favorite word was ‘wife’ considering he found a way to use it in every sentence.  While most would think it a term of endearment I knew it was just to show his ownership.

“Prince Eris, congratulations on stealing ‘The Jewel’ from us all,” a voice said, cutting across the sea of chatter. I looked up from my lap to find the High Lord of Spring, standing before our table. 

“Thank you Tamlin, she is quite the prize,” Eris crooned, placing a kiss to the back of my hand. 

“That she is,” Tamlin nodded, his eyes raking me from head to toe. “Almost makes me regret crossing her brother, I would’ve liked to have been in the race for her hand.” 

“All in the past now,” Eris smiles, kissing the palm of my hand.  “Right wife?” 

“Right,” I nod to him before turning to Tamlin. “High Lord, where is the Cursebreaker tonight? I would’ve liked to make my acquaintance.” I ask secretly hoping that my brother might catch a glimpse of his mate tonight. 

“Feyre is,” he averts his gaze from mine as if trying to decide what to say. “She is safe at home. Busily planning for the wedding.” 

“The wedding?” I inquired further, wondering if Rhys knew.

“Yes we are to be wed soon,” Tamlin beamed with pride. “I’m sure we will see you both present?” 

“Of course Tamlin, of course,” Eris assured the High Lord of Spring. 

Surely if Feyre was getting married to Tamlin my brother knew. I hoped I would get the chance to tell him. The last thing our court, well I suppose his court now, needed was another separation of mates. 

The rest of the night passed on quite slowly. At one point I was able to feel the bond between Cassian and I. It was faint, but it was there, and I almost swore that I felt him tug on it at one point. It wasn’t until people started making their excuses to go home that Eris finally said the words I had been dreading. 

“Shall we go to bed, wife?” he mused his lips brushing the shell of my ear. 

“After I say goodbye to my brother,” I nod standing up to find Rhys, wherever he was. 

“You’ll see your brother soon enough, my pet. For now let us retire to our chambers,” he growled, grasping my arm and winnowing away to what I assumed was his room.

He watched intently from behind me as I took in my surroundings. 

The bed was large, draped in furs and crisp white sheets. Wood paneling surrounded the four walls, giving the place an ornate look. The fireplace was a glow, casting a warm light upon the room. If it had been anyone else’s room it would’ve been cozy, maybe even romantic. 

The air filled with tension as I waited for Eris to do something, or say something, as I refused to turn and meet his gaze. The only sound heard was the crackling of the fire. 

“I’ve waited for this moment for quite a long time,” Eris mused from where I knew he was leaning against the door. 

“You’ve made that abundantly clear throughout our courtship,” I say straight, unable to meet his predatory stare.  

“How should I have acted when you are so tempting? So innocent, so pure, and now so completely mine,” he purred and I could hear his feet shuffle as he pushed off the wall. “And now that you’ve promised me your submission? Well,” he chuckled. “I’m going to have a great deal of fun with you.” 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I knew what was coming and I knew he wouldn’t be gentle and loving like Cassian. I knew that once again my hands were tied.  

“Tell me you belong to me,” Eris uttered, taking a step closer to where I stood rigid. 

I sucked down the lump in my throat, “I belong to you,” I whispered.

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” he went on, taking another step forward, his presence looming. 

“I-I want you to touch me,” I repeated back, a tear slipping down my cheek.

Eris hummed in approval behind me. He took one, two more steps until I felt his warmth at my back. Finger tips danced up and down the backs of my arms causing my breath to lurch in fear. His breath was hot on my neck as his presence sucked out every bit of air from the room. 

“Tell me you love me,” he purred. 

My heart stopped cold. There were many things I would have to do or say to please Eris in the millennium that I would be tied to him. But these three words? He would never hear them from my lips. Maybe towards our children, but never to him. 

“You know it wouldn't be true,” I whisper, feeling the tension radiating from his body. 

His hands grip my hips like a brand, ripping my body around until I am face to face with his seething eyes. 

“Then I will make it fucking true!” he growls hauling my mouth to his. 

Eris had kissed me a thousand times before, not one of those times did I ever enjoy the experience. But this time? This had to be the worst. All of it felt so wrong.  Knowing I had a mate. Knowing he was somewhere in this world right now. It made me sick. It was rough, all teeth and tongues. He didn’t want to kiss me, he wanted to devour me.  

“Say it!” Eris demanded, breaking apart our so-called kiss.

“I will love your hounds and your mother, I may love your brothers and one day our children, but I will never love you, Eris Vanserra,” I seethed, unable to take much more. 

I expected him to growl, or curse or hit me. I expected a thorough lashing for what I had said, but he didn’t even so much as flinch. What scared me more? His mouth curled up in a smirk. 

“You forget that you are also a Vanserra now and speaking of heirs, I think it’s time I put one in you right now,” he mused and my stomach bottomed out. “What do you say ‘Jewel of Prythian’ think I can get you knocked up on the first try?” he smiled, backing me to his bed.

There were no words for the terror I felt. No handbook to prepare me for what came next. All I could do was shut down every emotion I had and do my best to become a ghost. A shell of myself. 

No matter how hard I tried, it didn’t subdue the pain. 

Azriel’s pov: 

I thought that getting Cass drunk might help distract him from the feelings floating down the bond tonight, but boy was I fucking wrong. 

I had seen my brother lose soldiers and whole infantries. Had seen him lose his first love, the valkyrie, Tanwyn. I was there the day Rhys and y/n went under the mountain and we thought we lost them for good. 

None of that compared to the screams of agony that emanated from the male before me. 

“He’s fucking hurting her!” Cassian bemoaned, gripping the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. 

It didn’t take much to figure out that he could feel everything y/n was feeling through the bond. And at this late hour? It wasn’t hard to guess what Eris was doing to her, and Cassian had to feel every moment of it down the bond.

“Shh calm down Cass you have to try and block her out,” I pleaded with him, gripping his hand in mine. 

His eyes were glassed over, his hair tangled from him nearly ripping it out at the roots. He had been like this for well over an hour now, and I almost wished the whiskey would do its job and make him fall asleep simply so he would be unconscious. 

“I can’t Az I’ve tried,” he yells at me, nearly slumping to the side from where he sat on the floor leaning against the wall. 

Earlier Rhys had spoken into my mind and asked if everything was alright. I had lied of course, telling him everything was fine, not wanting to insert myself in my brother and the princess’ business. Now I wished I had told him to come if only for him to break into Cass’ head and make him sleep. Watching him feel everything his mate was feeling while she was being… well there weren’t words for it. 

“Breathe Cass, breathe,” I soothed, trying to get him to catch his breath long enough to breathe in and out fully. 

“I-I can’t,” he cried. “My mate.” 

His voice resonated with hopelessness and brokenness, reminiscent of the tragedies depicted in literature. This situation felt nothing short of hellish. For centuries, I longed for a mate—a bond that every fae yearned for. But witnessing how it tormented Rhysand, and observing its impact on Cassian, made me question if I truly desired a mate. In my 500 years of life, I had never seen a male stripped down to his core as profoundly as this.

y/n’s pov:

The next morning I woke up late in the day, the atrocities of last night lasting well into the early hours of the morning. It took me a moment to get my bearings. I wasn’t in the House of Wind, I was in Eris’ room. It wasn’t Cassian’s arms around me in a possessive grasp, it was Eris’.

I slowed my heartrate down enough to assess the room around me. Behind me, Eris was fast asleep, which meant I had a few moments to collect myself before he woke. I looked around the room for a second space and found a door ajar that appeared to lead to a bathroom. I saw my opportunity and took it, carefully wiggling out of Eris’ grasp. 

My body ached all over, especially between my legs, but I pushed through until I stood from the bed. I tiptoed over to the bathroom, shutting the door as quietly as possible.  Thankfully there were two robes hung on the door. The one for Eris made up of thick cotton, and the one for me made of a cream colored silk. 

I reached for the silk robe and slipped it over my bare body, noting every large bruise and handprint that littered my skin. A problem for a later time, I told myself. 

I must’ve spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom collecting myself. Constantly repeating my new found mantra. 

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

I spent so long taking deep breaths that I thought I was prepared for whatever came next. But the second I opened the door and saw Eris standing, staring down at the white sheets of the bed expectantly I knew I was sorely mistaken.

“You didn’t bleed,” Eris stated, tossing the bedsheets aside, stalking towards me. 

“What do you mean?” I replied feigning innocence like I didn’t know what he meant. 

My heart began to beat out of my chest as Eris stalked closer and closer to me. How could I have been so stupid? To overlook the one thing that meant the most to him in this entire facade.  

“Virgins are supposed to bleed the first time they are taken by a male, yet you didn’t,” he growled, stepping into my bubble as my back hit the wall. Never in my life had I felt so small.  “Which means you weren’t pure when you married me, or when you came to my bed.” 

Every nerve in my body froze over as I watched him put together the pieces. There was no telling what happened next, and the only thing I could do was beg for mercy from whatever plans Eris had for a soiled female. 

“Eris I-” 

“Did you let that Illyrian bastard deflower you?” he gritted out, a rough hand came to grip my  throat, slamming my head against the wall. 

Tears pricked my eyes. Even if I had wanted to answer, the hand on my neck wouldn’t allow me. I could only shake in terror and anticipation of what would become of me. 

“You useless, pathetic fucking whore.” he gritted, hand squeezing tighter with every insult. “Our marriage is now null and void by the traditions of my court, which means you no longer have the protection of being called my wife.” 

His hand releases my throat and I have mere seconds to suck down a breath before a harsh slap falls across my cheek, knocking the air from my lungs once again. The next thing I know I’m kneeling on the floor, clutching my face. Eris reaches out a hand to yank me up by my hair. 

“Let me show you what we do to ran through sluts in my court,” Eris spits in my face. 

His hand doesn’t relinquish its grip from my hair. Instead it begins to drag me out of the room and down the hall. My scalp is burning from the tug on my hair. He takes a back corridor reserved for servants and my bare knees bump, slice and break on the rough stone stairs leading down to wherever he’s taking me.

My hands try to find purchase on the walls around me so that I can ground myself and fight back but it’s impossible. 

“ERIS PLEASE!” I scream, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. 

We reach a basement room that drops in temperature and he finally releases me. I try to catch my breath as I watch him scribble something on a piece of paper, picking up a hammer and nail. I instantly go to cower in a corner as he walks towards me. The autumn prince pulls me out of my fetal position by my  ankles pinning me to the ground beneath his weight. 

“In case I did get you pregnant on the first try,” he seethes before I feel a sharp pain to my lower abdomen. 

I don’t look down, I can’t look down. Afraid of what I might see there when I do. My eyes roll to the back of my head as Eris grasps my arm and a cloud of darkness washes over us. 

When the shadow withdraws my bare skin is whipped and flayed by blistering cold winds. The ground beneath me is soft, but ice cold. I open my eyes long enough to see white as far as the eye can see. 

The Winter Court. 

“And just  in case you get any ideas about utilizing that so-called mating bond,” Eris speaks again before another sharp sting plunges into my side. 

White hot pain spreads from the intrusion and spreads like acid moving through my veins. I feel like the blood beneath my skin is on fire, and I almost wish it was in order to combat the blizzard around me. Only one thing could disable me like this, bloodbane. The very same used on Cassian.

“You’ve brought this upon yourself, ‘Jewel of Prythian’. I hope that bastard general was worth your life and your court. Because when Hybern comes to call it won’t be Autumn Court armies that come to your aid.” Eris says, the disgust in his voice evident. 

I can’t speak, can’t even think about anything but the agony I feel. The throb from my lower abdomen and from my side. The bite of the wind and snow on my bare skin. I can barely register the cloud of darkness as Eris winnows himself away, leaving me with nothing but a silk robe for warmth. 

I reached down with a cold hand to rip the dagger from my side. I hoped if I could stop the bloodbane from spreading that I might be able to use the bond to call Cassian. The second I discard the dagger blood stains the white snow surrounding me, and I realize my mistake. My hand grasps at the open wound, attempting to apply pressure. As I sat there, bleeding and freezing to death I thought of one thing. 

It was all for nothing.

All the pain, all the suffering. Hurting Cassian, hurting myself. It had all been for nothing. I was dying and alone, fingers and toes already losing feeling and I still had no army for my people. Cassian nowhere in sight to save my body and my soul. And I would die here knowing that it was all for nothing. 

Because time was of the essence, and no one was coming.

Part 10

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[varpusvaras]

The days continue like that.

Fox tries his best to continue focusing solely on Leia. He feeds her, plays with her, puts her down for a nap. Feeds her, bathes her, puts her to bed.

They continue to keep watch in turns. Ben stays up first, while Fox sleeps the best he can, and then he stays up until the suns start to rise.

Then they do it all over again.

Ben does most of the housework. Fox thinks that he takes pity on him, and lets him focus on taking care of Leia, instead of making him do any of the maintenance that the house needs every day. Fox tries not to feel too bad about it.

The days and nights go by.

Leia starts to get a little restless. Fox hasn't had the courage to let her outside, in case they are spotted. Or in case there are any of the gangs or other dangers lurking around. Or because the days are hot, and Leia's skin is light and sensitive, and Fox doesn't want to expose her to the suns too much.

He sees Ben watching them. It almost looks like he is getting a little restless, too.

That night, after Fox has gotten Leia to fall asleep, Ben speaks.

"I think we are out of immediate danger now", he says. "Of course, it might just be because they haven't managed to track us down yet, but perhaps we can afford to relax a little."

Fox is not sure if he wants to relax a little.

He is, quite frankly, a little afraid of what will happen if he does so.

He can see that there is something else tied to what Ben is saying, though.

"Are you getting tired of staying inside the house with us around the clock, Kenobi?" He asks.

Ben makes a little huff. Fox doesn't know if it's a laugh or a sigh.

"Not that I don't enjoy your company", he says. "But I do have a job. Or at least I had a few days ago. I might already be laid off for not turning up for my shifts. Things are a bit scarce here, and even though there are various jobs available, getting one that is at least somewhat on the side of legality is always a bothersome thing. And, since things are scarce, they cost credits. Even more so now, as there are three mouths to feed, instead of one."

He looks at Leia, and smiles slightly.

"Even if one of the mouths is smaller than the other two", he says. He sounds fond as he speaks, and there is a look in his eyes that Fox knows.

He wonders who exactly Ben is thinking about when he looks at her.

"I do have credits on me", he says. "A lot of them."

Ben turns to look back at him. He raises a brow.

"And they cannot be traced back to you?" He asks.

"No", Fox answers. "They were reserved exactly for a situation like this. Just like everything else we have with us."

He decides not to think too much about that right now. He's doesn't have the energy to start and really think about how everything they have with them is everything they currently have left.

Ben nods. He is quiet for a while, clearly thinking.

"I will still go out tomorrow, to see if I still have a job", he says. "We do need to get more supplies as well at some point. Might as well do it at the same time."

That is true. Fox has supplies with him, but they are not going to last forever, and they need to keep up a stock, in case they need to leave again.

So he nods.

"Good. I will leave more weapons for you. But do not stay and fight. If they come, flee. Do not worry about me or anyone else."

Fox nods again.

It's for the best. If he flees, they will probably not go after the boy.

"I don't think I could even fight against all of them", he admits. "It would be a losing battle from the start. Most likely Vader himself would come after her-"

He stops talking when he sees the expression on Ben's face.

He looks like he has seen a ghost.

He stands there, his face white and his eyes wide, and Fox isn't sure if he is even breathing anymore.

He looks more like a ghost himself.

"Ben?" Fox calls. He doesn't seem to hear him. "Ben? General Kenobi?"

Nothing.

"Obi-Wan?"

That gets him to move again. Ben breathes in sharply, and his eyes focus fully back on Fox.

"He..." His voice comes out as a strained whisper. "He's...alive? Anakin is alive?"

Fox nods.

Ben sits down on the floor. He stares at the wall, and when he doesn't get up after a while, Fox stands up, and carefully pulls him back to his feet. He walks him all the way to the bed and makes him sit down on it, next to Leia, who is thankfully still sleeping.

Ben doesn't say anything. He just keeps staring somewhere, somewhere beyond the walls of the house.

Fox takes the first watch for the night.

[chillentertainer]

inspired by @searchingforserendipity25's amazing post, here are some of my silly ideas i banged out this fine snowy winter evening (shout out climate change because snow in texas!)

The one where the Pope discovers that magic is real and that Thomas Lawrence is a wizard. Except are you really a wizard if you haven't used magic for about half your life (the answer is yes because Lawrence uses it expertly to save Benitez's life)

The one where Bellini is down on his luck and in desperate need of money so he gets a sugar daddy. And that sugar daddy is Tedesco. They don’t discover the other’s true identities until decades later when they run into each other in Rome. 

The one where there is some kind of natural disaster which traps Tedesco and Benitez in the same room for hours on end. By the end of it, at least three (3) kisses, two (2) orgasms, and one (1) blowjob has been exchanged. They’re still “enemies”. But now Tedesco is inexplicably Benitez’s #1 private supporter and nearly bit off a bishop’s head when they spoke ill of Innocent 

The one where they are exploring the final frontier on a starship and the captain suddenly dies. So now they must elect a new captain. Also this mysterious officer shows up out of nowhere and apparently he used to work with refugees from the Federation-Klingon war?

The one where Thomas Lawrence is a painter in the 1800s and struggling to find artistic inspiration when Vincent Benitez, a fellow painter, arrives in town. 

The one where Thomas Lawrence endures a string of assassination attempts that he hides with increasing difficulty from the Pope, until his car literally Blows Up, and a piece of shrapnel narrowly misses a vital organ. Benitez is Not Happy about this. Ray does a little investigating because he’s also Unhappy someone tried to blow up the only Englishman he likes and finds out that one of the Cardinals is still paranoid about the simony list… 

The one where they’re in a symphony and the conductor just died and now they need a new conductor. Lawrence plays first violin. Sometimes he wishes his hands literally fall off before he has to pick up the violin and play again. 

The one where the plane crashes a la Yellowjackets! 

During these two months, Lawrence will offer himself up as food five different times. Bellini will begin to wonder about his friend’s mental health. Tedesco is the only one who seriously does want to eat Lawrence. (He's a hungry bitch who went through food scarcity as a child, can you blame him?)

Lawrence and Benitez will stare at each other longingly over the campfire for four weeks. Ray will notice these gazes and be reminded of the time he went and saw Portrait of a Lady on Fire by himself after a close friend recommended it to him and that close friend died before Ray could ask why they told him, a Bishop of the Catholic Church, to see a period drama about lesbian French women. Now he understands. 

Bellini and Tedesco will argue and then fuck it out thrice. They will be secretive and nonchalant and everyone will know because Bellini is limping and Tedesco appears unusually happy. Also sound travels far in a quiet forest. 

Tremblay will take over certain survival tasks twice because he was a Boy Scout in his youth, only to accidentally almost poison the soup with hallucinogenic mushrooms. Benitez catches this mistake just in time, but Tedesco isn’t listening (he’s too busy scripting out the next fight between him and Bellini) and takes a bite. While he doesn’t die, he instead has a vivid dream where he and Bellini turn into slime and merge into a giant slime puddle. He wakes up with an erection. Death is preferable in his opinion. 

And finally, Lawrence’s mild fever will worsen considerably one night, to the point of fatality, and he will hold Vincent’s hands as he confesses all of his sins and love for Vincent, though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, but he does he does he does, and please use my body to survive and continue God’s work, and Vincent tearfully agrees, only for Ray to shout aha! because he got the damn radio to work and contacted the rescuers.

[aleskie]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝟑𝟔 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 SUMMARY: A park, a game, the World Championships, and a question Ice to Meet You Masterlist Previous | Next

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: A lil swearing, some family stuff, mentions of the devs losing

Training was brutal. Even more than usual. But that was to be expected with Words fast approaching. Mila had a title to defend, after all. She first claimed it in 2015, then again in 2016. She lost the title in 2017, but got it back in 2018 and hasn’t let go since. And she wasn't about to now. At least, not without a fight. So, she took each fall, took every bruise. The pain felt like a small price to pay for another win. Still, her age was definitely creeping up on her. She’s at the age of retirement for most female figure skaters. God, she’s not even 23 yet but her knees are fucked. 

That’s the thing about figure skating that no one talks about. It consumes you. You train and train and train, and that’s all you have. It’s all you do. You train until you’ve bruised every inch of your body. You skate until you fuck up your knees permanently before you’re even thirty. You fall, you get up, and then you fall again and again and again. And it hurts. And the worst part is, Mila loves it. She loves it so much she’d stay forever if she could.

“Mila, you went too far into the edge,” Georgi called out, his voice tinged with exasperation. She hadn’t been landing her jumps properly all day. “Pull your left arm back in a bit more and keep leaning on the outside edge—really create that energy to lift you up properly.”

She nods. She knows what to do. She knows how to jump. She just…wasn’t getting it right today. And she was starting to get frustrated. She sensed Georgi picking up on it when he waved her off for a break.

“Calm yourself,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Go take a breather, we’ll come back in five.”

Mila skated off, slipping her skate guards on before finding a seat by her bag. She’d had off days before, but never this close to something as important as the World Championships. Was this a sign? Was her body finally giving up on her? The thoughts spiraled until she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

A text. She sighed, pulling it out, almost grateful for the distraction.

Mystery Man (nico): Can I see you? 

She gives a small smile as she reads the text. She hadn’t expected to hear from him so soon, especially not after a loss like that. If it were her, she would have shut the world out for days. But maybe he was just built differently—better, kinder. No, scratch that. He was a better person than she was. That wasn’t exactly a high bar to clear, but still.

Mila: I’m at training :( But you can come and watch if you want 😁

Mystery Man (nico): Send me the place 😄

She quickly typed out the address of her rink, hit send, then took a deep breath before hobbling back over to Georgi, ready to get back to work.

Not that the short break did much good. She was still struggling—falling, wobbling on her edges. Her landings were sloppy, and her entries? Basically cheats. After one particularly bad fall, she let out a frustrated breath and looked over at her coach.

“Okay,” she pants, looking over to Georgi, “If the Russians can cheat their jumps, why can’t I?”

“Because I refuse to have you retire early because of bad technique,” Georgi huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re too good for that.”

She couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at her lips. It was nice, having someone who believed in her, who saw her as better than her mistakes. Better than she saw herself sometimes.

“Okay,” she smiles, “Let’s try again.”

This time, she ran through the jumps with a little more focus, a little less frustration. And though it was still far from perfect, it was better. Not great. But better. Maybe it had just been her nerves pulling her down, weighing down her feet like lead. As she finished her last jump, she wiped the sweat from her brow and tried to calm her racing thoughts.

Okay, she told herself, Nothing dire, nothing wrong. Just a bad day.

Sometimes that’s all it was. Life moves on, time doesn’t stop. It was just a bad day.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

When she’s out of the showers, dressed in a thick, cozy sweater and leggings, Mila pulls out her phone to check in with Nico, only to spot him sitting by the bleachers. He had on a Devil’s hoodie, black sweatpants, and a snapback—worn backward, of course. She was starting to think hats were his thing.

“When did you get here?” She asked while approaching him, still towel-drying her damp hair.

“A bit ago,” he smiled, glancing up from his phone. “You were in the middle of training, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

She scrunched her nose and sighed. “It was a bad day.”

He nodded solemnly, the weight of his own recent loss clear in his eyes. “We all have them,” he said, more to himself than to her. “What matters is that you push through and do better next time.”

The look in his eyes was determined, as though he needed to believe the words just as much as she did. She couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh captain, my captain,” she said dramatically, trying to lighten the mood. “What wise words you have!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “What can I say? The captaincy’s still new, but I’m getting used to it.”

“Well, I suppose exposure therapy has its merits,” she teased, brushing her hair back and giving him a sidelong glance.

He hummed in agreement. “So, how do you deal with a day like today?” he asked. “When everything feels... off.”

“You mean a shitty training day?” she grimaced, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

She grabbed his hand—his much larger hand in hers—and pulled him toward the parking lot.

“Get in,” she said, opening the passenger door to her car. “I’ll drive you back later.”

He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I can’t believe I’m letting you kidnap me.”

She winked, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Key words: you’re letting me.”

He laughs before settling into his seat.

The drive to Mila’s secret place is tranquil, filled with easy conversation—the kind that flowed without much effort. They have idle chatter about their days. Nico talks about training that day, talks about the team and how they’re handling the game from last night.

“They’re reeling,” he says, “But they’re trying not to let it get to them. I think they’re working harder because of it. I feel like…they feel as if they have something to prove.”

“Wouldn’t you rather they work harder because of a win?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t any athlete?” he countered with a small smile.

“Fair enough.”

At a stoplight, Mila handed him control of the music. “Go ahead, play something. Anything you want.”

Nico's face lit up mischievously as he scrolled through her playlist. Suddenly, the car was filled with a booming beat and rapid-fire lyrics in a language she didn’t understand. She shot him a bemused look.

“Is this…in German?”

“Swiss-German,” He clarifies, shrugging, “You said I could play anything.”

She rolled her eyes but grinned. She’s not not enjoying it. The beat is catchy even though she doesn’t understand anything the artist is saying.

After a few moments of silence, the music almost fading into the background as she bobbed her head to his music, Nico glanced at her, his voice softer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah? Why?”

He hesitated. “It looked like it hurt… when you fell.”

 She blinked, her mind flashing back to the rough landings she’d had earlier. She tried to brush it off with a joke. “From heaven?”

But Nico wasn’t laughing. He looked at her with genuine concern. “On the ice.”

She scrunches her nose.

“I mean it. I heard it. I mean, the sounds were…” He takes a breath. “I’m surprised nothing’s broken.”

For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She’d almost forgotten he had been watching her practice. “I’m used to it,” she shrugs.

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I guess.” She swallowed hard, staring at the road. “That’s the first thing you learn in skating. How to fall.”

“I remember.” He smiled faintly, recalling his own experiences on the ice. “But what I remember most was learning how to take a punch.”

They shared a laugh, easing the tension between them. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics as Mila drove into a secluded woodland area, the kind of place that felt worlds away from the bustling city.

“We’re here,” she says, “Hold on, I’ll open the door.”

“You’re really giving me the princess treatment here,” he jokes as she opens the door for him, “Isn’t that my job?”

“I’d give you flowers if I had any,” she smiles. It’s true. She’d give him a million roses if she could.

She grabbed a bag from the backseat before leading Nico through a small gate not too far away from where they’re parked. The soft chirping of birds filled the air as they walked in silence, hand in hand, until they reached a quiet spot under a large tree.

“This should be good,” Mila said, laying out a blanket she pulled from her bag. She sat down, gesturing for him to join her. 

It was a tight fit, his legs stretching beyond the edges of the blanket, but neither of them seemed to mind. They sat quietly, letting the sounds of nature surround them. After a moment, Mila laid down, staring up at the canopy of leaves above.

“This is where I go to clear my head,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “I stay here for hours. Just thinking. Or listening to music. It’s far away from everything. I like it”

Nico listened, nodding in understanding. “It’s peaceful.”

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet settling over them like a warm blanket. Every now and then, he glanced at her, watching the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the serene expression on her face.

“Take a picture,” she teased, cracking one eye open. “It’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said with a grin, pulling out his phone.

She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, and struck a playful pose. “Here, I’ll even smile for you.” She stuck her tongue out, flashing a peace sign as he snapped photos of her.

He got into it quickly, directing her poses, both of them laughing at the absurdity of it all. They laugh over the faces Mila makes, laugh at the photobombers in each photo. And then they’re back to silence. The calm rushing over them. Then and there, they were just two people, free from the pressures of their sports, from the weight of their responsibilities.

But eventually, the conversation turned back to the game.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mila asked, sitting up to face him. “The game yesterday?”

Nico sighed, staring up at the sky.  “I don’t know what to say,” he says after a moment, “We’re a good team. We have good players. But we can’t seem to get it together. I don’t know how to help, how to fix it.”

She hums in response, sitting up to face him. “Do you wanna hear what I think?”

He nods.

“I think,” she contemplates, “That’s not something you should worry about.”

His brows furrow.

She continues, “You can bring up the team’s thoughts to the coaches, you can cheer up the boys, you can defend your team to the media, and you can lead by example.” She takes a breath. “It’s not your job to make strategies or figure out the dynamics of each player’s play style. You can help. Tell the coaches how the boys like to play best, how they like to be coached, how they respond to the strategies. But you aren’t solely responsible for how they play. If they suck during a game, then they suck. You can’t control that. All you can really do is try to make things better for them next time.”

He sighed deeply, lying down on the blanket. “I don’t want to fail them.”

“I don’t think you will,” she smiles gently, “You just got named captain like, what, a month ago? You’re not gonna be perfect from the start.”

“Were you? At skating?”

“Nah,” she smiles, thinking of her five-year-old self who couldn’t even balance on the ice, “I sucked for, like, thirty minutes. And then I learned how to hold myself up on the ice.” She smiles at him. “You’re still in your first thirty minutes. You’ll be just fine.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Here’s the thing: Mila is ridiculously good at Goldfish. Nico learns that the hard way. By losing five games in a row.

“Okay,” he groans, furrowing his brows as he studies his empty hand. “You’re definitely cheating,” he pouts.

“You just suck,” she shoots back, smirking as she sticks her tongue out at him, clearly relishing her victory. So she’s an arrogant winner, sue her.

“I don’t suck,” he protests, a cute pout still present on his face.

“Says the guy who’s lost five times in a row,” Mila teases.

“Let’s play a different game.” He places his cards on the ground. “Goldfish is banned until further notice.”

“Fine, fine, you sore loser,” she giggles, leaning over to shuffle the cards back into the deck. “What do you have in mind?”

“I...don’t know, actually.” He tilts his head, thinking. “What do people play when they’re trying to get to know each other?”

Mila pauses, fingers tapping rhythmically on the deck. “Hmm, my friends and I did that 36 Questions thing once. We can do that?”

Nico narrows his eyes. “Wasn’t it 20 Questions?”

“Nope, this one’s different.” She pulls out her phone and quickly taps a few buttons to pull up the list. “Originally, it’s supposed to help people fall in love, but I think it just helps people build a connection.”

“Fall in love?” Nico raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “We’re getting serious now?”

“Oh, hush. You know what I mean.” Mila rolls her eyes but grins back at him. “You in?”

“I’m in.” He mirrors her grin, scooting a bit closer.

Mila scrolls for a second before reading aloud. “Okay, first question: ‘Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?’”

Nico lets out a short laugh. “This is supposed to make us closer?”

“It starts off easy. Just trust the process,” she smiles, “It might surprise you.”

He thinks for a moment. “Maybe someone smart? Or someone I could learn from,” he hums, “You know, I’ve always idolized Roman Josi. He’s one of the best players in my opinion. So, maybe him.” 

Mila nods, a little smile playing on her lips. “Solid choice.”

He thinks for a moment. “Or maybe Stephen Hawking.”

“Stephen Hawking?” She chuckles. “That’s a bit out of left field.”

“I could ask him about the universe. We could talk about black holes or something. I think that’s pretty cool. Maybe I wouldn’t understand much of the science, but it’d be nice to learn about it.”

She smiles. “I want to dine with Taylor Swift. She’s cool.”

He laughs. “Of course. You played just her music for the first half of the ride here until you let me play my stuff.”

Mila places a hand on her heart in mock offense. “Hey now, Ms. Swift is my treasure, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico chuckles, leaning in slightly as the teasing banter flows easily between them.

She grins, locking eyes with him for a moment. “Next question?”

“Shoot,” he replies, settling in as they move to the next one.

“Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Mila groans, dramatically rolling her eyes, “Let me tell you what I tell everyone. I just want to skate. I could care less about the media. I mean, I love the fans and all. They’re great. But, I just want people to know me for skating, not for being marketable or having the right image or whatever.”

He nods in response. “Exactly. I love the fans. I mean, they’re the reason we can even do this.” She nods at him. “But I don’t want the glamor of it. I just wanna be known for hockey.”

They briefly go through the next question. The park around them hums softly with life—children’s laughter, the rustling of trees in the breeze—but for now, it feels like the world is just theirs, this little bubble on the blanket. 

Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

They both agree to just winging it, not putting too much thought into the what-ifs. There’s no use worrying about something that you don’t know about. It’s different from sports, they agree, you prepare for competitions to get the best results you can but phone calls can be wild or they can be mundane. You can’t control what’s gonna happen there, but it’s at least easier to adjust to the vibe of the conversation.

“Next question,” Mila says, “What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?”

Nico hums, thinking it over for a beat. “Honestly? Maybe just a chill day to myself. Spend it with family and friends, then go home, relax with a good book, and have a nice dinner afterward.”

He’s a pretty simple guy, Mila realizes—no drama, no big wishes. He’s mellow, easygoing. He appreciates the mundanity of life—wants to bask in the simplicity of things. She likes that about him. Likes that, outside of hockey and competition, he’s just…a guy. It’s refreshing.

“That sounds nice,” she says softly. Then, with a small smile, she adds, “I think I’d want to do things I’ve never done before. Go to an arcade, make a scrapbook, paint, maybe decorate a cake. Stuff like that.”

“You’ve never been to an arcade?” He asks, eyes wide with disbelief. 

She shrugs. “Didn’t have the time. Or, you know, the friends to go with. I thought it wouldn’t be fun to go alone.”

“I’ll take you,” he says, determined, “Next time. It’ll be fun.”

Mila narrows her eyes playfully, holding out her pinky. “Promise?”

He links his pinky with hers, their hands gently locked together. “Promise.”

“Good,” she says, playfully stern. “You can’t break this. Pinky promises are sacred.”

“I swear it.”

She smiles and they move on.

When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

They go through question after question, laughter filling the air. Some answers are ridiculous—like when Nico declares he would want the power to make the weather always match the climate of his hometown in Switzerland. Mila teases him about being spoiled by the picturesque Alps.

Other answers, though, carry more weight. Mila’s face softens when she answers that she’s most grateful for her coaches. “They’re like parents to me. They’ve just…always been there.”

The questions keep flowing, and they don't all dig deep into their personal lives, but they savor the silliness of it all. It’s fun, Mila realizes. And maybe that’s what the game is about—finding the fun in figuring out if you have chemistry with the person you’re answering it with.

Mila pauses when they reach the next question. She cringes a little before reading aloud, “How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

Nico has this certain smile as he thinks about it, his expression softening into something nostalgic. “I feel like my family’s pretty close,” he starts, his voice warm. “I don’t get to see them as much now since they’re back in Switzerland, but we spend as much time as we can together over the summer when I’m home.”

He continues, “We spend a lot of time together at the lake, at the beach. We’re all athletes, so it’s always fun playing sports together. My mom makes the best food. We talk all the time while I’m here. They come visit whenever they can.”

He smiles as he talks about them. He loves them. That much is clear. There’s a quiet ache in her chest as he speaks, something that makes her feel a bit jealous of it all. She wants that feeling, longs for the warmth in his eyes as he talks about his mom’s cooking or spending time with his siblings. 

“That sounds… wonderful,” she replies, her voice soft. She means it. The feelings are foreign to her. Unfamiliar. Strange. But she finds herself yearning for it.

Nico’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “What’s your family like?”

Mila hesitates, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “They’re okay,” she starts, keeping her tone casual, though her gaze drops to her lap. “My parents are both doctors—surgeons—so they were always busy. And my brothers were so much younger that we never had anything in common.” 

She hates how her words are dampening the light mood. She feels the familiar tightness in her chest and quickly rushes through her explanation. “I moved away when I was young so I didn’t get to spend much time with them after that. And I had competitions near holidays so it just wasn’t efficient to come back home.” She shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant. “But we’re…okay.”

Nico’s brow furrows in that way it does when he doesn’t quite understand something. “They never came to watch you skate?”

Mila forces a small laugh, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re not exactly big fans of the whole skating thing. They wanted me to be a doctor. Or a lawyer—anything but this.” She fixes her gaze on the sky, trying to keep her tone light. “My dad even offered a trust fund if I ever chose to be a writer or a researcher or a teacher or some other ‘low paying job’” She says with air-quotes. 

“Literally anything but this.” Her voice wavers with sarcasm and a hint of bitterness. “My grandparents funded my international competitions until I was eighteen. And there’s funding from the association. So that helped.”

There’s a beat of silence. Nico shifts beside her, his hand brushing against hers. Kind of like he’s reassuring her. When he finally speaks, his voice is low. Sincere. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, but…” He swallows, and when he speaks again, there’s a weight to his words. “You don’t deserve that.”

The sun is setting, shades of pink and orange littering the sky. The park is quiet now, with only the two of them left on their picnic blanket, surrounded by the soft hum of the evening. Mila watches as Nico glances at the dimming sky, his face relaxed yet somehow wistful.

"It’s getting dark," she murmurs with a chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "Seems like we’re the last ones here."

Nico pouts in response, his lips turning down in exaggerated disappointment. “That means we have to go soon,” he says, though his voice suggests he’s not in a rush.

She doesn’t want to leave either. There's a part of her that wishes they could stay like this forever—just the two of them, away from the world, no pressures, just...like this.

“We can’t do the rest,” she says softly, “Let’s end on a high note, yeah?”

He smiles and nods, eyes following her as she scrolls through the list of remaining questions.

Mila stops, a mischievous smirk creeping across her face. “‘Tell your partner something that you like about them already.’”

He laughs, throwing his head back slightly. “Of course you’d choose this one!”

“It’s the most fun one left!” She teases. “Unless you’d rather answer ‘Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?’” She says, voice taking on a dramatic, playful tone. “I mean, that’s morbid!”

She tries not to let it show, but there’s a flutter in her heart. There’s something intimate about the question, something that makes her feel like the gap between them is closing with each word he could say.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, “I like that you’re…talkative, but you listen.”

She raises a brow, curiosity piqued.

“I mean that,” he pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t always have a lot to say. I say things mostly as I see them and there’s not much to explain. But you? You have a lot to say and you say them easily. And then I speak and you…really listen.” His eyes glint with sincerity, making his smile even more captivating. “You ask questions, you react, and you call back to other things I’ve said before. I think that’s part of it too. You remember. Not a lot of people do.”

Mila’s smirk fades into a more genuine smile, her cheeks warming at his words. She didn’t expect him to think that of her. She just thought she was being normal. It’s a special kind of feeling when someone you like tells you that you listen. She gets the feeling of not being heard. She wants to listen to him forever.

“Your turn.”

“I like that you…start things.”

This earns him a playful, incredulous look from her.

“Like…” She tries to find the words. “I’m not the type to start conversations or invite people to hang out. But you do that.”  She locks her eyes with his, sincerity woven into her tone. “It’s hard to start things. It’s hard for me to start things. But I think you get that about me. I mean, you were the one who talked to me first—both times, I might add—and you messaged me first, you sent the first picture, sent the first video. You’re the one who asks me to hang out. I admire that about you.”

Without missing a beat, he tells her, “You’re worth it. All of it. I start things with you because I want to.”

Her heart swells at his words, a rush of warmth flooding her veins. “I want to do those things for you too,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the intent rings true.

“You can,” he assures her, his tone gentle. Kind. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m right here.”

Mila decides that’s another thing she likes about him. 

He waits for her.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They hang out a lot more after their little impromptu gettogether at the park. They get lunch, hang out at the cafe they went to the first time he asked her out, and fall into a comfortable rhythm. Nico watches her study, sometimes quizzing her with flashcards, playfully teasing her when she struggles with a card she should’ve known. They carve out time for each other. And when they aren’t free, they text all night—little ramblings about their day, stories about their friends. Sometimes it’s more heartfelt—losses and failure, the pressure to excel. They keep talking until one of them gets too sleepy to continue, often ending with a send-off of heart emojis—red for Nico, blue for Mila.

Today, they’re hanging out at Mila’s apartment. She’d invited him over. A first for the two of them. It’s a nice but strange feeling to have someone in your space. The apartment wasn’t messy (she stress-cleaned the night before), but she found herself glancing at everything, wondering if it felt too personal. Yet, once Nico arrived, Tulips in hand, his easy going presence helped put her at ease.

She had made them lunch and the way he complimented her cooking made her heart flutter. She found herself smiling more than usual. They spent the afternoon watching a dating reality show, laughing together as they made fun of the contestants' ridiculous personas, judging their decisions and betrayals. His laugh was infectious, and Mila found herself finally relaxing.

It was all fun and games until Mila remembered she was leaving for the airport tomorrow. For the World Championships. Normally, she’d remember well in advance thanks to Nicole’s insistence at helping her pack, fussing over her like a mother would her child. But this time was different. Hers and Georgi’s anniversary would fall on the same week as Worlds, so Georgi was taking her out for the day.

“You’re a big girl now,” Nicole had told her with a wink.

But was she?

Now, here she was, running around her apartment as Nico sat cross-legged on the floor, folding her leggings and turtlenecks like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Shit. I can’t find my skate guards,” Mila muttered, rummaging through her closet, her voice tinged with rising anxiety.

“Aren’t they in your gym bag?” Nico asked, glancing up from the neat pile of clothes he’d just finished folding. He was leaning back against the couch, watching her dart back and forth.

“I need my lucky ones,” she replied, a whine creeping into her tone. “The last time I didn’t wear them, I lost the championship.”

He chuckled softly, the sound light and easy. She’d find it cute if she weren’t so stressed.

“Us athletes are so superstitious aren’t we?” He teased, though there was an understanding in his voice.

“It’s only acceptable if the superstitions work,” she huffed, finally spotting the guards buried under a pile of scarves. She clutched them triumphantly, a small wave of relief washing over her.

Nico, done folding, patted the spot next to him on the floor. “Come here.”

Mila hesitated for a moment, but then walked over and sat down beside him. He pulled her close, his arm slipping around her shoulders, and she melted into him, the warmth of his embrace instantly calming her.

“You’ll be fine, you know. Even without the lucky skate guards or whatever rituals you have.”

She leaned her head against his chest, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of his sleeve. “You don’t know that,” she whispered, the weight of the competition looming over her.

“I do,” he said softly, his voice full of quiet certainty. He rested his chin on top of her head, holding her a little tighter. “You’re the best one there is.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Competitions were always hard. Physically and mentally. Especially mentally. She always seemed to psyche herself out and it almost always showed up at the worst possible moments. At the worst of times, it manifested as she skated, making her switch to easier jumps at the last minute. During practice, she could nail every jump with ease. But on the ice, under the glare of the lights, things became different. Georgi often told her that her biggest competitor was never the other skaters—it was herself. She was inclined to agree.

At the short program today, she’d under-rotated a salchow and ended up in second.  Second. A perfectly fine result, for anyone else. But it wasn’t where she needed to be, and that salchow—it shouldn’t have been a problem. It was one of the easier jumps. She could do it in her sleep during training. So why was it such a challenge in competition? God, she should’ve pushed harder to take that jump of her program. She's never been good at it. But it was too late now. Her results weren't too bad, sure. But it wasn’t where she wanted to be—where she needed to be. She needed to win. And a second place finish wasn’t getting her there.

She tries to calm herself by taking walks and spending time with her Team USA teammates. It didn’t work, but it was worth a shot. She couldn’t shake the heavy feeling settling deep in her chest. What is wrong with me? 

She wants to talk to Nico, hear his voice, have him comfort her. But she switches her phone off during Worlds. Half out of superstition, and half because she couldn’t resist the urge to doom-scroll through Twitter. It’s a bad habit of hers, reading through all the comments—positive and negative. Mostly the negative, reading every harsh comment from strangers who knew nothing about her. And yet, once she started, it was hard to stop. So, she kept her phone off. It was safer this way, even if it made her feel a little lonelier.

When the day of the free skate comes around, she’s all nerves. Her nails dig into her skin as she fidgets around. She tries to convince herself that second place isn’t bad. She still got a medal with it. But who was she kidding? Second place is the first loser. No one remembers second place. 

But what if she fumbles harder? What if she doesn’t even place? That was worse. That’s what everyone wanted. She’d never failed to make a podium her entire career. Never. How could she ever deal with that? Worse still, this season she’d won every competition she entered up until this point. She didn’t want to start her off-season with a loss. She knows how that ends—with her feet bleeding and a doctor’s note telling her to stay away from the rink until she was “mentally ready.” Whatever that meant. Ready for what? Skating was her life. She had to be ready. She didn’t have a choice.

Georgi put a hand on her shoulder, his voice steady, his presence solid. “Just skate,” he said, looking her in the eyes.

She stared at him, like he’d spoken another language. That was his advice? But Georgi was always like this—calm, grounded.

She took a breath.

The roar of the crowd filled the arena, but it was distant. Muffled. 

She tried to focus on the feel of the ice under her blades, the glide, the familiarity of it all. 

It was just her and the ice. Her and her old friend.

Just skate.

And so, she did.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

She gets a call from Nico the next night—actually, she has one other missed call from him, but she tries not to dwell on it. Her gold medal is safely tucked into her luggage, nestled between her clothes. She leaves for the airport in an hour. And she’s excited to go back home. She’s excited to model her medal for her friends, excited to place it on their necks as they act like they’d won it themselves. The thought makes her giggle to herself.

“Hi,” he says, his voice soft and low. He sounds tired.

“Hey,” she replies, leaning back on her bed. “Long day?”

“Yeah, training was tough this morning,” he says with a sigh. “But it was good. The energy was good. We won the game earlier.”

“Congratulations!”

“Same to you, Ms. World Champion.” She can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I told you you could do it.”

“You did.” A warm feeling spreads through her chest, remembering their moment in her apartment—how he believed in her even when she didn’t.

“What are you up to now?” he asks.

“I leave for the airport in an hour,” she says, glancing at her packed luggage. “Just hanging out in my room until then.”

“Excited to go home?”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding even though he can’t see her. “Can’t wait.”

“I’ll get you flowers when I see you again.”

She smiles at the thought. “What kind?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want Tulips, like the ones you got me last time.”

“Then tulips it is.”

Her smile widens as she leans further into the pillows, relaxing into the sound of his voice. The conversation flows from there. She asks him to tell her about the game so he does—recounting every goal, every save, and even a few funny moments that happened on the ice. She made a mental note to watch a rerun when she got back.

She’s reminded of the time difference when she actively hears Nico getting sleepier. His voice becomes slower, lazier, and then he yawns, trying to muffle it.

“I think you need some sleep, hun,” she says softly, her tone teasing but affectionate.

“I want to talk to you more,” he murmurs, and she can almost imagine him, sprawled out on his bed, struggling to stay awake.

“You’ll see me soon,” she assures him, her voice gentle, “It won’t be long. I promise.”

He hums in agreement, though his voice sounds distant, like he’s already half asleep. “Okay.”

“See you soon, Nico,” she whispers, her heart warm.

“See you soon.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

He shows up to her unit just a few days later with a bouquet of tulips in hand. He’s dressed a little nicer than usual—wearing a crisp button-up and tailored dress pants. The sneakers keep the look casual, but there’s something different about him tonight.

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, raising a brow as she lets him inside.

“I was hoping you’d let me take you out tonight,” he says, his voice soft but carrying an excited edge.

She gives him a quizzical look from where she’s arranging the flowers in a vase, glancing down at her current outfit—a comfy house shirt and loose shorts. “Now?” she gestures at herself, amused.

“I’ll wait,” he says with a smile. “You can change.”

“Okay,” she replies, still confused but warming to the idea, “How fancy are we going tonight?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering his words. “Something comfortable, but, you know, like you wouldn’t regret wearing it on a date.”

“Oh,” she smirks, crossing her arms. “So this is a date?”

He smiles back, the kind of smile that makes her stomach flip. “If you want it to be.”

She pauses, teasing him with a mock-serious expression before finally grinning. “Give me twenty minutes.”

She’d be ready in less. 

[benedictscanvas]

be still, my foolish heart [5] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: finally! sorry it's a couple days late, but the busy week is over and we are back at it. i really enjoyed writing this one. did a poll to find out how people feel about reader pov, so there may be a few reader pov bits coming your way soon, just so we can see whether she's smitten too... <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist

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chapter five - if you got love to get done

The crowd is roaring as he walks out of the tunnel, squinting a little in the sudden wash of sunlight that hits him. The music is loud and he feels himself rising taller, pushing his shoulders back, chest forward as he realises the moment he’s having. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s got a bib on, that he’s taking a sharp right turn and heading straight for the bench.

He’ll be subbed on at 60, he’s sure. Confident, even. The last few days in training, he’d played some of the best football he could remember playing. His phone was filled with encouraging messages that morning, from the team, from the coaches, from practically everyone that knew him. The only one he’d replied to so far was his mum, but he was looking forward to going through them properly later.

Earlier, he’d found himself disappointed not to see you at breakfast, but now here you were as he headed towards his seat on the bench, just one row behind him with a camera in your hand. You grin when you see him, and hold up your camera questioningly. He plays along as he stares off into the distance pensively, pouting and sharpening his jawline. You giggle as you take a few snaps and he's eager to sit down in front of you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jamie said, swivelling in his seat to chat to you despite the funny look from Gondo beside him, “I mean, not at the match but, y’ know…”

“Sat on the bench?” you asked and he nodded, “Yeah, I had to fight to be here, honestly. But there’s nowhere else I can get the right angles for the socials. At least, that’s what I told them.”

He grinned right back, turning even further in his seat so the two of you were face to face, but then the first notes of the national anthem started playing and you whacked his shoulder frantically as the two of you tried to stand up quickly. Even during the anthem, he risked a glance back at you and you glared at him until he turned back around, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he sang.

“You’ll get me fucking fired!” you hiss from behind your hand when the two of you are able to sit back down again, “They’ve already asked me why you’ve been in so much of the content recently.”

“What did y’ say?”

“That you’re the only idiot who says yes to all my stupid ideas.”

His shoulders slump at that description, but he’s quick to bounce back when you start laughing at him. You rest a hand on your shoulder as you lean in, still keeping a hand over your mouth to stop any pesky press doing any lip reading.

“I couldn’t tell them you’re just my favourite, could I?” and he could swear his heart stops, because that almost sounds like flirting. He stares up at you, wide-eyed and helpless until you continue, “Not supposed to tell anyone I’m Richmond, remember?”

Right. Richmond. That was why he was your favourite, because he’s the only Richmond player who’s fucking here. What if Roy was here? Or Isaac, or Colin, or Bumbercatch? It suddenly occurred to him that even if he was your favourite here, you might have a very long list of Richmond players you liked more than him. The thought settles and he can feel his uneasiness in his stomach.

He doesn’t respond before he turns back around to watch kick off, just smiles at you instead and hopes that his lack of reply isn’t too rude. Your hand lets go of his shoulder after a moment or two, and he’s absolutely kicking himself but then the match starts and he can’t think about it anymore.

It’s an easy opener, even if Gareth insisted that they couldn’t become complacent. England were 2-0 up within around 10 minutes with a tap-in and a penalty from King, and from there seemed content to coast to half time with the majority of the possession. Jamie cheered for both goals wildly on the sidelines with the rest of his teammates and then jogged down into the tunnel quickly when the halftime whistle blew.

The team talk was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Gareth was hardly going to change tactics now, so once he’d got past the main parts, he turned his mind to you, just for a few minutes. He probably wasn’t your favourite player at Richmond. And it shouldn’t matter to him, he knows that, but it does. The pit in his stomach that the thought has caused just won’t go away.

He could ask you, but that would be ridiculous. Would make him seem ridiculous. This was definitely getting out of hand, because he had been so sure he could just be friends with you and be happy about it but- you were just so great. The two of you had spent the last four days in Italy practically joined at the hip. Filming and laughing and crying-while-laughing.

All the while he’d been promising himself not to think about you in any way that wasn’t friendly. All the while he’d been lying to himself. You smile at him, and he feels like he’s spinning around on a fucking hill like in that movie Roy had made him watch about a month ago.

The team is all clapping, so he snaps himself out of it and claps too as everyone files out of the room. He’s so frustrated with himself for thinking about this now - it isn’t the time. So he decides - after the match, he can think about it as much as he likes. Come up with a proper plan to rid himself of this once and for all, so you can get on as well as you do without him worrying about silly things like being your favourite Richmond player.

When he arrives back to his seat on the bench and flops down into it, he feels a delicate tap on his shoulder and turns to see you, still smiling that infuriating smile.

“Hey, you’re very tense,” you say teasingly with a light poke to his shoulder, “Whole first half without talking isn’t very Jamie Tartt of you. Something I said?”

He likes to think he can read you pretty well sometimes, and he’s positive he can see your smile falter as you ask. So he did come off rude when he turned around and stopped talking to you. Again, he’s kicking himself.

“No! No, love, ‘course not,” he tries to reassure you, “I’m just nervous, honestly. Y’ mentioned Richmond and I know that I’m…y’ know. I’m good there. Jus’ wonderin’ if I’ll be any good here.”

He wasn’t wondering. He’s been great in training and he’s fishing for compliments, he knows it. The thought makes him feel like a prick again.

“Come on. You’re joking, right?”

He doesn’t expect that particular response, especially not the thinly veiled amusement on your face.

“Uh- no? Don’t think so.”

“I’ve watched you in training. You’re feeling it, I know it. I know you a bit by now. So why are you lying?”

It was the most straightforward you’d ever been and he had no idea what to do with it. But Gareth was calling his name, and Gondo elbowed him in the ribs hard.

“You’re up, bro. Go and warm up!”

Jamie was quick to react, glancing back at you a few times but soon getting his head in the game. He pushes your conversation, your words, right to the back of his mind as he sidesteps along the side of the pitch, then moves through the exercises he usually did on autopilot.

He hadn’t even noticed it was 60 minutes through the game. At least he’d been right about one thing - he was getting subbed on.

He ran to grab his shirt as one of the assistant coaches told the fourth official that England would be making a change. You were nearby again and you grinned at him when he was close enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said loudly, and he knew what you were talking about, “Just go and fucking smash it, Jamie!”

He nods. Yeah, he’s gonna fucking smash it.

He tears off his bib and stands ready on the touch line, proud to be wearing Sam’s number on his back. He knows that Sam should be here in Italy playing for his country as he deserved, and it was only a small tribute, but he hoped it would make some kind of statement. King runs over to him, slaps his hands against Jamie’s and that’s it - he’s running onto the pitch with a new spring in his step.

He’s an England player. He’s done it. Lifelong dream achieved.

Around ten minutes into his debut, he sees Rife making a delicious run down the right side and he hooks his foot around the ball to send a pass forward, soaring over the heads of the defenders and landing right on Rife’s foot. He holds his breath as Rife shoots, but the net bulges soon after and now he’s got an assist too.

It’s overwhelming.

Still, Rife is running over to jump on him and he lets him, then Wire, then practically the whole team. At the bottom of the pile, Jamie spares a thought for the Jamie of a few years ago, the Jamie for whom goals were everything and assists meant nothing. How sad it would have been to miss out on this feeling of helping his team, his country, towards an emphatic win.

And it was a fucking excellent assist, too.

The last ten minutes are uneventful. Jamie knows he’s playing well and remembers your words - you’re feeling it. You’ve summed it up perfectly. His feel of the ball, his feel for his teammates and their positions, its all coming together. At the final whistle, he lets out a roar, full of all the anxious anticipation that went into this moment then takes the nearest player to him in a huge bear hug.

The coaches and rest of the team walk out onto the pitch, shaking hands and clapping each other on the back. Jamie makes a point to shake as many opposition players’ hands as he can before he moves on to celebrating with his teammates. Almost as soon as he’s ready to jog over to Rife to pick him up, however, he spots you, filming Rife on your phone.

Maybe he isn’t your favourite Richmond player. But you said he was your favourite around here and he’s going to take that and run with it.

“Y/N! Hey!”

You look round as soon as he calls and put your phone away instantly. He’s not sure you’ve even finished with Rife. Either way, you’re sprinting up to him and you’ve got him locked in the tightest of hugs before he knows it. Despite how unexpected it is, it doesn’t take him long to wind his arms around you in return because it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You pull back, positively beaming.

“That assist, Jamie! I fucking knew you were feeling it, that was insane!”

“It were pretty good, weren’t it?” he says proudly, pulling you back into his arms for one hug while he still can, grateful when you let him. He leans back this time, watching you with a quirked eyebrow, “You know me quite well, huh?”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you looked flustered.

“Didn’t know you were going to do that, though, did I? Magic, that was,” you’re still heaping praise on him, and there’s a part of him that wants to tell you to go on, but he doesn’t want to push it. He also doesn’t want any awkwardness between the two of you, but right now he thinks he could do anything, so he takes a chance.

“Earlier, you said I was your favourite because I’m Richmond and it jus’ felt shit,” he admits, all in a rush, “That’s not your fault, I know. I never thought about you likin’ Richmond in general before. Instead of-“

Instead of just me. Instead of just liking me, for who I am and not what team I play for. Tell me I’m your favourite Richmond player and I’ll stop being a fucking prick.

He keeps most of what he’s thinking to himself, because he feels like he’s probably already said too much. In his sessions with Doctor Sharon so far, she’s been so encouraging of his newfound honesty, both with others and with himself. She’d want him to ‘communicate his feelings’ with you, and he wasn’t sure if this was the best way of doing that, but it had happened now. He’d already said it.

You still had your hands on his arms, having pulled them back from their tight squeeze around his neck and shoulders. You were looking at him thoughtfully, and he was struck by how stupid he was when he thought he could read you earlier - you were impossible to read sometimes.

After what feels like years, you press your lips together like you’re suppressing a grin and squeeze his biceps.

“Jamie…” you begin, voice as soft as it’s ever been, despite the still deafening roar of the crowd. He’d practically forgotten he’s still stood on a football pitch, “Come on. You’re joking, right?”

Same words as earlier. His heart sinks.

“I swear, Y/N, I’m not lying this time, that’s actually why I got all mardy-”

“You have to be joking,” you repeat, interrupting him slowly, “Because you must know you’re my favourite player everywhere.”

He isn’t sure whether to sigh in pure relief or start panting for breath. You’re looking at him so softly, there’s almost shyness there. He’s never seen you shy, ever. Certainly not around anyone else.

“You’ve admitted something, so I will too. Just to be fair,” you smile easily, still holding him by the arms. He wonders if he could put his hands back on your waist, but he can’t move a muscle in case you move away from him, “I’ve never been nervous around football players. I work with them everyday, you know? And then you walk up to training that first day, and you don’t hear me when I ask my question, and I felt nervous. Stupid nervous.”

“…because you’re a Richmond fan?”

“No, Jamie,” you say, but you don’t say why you were nervous, you just fucking stare at him. His heart is begging him to lean in and kiss you silly, “Maybe it was the hair.”

You reach up to gently tug on one of the strands that falls in front of his face from his headband. He’s struggling to find his voice.

“I-” he has to cough to get his words back, “I do have good hair.”

“Great hair, even,” you smirk, and he can see you biting your lip, “The rest of you isn’t too bad either, I guess. If you’re into that kinda thing.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re flirting with him.

This is new. He’s oblivious and his processing time might be longer than others, but you’ve never blatantly flirted with him before. He’d know, because he’s been desperate for you to flirt with him for a few weeks now. Basically since he met you. Whether it’s playful or not, it’s a new development that has him floating.

This, he can do. Flirting. He’s good at this.

“And what kinda thing would that be?” he says, tilting his head and smirking right back at you. All his terror at your previous sincerity falls away and is replaced by a need to match you quip for quip. He can think about the fact that he’s your favourite player everywhere when he sits in his hotel room grinning in the mirror later.

“You know,” you rock back and forth on your heels, “The whole fit footballer thing. Abs and shit. It’s a very particular type.”

So you had looked at him at the pool party. It shouldn’t have made him so giddy. You just called him fit. He could melt into a puddle at your feet if he wasn’t so determined to make you giddy in return.

“And is it your type?”

You make a show of thinking about it in a way that shoots sparks all the way down Jamie’s spine. He’s so glad you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can, roaring in his ears.

“Dunno. I like my guys with enough hair gel to set their head alight, you know?”

A dig at his look from a few years ago. Of course you’d find a way to mention that without stopping that tone you’d taken on out of nowhere. The tone that was disarming and charming and downright hot.

“You know, I think I know a guy like that,” he said, pretending to search for someone over your head, “You don’t happen to know any mad pretty PR women I could point him to?”

The grin that took over you, bloomed across your whole face, was exactly what he’d been hoping for, finally finding the opening in the conversation to compliment you right back. You move closer to him and he feels himself let out a tiny gasp, but all you do is tuck yourself into his side, winding an arm around his waist. He lets his own wrap around your shoulders as the two of you start walking over to clap the England fans in the corner.

“I’ll keep you posted,” you say, looking up at him, all sweetness. He knows you aren’t, though, because your free hand comes to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. He feels every ab tighten under your touch despite his best efforts, “Guess we’ll just have to keep looking, hm?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning down at you as he tugs you further into him, “If your mate Tiff ever joins us out here, she could be a good option for him, right?”

You push yourself away from him, and its the last thing he wanted. You walk backwards away from him for a few seconds, then shake your head at him with a smile and run to catch up with the rest of the team.

He’s left a little bit awestruck in your wake. He jumps when someone claps him on the back, then turns to see a very smug Rife.

“That bad?”

Jamie huffs out a half-laugh as his eyes go back to following you, watching you congratulate some of the coaches. There’s a little bit of jealousy in his chest even watching you talk with them, and he hates it.

“That bad,” he confirms, still staring at you from afar, “That fucking bad.”

[humbledragon669]

S2E2 - The Clue Write Up P5 -Land of Uz: from a little alone time in the cellar to the return to present day

I’m hoping to get to the end of this Land of Uz segment in this part so let’s get stuck straight in from the beginning of the scene after the kids have been transformed into lizards. There’s a bit of Aziracrow backstory confirmed here, which is that Crawley is already drinking alcohol at this point in the chronology. We don’t see Aziraphale drinking alcohol until 42AD, some 2500 years later. I’d love to know when and what changed his stance on this one, seeing as he’s very clearly anti-alcohol at this point in the history.

Crawley on the other hand is very comfortable not only with the consumption, but also with the possibility of the side effects of human wine. His ability to assess the quality of the wine on offer would also suggest that he’s been doing this for a while, and even though it would seem Aziraphale has never seen him do it before, the demon doesn’t think twice about pouring and offering a cup to him - there’s just an assumption that it’s a perfectly normal thing for them to do. I do wonder if Crawley’s decision to drink alcohol evolved from whatever fall-out there was following the flood, seeing as we don’t have any indication that this is behaviour he engaged in prior to that. Whatever his reasoning, he can clearly see he’s not going to win this battle, deciding to try his luck instead with getting the angel to eat.

Now, we all know that what follows in this scene is probably one of the fandom’s favourite scenes across both seasons, so true to fashion I am not going to delve deep into it. What I do want to make a little comment on is how Crawley manages to persuade Aziraphale to give the food a try, because it’s pretty clever. First off, he anticipates the protests and uses the angel’s own justification about alcohol by positing that food should be considered differently because it doesn’t cause drunkenness. After all, that was the only argument that Aziraphale really gave for not trying the wine just seconds before. Ergo, no drunken consequences theoretically means no argument for not imbibing. What really tips the scales is that he presents Aziraphale with the ability to partake of the food of his own free will. He literally presents the gift of “choice” to the angel on a silver platter. He even makes the situation explicitly clear to him as he does so:

CRAWLEY: You’re free to try the food.

Given we identified Aziraphale’s desire for the ability to exercise personal choice in the scene in the courtyard a short time ago, this is a really smart card for Crawley to play. So smart in fact that Aziraphale doesn’t really put up much of a fight about it, even if he tries to make a big song and dance about how repulsive the whole thing supposedly is.

And there really is no mistaking how pleased Crawley is with this turn of events, is there?

The only thing I wonder about here is whether the demon had any idea about what feelings he was about to set fire to in getting to see Aziraphale eat. He is a demon after all, so I have no doubt that there is a part of him that talked the angel into consuming human food because it would be a lovely little victory to add to his collection, at least in the lead up to the event. I don’t think that motivation is what keeps him staring whilst Aziraphale gorges himself though, most definitely not, despite the fact that this is some of the sloppiest eating I’ve ever seen somebody do (and I’ve watched every episode of Adam Richman’s Man vs. Food). When did he know that the enjoyment he got out of watching Aziraphale eat wasn’t actually driven by a desire to turn another being away from their standards? I’m pretty sure he knows by the time we see them at the Ritz after Adam was born, but there are 3000 years between these two events. He may know as early as Rome, given his not-so-subtle hints about never having eaten an oyster before paves the way for he and Aziraphale to go for dinner together. Whenever he comes to the realisation, I don’t think there’s a person on Earth that could argue that watching the angel eat in the cellar has Crawley thirsting for something other than wine.

Well despite Crawley’s assurances about not being able to get drunk on food, Aziraphale has more than a little hint of intoxication about him going on here. And where exactly is he putting all of that food?! There’s barely more than bones left. IT WAS AN ENTIRE OX. In fairness, he must have been at it a while, because even Crawley looks bored by the gluttonous display going on in front of him.

There’s something about this little exchange that really tugs at my heart strings, and I think it’s because Aziraphale’s words suggest that this is him making an effort to understand Crawley. Not just knowing him, or liking him, or whatever else, but actually understanding the demon. Not only that, it’s pretty clear that he feels that a lonely state of mind isn’t something he wants for this being, despite the fact that they’re supposed to be mortal enemies, and he doesn’t look particularly convinced at Crawley’s insistence that he’s misread the situation either.

I don’t think I’d be breaking any ground in saying Crawley’s challenge to Aziraphale’s oath of allegiance to God, and the response to it, remind us that the angel has been teetering on the edge of being able to rationalise said allegiance for quite some time. It’s an interesting thought process to witness though - the staunch assertion of loyalty so quickly cast into doubt with Crawley’s reminder of the cruelty in the side Aziraphale is aligned with. It’s no wonder he looks so devastated when he considers the reality that his side could in fact be responsible for an act that he has been so painfully trying to stop Crawley from doing because it’s so inherently awful.

I find it interesting at this point to see Aziraphale effectively admitting defeat by returning to the food. He has no response to Crawley’s gleeful acknowledgement of the doubt he’s planted. Nothing. Not even an “I forgive you”. It got me to thinking whether we see Aziraphale accepting that he’s lost an argument anywhere else. And I don’t mean acceptance that they’ve reached an impasse or losing control of his emotions and saying something he’ll regret later, but actually realising that his point of view has fatal flaws that cannot be reconciled in the face of reason. In previous discussions of this nature, he’s usually been successful in justifying the terrible acts done in Heaven’s name with some sort of meaningless reasoning (God is going to make a rainbow afterwards for example, or the ever-faithful “ineffable plan” motif), but here, challenged with the notion that his side has seen fit to endorse the killing of innocents for no other reason than to win a bet, he’s lost for words. Uncomfortable as he might have been with casting Adam and Eve out of the garden, or the Great Flood, this particular cruelty looks to be something causing something of a revelation for him.

Quick note on Crawley’s challenge to Aziraphale’s apparent blasphemy.

CRAWLEY: Blasphemy, angel? That’s not like you.

It wasn’t 24 hours prior that Crawley was making it very clear to Aziraphale that they didn’t know each other at all. Yet this line is delivered with such familiarity, it’s impossible to think that the relationship between the pair is anything other than convivial. Leading on from that, I do find myself wondering how the rest of that night in the cellar panned out. What did they talk about? Did Aziraphale eat the rest of the ox? Did he perhaps try some alcohol? The use of the banner declaring that we’re now looking at “the next day” just feels like there’s a real emphasis on the amount of time that’s passed between these two scenes; the possibilities feel quite vast.

There’s that line: the one that started this whole flashback process off in the first place. And as previously noted, as far as we can see the only beings present for it were God, Job, Crawley and Aziraphale. It’s possible Gabriel was with God in Heaven whilst she spoke to Job I suppose, but I like the possibilities that open up if we consider that the line Jim utters that turns his eyes briefly purple is a line that he shouldn’t have any knowledge of even if he had his Gabriel memories.

I love the return of the whale motif in Job’s recanting to Sitis, even though we don’t actually hear God saying anything about them in her speech. I did some light research about the reasoning for the whale appearances and couldn’t find anything concrete, but there’s a fair amount of speculation that it might be in homage to Douglas Adams, whales featuring heavily in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy books There is this though:

A quick note on pronouns here (something which I seem to finding more and more of note about as the show goes on). Sitis refers to God here using they/them pronouns. We heard Aziraphale using the she/her pronouns that we’ve become accustomed to hearing as recently as in the cellar, and the voice we hear in the previous scene remains feminine. I think the use of they/them might just be a scriptual loophole - I think both Job and Sitis would have been harbouring under the concept that God was a male figure, and that the knowledge that God is in fact feminine appears to be something that only agents of Heaven and Hell are privy to. Perhaps it’s just a quirk of the script - was it considered too confusing for Sitis to use he/him pronouns at this point? Settling instead for they/them as a compromise? That’s the only reason I can really come up with, because it feels slightly awkward to me.

There’s that devastated angel look again, and this time it comes with a little gulp as Aziraphale bears witness to the overwhelming grief that Heaven has inflicted so nonchalantly onto God’s most faithful servant. The juxtapositioning of his devastation against Gabriel’s cheery obliviousness, not to mention the music and the sounds of Job weeping in the background, makes it all the more painful for us to watch.

Whilst there’s no mistaking the relief on Aziraphale’s features (quickly followed by a look of guilt), I think it notable that none of the other angels from Heaven recognise Crawley, either as a demon or a former angel. Considering he has already been referred to (in the present day, which is in the future from where we are in this episode. Confusing much?) as part of a group of demons that were cast out, and that he is the one carrying out the orders from Satan that would see the bet with God settled, it seems likely that they might recognise him. I suspect this is simply one of those times when storyline convenience won out over the need to ensure that the script was plothole-free. I also think it worth noting that the moment Crawley enters the scene is the very moment he knows things are about to turn very ugly for Job and Sitis, choosing to step in and try to rescue to situation. He’s just a natural rescuer, isn’t he? Could this be the moment Aziraphale’s love of being rescued by him started to form? It certainly speaks to the demon’s true character if nothing else, which is that deep down, he really is quite a nice person…

Well, if we weren’t aware of Aziraphale’s frustrations with Heaven and its agents, he makes it painfully obvious when Michael decides to give an explanation of the origin of Crawley’s fake name. How he gets away with this eye roll in the presence of so many other beings, I have no idea: not even Crawley seems aware of it, concentrating on Michael’s irritatingly accurate debunking of his cover story as he is. There are two things about this scene at this point that I think are worth noting. For the first, let’s take a high-level overview of everything that’s going on here - a renegade demon and angel are trying to bluff their way out of trouble with some high-ranking angels having low-key thwarted the will of God. The soundtrack has some delicate pizzicato (that’s plucked, for those who aren’t musically minded) strings in the background, providing a comic feel to the scene, whilst in the background we can hear Job sobbing uncontrollably. The dialogue content feels perilous, but the delivery and subtext make it feel mischievous, seeing as Aziraphale is using his knowledge of the ignorance of the rest of the Heavenly host against them. All of those things brought together in one place makes the whole thing feel so… I think the word is uncomfortable. I think this is really clever - bringing tension into a scene using the juxtaposition of opposing elements means that we as an audience feel uncomfortable but can’t necessarily identify why.

The second of those two things I want to comment on here is that this scene is a good example of what happens when Aziraphale and Crawley have gotten their unspoken communication on point. They’re working together so effortlessly here - both taking cues from the other’s improvisations and instinctively knowing what the next play is supposed to be. They even manage to come up with some coded verbal communication for each other on the fly, and for it to be successful. If only they had been this switched on for the final 15, I suspect season two would have ended very differently.

See now, wouldya just look at that? Aziraphale knows exactly what to do with little more than a look and hand gesture from Crawley. Something else of note here is the appearance of the “trust me” theme we see running through season two, this time with the prompt coming from Crawley. Granted, Sitis does look rather perplexed about what exactly is going on, but didn’t she figure out the “Bildad the Shuhite” was the one responsible for all of Job’s misery earlier on the episode? I find it a bit of a stretch to think that she would just go along with the façade, rather than identifying Crawley as the troublemaker to the others in the room at the time. I do love that the demon sounds so earnest in his plea to be trusted - he would know very well that he’s not supposed to be trustworthy (he even tells Aziraphale that’s the case twice in this episode), so his desperation for Sitis to go along with him should tell us (not that we needed telling) that this is his true character.

The contact between Aziraphale and Job looks to be the first (chronologically speaking) sleight of hand trick that the angel has done, just a couple of millennia before he repeatedly demonstrates that he’s actually very bad at it. Except when it really counts, as this instance (and one later on in the season) shows. And those bones that appear from Job’s robes are the proof that Aziraphale has well and truly given in to gluttony - they are PICKED CLEAN:

Quick note on the noise used for Aziraphale’s miracle as he turns the lizards back into children - it’s very close to the ones we’ve heard in this season from his already, the ones which are driven by need rather than intent, so I’m still not ruling that possibility out.

Alright last note about this section of the minisode, and then I’m calling it for this part. There’s something that goes unspoken, but is definitely implied, in Aziraphale’s choice to lie to Gabriel about the children. He actually gives his word “as an angel” that he’s telling the truth. I mean, does that not speak volumes about his mindset here? He verbally surrenders the very nature of his being in order to save a couple of children and maintain Crawley’s cover, the former of which supposedly goes directly against God’s wishes, despite the fact that he is so adamantly on her side. He’s earned Crawley’s respect though, so maybe it was all worth it in the end.

Alright, that’s the lot for this part. I think I should be able to get this episode wrapped up in the next one, which puts me one episode closer to being able to finish my WIP fic! For now though, and as always, questions, comments, discussion, always welcome. See you for the next one!