#lost three weeks to the void of routine

[nell0-0]

En route

Part 1 | Next (soon... I hope)

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Three: Showers, Stolen Glimpses & Fireplaces (Week Two)

Chapter Summary: Another week bring new experiences and challenges and an opportunity to open up with each other, learning new things about Joel and a few moments of brief yearning that lead to a blow up of lust-filled proportions.

Chapter Warnings: (11k) no outbreak, joel goes fishin', more dinners together, joel being worried/caring, minor descriptions of a burn injury to reader, lots of touching, joel doubting himself, joel loves to whittle, joel opening up, strip card games and bad choices, drinking, mutual masturbation, the inappropriate use of a dining room table, protected piv, fingering, grinding, ect

There’s an eerie absence to the spot beside you when you awake, feeling the cold sheets and knowing that Joel has probably been up for a while. You feel heavier, the weight of the comforter dragging you down but you realize at some point Joel must have grabbed another blanket and draped it over you, rubbing your fingers against the fuzziness of the material. The door was closed, lights were off—maybe he had snuck to the couch in the middle of the night.

Eventually, you wander out of the bedroom, expecting a similar sight of Joel making his morning coffee or lounging around on the couch in silence, a peek into his normal routine outside of this place. You try to ignore how much your body craves the more aspect of it all. More of Joel, more of this.

But, Joel is nowhere to be found.

You wander toward the kitchen with a mission—breakfast first.

There’s a small note stuck to the coffee pot that was already filled and still hot, plucking the paper between your fingers you read the messy writing to yourself.

Went fishin’. Back in an hour.

      — Joel

You can hear him saying it, snorting softly at the twangy voice in your head.

But, fishing? In the winter?

He had to be insane. 

You can’t complain though, helping yourself to a warm cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, eating in the silence and enjoying the now clear sky as you take a seat at the table, a few sips into your coffee that was quickly growing cold and you feel so lost in the lack of thought, spotting a small woodland critter off in the distance burrowing a hole into a tree, completely oblivious to the large—very large deer that has creeped up on you, as curious of your presence as it should be and it’s already too late that you’re spilling your coffee over your chest at the sight, feeling fully awake now.

“Jesus, dude,” You talk to the animal on the other side of the glass, “seriously?”

It only cocks its head, waiting for a moment until you stand to gather things to clean up your mess and then it is gone within seconds, scampering off into the massive expanse of trees.

You force a breath through your nose and stare down at your coffee stained shirt, a pungent sweetness that felt sticky against your skin now. You resign to the idea that breakfast is over, placing your dishes in the sink and grabbing a towel to clean up the mess you made before traveling toward the shower.

You try to be efficient, void of any lingering thoughts and eager to wash the stickiness away from your body and swiftly finish, there’s a brief second where you poke your head between the gap in the door as you look for any warning signs of Joel and eventually decide that you have enough time to grab clothes from your room—which is a quick venture, knowing wet and cold don’t mix well.

Changing in Joel’s—well, effectively, also your bedroom is much more welcomed. You drop your towel without a care, laying out your clothes carefully over the half-made bed.

But, the comfort of being alone in your vulnerability is short-lived when Joel innocently mistakes the idea that you were still asleep, pushing the door open without warning and allowing himself a full glimpse of your naked body. Plush skin and the soft slope of your breasts as you turn, startled at the sudden intrusion. In any other situation you would have immediately switched to anger, given the intruder a piece of your mind.

You can only laugh, the shell-shocked expression on Joel’s face quickly morphing to a mix of fear and…something else. You don’t want to mistake it for what it isn’t, but his eyes wander for a brief moment before his brain restarts and he quickly apologizes.

“Fuckin’—I’m sorry…sorry,” He turns on his heels and shuts the door, but not before adding another, “Sorry.” You can hear him descending down the hall, pulling on the remainder of your clothes, the image of his eyes boring into the sight of you stuck in the forefront of your mind.

After a moment, giving Joel the time to collect himself, you approach him from where he’s lingering in the kitchen, working away at something you can’t see, his body acting as a shield. 

You approach carefully and peer around his shoulder, noting the pile of fish stowed away in a cooler and immediately make a noise of disgust that pulls Joel’s attention your way.

Not addressing the elephant in the room, you say, “Why the hell are you fishing in the winter?”

Joel clears his throat and closes the lid, still valiantly avoiding the opportunity to turn toward you fully, like there was a level of vulnerability there.

“Trout are a winter fish,” Joel explains, “easier to catch around this time.”

“Oh.” You’re slightly disinterested, disgusted by the idea of raw and dead fish sitting a few feet away from you.

“I fish a lot,” Joel offers as a way to break the awkward silence, “back home.”

You smile half-heartedly, hoping that he might actually attempt to look at you when he speaks, silently wondering if he was going to attempt to avoid any type of eye contact with you the rest of the vacation—so, you quickly defuse the tension.

“Joel…” You test the waters, moving beside him to stretch yourself into the stool, leaning into his view to catch his gaze, “you saw me naked.”

Joel glances your way briefly—alright, better.

“That I did.” Joel offers.

“You apologized, I’m not mad.”

Joel stays quiet, the usual scowl creeping back on his face.

“If we’re being realistic, it was going to happen at some point.” 

Joel doesn’t respond much, outside of an utterance of words you can’t hear and don’t bother to understand, shifting the subject back to the disgusting thing a few feet away from you both.

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t catch those for fun?” You ask curiously.

“Figured I could cook ‘em,” Joel offers, his shoulders relaxing slightly, “—guess I never asked, but you like fish?”

“When it’s cooked, yeah.” You joke lightly. “Do you always cook this much?”

Joel nods, finally chancing a look in your direction, noting the unlikely cheerfulness in your eyes—he knows he shouldn’t feel worried about overstepping a boundary like that despite what he thought, the things that have riddled his mind since the night before, and possibly even before that.

“I might need to convince you to give me a few lessons before we leave here,” You chide lightly, elbowing him, “I mean, if you’re open to that.”

“How about tonight?” Joel asks.

You smile wider, relieved that the incident this morning hadn’t completely broken Joel.

“Deal.”

—

Joel does the favor of descaling and taking a part the fish on his own, not sure you could stomach it if he asked you to help, so he saddles you up with a cutting board and a mix of different vegetables and allows you to head the task on your own, minus a few notes he offers about how to cut safely, quickly—your mind wandering when he slips the knife out of your grip and practically forces himself into your space to show the proper way, fingers curled inwards away from the knife to avoid nicking your fingers. It would’ve been great to catch his demonstration if your eyes hadn’t been locked on the side of his face the entire time and watching the way his jaw tensed when he started cutting.

During the actual process of cooking, Joel takes a more hands on approach. It was a vast difference from earlier, his eagerness to rid himself of your presence after the mishap—he’s hovering for safety, but also out of his own selfishness of wanting to be close to you, this being a perfect excuse.

You're tilting the pan at a dangerous angle that forces Joel to come from behind, leaving his spot where he had been lingering against the opposite counter to see what you could handle.

“You’ll burn yourself if you keep it like that,” Joel explains, arm slipping behind you to adjust the pan, finding the sweet spot, “right—now you spoon the butter over the top and it’ll cook it while the pan sears the other side.”

You glance up at him curiously, to which he quickly settles to the idea that he needs to be your second pair of hands as he guides you through the process, “And this is called?”

“Basting,” Joel explains, “eyes on the pan, darlin’.”

You nod, returning your attention to the pan. But, you can still feel Joel’s eyes as you turn away, and you know. After a few minutes, you feel the boldness to call him out on it, “Joel, eyes on the pan.” You turn again quickly, catching him in the act. Even under the thickness of facial hair you can see the faint blush on his cheeks and the faintness of a smile he tries to hide, “remember?”

Joe shifts you aside gently as he prys the pan from your grip, shunning you to watch now.

“Go sit,” He nods toward the stool on the exterior of the island, “I’ll finish up.”

And he does, working away quietly at the food before he’s sliding a plate your way, offering a fork up by the handle. You smile and take it with a soft look of appreciation.

“So, think you’ll take up cookin’ classes when you get back to Austin?” Joel jokes, digging into his own food as he comes to sit beside you.

“Probably not,” you decide, chewing thoughtfully around a bite, “I can appreciate it, but it doesn’t really…intrigue me, I guess.”

Joel surprises you with a quick reply, “What does?”

You’ve never really thought about it, wondering if that was why you felt so lost in your life. You didn’t feel like there was a driving purpose behind your actions, not that there needed to be, but it felt like you were spinning in circles with no direction to lead off in. You decide on a few things, mostly meaningless but it gives Joel an answer.

“Uh, books. Art…spending vacation with strangers,” A smile creeps on your face when Joel flicks his eyes up at you briefly, the lingering you that never escapes your lips even as it sits on the edge of your mind, “I like trying new things.”

Joel can’t ignore the double entendre it serves, but bites the inside of his cheek to force his thinking straight.

Two fuller stomachs later and the shared duty of cleaning up, because yes, Joel insisted this time, you were both nearly catatonic on the couch—you laid out on the couch with a blanket tucked up to your neck and Joel on the adjoining couch that was only inches from yours, feet resting against the table that was placed in the center.

You think Joel has fallen asleep, eyes lingering on his face as he scrunches his nose up and blows air through his lips, peeking an eye open to catch you in the process.

There’s no shame this time, hiding your quiet laugh behind the blanket.

“How do you feel about movies?” Joel asks curiously, rising from his seat lazily.

“They’re…fine?” You look at him with full confusion, following his figure as he moves around the living area, “Why?”

“Mean—how do you feel about watchin’ a movie?”

“Joel, we kinda need a television for that.”

And as if he was a fucking magician, he pads slowly toward the large area over the fireplace, careful to avoid any incident, shoves the curtain away that you had assumed was hiding another window—guess not.

“What the fuck?” You ask in utter shock, rising slightly from your position on the couch. 

“You’re not very observant, you know?” Joel jokes playfully, in his own way.

“Only when I want to be.” You shrug, offering a mischievous smile that implies something that Joel isn’t touching—not a fuckin’ chance.

He quickly switches bases.

“I think I saw some old movies in the storage room when I got here,” Joel offers, “Stay put.”

As if you had the energy to move.

You slump back down, head resting in the arm outstretched beneath you.

Joel returns a few minutes later with some disappointment, “So—pretty sure these are all a bunch of foreign films,” flipping a couple of the covers back and forth, failing to discern anything of tangible recognition, “but, it’ll have to work.”

“What? You don’t know—” You snatch one of the cases away when he’s close enough, glancing over the cover, “French?”

“Do you?” Joel asks, genuine curiosity in his voice as he fiddles with the television until he can get the movie going, snatching the remote as he ignores his original spot now, shoving your feet aside gently. 

You shrug, “Nope.”

It made sense, given the awkward angle and Joel’s sensitive, aching joints—a painful sign of his dwindling opportunity to live fully, always trailing behind the masses now, not as young and spry as he used to be. 

You shift to your back, tucking a pillow under your head and jumping on the opportunity to outstretch your legs over Joel’s lap, his hands enveloping the expanse of your ankles covered by a pair of silly Christmas socks, the stitching of a reindeer and red puffball sewn into the material—Joel flicks the ball lightly and huffs a quiet laugh.

The voices on screen quickly mesh with the silence, both of you watching quietly, intently as you follow the subtitles on-screen, making back and forth comments about the story, nothing of significance as sleep wanes and bleeds behind your eyelids, eventually taking hold somewhere toward the end of the movie.

Joel calls out your name softly, wondering if you’re playing an innocent joke on him at first, but quickly realizes how exhausted you seemed, oblivious to the world as you slept deeply, head turned toward the couch and away from the flashing screen, expression slightly obscured by the arm slung over your face. 

He half considers staying like this, admiring the sight of you so relaxed, knowing the lingering darkness that you both identified with washed away for a brief moment—comfortable in the presence of a stranger. The idea that you trusted Joel enough with your safety that you could fall asleep beside him, on him, without any worries. But, his bones are already starting to ache and he knows you’ll find a way to make him feel the ultimate wrath if he brought you to bed and opted for the couch for himself. 

He moves carefully, hand sliding up your calf as he places them down gently. He tucks a solid arm under your knees and then your back, feeling the protest in his old knees as he bares your weight and carries you to the bedroom, thankful that you’re sound asleep and unmoving. There’s a moment when his heart stops as you shift when your body meets the mattress, but you never stir awake, shifting comfortably in the bed as Joel places the covers over you, repeating the process of placing a secondary blanket over the first and tucking it around you, something he’s always done for Sarah—not that this is similar, but it’s the natural instinct of taking care of in Joel, the need to protect and provide, it’s always been there, no matter how dormant. 

He’s still careful to keep his distance, a makeshift barrier separating you both, but he sleeps peacefully—just like the night before. 

—

Almost too peacefully, he’ll eventually realize.

You blame the instinct of your body searching for heat, Joel burning life a furnace beside you and in the haze of your sleep, you’ve snuggled up to his chest with your arms held close to yours—though his arm is draped over your side somewhere between the layer of blankets. You blink slowly, feeling the weight of his body pressed against you.

There’s a moment where your heart rate spikes, panicking for a brief moment before you find his face, buried into his pillow beside your head, snoring softly into the fabric. 

He’s unaware, blissfully, sleeping like he hasn’t in years and his walls are down, selfishly craving your own body heat to mix with his own—and normally you hated the idea, feeling suffocated by the temperature and sweat, but in this weather and under the low light of the morning, it’s desirable. 

Selfishly, you take a moment to admire Joel when your eyes finally adjust, staring up at him innocently as you scan his face, noticing the small cuts that have faded into scars and you freeze when he adjusts in his sleep, turning on his back now and relinquishing you from his hold, though his fingers still linger against your forearm and you can’t be bothered to move them. You spot the deeper scar near his temple, something that once was probably a nasty gash.

His beard is patchy in spots as his facial hair has grown out again, the unevenness of his salt and pepper beard slowly fading into his hair. You assume it used to be a perfect, stark black or a dark brown—curlier than it was now, but some of the pattern still remained where it wasn’t flattened out by sleep. He also seems to keep his neck trimmed up, stubble stopping somewhere around his Adam's apple.

You’ve never spent so much time looking—admiring, someone to this extent. 

Maybe you were hoping to capture this version of him to store away in your memories knowing that you would never see him again, that maybe if you memorized him now he would be a part of you forever, even if only in quick flashes of your thoughts. 

“Finally awake?” Joel asks suddenly, voice thick with sleep but his eyes remain closed. You jump slightly and it forces a chuckle from Joel.

“I fell asleep during the movie,” You gather when you finally pull yourself from the trance of admiring Joel, “didn’t I?”

Joel nods silently, raising a hand to run through his messy hair, scratching at his scalp idly.

“Did you carry me to bed?” 

The answer seemed obvious, but the confirmation is something to ease your mind.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Joel apologizes, “you were sleepin’ pretty deep and I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Things grow quiet, you shifting on your side to lay comfortably against the pillow and Joel, still struggling to fully wake, keeps his eyes closed but turns on his side to face you. 

“Any plans today?” You ask curiously, softer in tone than before. 

“Think I might catch up on some sleep of my own, actually.” Joel admits, peeking his eyes open briefly to catch a glimpse of you as he feels you shift slightly, readying yourself to face the day as you slipped out of bed.

It feels weirdly domestic, having not shared a bed with anyone in the past thirteen or so years—and he wishes it felt unsettling, but it brings a comfort that Joel thinks he could find himself becoming addicted to.

“Can you figure out the fireplace?” Joel asks suddenly as you slowly depart for the door, catching your attention as your hand grasps handle.

Your eyebrows knit together in a look of ridiculousness, “Duh, Joel.”

It sounds confident, but admittedly, you were clueless.

—

The highlight of your day wasn’t managing to actually start the fire—you try to memorize what Joel had done, carefully arranging the logs in a delicate stack and adding a fair amount of kindling. 

You could blame Joel for struggling so hard at first, but it was all you—Joel was just very distracting and you had eyes, so it only seemed fair to enjoy the view. 

Tight jeans over taut, tensed thighs as he leans into the small space and adjusts the logs, strong muscled arms that could overpower you in a second—it also shouldn’t be mistake than Joel always makes an effort to basically flaunt his ass off when he leans inside to clean up the leftover ash. 

Regardless, you find the highlight of your day comes later—not the long hours of staring off into the distance without a thought in your mind, other long sprints of reading books or wandering into the kitchen for a snack, but rather as you catch Joel tucked away in the small nook in the dining area, trashcan sat between his legs as he works away at something in his hands, small and delicate. 

You watch him over the couch, arm tucked under your chin as you squint to focus and realize that whatever he’s focused on is wood, in the shape of something you can’t make out.

“Go on and ask,” Joel senses your eyes, “you look like you’re gonna hurt yourself thinkin’ so hard.” He hadn’t even looked your way—but then his eyes were flicking up to catch your guilty gaze.

“What are you doing?” You take the bait and ask.

“Ever heard of whittlin’?” Joel asks, shaving off a couple pieces into the trash, “Makin’ fancy stuff out of wood?”

Normally, Joel wouldn’t outright admit this was his hobby, only allowing the people who were lucky enough to take a peek inside of his home and gather their own assumptions—but with you here, barriers down and attraction high, Joel wants to let you in. 

Little steps, he thinks.

Still, he battles with the idea of letting you get too close.

“S’that what you like doing in your free time?”

Joel shrugs, lips pursed together indifferently.

“Come on,” You tease, “I think it’s cool.”

Joel rotates the piece in his hand, rubbing off the extra shavings and admires it for a moment before taking a short breath and standing, walking your way.

You perk up immediately, awaiting his heavy footsteps as he approaches, offering the trinket up carefully—you rub your fingers over the softened, worn down edges and admire what Joel had been working so diligently on most of the day.

It’s a butterfly—nothing incredibly detailed, more cartoonish with bubble wings but the sentiment is there all the same.

“I like it,” You offer up, “something tells me you’re not a butterfly type guy, though.”

Joel snorts out a gentle laugh and retrieves the wooden butterfly from your hands, not mistaking the way his fingertips glide against your own, a featherlight touch that drives your mind to near insanity.

“It’s uh—“ Joel hesitates briefly, but remembers the small secret he shared with you during a moment of vulnerability, “for my daughter.”

“She likes butterflies?” You surmise, noticing the way Joel cradles it in his hands, rubs the wood gingerly with his thumb like he’s remembering something, your eyes looking up to find the sadness in his expression, subtle but there. 

He quickly wills it away, nodding, “Yeah—got ‘em all over her room.”

You ignore the glaringly obvious matter at hand. Joel was here, his daughter was not, and it clearly had some extent of an affect on him. He’s allowed himself to suffer in silence and you’re starting realize that—luckily, you had an idea.

Not a brilliant one. But, it was something.

“Hey,” You call out, pulling at his sleeve as he starts to retreat back to his seat, nearly unphased by your touch now, he looks down at your hold on his wrist, then at you, “let me cook dinner for you.”

It’s an insane concept—and you read the reaction all over Joel’s face.

“Oh, stop,” You push him gently, “seriously—I can handle basic stuff, just let me try?”

You add an irresistible pout that Joel can’t deny.

He caves with a soft, “Sure.”

—

Spaghetti seemed like a safe option.

You were wrong.

The noodles were a breeze, thankfully. But, gaining ambition in an attempt to make your own sauce from scratch and take on the challenge of adding meatballs was a recipe for chaos. 

First, you manage to slice your finger when you ignore Joel’s previous instruction about tucking your fingertips in—

“Fuck.” You hiss, dropping that knife as it clatters against the cutting board, Joel immediately pushing away from his spot a few feet away to check that you hadn’t somehow managed to stab through your hand entirely.

Thankfully, it’s nothing major. Joel tracks down the bandaids and is careful as he dabs the trickle of blood away with a napkin before helping you wrap the bandage around your pointer finger, ordering you to start on forming up the meatballs as he cleans up the mess and finishes dicing up the vegetables for the sauce.

But, again, the peace is short lived. 

Though, you can’t fully blame yourself on this one.

Placing the formed up meatballs in the pan with a soft sizzle, Joel passes behind you with a soft warning and a hand on your waist to avoiding bumping into you entirely, but instead the feeling of his touch is a surprise and you jolt forward, lower abdomen hitting the scolding hot pan, sending you into a panic as you half yell, half sob at the immediate impact and back away furiously, sending Joel backwards into the counter behind you, your back smacking against his chest.

“Goddamnit!” You shout in frustration, lifting up your shirt slightly with your uninjured hand, spotting the quickly growing red patch of skin. 

Joel quickly switches off the burner to pull his focus on you, reducing the chaos to allow you to calm down as he approaches, grabbing a paper towel that he wets with cold water before hesitantly pressing his fingertips against the edge of your shirt, looking for the permission he needs.

You nod and move your hand, allowing him to raise your shirt higher, “It’s nothin’ major, just gonna sting for about an hour or so probably. Keep this on there and it’ll help with the burning.”

You do as you’re told, letting him guide your hand to replace his own and catching the seriousness in his eyes.

“Go, sit.” He orders, nodding in the direction of the dining table, “I’ll finish up.”

You sit with the frown of a scolded child, holding your injured stomach and watching Joel cook, feeling even more defeated as he keeps checking on you, that doting look that could melt your heart if you weren’t so annoyed at your inability to handle something so simple.

Eventually, Joel wraps up cooking but doesn’t immediately plate anything, walking towards you leisurely as he motions with his fingers for you to stand and removes the damp paper towel, tossing it aside as he touches the back of his fingers against the burn—you can’t help but since slightly, but the sting is much more dull. 

“Still hurt pretty bad?” Joel asks, hand unmoving against your skin, both of your eyes locked on the contact, sinking and rising with the shallow breath you take.

“I’ll survive.”

You look up at Joel sheepishly, spotting him chewing away at the inside of his cheek in thought before he’s backing away from you suddenly, searching through cabinets for something, silent as he looks. 

When he finally finds what he’s looking for he cradles it in his hands with a tight grip, approaching and forcing your shirt a few inches higher, just above your navel.

“Honey?” You look at him, puzzled.

Joel nods, dolloping a small amount on his fingertips and using his free hand to hold you steady by your waist, your hands occupied with the hem of your shirt, fingertips pressing against the burn as he spreads the thick, syrupy liquid. 

“Let me go searchin’ for that first aid kit,” Joel tells you, “think I saw it under the bathroom sink.”

“Joel,” You plead, “it’s fine—it’s just a burn.”

But, he hears none of it. 

He’s gone and back within seconds, laying the box out like he was performing an impromptu surgery, grabbing a small patch of gauze and tape to keep the area from being disturbed.

He makes sure the bandage is secure before he moves your shirt back down before again, pointing at the seat with a look that provides no room for argument. 

Defeated, you sit.

—

“So, honey?” You ask curiously, “What's the trick with that?”

“Uh—has healin’ properties,” Joel says slowly, brow scrunched together in thought, “the uh—“

“You don’t know.” You quickly interject, a mischievous smile on your face.

“No,” Joel admits, “just somethin’ my mom used when I was young, always helped. I don’t know the science behind it.”

Joel is quiet over dinner, the lighthearted mood shifting to something you can’t really put your finger on, but you feel a need to clear the air of any doubt, knowing that Joel probably felt some sort of responsibility in your subsequent injury.

“Joel, it’s not your fault,” You laugh softly, “I’m clumsy, you touched me and I jumped, it’s fine.”

“Seems you do a lot of that ‘round me,” Joel says, dejected, “I’m sorry.”

Fuck it—Joel needed the reassurance and you were going to give it to him.

You quickly stab a fork into the meatball he’s going for, pulling his attention up abruptly.

“Let me clear this up,” You tell him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours, “I’m jumpy because you make me nervous, alright?”

Joel doesn’t respond, sensing that you had more to say, but also because he didn’t know what to say. 

“And not bad nervous, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Joel looks down at the fork impaling his food and makes a quick comment, “You wanna give that up or are you tryin’ to keep it hostage?” You smirk slightly and shake the meatball off your fork.

Then, Joel surprises you.

“So…good nervous then?” And you nod, Joel still feigns confusion, “What’s that about?”

“Oh, so we’re done pouting now?” It’s a double-edge sword, but you could Joel in the depths of the flirtation you were surrounding him with and he was waxing his way in your direction carefully—you had to ease him into it. “Come on, Joel—I’m sure you’ve got enough experience to know…”

Maybe it was your inability to admit you were attracted to Joel in the off chance those feelings weren’t returned, but you want Joel to figure things out for himself.

“Huh,” Joel huffs out a breath, smiling creeping on his face, “guess all that starin’ wasn’t just cause you thought I looked funny?”

Absolutely not—never in a million fucking years.

“Good eye,” You congratulate him playfully, “but, I don’t think I’m the only guilty one, ya’ know?”

Which, fine—it was only the two of you here and things were bound to happen, eyes were meant to wander, but the energy was palpable, the newfound intrigue and ability to touch without fear.

Joel had tended to your wound like he went and stabbed you himself, trying to make amends for his own actions—really, you were just nervous.

Good nervousness that ended up with a burn across your stomach, but still—it was something.

Joel does seem slightly guilty for his actions, but there is little to be said, nothing to be excused. You didn’t mind and Joel was quickly coming to that conclusion himself. 

“Own it, Joel,” You tease, “if I had a problem with it you would’ve known by now.”

Joel looks away with guilt, fork scraping against an empty plate as he sets the silverware down.

You bite your bottom lip to muffle whatever remark is bound to slip out, looking at a dejected Joel with eyes that bleed with sadness, his own mind having an internal battle with itself.

He doesn’t realize you’re cleaning up without him until a few minutes later, lost in thought with nothing but the battling forces in his head telling him—No. Don’t entertain this. Nothing good can come of it. 

But, then he turns and you’re smiling at him. It’s inviting, warm, and Joel wants to stifle it with his own mouth—a thought that startles him from his stupor and gets him moving, offering to help now that he’s caught up.

And despite every bad reason his own mind is giving him for interacting with you, allowing the soft touches and passing glances, he leans into it.

Joel allows himself a moment of selfishness, all rational thinking slipping through the cracks.

There’s a brief moment of wrestling over the dishes as Joel eventually wins out, prying the pan from your wet grip and flicking soap on you in the process which, frankly, is childish even for Joel. Dipping your hand into the hot water quickly, running your open palm against his face and into his hair, matting down his loose curls with the water and earning a look you’ve yet to witness.

It wasn’t disappointment or anger, nothing that leaned toward any idea that Joel might be upset—instead, he almost expects you to do more. Like he’s challenging it. Playful. That’s what it was. Not a smile that made you feel the comfort of Joel, but an intrigue that struck your gut with the subtle smirk on his face.

“Do it again,” Joel warns, catching your hand hovering above the sink of water, pan held tight in his grip and in any other situation you would expect it to be used as a weapon, “I dare you.”

Instead, he drops it. Water splashing about carelessly as you dip both hands in this time, cupping them until you had a fair amount of water to splash at Joel, but is ultimately futile with Joel’s quick thinking, hands now completely free. 

He’s got your wrists in a solid hold before you can think, water backfiring as it drenches your shirt, but even then—the look on Joel’s face? Priceless. 

Your chest rises and falls furiously, struggling feebly against his hold.

There he is. 

This is the Joel you’ve wanted to see. That you’ve always expected was there, but deeply hidden away.

And in any other situation, this would end in a kiss. Sealing the deal. Breaking the tension. But, it doesn’t happen.

Instead, Joel holds you there—the most contact he’s offered since you met a week and a half ago, hoping that you’ll pull away. That the intensity of his stare might scare you off.

The laugh that bubbles from your chest surprises him, soft but full of life.

“What?” You tease, “Can’t handle getting a little wet?”

“Think I should be askin’ you the same thing?”

And, for some reason, you don’t think he’s talking about the water.

Luckily, you find it in you to finally wiggle from his grip before you’re being shooed away by him, ultimately. You stow away some of the random items on the counter in the overhead cabinets, an idea brewing in your head.

“Hey,” You call out as a forewarning, catching Joel angle his head toward you slightly, “how about another movie night?”

“Darlin’, I don’t think there’s much of a selection back there,” Joel offers, insides turning to goo at the warmth in his voice, “much as I’d enjoy that.”

Fine. Scratch that.

You abandon the kitchen with a devious idea in your head, determined to find something.

“Where you goin’?” Joel calls out after you, brow furrowed in confusion as he looks after you, still appearing ridiculously haphazard from his hair mussed and shirt half damp from your attack.

“Don’t worry about it.” You reassure him, disappearing down the hall with a sweet smile that spelled nothing but trouble for Joel.

-

There were few choices, deciding that the owners of this place clearly didn’t enjoy anything other than foreign films and an odd amount of non-fiction books stored away in the back room of the cabin, but you eventually manage to find a pack of cards, deciding that even if futile, you could make something out of it.

Now, you have no idea how to play poker. Not even the faintest of a clue. 

You could’ve established some idea of it in college, but the idea never appealed to you. 

Joel is already on the couch when you return, sleeves pushed up his forearms still from where he would’ve had them submerged into water otherwise. He must’ve fixed his hair at some point, finding that while it was still mostly a mess, it wasn’t as lopsided and noticeable.

You climb over the side of the couch and plop down onto the cushion beside him, holding up the pack of cards in your grip like it was a prize, mischief behind your eyes.

“Cards?” Joel sounds a little lackluster, “You wanna play poker?”

“Uh, no—not exactly,” You explain, pulling at his hand until he splayed his palm out face up, slapping the box into it, “how about Go Fish? ‘Least that’s more my speed.”

“I can teach you ‘f you want,” Joel offers, but is quickly shot down by a shake of your head, “—Okay…”

“I’ll go pour us some drinks,” You explain, “and you can move the table around so we both have enough room to sit on each side.”

“What are you plannin’?” Joel eyes you suspiciously, noticing the grin that hasn’t faded from your face, only growing wider when he asks.

“Just trust me, okay?”

It was an absurd thing to ask of someone you barely knew, but for whatever reason, Joel agrees.

Joel follows through with your orders as you fetch a couple beers for you both to enjoy, another few stowed away to the side as he settles for the side with the couch, making himself comfortable against the cushion as you kneel, adjusting the fluffy rug against your bare knees—meanwhile, Joel’s eyes are tracking every moment, curiously suspicious.

“Alright, out with it,” Joel finally finds the courage to force the confession out of you, “what’s goin’ on in the head of yours?”

You allow him to linger in the state of unknowing for a moment before sliding his beer across the table in trade of the cards, dealing them out appropriately and placing the leftover in the middle.

“So—I never played much poker in college, all I can really understand is Go Fish, but,” Joel feels like he might explode if you don’t reach the point and he’s sure that’s what you’re aiming for, so he keeps his cool, “I figure Strip Poker is a thing, so why not try it with this?”

“I don’t think—” 

Joel, again, is self-sabotaging, against his own better judgement.

“Joel, it’s fine.” You assure him, “We’re both consenting adults and it’s harmless.”

 Harmless. Yeah.

Joel fears that might be a statement that goes down in history as the biggest lie he’s ever heard.

“Unless, you know, you’re scared.”

He knew it was coming and saw that teasing look on your face as you sipped gingerly at the lip of the bottle, a small chug of beer that refreshed your senses. It was working, Joel was considering it.

Joel bites his tongue, taking a long swig of his own beer before biting first.

“Give me your jacks.” He orders, spreading his cards out in his grip.

Strike one.

“Mmm,” You hesitate, eyes flicking up deviously, “go fish, Joel.”

“Bullshit.” Joel fires back, much to your surprise. It pulls a laugh from your chest.

“Hey, I’m playing fair.” You respond calmly, “Those are the rules.”

It’s a hit to Joel’s ego, losing first. He works diligent fingers around his watch, flicking the clasp open before laying it gently on the table.

“Alright,” You take a breath, scanning over your cards, “Uh..got any 7s?”

Joel eyes you for a brief moment, wondering if you were cheating. He knows it’s impossible, that it’s just dumb luck. But, still, he can’t help but be a little bitter about it.

He hands over the one card he has, your confidence growing at his dissatisfaction.

And what Joel assumed would be an easy win on his behalf, quickly takes a turn.

Jacks? Nope, go fishin’, Joel.

He removes his socks, begrudgingly.

But, of course—Joel had the spades you asked for.

Fine. Queens, then?

He can see the smirk on your face before you answer and he doesn’t even bother to hear you say the words, retching his shirt over his head and tossing it over the back of the couch.

Suddenly, you feel you’ve made a minor mistake—your triumph quickly fading as you’re forced to stare at Joel’s bare chest, making matters worse as he leans back against the couch, barefoot propped against the ledge of the table as he sips from his beer, staring angrily at his cards, dwindling with every turn.

Though, Joel had an obvious advantage here.

You were wearing fewer layers. A couple of losses and you’d be left very, very vulnerable and nearly naked in front of him.

Not that it was the worst idea, but this was all meant to be a playful tease to open up Joel to the idea of allowing himself to be more comfortable with you. To ease his mind and show him there was nothing to worry about. You take a big chug of your beer and ask for his 6s.

Joel has an immediate expression of elated victoriousness.

“Go fishin’.” Joel tells you.

Fair is fair. You pull your shirt over your head like ripping off a bandage, baring your breasts held tightly in the bra you wore and while it wasn’t the first time Joel’s seen this much skin on you, it feels different under these terms.

If Joel was bothered, he didn’t show it.

“Shit,” You laugh at that thick piece of gauze still taped to your stomach, “I forgot all about that.”

“You can probably take it off now,” Joel suggests, “if it ain’t stingin’ anymore.”

You feel there may be an ulterior motive here, squinting at him suspiciously.

You place your cards face down on the table and point a firm finger into the set.

“No peeking.” You order. “I’m serious.”

…Joel can’t help himself.

He finds himself sneaking a glance the moment your back is turned away, resigning it to memory as he busies himself with the act of drinking his beer as you turn back to check on him. 

And Joel doesn’t lay in immediately, throws you off with his first guess that ends with him shedding his pants, down to nothing but his underwear—he doesn’t think you’ll take it further, but there were often times when he couldn’t read you at all.

You try to hide your expression behind your cards, the carnal longing of a stranger—all man and nothing else, the strange pulse of heat between your thighs startling you to a near cardiac arrest—and no, the pair doesn't look much different from what you caught glimpse of the other night, but the context is entirely different.

You had fucked yourself. Hard.

If there was anything you and Joel knew about each other in this short time was that you were both terribly stubborn and this wasn’t going to end well. But, you were already too deep.

You sigh slightly, biting at your bottom lip in concentration.

“Okay, got any 3s?” You ask curiously, feeling the impending denial before it comes.

Joel shakes his head, taking another sip from his beer

That smug motherfucker.

Fine. Two could play at that game.

You press your cards into the table and stand, shimming your shorts down your hips in a way that is completely unnecessary, but very warranted. Thumbs slipping into the waistband of your shorts and slowly sliding over the curve of your ass as you turn, using any surface nearby for leverage as you slip them the rest of the way off, giving Joel another full view of your ass as you lean down to pick them up, throwing them in his direction this time as they hit him square in the chest.

But, the kicker is that Joel seems unbothered now. Calmly waiting for his moment of attack.

He asks for your Kings with a smirk and you know.

“No, fuck that—” You retort, “You fucking looked, didn’t you?”

Joel looks taken aback, “‘Course not.”

He was a good liar, but not that great.

You’re halfway over the table now, palms pressed flat as you invade his space and Joel, like a magnet, leans towards you, pressing his cards into the table with a pressure that isn’t required, but is very noticeable.

A few inches forward and Joel could close the space, snatch you over the table and pull you into his lap—and you’re imagining it, the glint in your eyes as Joel searches for your doubt, seeing it vividly. You knew he was lying, but you were laying in wait.

Who jumps first?

“Joel,” You speak softly, “did you look?”

And if Joel had any sense, he’d run now.

Instead, he doubles down in the heat of the moment and that’s what snaps the cord.

Joel grins, an enticing sight that even you weren’t immune to.

“No, I—”

You knock over an empty beer bottle in the process, stepping over the table and falling into Joel’s lap, following his movements as he grabs at your thighs instinctively, leaving you straddling him on the couch, nothing to mistake the growing bulge in Joel’s groin as you find yourself fully seated against him, the idea of going from hardly any point of contact to having the most intimate part of your bodies pressed against each other, bar a flimsy piece of clothing.

“You looked.” You tell him decisively. 

Joel forces out a shaky breath as you press closer, towering over him at this angle in a way that forces him to look up at you. He nods, simple, concise.

“I said no peeking.”

Joel licks his lips, a decisive move that has your eyes tracking the motion.

“Couldn’t help myself, darlin’.”

You nod slowly, like you might understand. But, Joel knows it’s all for show.

“Well, we should do somethin’ about that.” You suggest, a few ideas on the horizon.

Luckily, Joel doesn’t give you the time to list them off, a large hand rising to placate your need for touch as he cradles the back of your head, pressing his lips against yours in a delicate touch that feels like it has been years in the making.

It’s a little dramatic, but you can’t stress how good it feels to finally be touched after so long. Given you both have suffered through a dry spell that has stretched far too thin, the desperation is expected. You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed about how much you needed Joel’s touch right now.

He satisfies your desire with a rougher push of his lips, igniting something inside of you that finally grabs your attention and allows you to reciprocate fully, guiding his free hand down to mold against the shape of your back, fingers hovering so temptingly above your ass, his fingertips press into the skin, forcing one testing glide of your clothed cunt over his cock, adding to the levity of the situation, the realization that this was actually happening.

You sigh, drinking in the overload of lust-filled touches and noises, the heedful intentions behind every one of Joel’s touches, squeezing you in places that have you squeaking out in surprise, opening up the opportunity for him to slip his tongue past your lips and explore…and explore, he does. 

You’ve never been kissed so surely, expertise beyond your own that manages to pull noises from you that you weren’t sure existed, dull fingertips pressing into the back of your skull and keeping you there, stilling you until you’re pliant to him, allowing him to angle your head as he pleases, apple the pressure he’s seeking, and you feel breathless.

It doesn’t help that your hands feel empty, unsure where they should go—but you know. You press your hands against his chest, feeling the stubble of a well-kept man built from solid muscle and soft skin, all while being consumed by his own desire, soft groans mingling with the curiousness of your hands, the muscles of his abdomen clenching as you inch closer to the thick hem of his briefs and Joel very swiftly gets with the program and switches gears, the hand squeezing at the edge of your back, so dangerously close to your ass by now, slips and slides into the front of your underwear with a quickness that has you gasping out how easily your body welcomes his touch, slick sticking to his fingers as he slides them testingly through your folds.

Not a word shared, but your thoughts are running wild. Both of you fear that if you do speak, the moment will be lost. You moan softly, his cock growing harder at the idea that he’s barely touched you and you’re already wet enough that he can slip a finger inside of you with little resistance, virtually non-existent.

Foreheads touching firmly, eyes closed, you delve into the delicate dance of whatever this was, too fearful to put a label on it either, fingers running along the underside of Joel’s cock and grabbing him firmly, his own groan slipping past his lips for the first time that night, always so assured of himself and priding himself of not showing how he feels.

But, not here, not with you.

You find that he likes things fast, quick, a little on the rougher side, squeezing him until he’s practically hissing in pleasure—though, the same can’t be said for yourself, who enjoys the slow rub of his middle finger as it grazes your clit, keeping up the pressure until he can feel you shaking under his grip.

And you can feel the word slip out before you process it in your mind, knowing the mistake you’ve made after the thought.

“Joel.” It’s a simple thing, full of meaning.

Joel, more. Joel, please. Joel, thank you.

But, instead, it breaks the peace and brings you both back to the surface and has Joel pushing himself away from you rather insistently, quickly situating his underwear into their proper place, shirt falling somewhere over his lap as he heaves a heavy breath, avoiding you entirely.

Was it really that horrible of an idea? You move away, more than just a little dejected.

Really, what should you have expected?

“Joel,” It sounds different now, eerie, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Joel is more than thrown when he hears the apology fall from your lips, almost offended. He knows this is on him, playing into the game, knowing he could’ve shut things down long ago—but here he was, dragging you along like there was a possibility of something. Anything.

“I think I’ll take the couch tonight,” Joel offers after a long, drawn out silence, “alright?”

No, not alright. 

“Did I—did I do something wrong?” You ask hesitantly, “Because if I did, I’m sor–”

Again, apologizing. It strikes a cord in Joel that he doesn’t like, the quick switch to anger and dissociation when things got too personal for him, with anyone. People took the blame for him when he knew he was the problem. 

It was his fault. Him. Repeating it in his head like a mantra.

Your arm crosses your body hesitantly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

“Um…okay,” You decide eventually, rising to gather your clothes that were discarded haphazardly, pulling them back on in the silence, beers and cards forgotten on the table, “just…don’t think you have to sleep on the couch or anything.”

Joel doesn’t answer, lost in his own thoughts.

And you weren’t mad, not even upset. Maybe…disappointed? You weren’t expecting anything from Joel, but given his track record, pulling away from you during a moment of vulnerability made sense. 

You could give him space, let him sleep it off, then work things out in the morning.

Things would be fine—they had to be.

-

Neither of you get the sleep you need.

Joel knew that sleeping on the couch wouldn’t help, because his mind was still racing, despite his desire to sleep. He’s thought, over-thought, racked his brain for every possible reason to deny you aside from his own selfish problems. Like he had the gall to have morals after the things he’s done, trying to treat this as a lesson for himself.

You toss and turn most of the night, strangely missing his warmth beside you—hoping you’ll eventually succumb to your exhaustion and wake up on the other side, a new morning to think things through, apologize for your actions and try to move on.

It was stupid to think Joel could have any attraction toward you, you think. That despite the looks, the touching, that he could never see you, let alone have you, in that way. 

A few hours pass, well into the darkness of night, and you eventually find yourself wandering to the kitchen—mouth dry and needing something to quench that thirst.

Though, part of you is curious. You just want to check on him, wondering if hadn’t up and disappeared in the middle of the night.

You try to be quiet, careful footsteps as you traverse the flooring until you hit the kitchen, prying open a cabinet quietly to find a glass and you hear a subtle shifting behind you.

So, he wasn’t asleep. He’s probably been up just as long as you.

“Sorry,” You find yourself apologizing again, “I was thirsty.”

Joel doesn’t respond, rather turns on his side and faces the fireplaces, the flame low and crackling in the silence. He didn’t hear you approach, only notices you when you’re rounding the couch and taking a seat on the other couch several feet away, relaxing in the warmth but also yearning to be near Joel, to make sure he was okay.

Your bare feet touch the plush rug, eyes drawn down as you take a sip of your water, welcoming the warmth into your body.

The bed had been entirely too cold without Joel.

“You can sleep in the bed, Joel.” You assure him, not chancing a glance his way in fear that he wouldn’t look back, you couldn’t handle the vehement rejection, not right now. “Things don’t have to be weird.”

Joel doesn’t answer, still trapped in his own mind.

Stop it. Stop lookin’ at her like that. She’s half your age, full life ahead of her—who are you to taint something so perfect? 

Joel fears the attachment, despite there being no pretenses or obligations—and not that you would become attached, but he. 

He’s a victim to his vices and he knows the second he allows himself a taste of the sweet sin that you carry—he’s done for.

You chew at your bottom lip thoughtfully, finger trailing at the glass now half-empty before you decide that this isn’t worth it—the shame or the embarrassment. Back to bed it was.

And Joel is stuck here, staring at that damn fireplace like he can will it out, growing much stronger in intensity the longer he stares.

It’s gotta be a sign—a warning, even.

That desire, that need that settled in his gut wouldn’t go away and just being in your presence he feels it grow again.

Just this once. Just for this trip.

He could leave you behind, pluck you from his mind and pretend he didn’t divulge into this fantasy when he goes home.

But here, now—he wants you.

And the fireplace cracks loudly, snapping like a twig as Joel rises to his feet suddenly, impending footsteps approaching you from behind.

You spin on your heels, ass and empty cup hitting the surface of the dining table as Joel nearly pounces on you, lifting you off your feet just enough that you land against the surface.

“What? Joel—“

“Stop sayin’ my name like that.” He forces out, face pressed against your own at every point of contact possible, noses slotting together carefully, eyelids barely touching as you blink, his mouth pressed against your lips but just barely, his right hand cradling your face as he tilts your head to the side, inhaling your scent like a drug.

“You used my shower again.” Joel deduces, hair barely damp after air-drying but he can smell his body wash, a distinct difference from your own.

The desperation in his voice would drive you insane if it weren’t for his sudden change in behavior, feeling like mental whiplash as his lips press against the junction in your shoulder where your neck begins.

“Joel, what’s going on?” You feel forced to ask, “A few hours ago you couldn’t even stand touching me.”

“I don’t understand it,” Joel admits, “why I need this so bad.”

Why he needs you.

“Keep tellin’ myself I don’t need this,” He admits gruffly, pointedly squeezing at your thighs as he pulls you in close, knees resting against his hips as he waits for you to feel him, the hard line of his cock pressed against your shorts and if it weren’t for the couple layers of clothing you might’ve given in right then, no preamble or argument, “but you don’t quit.”

And he doesn’t think he can quit you. 

You pull away slowly, hand fisting into his gently until you physically force him to look at you, a softness in his eyes that was gradually being edged out by his own desires. 

He looks wrecked. Pleading. Desperate.

“Take what you want, Joel.” 

There’s no other way to say it, offering yourself over with no argument.

“That’s a big offer, darlin’.” Joel points out, not ignoring the way your hips seek him out further, the slow drag of your cunt against his cock, head nudging at your entrance through your shorts. “Don’t just go around sayin’ things you don’t mean when you don’t know what you’re agreeing to.”

“Look at it this way,” You rub your thumb against Joel’s temple, feeling him lean into your touch, “we’ll never see each other after this—and frankly, I fucking need this.”

Joel doesn’t expect an open confession, but it eases his own fears, knowing he needed this too. A moment away from reality, with you. Just sex, nothing more.

“No limits, no feelings,” You offer, “We meet each other halfway, alright?”

Joel could manage that. He could.

Joel sneaks a finger past your shorts and underwear until he can feel your cunt bare, just as slick and needy as earlier. You gasp, hand shooting to use his wrist as leverage.

He sure didn’t like to waste time. 

“Kiss me.” You plead and Joel nods insistently, taking your breath away in one fell swoop as he licks into your mouth, feeling you come alive as you grip his hair at the root, tighter, moaning loudly into the messy exchange of lips and tongue.

Somewhere between then and now, Joel removes your shorts, fingers dancing under the waistband of your panties at your hips and dragging his cock against the fabric until they’re soaked, a feeble piece of clothing that stood no chance against your arousal and if it weren’t for the barrier and Joel’s own worries, he would’ve pushed into you like nothing and watch you fall apart in the process.

Instead, you both watch for a moment as the head of his cock catches against the fabric and nearly slips inside of you—and despite your own wants, this was far too risky. You could gawk for longer, appreciate how nice of a cock Joel had and boost his ego into the fucking stratosphere or—

“I—I have condoms,” You force out, voice only wavering slightly, “I can go grab one.”

Joel feels like it could’ve stifled the moment, the nervousness in your tone, your worrisome eyes. And his quizzical expression sends you into a fit of laughter that quickly dissipates any thoughts he’s having.

“To be clear, I always carry some with me,” You admit, “I don’t appreciate the excuse of—oh well, I don’t have one—plus, you can never be to safe, right?”

Joel grins at your nervous ramble and softly swats your thigh, sending you off—watching your giddiness transfer into the way you quickly run away, leaving Joel a moment to breathe and focus.

And as soon as he fears he’s been in his head too long, you’re back, pressing the foil package into his hand and returning to your seat on the edge of the table, fingers digging into his shirt to raise it slightly as he rips at the package with his teeth, swiftly rolling the condom down his shaft but not before you memorize every inch of what is soon to be buried inside of you, his own thumb trailing the long vein the trails the underside of it, the pink head begging to have your lips around it—which…is a thought.

A good one, but not appropriate right now.

Joel is far too fidgety to withstand an hour of you worshiping his dick in every way physically possible. 

You settle for this, cock sheathed under the condom as he finally pulls at your underwear, soft cotton sticking to the dampness of your folds and Joel snickers lightly, tucking them somewhere behind you as he taps your thighs open, urging you to spread.

And normally, he would start slowly—lick his way through your pussy to figure out what makes you tick, what makes you feel like you just might ascend into another realm—but you…are also far too impatient.

“Just do it,” You assure him, beyond the point of giving a shit, “not now—later.”

Later.

Joel bites his tongue to stifle the way he groans at the idea, using his right hand to guide himself to your entrance, a tenacious drag through your slick before he’s pushing inside slowly, allowing you to adjust to the full girth of him.

It was a lot, truthfully. But, the desire to have him is nothing compare to what a few moments of stinging may feel like, the pain quickly dulling out the further he presses in, his own eyes focused on his pursuit while a free hand travels to your face, tucked under your chin like he wants you in position and waiting, thumb rubbing tenderly at the small area under your lip until he’s fully seated, your groans mingling together in relief.

His hooded eyes peek from his lowered gaze and he smiles at the sight of your sated expression, bearing your weight on your open palms spread out behind you, shirt askew and the peaks of your nipples poking through the fabric—it is a sight that Joel would never will himself to forget.

“You with me?” He asks, sounding much more held together than you, a minor amount of stress to his voice as he keeps himself still, allowing you to warm his cock with your wet heat, his free hand kneading at the side of your thigh gently, keeping you snug against him.

As if you had any reason to run.

It was too late for that now. You weren’t letting go. 

You nod, a soft laugh falling from your lips as Joel takes that as an understanding, switching his mind grip under your chin to fully grasp your face, thumb on one side and the other four fingers on the other, holding you tight is his grip as he pulls almost fully out, the very tip of his head grazing the edge of slipping out before pistoning his hips forward sharply, sending the table skidding backwards loudly until it hits an adjoining wall, the start of a rhythm bang! bang! bang! as Joel feeds your starving body with the pleasure you’ve been begging for.

He doesn’t hold back and you love that.

There’s no judgment here. Just two people desperately running from their own loneliness. Fulfilling some of that by seeking out intimacy with commitment, and you can feel it with the way Joel looks at you now, unabashed and raw. Mouth hung open slightly with every growing intensity to his thrust, thighs sticky with sweat as they cling to his hips, your hand slipping out from under you but instead of allowing yourself to free-fall, you cling to him instead, using him as your anchor. 

“Just had to play that—stupid fuckin’ game,” He pauses breifly in his speech, slightly out of breath, “didn’t you?”

His grip on your face tightens minutely, but you feel it.

You want more. More pressure, more power. 

You want—need him to assert it.

You feel your eyes rolling back at the angle he’s hitting, the hand on your thigh angling your legs up at a nearly impossible angle, folded in the small space within Joel’s arms, and there’s an outpouring of adoration you feel toward him despite his passive touching, giving you exactly what you asked for.

“No more apologizing,” Joel reprimands, pulling your face mere centimeters from his own, bottom lip brushing against the tip of your nose, “not unless you mean it.”

“I do—IdoIdoIdo,” You mutter, whining softly when he strikes something deep inside of you, cunt squeezing down on him out of pure instinct, pulling him impossibly deeper, “fuck, it’s—it’s right there.”

And you feel like it may actually happen—coming from the actions of something other than your own hands or tiny electric toys that have become your best friends over the years and Joel can see you slipping, a softness to his voice as he draws your attention.

“Got you,” He murmurs, “—‘m right here.”

Joel answers your silent prayers as his hand drops your thigh to find your clit, middle finger working diligently to bring you teetering over the edge, “Keep on squeezin’ me like that, sweetheart. Pussy feels fuckin’ amazing—“

It isn’t the vulgarness of his words that startle you, rather how forceful your orgasm hits you with no warning, an intensity you haven’t been privy to experience like this, used to feeling empty as your cunt clenched around nothing but your fingers, instead it’s Joel—more specifically Joel’s cock that is hammering away inside of you still, mind-numbingly.

Joel is enough of a gentleman to help ease you over the high until you’re nearly delirious before he’s pulling out, condom snapping as he rips it away, grasping his dick in his hands with a rushed, “Whe—where? Where can I?”

Oh. This was different.

The asking, at least. You’ve never been asked.

You clasp your own hand over his, guiding him a little further under the burn near your navel, “Here, right here.” You pant, watching his eyes squeeze shut despite how hard he tries to keep focus as he cums in thick spurts over your cunt, careful to keep the mess contained beyond how quickly he was losing himself, reminding him so vividly of his age and how, as much as liked to fuck like he was still in his twenties, that wasn’t the case.

You sigh, an exasperated squeak as you finally fall against the table, another deafening bang that has you both giggling like idiots for a brief moment.

Joel pats your thigh gently, a displeased groan as he tucks himself back into his sleep pants and traverses through the kitchen, finding something to clean you up with.

He returns with a wet, warm towel and wipes up the mess despite your lack of acknowledgement, which has Joel chuckling under his breath, a delicate hand grasping yours as the other slides behind your back to lift you forward before discarding the rest of his mess, tossing the condom in a nearby trash can, finally pulling you back into focus when his throat clears, his hands offering up your discarded clothes.

Your nose scrunches up funnily—and Joel can’t help but find it adorable, “Think these are kinda ruined, least not without a wash first.”

Joel agrees, half-heartedly as he nods and matches your expression with a nose scrunch of his own. Your feet find a nearby chair, perching them there so they’re not dangling, practicing a little bit of distance between you and Joel, given the fact that you had no problem jumping his bones against at any given moment. 

“Look—we don’t need to have a deep talk about this,” You assure him, “two weeks from now we won’t exist to each other, but…right now, I just want to enjoy…whatever this is.”

The pauses are palpable, oozing with a silent tension neither of you acknowledge.

It shouldn’t string—the idea of leaving here and going back to your normal lives. But, it does. 

“Wasn’t gonna try it.” Joel agrees, quickly deflecting.

You nod in agreement, standing on unsteady feet, wobbling as you gain your footing and—Woah, that is different. 

Your muscles feel like they’re not your own, coming quickly to the realization that you’ve never been so thouroughly fucked like that before, laughing at your own naivety. 

Joel responded with a soft chiding grin, “What's funny?”

“I think you fucked my equilibrium out of me.”

It was…definitely something.

“Don’t boost my ego like that, darlin.” Joel warns, “You’ll come to regret it.”

Excuse you—the hell does that mean?

You’re too tired to ask, unfortunately. And Joel seems to share the exhaustion as he yawns, still holding you steady.

You had a feeling there was no need for a barrier tonight and that much is clear as Joel doesn’t hesitate to tuck you under his chin, no fussing or arguing, allowing you the full degree of a proper cuddle from him.

It feels fleeting, it is—knowing he would eventually slip from your grip, but you were bound to savor every moment while you could.

[mikwaa]

I missed you

Prompt: You left on a mission, and it took a while to come back. And they are eager for you to come back.

Featuring: Kaveh, Kaeya, Alhaitham, Wanderer, Zhongli

Warnings: Only romance, suggestive at one point (nothing much), established relationship, spicy but nothing explicit.

A/n: No, I'm not begging someone to welcome me home like this. I swear.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham was used to these missions of yours lasting days, sometimes even weeks. But this time he felt different, you had been away for a long time, and you had not given any sign of life. Normally you would always find a way to communicate with him, but that didn't happen this time. And these last few days it had become routine for him to stay up late, hoping that you would come into that house to fill the void he felt. But in the end, none of this happened, and he ended up just being overcome by sleep and tiredness. And there he was again, sitting on the couch immersed in his daily reading. He had already lost track of the time, his gaze shifted focus, one hour all his attention was devoted to the book, but at some point he kept staring at the door waiting for some sign from you. And just as he was about to doze off, his eyes so heavy they refused to stay open, he heard the door latch open, and he saw your silhouette. He even thought it was just the effect of sleep, he might be daydreaming or something, but soon those thoughts were put aside, as soon as he heard your sweet voice calling him. "Haitham?" You called him softly, not knowing if he was awake or asleep there on the couch. He blinked, once, twice, three times, before getting up and walking quickly towards you. "Are you okay?" His hands grabbed you around the waist, pulling you into his chest and wrapping you in a warm embrace. And you welcomed him, wrapping your arms around his body, letting yourself be carried away by the feeling of comfort it brought, you'd been away from home for days, nothing fairer than enjoying it. "Yes, I am. And you?" You snuggled into his neck, murmuring in a low, tired tone. One of his hands ran through your hair, gently stroking them, "I missed you, you took a long time." He whispers, full of tenderness in his voice. And he worried, a lot, especially when you disappeared and didn't give news like that. His mind would think of so many things, that sometimes he couldn't even close his eyes with worry. "Sorry, things got more complicated than I expected." And you gave him a little kiss on the lips, as a compensation for staying away. And he stared at you with those eyes that reminded you of emeralds, this while he smoothed a scratch on your face with his thumb, gently dragging his finger all over the area. "We have to take care of that, you can tell me how things went while I bandage it up." And to be honest, all he wanted was to keep you like this in his arms. All because he was dying of longing. Even though he was all serious, with you he showed a different side. More caring and loving, he hated to think of losing you, it drove him crazy. With that, once you walked through that door and back into his arms, his heart ceased, and he took comfort in your touch. Which he missed so much.

Kaeya:

It was late at night, but for Kaeya the night had just begun. He was in his living room, enjoying a good wine, already on his fourth glass. Even though everything seemed peaceful, his mind was full of thoughts, and all of those thoughts involved you. Suddenly a commission had come your way, and it had been two weeks since you had been out to solve the problem. Yet you and Kaeya always communicated, often by letters, you always sent him letters frequently. But not this time, he didn't receive any letters from you, and it was driving him mad. He had looked for you in many places, used his position as a Cavalry Captain to try and find you, but he had no trace of you. All he could do was sit and wait, wait for you to knock on his door, and only then would he be reassured. And as if the Archons had heard his prayers, someone knocked on his door. His heart began to skip beats as soon as he heard the sound at the door. He hurried to open it, only to see the little face he had missed so much. He was quick to pull you into a hug, nestling you in his arms, not leaving a gap for you to let go. "Someday you'll kill me with anticipation." He chuckles, as he murmurs against your ear. And you laughed back, clinging onto him even tighter, if that was even possible. "I'm back, I'm not leaving anytime soon." You nod at him, and he pulls away a little, only to pull you into a passionate, tender kiss. Surely he wanted to take you to the bedroom and make love with you passionately, to make up for lost time. But he wanted to hear you out first, to take you in and make you feel wanted, just like you were. He would surely want to know the story in full detail. "I'd be going crazy if I let you out again." With a cocky smile he says, his eye scanning every inch of your face. Archons, how he missed you. You put your hands around his neck as he leaned you against the closed door. "I have so much to tell you, if it's up to me we're both going to spend the night awake." And honestly he didn't care, the next day he would make up an excuse for missing work. All this just to have the pleasure of seeing you wake up in his arms, and to have an even greater pleasure of keeping you in the soft bed with him. "Not for that," And he points to the wine and the glass on the table, "I'll prepare some snacks for both of us, and get another glass." And he pulls away from you, not before stealing another kiss. And if it were up to him, you'd be there until the morning, just enjoying each other's company. And maybe even something more will happen, it will help a lot to make up for his missing you.

Kaveh:

Days and days pass, and Kaveh is almost in a state of panic. Every moment you don't signal if you are okay to him, his heart freezes. He just can't think of anything else, all he wanted most was to have you by his side, and he would trap you in his arms in a way that you couldn't even get out if you wanted to. That was the thought that kept him sane, he assured himself that you would come back to him soon. All he could do was count every minute, he even tried to focus on personal projects, but he just couldn't concentrate, all the time looking out the window anxiously, hoping you would show up. And as if by magic, as soon as he looked through the window he saw you, in your shabby clothes and carrying that heavy bag you always carried on long trips. And he ran out of the room, heading for the door to welcome you. And he was the first to open the door, wasting no time to take you in his arms, "You almost killed me! Do you know how worried I was?" And just as quickly as he put you in his arms, he let you go and looked you over from head to toe. "I'm fine, don't worry, I just need a good bath and a few cuddles, and I'll be brand new!" You say with a little smile, but that wasn't enough to convince him. "You're all scratched up, your clothes are all tattered." He said it like an complaining old man, but the tenderness and compassion in his eyes didn't fade in a minute. "It's all right, really." You gently put the palm of your hand on his cheeks, and he snuggled in. Once he felt your touch, he quieted, as if the emptiness in him had been filled. He took your hand and kissed it, then kissed all the way down your arm to your shoulder, "I missed you so much." You took his face in your hands, cupping it, "You don't know how much I wanted to come home." And then, he began to shower your face with kisses, whispering between each one, "You're not going to leave me again, are you?" And then again, " Heavens I love you so much." With a final kiss on your lips. You smiled against his lips, you couldn't take how adorable Kaveh could be. It seemed to take his lips off yours was a bit of work, because he really didn't want to, just like you. But you needed a good bath, clean clothes, and good food. "I'll prepare food for you, your tummy is rumbling isn't it?" He asks softly, while his forehead rests on yours. With a giggle you nodded, and he took you by the hand and led you to the kitchen, "Stay here while I prepare it, I want to hear everything that happened." And besides, he would definitely help you take care of the bruises. "Okay, I'll tell you detail by detail." You say it with a bright smile, and he comes over and gives you another kiss on the cheek. Surely he wouldn't let go of you, he would be the rest of the day like a sly child after you. As soon as you finished doing the rest of your chores, he would hug you and tell you everything that happened in the last few days. Just as he would be a great listener, he couldn't wait to spend a whole day with you.

Zhongli:

As the patient and calm man that he was, Zhongli didn't stress over silly things, however there were things that left him with a flea behind his ear. And one of those things was when you went out on those dangerous and long missions, sometimes he didn't even know when you were going to be back, and that made him a little apprehensive. And there he was, in his office at home, having a cup of tea, reading some contracts he needed to review. As attentive as he was to what he was doing, he couldn't help but have thoughts about you, about when you would return to that house that had suddenly become so empty. Since it was already considerably late, Zhongli had given up hope that you would return that day. But there was still that little glimmer of expectation that he would sleep next to you that night, he missed it so much. And so, he heard the 'click' of the door opening, soon revealing your countenance, which he missed so much. "Awake at this hour?" It was the first thing you said as soon as you saw him, and you would pay just to see the sparkle in those eyes all day long. And he stood up, putting all those papers aside and giving you his full attention. "I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival my dear." He held your face, thoughtfully stroking your cheeks. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long." Relaxing your face in his hands you say, and he immediately gives you a breathtaking smile. He pulled you into a hug, just to feel you in his embrace, whispering to you, "No matter how long I wait, all that matters is that you always come back to me." The velvety voice that always surprised you, that always gave you goosebumps. The love that oozed from his every utterance. And you clung to him more, it was the best thing to come home, to be welcomed with such tenderness and love, what more could you ask for? You kissed his neck lightly, softly saying, "I'll always come back to you." And he gave you a satisfied smile, you could not give a better answer. As much as his mind was full of bad ideas that could happen to you, so every time you came home safe and well, it was a huge relief to him. "I'll make something for both of us, you can go take a hot bath and put on more comfortable clothes." He strokes your hair, holding you by the chin and giving you a gentle, loving kiss. And he didn't want to let you go, genuinely didn't, but he was content with the fact that he could hold on to you for the rest of the night. He parted your lips from his, his fingers playing with your hair, and then he whispers again, "But first, can you give me one more kiss?" And he asks as if it's been forever since he last placed his lips against yours. And so it was done, he gently pressed his lips against yours, letting himself be carried away by the sensation it brought him. He was craving you so much that he couldn't help himself, as if his skin, his body, everything about him was begging for you. You were the only one capable of giving him that feeling, and it took his feet off the ground every time. With that last kiss, his plans changed, now he would join you in the bath. And then he would prepare the best food, he couldn't wait to take you to the shared room and there he would vent all the tension he felt these past few days. Just to let you know how much you were missed by him these days.

Wanderer:

Normally, Wanderer didn't mind too much when you left for these commissions, you were always very competent and always came back soon. But this time it had been almost four weeks since you had signaled anything, you had left, just saying it would be another one of your assignments. You had always been very secretive when it came to this, so he hadn't even bothered to go into details. However, now he felt a certain distress that you were spending so much time working like this, and even more so without giving any news of your whereabouts. From time to time he would walk around the city of Sumeru, hoping to find you somewhere, but he never succeeded. And he had already done that for the day, what was left was to go home and wait for you, and he didn't even know why he was giving so much importance to that. And as soon as he set foot inside the house, he was greeted with a hug, which was already familiar. "I thought you forgot about me." You say in a joking tone. And as if he needed this more than anything, he wrapped his arms around you, pressing you tightly against his body. "You and your silliness, I would never do that." In an annoyed grumble he answered you, his hands clasped around your waist. You lifted your face a little, just enough to kiss him lovingly on the cheek. His fingers tightened around you, signaling that he was enjoying it. "You shouldn't take so long on these missions." He grumbled at you, but you knew he wasn't angry, he was missing you. "I promise I'll spend more time at home." And this time you give him a kiss on the lips, slowly to enjoy the moment. And instead of rejecting it, which he would never do with you, he gladly accepted it, wanting it as much or even more than you. "I think you'd better comply." He manages to murmur during the kiss, meeting you voraciously as he presses his lips against yours. And then he finds your hand, and wraps his fingers around yours in a clear sign of affection. His free hand roaming around your waist, but he still held you tight. After a while he stops, just to admire your beautiful face, which had a pink tint. And without you expecting it, he kissed you all over your face, and you can bet he was as red as you were. His heart was pounding more and more, at the same time that he was reassured that you were home, he could not contain the excitement that ran through his body. You're there, you were finally there. "I love it when you do that." You say softly, and he gives you a little smile, still holding you in his arms. That was a more than accurate indicator for him to continue his advances, he might not say it with words, but certainly his attitudes showed how much he enjoyed seeing your reactions. With every touch, every kiss, every time his skin brushed against yours, he loved every little face you made. The way he looked at you gave away how much he cared. With a soft kiss on your lips he whispers, "Stay here longer, the house is empty without you." Your heart warmed at the phrase, and you pulled him into a deeper, more passionate kiss. And he just dived into the wonderful taste your lips had. And he is immersed in the delicious emotion he felt at that moment. And it was only then that he realized that he needed you there, just so things would make some sense. And surely, he would show you how great his feeling for you was.

[moonlight-prose]

Hello what about "my job is to watch your back" sentence with Joel

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄

a/n: i am a sucker for a man being protective of the one they love, but make that man joel and i am GONE. he's so perfect for this line. so i did my best to make it short and sweet. thanks for dropping this line in my inbox, because it sparked so much inspo. also apologies for taking forever on this. it wound up getting lost into the void of my drafts. the divider is by the incredible @saradika.

summary: you needed to protect him as much as he needed to protect you. the only problem was...joel believed he didn't need caring for. he didn't need protecting.

word count: 0.9k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, a tad bit of arguing, joel being stubborn, reader giving him a taste of his own medicine, passion, tension, feelings.

You heard him outside of the room before he even entered. The familiar thud of his boots on the hardwood floors, echoing through the hallway as he finally returned home for the night. Although you couldn’t classify this shitty apartment as a home, you knew that he did. If the small butterfly he taped to the window was anything to go by.

Shutting your eyes, you tried to give off the idea that you were asleep, letting him know to be quiet when he finally walked through the door. But you knew he had other things in mind. After weeks of fighting him on your ideas about leaving the QZ on a small run, you finally decided to go it alone. Meeting with smugglers, whose names you didn’t bother to learn and trading things you couldn’t remember. All you cared about was that they could get you what Joel needed the most; a small car part that would finally let the truck run smoothly without issues.

In all fairness, you did try to get back before he noticed, but it took a day longer than you anticipated. Only seven hours ago you found yourself trapped in a room, hiding from three infected, silently wishing that you had said goodbye to Joel. Maybe if you stayed a bit longer in bed, partook in one more languid kiss that would have resulted in him pressing you into the mattress, you wouldn’t have found yourself in this situation.

But that’s not how life worked.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His words were a low guttural growl—the anger practically bleeding into the air around you.

“Joel—”

“You went out alone?” he spit, standing over you as you tried not to disappear into the couch.

Averting your gaze, you felt your body fill with guilt. “I made it back alive okay?”

He let out a breath, eyes blazing with a rage you’d only seen directed at other people. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not bull—”

“And the infected that found you?” he snapped.

You didn’t want to relinquish yourself to an argument that would lead nowhere. You’d already had it out with him enough to know how this would play out. He’d stay pissed for a few days. The anger of almost losing you overtaking his anger that you left, and then things would settle back into their usual routine. Both of you avoiding the tension in the room, both of you terrified to say what this actually was.

Standing, you tried to side step him, but the tight grip he clasped around your arm kept you near him. Unable to run from this. He was tired of watching you flee, tired of ignoring the blatantly obvious truth.

Your eyes met his sorrow prominent in the brown you found you couldn’t live without. “It wasn’t a problem,” you said, hoping that the nonchalance seeped through your words—hiding your fear.

It didn’t.

“Don’t do that.”

You looked away. “Do what?”

“Act like your life isn’t important.”

His words struck you in the chest, and for a brief second you wondered if perhaps you pushed him too far. This life was dangerous. You knew that going in that you would give more than you got. When all is said and done, nothing but an unmarked spot in the ground would be your end. But you understood that. Yet shouldering what you had to do without question felt like you had a rock in your stomach at all times.

You might have been able to accept your unimportant ending.

Joel wouldn’t.

“It’s true.”

He stiffened, eyes narrowed at the blank expression you painted across your face. “Darlin’—”

Releasing a breath, you faced him head on, the fear ebbing away slowly. “I’m not here to be important Joel. I’m here to survive until I can’t anymore. Isn’t that the whole fucking point of this life?” You tried to stop the hot tears that stung your eyes, but they fell anyway. A piece of the vulnerability you refused to show him. “Importance flew right out the window the second that first bite happened.”

“Look at me.” His words were gentle, touch soft against your face as he turned you towards him. “You’re a whole lot more important than you know.”

You scoffed. “No need to lie.”

“I ain’t lyin’.” He stepped closer, caging you against his body—his hands cupping your head. “You left and I lost my mind.” “Joel—”

“My job is to watch your back.” He let out a shaky breath, emotions he struggled to keep back now shoving their way forward. Until he had no choice but to show you the broken bits you managed to string together delicately since he met you. “If I can’t protect you…” His lips brushed across yours, forehead a soft press against yours. “I’ve got nothin’.”

Clutching onto his jacket you felt your heart twist violently, threatening to take you under the dangerous waves of pain. “That’s my job too Joel. Who’s gonna protect you?”

“I don’t need…” He inhaled sharply when your lips pressed to his, fingers digging into the top of his chest, until he swore he felt your fingerprints branded into his fucking heart.

“Don’t bullshit me Miller. Everyone needs protecting.”

Joel didn’t know when he started to grin, when you brought back his lost smile, but it happened. Maybe the day he met you or even a month ago, but there he was…smiling like a hopeless fool. Life had gone to shit, the world wasn’t livable anymore, but he had you. To him…that was enough to live for, on days when he felt the weight of the world begin to suffocate the last bits of breath out of him.

“Alright,” he murmured, thumb running along your jaw. “You protect me darlin’ and I’ll protect you.”

“Deal.”

[kaviary-blog]

Home

Content warning: Found family, hurt/comfort, death

Sebastian is a wreck when the news of Anne’s passing reaches him. He has lost everything and everyone... he wasn’t even able to say goodbye

But, he’s not as alone as he thinks. He still has a family.

Word Count: 1,133

Dead.

Anne Sallow was dead.

After fighting a gruesome curse for the better part of three years, it had finally won out and she was dead.

It took almost a week for the news to reach her brother. And when it did, the world ended.

At least, Sebastian’s world ended. Time stopped moving as he opened the letter, the parchment carrying a curse as cruel as the one that had stolen his beloved twin sister.

Dead.

She was gone and she was never coming back.

And he didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Mind blank, he made his way up the common room stairs to the safety of his room. To the safety of his bed. The last thing that could hold him, console him as the call of the void grew ever louder.

He didn’t move for hours. Deflated and dehydrated. A husk of utter despair and agony. He ran out of tears long ago but his chest still heaved. He screamed into his pillow, into the darkness of his world. Maybe she would hear him and come back.

Heavy eyes and a heavy heart he eventually fell into the open arms of unconsciousness.

There, he dreamed of his lovely sister. The sound of her laughter, her smile, her hug. All things lost forever. In his dream she simply held her brother, whispering apologies and sweet words.

When he awoke, it was still dark. A physical weight in his stomach and chest kept him in his bed. He closed his eyes and rolled over. And hit something.

Rather someone

Taken aback he opened his eyes, it took a second for them to adjust to the darkness. But there, lying next to him, was his best friend. Blond hair cascaded over sharp features, moles hidden in the nights embrace. Sebastian’s broken heart clenched. Ominis was there. When did I get there? Why was he there?

In his surprise he backed into the wall. The wall? His bed wasn’t against the wall. Looking over at the obstacle he saw the telltale hair of his other best friend.

Her back was to him, but there she was. The ever present anchor. Kaili, who had never strayed from her loyalty and devotion to him and Ominis.

He was sandwiched. Everything ached and weighed him down. But there in the darkness of the room, his best friends lay there next to him. A silent comfort in his time of need.

— — —

The two of them took turns keeping Sebastian company, if one went to go get some food or a drink the other stayed put and vice versa.

Though they had tried to keep the news under wraps for now, a few loose lipped Slytherins let it slip and word got around the castle of Anne’s unfortunate death. Which only made Sebastian want to keep hidden even more.

Kaili and Ominis did their best to try to get him to eat, though the sense of emptiness left no room for food. They often just found themselves sitting in silence and Sebastian wept, Kaili rubbing comforting circles on his back. Anything to let him know that he was not alone, no matter how much he may feel he is.

They fell into a kind of routine, Ominis would go to his morning class and bring back a cup of tea for Sebastian. While he was out Kaili would read or hum quietly to the brunet, running a comforting hand on his arm or back. Then they would switch off, Kaili would go to one of her classes, maybe swing by the kitchens in order to grab Sebastian something small to try to eat. They would spend their lunches walking around the grounds, making sure Sebastian got some sun and some exercise. Chatting and keeping Sebastian up to date on their course work as they did so.

He and Ominis would swap stories and memories of their dearly departed Anne. And Kaili listened, getting to know the girl posthumously through their stories and tears. The three of them mourned together, just trying to keeping their heads above the water.

After a few weeks of this, and Sebastian started slowly attending classes. Even letting the slightest smile or laugh pass his lips. He would eat at least one meal and enjoyed sitting outside in the sun. Kaili kept up reading to him, the stories helping to soothe him.

The three of them would sit next to the lake and Kaili would read aloud as her boys listened, eyes closed and soaking up the sun.

The funeral came and went, Kaili and Ominis holding Sebastian’s hands as they attended. Eyebrows furrowed as the speaker butchered her story, painting her in a false life. She wasn’t some tragedy. She had been a fighter with a fierce tongue. Mischievous and caring. She wasn’t some meek girl.

Sebastian tore out of the grasp of his friends and stalked up to the speaker, pulling him aside to talk to him and talking over.

He stood clad in his funeral attire in front of the casket that held his dear sister. Words of their childhood and of who she was streamed out of his mouth, accompanied by tears. He recounted joyful and hard memories, even managing to crack a few jokes. By the end of his eulogy, he was speaking directly to Anne. His voice was somber and reverent. “I would have followed you to the ends of the earth, but you’ve gone a little too far for me to follow.”

Sebastian’s throat was tight, chest heavy. Sound refused to come out of his mouth and his vision was blurry.

Stepping down from to podium he made his way back to his companions and their open arms.

They walked arm in arm in arm as they left the service. It had been a small funeral, a select few that had known the Sallows attended and offered their condolences to the last remaining of the name.

The trio had stayed at the gravesite long after everyone else had left. The sun had gone down but they sat, huddled together and spoke with Anne. Cups of hot cocoa and tea, breath mingling with the chilled air.

A bittersweet moment. Friends sharing a final tea with their fallen sister.

It was late into the night when Ominis spoke up. “We should probably get back to the castle, before we all freeze our toes off.”

They were all still in their funeral wear, which wasn’t the warmest attire. Kaili nodded and made an effort to stand up, reaching for Sebastian’s hand to aid him in doing the same. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

He grabbed her outstretched hand and let himself be hoisted to his feet by his friend.

“I’m home as long as I’m with you guys.”

[transboysokka]

recovery update bc idk wtf is going on in my brain

it’s still really hard for me to talk about this stuff even if it’s just posting to the void of the internet

but

I’m doing good, I’m doing REALLY good but I feel like I’m teetering at an edge?

so I feel like we’re coming up on almost 6 months already since I started my recovery and things have been great

I’ve actually lost a lot of weight since all that bc I had this phenomenon of starving myself but binging a comfort food (usually ducking chocolate when my body couldn’t do it anymore?)

anyway at my lowest point I just didn’t eat anything for a whole week right?

since then I’ve really controlled what went in my body to basically make sure I’ve been eating but over time the routine has gotten looser and I feel like I’m falling back into old habits again

the sweet tooth is back. objectively that’s fine on its own. but it makes me scared of losing control again

it’s REALLY hard for me logistically to get the three regular meals a day. One is guaranteed on weekdays at least.

Everything else…

Like I just feel out of control again. I feel like I’m ALWAYS eating (but I know I’m just eating the amount I need bla bla bla) but I’m still not good at choosing the best things for my body

I’m still getting more protein and vitamins than I was before

but that ARFID pickiness is back, I can feel it creeping up

and here come the body image issues again

I just remember it felt so BAD physically to starve myself but I’m SO worried that’s what’s around the corner for me, like I’m feeling this loss of control spiral and as usual there are NO resources around irl to help me

I’m so past this entry level “oh you ate something today good!” I can do that now, I just need to learn HOW to do that best??

[dfcfanfics]

The Song Has Ended, Its Echoes Remain: Miraculous Prompt of the Day

TW: Potential S5 endgame trauma. Theorizing, not spoiling.

~---~

The gaps in her memory haunt her. She senses the void, that something very important had dwelled there, but the doors in her mind are padlocked shut. The perception of her own incompleteness is maddening; it has her second-guessing her every decision, pulling back from so many facets of her everyday life.

But as frustrated as she feels, one look at him reminds her that she's far from the unluckiest around.

~---~

"If there is hope for either of them," Su Han had told Alya, "it lies within each other. Familiar surroundings. A routine. Emotional connections must grow back, if they will grow back, at nature's speed. There are no short cuts, but their youth will help them... and I feel that all of you can help with their healing."

"We will," Alya sniffled. "I swear that we will. Is that... is her amnesia going to happen to me someday?"

"You are not a Guardian yet, young one," the aged monk soothed her. "Being the new Ladybug is responsibility enough for now."

~---~

Three weeks ago, before the final confrontation with Monarch, Marinette and Adrien had been close friends, rapidly on the path to becoming much more than that. Nervous smiles became more confident ones. Holding hands went from an explosive rush to feeling quite natural. While that one perfect first kiss had not yet arrived, it was only because they were saving it for a moment in a setting just as perfect, whatever it would be.

But that was then.

Marinette had blossomed quite a bit during her year in Ms. Bustier's class, her year of being Ladybug. The shy girl had learned much about opening up to others, trusting her instincts, finding the courage to take chances... a wallflower became a class representative, a heroine, and even someone capable of expressing her romantic intentions, at least once in a while.

There were flashes of that Marinette now and then; Alya could see them in her friend, which she found encouraging. But more often than that, she sensed Marinette's defenses up at full strength, her strong voice muted, more fragile inside than she'd ever seen Marinette before.

And as for Adrien... his transformation was far more frightening to his friends.

Who could blame him, of course? Everything that he went through on that day was... unfathomable.

Still, it was startling to watch him and realize just how much that he had lost. It was as if Adrien had been magically reset to before his first day at Francoise Dupont, having to meet and befriend everyone there all over again. He was still Adrien deep down; he wasn't a stranger to any of his classmates.

But in some ways, he kind of was now.

~---~

The class do what they can to be supportive, of course. There's no snickering about Adrien now living with the Dupain-Chengs; they all know that he's not there shacking up with Marinette, but being assisted with major mental trauma, along with the dramatic change in his family's circumstances. Not a day goes by when at least some of their friends don't stop by to spend some time with them, choosing their words carefully, trying to act as if normality was resuming.

When an Akuma appears, when news footage of superbattles pops up on TV, both family and friends do everything possible to shelter the two of them from hearing or seeing it. It's not that they're not strong enough; it's that they've given enough already. The wounds are still visible. They shouldn't have to deal with that yet.

None of them are shoving Marinette and Adrien together and declaring, "now kiss"; that's no longer on the table, at least for now. They need to remember themselves before any of that would be possible.

In her damaged state, it'd be easy for Marinette to withdraw completely, but her friends and family won't let that happen.

She won't.

Because every time that Adrien looks at her with those sad, hopeful green eyes, her will is strengthened.

She senses that even though he barely knows her any more, that he looks confused when she refers to certain things that she still remembers, he's drawn to her in a way that neither of them fully understand.

He grasps what she's going through, because he's got it worse.

She's his lifeline to whom he was before. There was a they, a sum increasingly greater than its parts, and while neither can remember it... they can both sense that it existed, that it was so close. That it, and each of them, are something well worth fighting for.

And she'll be damned if, seeing him reach out to her like this... she won't reach back.

Once an 'everyday Ladybug...'

[beautifulxdamned]

Wait is that (NEVEAH QUINN) that I see off in the distance? You know they have quite the reputation of being the (SPITFIRE) around the island, but to me they seem like any other (LOCAL). I hear you can often find the (24) year old hanging around (DRIFTWOOD SANDS) or catch them when they aren’t busy working as a/an (BARISTA AT COSTAL COFFEE COMPANY, BARTENDER AT WHITE ROCK BREWPUB, SALES ASSOCIATE AT NOMADS SURF SHOP ). They may seem (THRIFTY & PENSIVE) but I hear that they can also be (GULLIBLE & EVASIVE). There may be a lot of faces here in the bay, but you’ll know who you’re dealing with if they remind you of (WORN OUT CONVERSE, SPIRITED DEBATES, FLIPPING OFF THE CAMERA & POST IT NOTES COVERED IN DOODLES OR REMINDERS) [Brittany O'grady, Cisfemale, She/Her]

QUICK STATS

Full Name: Neveah Adelle Quinn Nickname(s): Eve & Nevvy DOB / Zodiac: January 10th 1999 / Capricorn Orientation: Pansexual Hometown: Celestial Bay, North Carolina Positive Traits: Thrifty, Pensive & Intelligent Negative Traits: Gullible, Evasive & Intrusive Languages: English

BACKGROUND

tw: pregnancy, abortion, drugs, alcohol, depression, neglect

Neveah was an unplanned pregnancy. Conceived by her mother, a fourth generation Celestial Bay townie and her father, a vacationer who had decided to take an impromptu summer trip to the beautiful coast. The two had hit it off instantly and within a month he had convinced the women who had never seen anything other than the Bay that he was going to whisk her away, take her to the big city with him when he returned home... only that never happened.

Three weeks after his departure she had found out that she was pregnant with Neveah. She opted into keeping the baby and although she swears that Neveah's father was aware of her existence the girl had always had a suspicion, perhaps a glimmer of hope, that he was unaware. If he was unaware of her birth than he hadn't made an active decision to abandon her and that made the idea easier to handle in her mind.

Her mother gave Neveah her fathers last name, despite the man being a virtual stranger to the child. She claimed that it would provide her with more opportunities in life... Neveah believed that it was a last ditch effort to grab the mans attention, with hopes of the man whisking her and her daughter away to greener pastures.

However that never happened and the women made do with what she had to provide a decent life for her child. It was a happy childhood from what little Neveah could remember, however the year of her thirteenth birthday things took a devastating turn.

Her mother fell into a dark depression, perhaps it had always been looming on the edge. The women turned to prescription pills and alcohol as a coping mechanism. She lost her job and and rarely came out of her room unless it was to retrieve another bottle of something or another, leaving her thirteen year old to not only raise herself but to also support her mother.

She started to work multiple jobs. Neighbors who felt bad for the girl giving her odd things to do here and there to keep a roof above their heads and food in their stomachs. By the age of seventeen she was spreading herself to thin. While her friends were attending parties and enjoying their last years of high school, planning for their future she was struggling working for jobs, fighting with bill collectors and still attempting to excel at school, after all a scholarship was her only hope of escaping this place.

Finally in her Senior year, despite being incredibly intelligent she found herself dropping out of high school, she simply couldn't juggle it all anymore and with the state her mother had fallen into over the years the option to leave even if she had secured a scholarship was void.

She threw herself into work and taking care of her mother. Distancing herself from her friends, not like they had much in common anymore anyways, and fell into a lonely routine.

Perhaps that was the reason it was so easy for the vacationer to woo her at the age of twenty-two. Sending her into the same foggy haze her mother had endured all those years ago. Although Neveah was smitten with the man she never once believed that they would wind up together. He was a fun fling, something to take the edge off for the summer.

A rule of thumb in Neveah's life though was if something could go wrong than it was bound to and oh boy did it. In her careless moment of living her own life she had gotten knocked up. She had struggled with what to do. Did she tell the father? Would it even make a difference? He was set to leave the island in two weeks, more than likely never to be seen again. She decided to tell him, quickly following the confession with her plan to get an abortion. It wasn't necessarily a decision that she was happy about but she knew that her plate was already full and she wasn't about to have her own child suffer the same fate she had. The father agreed with her and as she had expected he left in two weeks time, never to be heard from again. She scheduled the abortion shortly after his departure.

She threw herself back into her work, determined never to speak of her stupidity again. However she did allow herself to have a little fun between the mountains of work that she was doing, if only to prevent such a thing from happening again.

EXTRAS

Neveah is extremally intelligent. She enjoys literature and strategy based games along with debating people even if they don't want to be in a debate.

She also extremally artistic. She enjoys listening to and analyzing music. She's taught herself both guitar and piano simply from listening to music notes. She also enjoys drawing and painting. People say that she has the potential to thrive if only her wings hadn't been clipped at such a young age.

She knows how to have a good time but she's definitely the mom friend. Perhaps it's due to the fact she's been caring for others since she was still a child herself.

She holds a sense of entitlement about herself. She often finds herself crossing lines that perhaps other locals wouldn't. Inviting herself to Vacationer exclusive events because deep down she feels like it's her rightful place, one she was robbed of... her father was one of them after all.

Connections ○ Pinterest ○ Playlist ○ Musings ○ Threads

[sunflowersteves]

he'd never tell anyone but you but eddie cries in his van in the mornings before school after the two of you break up

author's note || this!!! request!!!! has me crying but also i love you for it, anon. i do.

warnings || breakups, crying, sad!eddie, upsidedown, unhappy ending (but potential part two happy ending??)

masterlist

Five months. 

One-hundred fifty-two days.

Three-thousand six-hundred forty-eight hours.

Eddie wasn't sure, most of the time, what day it was. He never knew if the moon was puncturing the night sky with its dewy gloom or if the sun shined bright beneath the ashen clouds. He never knew what class he was in, whether it was science, english, or history.

But he knew how many months, days, and hours that you were no longer by his side.

Well, let's rephrase that. He knew how many months, days, and hours since he broke your heart into a thousand different pieces.

His too, though. As he watched your tear-stained face crumble, your hands shake, and your voice crack. His heart, too, broke into a thousand different pieces. He didn’t know why he did what he did—why he pushed you away. 

But it seemed so easy—so effortless—in the way of trying to make sure that you’re safe. After Chrissy’s death, Max’s almost death, and the events of the Upside Down, he knew life was going to be hell. He knew that with all of those chains of events, it would only be the beginning. 

So, in a way, he did know why he pushed you away. It pained him every second of every ticking minute that he did what he did.

And yet, now that the long, hellish months of his trials were over, everything was starting to be placed back to where they’re supposed to be—everything except you.

Today was May 12th, 1986. His year. His month. His last and final week at Hawkin’s High. It was really supposed to be like any other week like the rest of them.

He would get up. He’d smell like booze and weed. He would shower said booze and weed off of him. He’d get dressed. He would stare at the moldy blueberry muffin you had baked for him one long lost Sunday morning. He would drive to school. He’d go to class. He’d drive home. He would drink and get high. And at the end, he went to bed.

The never-ending cycle was bound to continuously spin in circles for what felt like an eternity. The same day over and over, again and again. The same routine started all over again on May 12th, 1986. 

He got up. He showered all the booze and weed off. He stared at the sad blueberry muffin. He drove to school. But as he parked his van in the school parking lot, he immediately regretted looking up in front of him. 

There you were. You. The person he’d been dreaming of stumbling across for the past five months.

You were dropping off Mike and Lucas, waving goodbye to them as they opened the car door. His eyes watched as your lips curled into a smile, the wounds that deepened his heart only cut further. The little crinkle next to your eyes as you smiled, and your pearly whites on full display. His heart sunk as you looked happy.

Eddie couldn’t help but freeze as you screamed Mike’s name. Even the sound of your voice—something he hadn’t heard in months—sent chills down his spine. Mike ran back to your car, giving you a quick thanks at you for giving him the book he forgot. 

Eddie sniffled. It was the first time he realized that tears had fallen against his cheeks. He looked down to see small wet patches on his jeans. He put a hand over his mouth, slowly sliding down his jaw as a sob racked through his body. 

He didn’t expect to see you today or any day for that matter. He wasn’t ready to see your perfect lips. He wasn’t ready to see the way your eyes shone beneath the sun. He wasn’t ready to see you in the parking lot at Hawkins High. 

He wasn’t ready.

He couldn’t help but let out a small, frustrated scream, trying to yell into the dark void that seemed to only let him sink further. But then he saw you walking toward him. Fuck, you were really walking towards him. 

His eyes widened, heart rate increasing with each step you took. He tried his hardest to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he knew everything would still be visible—the redness, the dried tears, the stuffy nose.

He watched, swallowing thickly, as you tapped the van window. He bent down, cranking down the window. “Hey.”

He almost choked at the sound of your voice, his heart pounding loud in his ears. “Um, hey.” 

He couldn’t look into your eyes, and all he could do was stare at your wrist. He knew he was avoiding the inevitable as much as possible. 

“How are you?” If Eddie wasn’t so focused on suppressing his current emotions, then he would’ve caught the strain in your voice. 

He swallowed, “I’m—uh—good. How a-are you?” He cringed on the inside, knowing that he sounded like such bullshit. However, you either didn’t notice or didn’t seem to comment on it.

“I’m—um—doing good. Jus’ had to drop the kids off today, ya know?” 

He nodded, trying his best to form a small smile. He could tell that it was probably the most unconvincing smile he could ever muster. And then he saw the look on your face. He could see the small sliver of hope that rested between your irises. He could see the way your feet shuffled, and your hands fiddled with the end of your shirt in nervousness. 

But then everything comes crashing down into the pits of reality. He broke your heart. He didn’t want you anymore. He didn’t love you anymore. 

All he could do was watch as the scene unfolded before him. He watched as you started to close yourself in—the walls that he had managed to crumble down at one point in time were building their way back up. One brick at a time. 

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

Eddie didn’t respond as he watched you walk away. He just stares intensely at your back. 

“Fuck!” He yelled, smashing his hands on the steering wheel. He felt himself slipping—stumbling into the everlasting darkness of a life without you. 

Today marks four months and a day of Eddie’s worst demise. One-hundred fifty-three days without your smile. Three-thousand six-hundred seventy-two hours without you. 

[softtdaisy]

DANGEROUS DESIRE

DESCRIPTION I when someone starts following peter, you fear he might discover all your secrets 

PAIRING I tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT I 3,2k

WARNINGS | mentions of guns and blood

A/N I i hope this story isn’t too messy, I tried to not tell too much (in case I decide to write a part 2) but I love this idea and I hope you will too 🥺

It all started a few weeks ago when Peter felt like someone was following him. Not only when he was Spiderman but also during his routine.

You tried to convince him it was all in his head, that he was just getting scared that someone might want to hurt him. But deep down, you knew something was wrong.

You met Peter the day he saved you. You’ve been taking hostage by a criminal that was scaring the whole town. Even if you knew it was bound to happen, it was still pretty scary to be on top of one of the highest buildings in New York and watched the whole city stressing over your situation. One faux pas, and you were on the ground, cover in the blood. Not really how you were supposed to spend your day.

And then he appeared. Just like you hoped he would. Wearing his blue and red suit, determined to end this chaos quickly. “Seriously? Kidnapping a girl and bring her here? It’s so overrated dude.” You loved his sarcastic tone, like this wasn’t a big deal. A few seconds after that, he shot a web on the criminal who almost stumble. Peter just got the time to grab you by his web before you fall to your death. Once he made sure you were ok, without saying a single word to you, he took care of the other guy. You almost didn’t watch when he pretended to hold him by his web and swinged him over the void.

But then he put him against a wall and wedged him with more webs than he needed. That was the moment Peter finally turned to you, still in the middle of the rooftop like a poor animal that got lost here. “You’re okay?” he asked you, removing some of his webs from your clothes.

“I just need to take a shower.” You laughed, and you swore you saw him smile behind his mask. “Ready for the slope?” he grabbed you by the waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Before you left, you saw the criminal winked at you. As an only answer, you put your face against Peter’s body. That wink haunted you for weeks.

It still haunted you these days.

You were scared to tell Peter the truth. You almost didn’t, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions about what you were doing in life. You were just going on dates. Simple dates.

Simple dates that turned to more serious one once love took its place in your relationship. And the day Peter noticed the bruises on your arms, you knew you didn’t have the heart to lie anymore.

“I’m working for a secret agency. I can’t tell you anything, Pete.” You knew he would want to know more. But you didn’t give him any information. You knew he would get mad. But you accepted it. You knew he would probably want to stop seeing you after weeks of lies and mystery. But you were ready to fight. You just had to let Peter pretended you were giving him enough space to think about wanting you back.

It took him only three days before knocking at your door. “What’s your lipstick?” was the first thing he asked when you opened the door at 2 a.m. You were going to sleep and were pretty confused at the question. Especially considering you were wearing no make-up. “I need to know, it’s too addictive. I feel like an addict that hasn’t touch his drug since the day I kissed you.” Peter didn’t wait for an answer. Fortunately, the one you were ready to give him was the one he chose to give you too. The way Peter kissed you was a promise, a kind of I will love you no matter what happened. No matter who you are.

You didn’t know if it was a form of punishment or a need of privacy, but since you weren’t talking about your professional life, Peter decided to not talk about Spiderman either. You hated that he felt like he needed to hide things from you because you were enabled to speak. Even if, in some way, it sounded logical.

After a few weeks, Peter finally started opening to you. “She was so small,” he cried in your arms after a mission that turned badly. You let him cry, you comforted him and thought about all the little girls you couldn’t save either in your job and who will lived in your heart forever. Those you couldn’t tell the names because it would blow your cover.

Sometimes, you thought about telling him the whole truth. When you woke up in the morning by his sides, after he went out for a mission in the night, and you didn’t hear him coming back. These times, he would always make sure you will feel him the first thing in the morning. So he would put his arm around you, sometimes he would have his nose buried in your hair -and you would know his night turned out worse than he thought. His legs would be tangled with yours. It was a way for Peter to show how much he cared about you and that he knew you cared as well. These mornings, you imagined waking him up and telling him everything.

But you knew the more days passed, the angrier Peter would be at you for hiding things and lying to him for so long. And the fear of losing him was taking over everything.

That was why you got scared the first time he told you he felt like someone was following him. “Maybe I’m wrong and just tired, I don’t know. But I swear this man was everywhere I look. Who goes to buy milk and flowers on the same day and in the same place?” he had this casual way of dealing with things, like it made no sense. But you could see in his eyes the confusion. He knew it wasn’t right.

“Someone who needs milk and flowers too.” You replied, kissing him to ease him. Something that worked since Peter didn’t speak about it the whole night. Not like he could, since his mouth was on you most of the time.

It happened again, the following day. When Peter was coming from May’s place. Just as he was about to shoot a web and go home through the sky, he noticed someone looking at him. “I’m telling you it was the same silhouette!” he kept telling you that night, after he made a huge detour to test the guy. This almost ended up in an argument when you tried to explain that he was hallucinating and Peter claiming that he wasn’t. “Someone is looking over me.”

“You’re a superhero, Peter. You can save yourself.” You didn’t mean to sound rude, just trying to make him remember that he was strongest in the story. Or at least, you hoped.

And then, it happened during your date. You were out in the same restaurant you go to every month, to celebrate your relationship. A romantic and kind of cheesy tradition you had and loved. You were laughing about something stupid Peter heard the other day when he saved a group of students and one of them wanted to ask him out. When suddenly, you noticed the change on his face. “Do you regret saying no?” you laughed but Peter looked more concerned.

“I think the guy who’s following me is behind you.” You frowned. You started to get bored of this whole story. Maybe it was simply a fan of Spiderman who understood that it was Peter behind the mask. That was what you said to reassure yourself.

“Ok, who’s the secret admirer?” you sighed, turning around discreetly to look at him. When you met the man’s eyes, you lost your breath. It only took you a second to know Peter was right: someone was indeed following him. And you were also right: that person knew who Peter was. When you turned around to face Peter, he immediately noticed how you looked sick. Like you saw a ghost. “We should leave Pete.” You mumbled and he nodded. For some reasons, but mainly because of your secret, Peter trusted you.

When you left the restaurant, Peter grabbed you by the waist and started climbing the wall. “We will always be safer in the sky that down there.” If only you were right, you thought, looking at the sky. For a brief second, you let yourself look down and you saw him. That man from the restaurant. Standing there, his arms crossed, looking at the both of you. No words could come out from your mouth. You were even scared to think about which one would come first: reassurance or truth?

Once you got home, you gain confidence again. You could face this easily. It wasn’t a stupid man that would make you put your life aside. “We should get to the police station tomorrow.” You told Peter, who was sitting on the couch, almost shivering. You could easily tell he was scared about the situation. It wasn’t the first time someone had something against him because he was Spiderman. But there was something different this time, like he couldn’t predict what would happen next.

“And what am I going to tell them? Except for Spiderman, that guy has no reason for following me.”

“Maybe you stole his wife.” You joked. Peter immediately looked at you and you put your hands up in the sky. “Not me idiot.”

“How could I know; you don’t tell me anything.” He sighed before getting up and walking to the bathroom. He needed some space, which you could understand. It wasn’t the right moment to bring that up. No when you knew the situation had something to do with you and your secrets. Once you heard the water running, you went to your chest of drawers and opened the secret trap you had put there. You hated the fact you were hiding something right in front of Peter’s eyes. No, he definitely deserved someone better than you.

You first felt the little notebook you started months ago, not long after you moved here. Just the feeling of the velvet cover made you shiver. Remembering all the information that were laid on paper and that shouldn’t be there. You then checked the weapons that were lying there, waiting to be used. You haven’t touched them in so long it almost felt like it was in another life. One where you didn’t let your heart decided for your action. One where you weren’t overthinking every little thing. Scared to you might lose the only good thing that happened in your life.

But you were reassured to know that if you needed them again, and you knew you would, there were still there.

You were on the balcony when you felt Peter’s big arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder. You loved his little kisses under your ear, the kind of little attention he loved to give you. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t get mad.” He whispered, letting his hands going lower on your body. “I know one day you will open up to me.” You froze. You weren’t so sure you would be able to do that. But still, you gave Peter hope by grabbing one of his hands and guiding it between your legs. “And even if you don’t, I will always love you [y/n]”.

You weren’t sure about that either.

It took the man two weeks to finally act.

You were working at a coffee, writing a report about a case when you got a call from an unknown ID. As much as you hated those, you always had to answer in case it was a secret informer. You didn’t hear a voice. But a song. The Spider and the Fly by the Rolling Stones was playing on your phone, like a secret message you immediately got. “I got your spider. What are you going to do now?” you then heard before the person hang up.

Luckily, you knew Peter had put a tracer on his suit in case he was missing, and you had to look for him. You could do it from your computer. You promised you would never use it except for emergency. You never did, even if you were sometimes curious to see what he knew or, more exactly, pretended to not know. But you had no other choice today than to look up. You recognized the address and the place quite easily.

It was the place you were living with Peter.

It didn’t take you long to get there. It was living your worst nightmare and the beginning of a brighter future one more time. At each step you were making, you were getting scarier of how you would find Peter. The idea of finding him in a bad shape because of you was driving you mad, you were this close to throw up. You would never have fought love would make you like this.

Just like you thought, it was a nightmare. For you and for Peter. He was tied to the wall with his own webs, like his powers turned against him. He looked miserable, you could only see his head, the rest of his body covered in white like a huge spider decided to cover him. You wanted to run to him, kiss him and helping get out of here. But the man was pointing his guns to him and to you, and you knew that one faux pas would cause your lover’s death.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s there, the other lovebird. You make such a cute couple.” He laughed. When you made another step, his laugh immediately stopped. “Don’t try to play with me, honey. We both know it’s not worth it.”

“I’m offering a simple deal. You give me what I want, and I give you your spider back. You don’t? You never see that pretty face again.” you could see how hard Peter was trying to defend himself, but if it was really his own webs that were keeping him tied then there was no chance, he would get out of this by himself. Hopefully, he would be too invested in saving himself to notice you weren’t asking more information about the deal.

“I have what you want.” You answered, looking at the same chest of drawers from the other night. The man pointed the gun towards it, letting you go there.

You could feel Peter’s eyes on you while you went there, opened the drawer and the little trap. Your secret was being exposed and you knew that he might not forgive you this time. You took the notebook out of there and showed it to the man, like a proof you weren’t lying. At the same time, Peter was discovering secrets he wished he never saw.

You made little steps toward them, and for the first time you noticed the bruises on Peter’s face. You fought the tears as hard as possible, but it was difficult to not break them when your lover was looking like that. Once you were closed enough, you stopped looking at Peter. Instead, you looked more confident than ever and handed the notebook to the man. “You can read it if you want, everything you need is in there.”

The man looked suspicious. “Open it for me.” You did, helping him read some of the first pages. You were praying that Peter couldn’t see a thing from where he was. The man finally put the gun which was pointed to you back in his pocket to grab your notebook. “I knew you were a good girl.”

You wanted until he made a step back and started reading again to take your own gun and shoot him directly in the hand, burning the notebook at the same time. His screams resonated on the rooftop and while he was still confused, you shoot him in the legs. He was now on the floor, screaming. You made sure to put his guns away before leaning to him. “Try again, and you won’t come back alive.”

After that, you called the police to tell them someone break into your house and was threatening you and your boyfriend with guns. You explained that you had no other choice than to shoot to protect yourself. While waiting for them to come, you helped Peter getting out his webs without a word. Too much to say but nothing being said. You were both too scared of what might come out of your mouth if you started looking for answers. You could tell from Peter’s look on you that he was at the same time confused, lost and disappointing. You were definitely hiding something he might never know about, now that the notebook was destroyed.

It wasn’t until 10 p.m. that you were finally alone together peacefully. Sure, there was still some blood marks, but you called someone to take care of that the next day. The man was taking care of by the police and you felt safe, for the first time in weeks. Or at least, as safe you can be with the sword of Damocles above your head.

“What happened?” you finally asked Peter, now that you were lying in bed together. You could only see his face with his black eye and some cuts, a proof he fought back before being held hostage. You were slowly brushing his hair, his head on your beast, like a child who had the worst nightmare. He had been distant all the past hours, which you could understand with the many secrets he discovered and saw in a few mattered of time: the trap, the weapons, you shooting a guy, you being able to give the man what he wanted…it was too much information. And for the night, Peter just needed to feel like everything was back to normal.

“I don’t know, I was coming home from a mission and that man was there. I was tired of him following him, so I tried to fight but he was…stronger? I’m not sure. I think he did something to me because next thing I know, I woke up on your wall, suffocating in my webs. That was…terrifying.” You kissed his hair slowly to comfort him.

You heard your phone buzzing from across the room. “Try to sleep, I’m coming back.” You kissed Peter’s forehead. You noticed how he closed his eyes immediately, too tired to fight for more minutes. You couldn’t help but smile at this sight. After almost losing him, you loved seeing him in your bed like this. Safe and relaxed.

You finally walked to your phone and looked at the text. You froze. It felt like a punch in the stomach. Like a cold shower. You looked up at Peter again, who was already sleeping and snoring slowly. You couldn’t deal with that right now. So, you simply switch off your phone and lay by your lover side. But even with your eyes closed, you could still read the text.

“Be careful. Someone will still take care of Spiderman if you don’t.”

[gretavandutchy]

a lover's plight | two

{sam kiszka x fem!reader} fake it til you make it collection: phase three!

summary: your ex never told his family that he broke your heart, and you begrudgingly agree to help him keep up appearances.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: language, angst! josh is a ray of sunshine

It was truly appalling just how easily you gave in to Sam Kiszka.

You'd laid awake until the first rays of the morning sun had crept in through your bedroom window, and hadn't moved a single muscle. You'd just laid there, your eyes unwavering as they counted the brushstrokes across the ceiling until they lost focus and you were blinking into the void. It was the sun that brought you back to reality, and you'd known the moment you sat up that you were going to Frankenmuth.

Your boss had been understanding as you had requested the day off and the following Monday as well, citing a family emergency. You had PTO sitting in the bank, more than you even knew what to do with, and you'd been reliable in the years you'd worked there. Rarely had you ever called in, only ever requesting vacations months in advance.

From there, you'd gone into a frenzy. You rushed through your morning routine, though you spent quite a while just standing under the showerhead and contemplating what, exactly, you were doing with your life. What the hell were you doing?

This was the same man who'd run you ragged for weeks, before ultimately walking out on you in a blaze of hurtful words and mistreatment. He'd walked out, and ghosted you, and left you to think you'd lost everything because he'd been too ashamed to tell his family what he had done. Even still, you wondered if he even knew what he had done.

For all you knew, he could have felt he was the victim in the situation. Did he? Had you done something, or said something, that had left him feeling justified in his actions?

Perhaps that was why you were making such a reckless decision to drag yourself all the way to Frankenmuth, just to help him keep his lies alive. You hoped, above all else, that in doing so you could get some sort of explanation. You were seeking closure, and that was all.

That's what you told yourself, anyways.

Recklessness aside, you weren't an idiot. You knew that deep down, some part of you was making the trip for more selfish reasons. You still missed him, and loved him, and getting a taste of what you'd lost so suddenly didn't seem all that bad.

It was going to hurt like a bitch when it all came crashing down, but you were prepared for that. If you came away from it all with the closure you needed so desperately, it would make it all worth it. You repeated the words to yourself like a mantra: this was for closure. This was for the ending you deserved, the respect that you deserved. Because, truly, you did deserve the respect of getting the answers you needed.

It only hit you just how stupid you were being when you passed the little sign welcoming you to Frankenmuth, home of the world's largest Christmas store. You'd been in such a hurry, flying about your house in a tizzy to get things squared away with work and pack your bags, that you'd forgotten the most important part.

You hadn't told Sam that you were coming.

There you were, driving down the familiar streets of your hometown with your bag in the backseat and a shaky grip on the steering wheel when the realization hit you. You'd never told Sam! What if he'd told them?

What if he'd told them the truth, admitting that the two of you were no longer together? If that were the case, then you were going to look insane just showing up out of the blue. You were going to look desperate, like a crazy ex-girlfriend, and the thoughts plagued you with each turn you took that brought you closer to the Kiszka family home.

As you turned into the driveway, practically functioning on autopilot because your mind was a million miles away, you accepted that it was too late. You'd decided your fate, and all you could do was roll with the punches. If you discovered that Sam had told them the truth, then you'd figure it out on the fly.

Maybe you could lie and say you were in town to visit your own family and had decided to stop by to say hello. It didn't seem very believable, and you knew that they'd probably speculate your honesty and question your true intentions, but it would have to do. Your family would be happy to see you, at least.

Your tires crunched along the gravel path until you came to a stop behind the last car in the line, cursing as you counted vehicles and realized they were all there. There was Josh's, and Jake's, and Sam's, and even Veronica's. They were all fucking there, and you nearly started hyperventilating.

Staring up at the house, you were frozen in place as you began panicking. Lying to Sam's parents was one thing; you'd mastered that during your teenage years spent lying about all the stupid shit the two of you had gotten up to. No, Mama Kiszka, we definitely aren't sexually active. No, Papa Kiszka, we aren't high--it's allergies! Yes, we promise we'll tell you and be safe if we start having sex! That wasn't me you heard sneaking out of the house last night, I was at home... you can even ask my parents.

But, Josh? Josh could read you like a fucking book. There was no lying to him, as far as you were concerned. If he asked the right questions, and you answered even slightly wrong, he'd call you out in a split second and it was all over.

As if the universe were laughing at you, the front door flew open and out popped the very head of curls you were thinking of. You were cursing mentally, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the two of you stared at each other for a long moment. Had Sam confessed? Did you look like an idiot?

Josh's face split into a huge grin, and he sprinted down the stairs to jog his way across the yard to your car. His feet were bare, causing him to screw up his face and hiss in pain once he hit the gravel, but he pushed on. Before you could unstick yourself from the steering wheel, he was throwing open your car door.

"Are you just gonna stare at the house all day, shithead?" he laughed, and you were shaking as you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out with the most awkward smile you'd ever worn around him, "I didn't think you were coming!"

This was even more awkward than the time Josh and Jake had walked in on you and Sam in a rather compromising position on the family sofa. "I didn't either," you forced a laugh, "I almost couldn't."

Josh wrapped you up in a hug, rocking you side to side and squeezing you so hard the air was forced out of your lungs. "You never miss a family weekend, what gives?" he asked, still wrapped around you like it had been years since the two of you had spoken. "Where have you been in general, poopy, I've been missing our movie nights!"

You scowled at the nickname, flipping him off the moment he released you from his death grip of a hug. When you and Sam had first started dating, your parents had decided to embarrass you by breaking out your baby photos. In the specific album they'd chosen, there was a series of photographs of you after a particularly epic diaper blow-out.

Sam, being the sweetheart that he was, had immediately gone home and told his brothers all about it. They'd gotten a kick out of it, and eventually, Josh had managed to find the album one night at your house so that he could see for himself. Thus, poopy had been born. The name stuck, and you'd lost hope years ago of ever escaping it.

"I've just been busy, you know?" you dismissed, waving your hand nonchalantly as you turned to dig your bag out of your backseat and also to hide your face from the man who could sniff out a lie better than anyone else.

He just hummed, raising one eyebrow at you before he snatched the duffle bag from your hands and slung it over his own shoulder. "That's all?" he asked, "You sure?"

He was already suspicious, and you tried to ignore the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. This was going to be hard to pull off. Sam may have been your boyfriend, the one you'd thought to be your soulmate, but Josh was arguably the one Kiszka boy who got you the most. You never ignored him, or avoided him, and you'd been doing that for weeks.

How would he not be concerned?

"Yeah, I promise," you reassured with a small smile, "I've just been getting my ass kicked at work. I almost couldn't get the time off to come out, which really upset Sam. I pulled a few strings at the last minute, though, and thought it might be nice to surprise him."

That earned a laugh, at least. Josh seemed to relax slightly, nudging your shoulder in a gesture to follow as he began to make his way back to the house. "I'm glad," he admitted, "the little shit's been pouting all morning. Locked himself in the bedroom the moment he got here and hasn't come out since."

It was a little funny hearing Josh refer to Sam as little, considering he was the shortest of the bunch, but you knew what he meant. "That bad, huh?" you chuckled, and he gave you a wide-eyed stare to convey his seriousness, "Are you all staying in the house like old times? Sharing a room, fighting over the bathroom, and all that fun stuff?"

You were momentarily transported back to simpler times when you and Sam had been teenagers in love. Memories of sneaking into their shared bedroom at night, slipping into Sam's bed as quietly as you could in an attempt to avoid waking the twins who were mere feet away. Sneaking into the living room when things grew risky, and hushed giggles and rushed kisses as he snuck you back outside before anyone woke up to catch you.

Very rarely did anyone ever catch you in the act, but they always knew. Josh and Jake loved to tease you about your relationship, making it very clear they were awake when the two of you thought you were being so sneaky. Karen and Kelly didn't like to admit just how aware they were, more privy to giving the two of you stern looks and making you sweat, but there had been plenty of occasions that they'd sat you both down on that same sofa and reprimanded you.

"Nah," Josh replied as he opened the door, letting you head inside first, "Sam got here first and staked his claim on the room, so Jake and I are either gonna split a hotel or take the couches."

Grinning, you joked, "What, you don't want to share a room like you're kids again?"

He gave you a pointed look, thrusting your bag into your chest and laughing when you huffed. "Now that you're here? Hell, no. I got enough of listening to you two think you were quiet when we actually were kids." he retorted, "Go make him stop sulking, please. Mom's about ready to lose it."

Josh didn't stick around to hear your protests, proud to have the last word as he swaggered away and back to whatever he'd been doing before you had arrived. For a few seconds, you took the time to feel relieved that he seemed to have bought it. Clearly, Sam hadn't said anything, and you'd convinced your biggest threat that things were okay.

Now, all that was left was to face Sam.

The butterflies that swarmed the pit of your stomach felt more like hornets. You weren't sure what to expect. Would he be glad to see you? Or, would he be angry after the way you'd ended the phone call? Did you even care, really?

In all honesty, you did. You cared a lot, actually. You may have been upset, and hurting, but you didn't want Sam to be angry with you. Especially considering you'd just driven all the way to his family home with the intentions of playing who's the happy couple with him.

You bit the bullet and took purposeful steps toward the bedroom you'd spent so much of your time in. Each step seemed like another nail in your coffin, your gut twisting up tighter and tighter in fear, but you weren't stopping. You'd come this far, and you wanted that closure.

Still, you had to take a deep breath as you raised your fist and knocked gently on the closed door. You didn't wait for him to respond, already opening it as he groaned, "Mom, I just want to unpack and take a--"

"Hey," you interrupted, and you watched as he froze in place, hovering his hands over his suitcase, "I, uh, I decided to come."

Sam turned slowly, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. You watched, chewing at your cheek nervously as you waited for him to react. What if he told you to leave? Did you want him to?

Seeing him was hard. It was hard to believe that it had been almost a month since you'd seen his face in person. Weeks had gone by since you'd been in the same room as him, hearing his voice in the open air and seeing him physically standing before you.

It was strange. For so many years, you couldn't have gone a week without seeing him. That magnetic pull was still there, a little voice in your head urging you to reach out and touch him. Touch him, and see if he was real. It almost didn't seem real.

Fuck, you wanted to touch him.

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on your face as he waited for any sign that it was dangerous to tread closer. "I didn't think you would," he acknowledged, timidly, "I wouldn't have blamed you. I still won't, if you want to leave. Really, I don't--"

"Sam," you sighed, "shut up. I'm here because I want to be, okay? I'm not going to leave, I'm not going to change my mind, and I'm not going to freak out so you can stop looking at me like I'm going to hit you."

Sam let out a weak laugh, his shoulders dropping slightly before he brought a hand up to rake his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry," he grimaced, "I wouldn't blame you if you did, though. Hit me, I mean."

Mustering up the best smile you could manage, you joked, "Try not to give me a reason to, or I just might."

It wasn't so bad, you thought, mentally patting yourself on the back. You were doing good. You were being civil, and having a conversation with him without losing your temper or control. The urge to cry was everpresent, and your throat was a little tight with emotion, but it wasn't too bad.

"Can I hug you?"

Your throat grew a little tighter. He was asking to hug you. Asking, when you were so used to him just squeezing you up in his arms without any care in the world. What the hell had your life come to? This life didn't make any sense; a life where Sam was afraid to touch you, it didn't make sense at all.

Maybe it was weak of you, but you didn't care. Your voice was hoarse as you nodded, "Yeah, I think--I think that's okay."

And then, before you could blink, he was wrapped around you. His arms wound around your shoulders, cradling the back of your head and holding you closely, delicately. Your face was buried into his neck, his hair tickling your nose like it always did, and the familiar scent that engulfed you was like coming home.

For the first time since he'd slammed that door, you felt peace. The thought of that terrified you. It scared you because this wasn't coming home. This was closure; this was goodbye. After this, there would be nothing holding the two of you together anymore. Sam would tell his family the truth, and you would be all alone.

"I missed you," he whispered, so quietly you could barely hear him, "I missed this."

You didn't say it back, despite the way your heart was screaming that you missed him too. You'd always miss him. You just held him a little tighter, squeezing your hands behind his back and trying to keep yourself from crying.

Josh's voice rang out through the house, echoing down the hall and shattering the little bubble the two of you had created, "Hey, lovebirds! If Sam is done pouting, we're about to fire up the grill!"

"Let the games begin." you breathed, and Sam chuckled. You tried to ignore how hopeless it sounded.

TAGLIST! @theweightofstardust @alltimekp @sing-against-the-sky @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @myownparadise96 @tripthelight-fanfic @imdepressedaf1996 @caravelstan @gvfvanfleet @vulture-withafile @godblessmarywanna @brokenbellz @gretavanfleas @streamsofstardust @celestialfauna @honor-gvf @jakekiszkasguitarpick @peterr-parkourr @localhideaway @anneanirac @chalametpwk @stardustdanny @trplshotofdopamine @blissfulbellss @wriwrites if you would like to be tagged, send an ask!

[buckcurls]

Bold This Valentine’s With You

*Peaks out into the void* Hello, hello. So, I am super nervous because this is my first time actually writing fic for the fandom that isn’t me just writing a fic for my own eyes because I needed to get the plot out of my head. Anyway! This is my entry for the Valentine’s Gift 2022 exchange that @missmybuddie set up and I am excited to share it! So this is for @cosycrescent and I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~

There was something special about Valentine’s Day that had been missing from Buck’s life, even if he hadn’t realized it. Sure, memories of the day were tainted by a failed restaurant date and the reminder in the form of a scar to the throat, but otherwise he could see the appeal as time went on. For a while, he didn’t feel the urge to celebrate the day, given that romance did not seem to go his way.

Lately, his time seemed spent on just enjoying the day for his niece’s sake. The night before Valentine’s Day saw Buck on babysitting duty so her parents could have a date night before spending the entire holiday with their family of three. So Buck had planned on a crafting session that he knew would end up more of a mess than anything, but would be worth it.  

Seeing Jee-Yun get so excited over putting paint on her hands so she could make hearts on a piece of paper to surprise her mommy and daddy made Buck’s heart melt. Sure, his favorite white shirt now had red hand prints all over it from when the toddler excitedly patted his arm to show him her work. But it was worth it and he could always frame it to remember the day. It was a white shirt with red on it that he would be okay seeing.

Once Maddie and Chimney picked her up, and yes Chimney, Buck did see those tears in his eyes even if he tried to hide them upon seeing Jee-Yun’s gift, Buck got to work getting ready to go see his second pair of favorite people in the world.

Buck wasn’t going to have a lonely Valentine’s day this year. Sure, the year before sucked since he had been going through a breakup and Eddie was still gone from the team. But it also brought it Maddie and Chimney’s return and the beginning of what felt like a fracture in his life piecing itself together.

It took time for Buck and Eddie to find their footing as well, getting used to a new routine of seeing each other outside of work. Awkward small talks and avoiding conversations eventually led to an argument lasting a couple weeks. It was only then that they began to communicate, figuring out how to navigate topics they had not wanted to bring up.

All that was in the past though. They were a solid team, especially since Eddie did eventually come home to the 118. He had once assured Buck that he wasn’t the one being left behind, something that took Buck a while to figure out why it had hurt so much.

In the back of his mind, he always knew there was an attraction to his best friend. But he pushed it down, not wanting to risk the best thing that had ever happened to him. Both Eddie and Christopher meant too much to him to risk a confession that could lead to another fracture, one he wasn’t sure he could bounce back from.

So lost in thought, Buck almost missed the buzzing of his phone. Picking it up from the table where he left it, Buck smiled at Eddie’s text. 

You on your way, yet? Christopher is demanding heart shaped pancakes.

Buck chuckled and responded back, Of course, anything for my favorite Diaz.

Eddie responded with the pouting emoji, so Buck sent an eye roll back, adding on Don’t worry, you’re a close runner up. The wide smile emoji he got gave him butterflies in his stomach.

Buck gathered up the presents he had gotten for Eddie and Christopher, before heading over to their apartment for dinner. He was going to be spending the night and would spend the day with Eddie and Christopher. They had planned on breakfast before having a movie marathon. But Christopher had been insistent on Buck coming over the night before, even if he would be late on account of babysitting.

Once he arrived, Buck’s heart skipped a beat when Eddie opened the door, looking casual in a red henley and sweats. “Hey Buck,” he said softly.

“Hey Eddie! I hope you didn’t save me dinner. I got my fill of chicken nuggets and peas with my best girl.” He said, walking inside and making himself at home. His jacket went on the hook next to Eddie’s and he dropped his car keys in the little bowl by the front door. Behind him, Eddie watched him with a soft smile.

“Well, I did make enough in case you wanted some. Abuela had me on tamale duty today so I saved a few.”

Buck could feel his stomach grumbling and he grinned. “I will never say no to tamales. Thanks Eds. Where’s Christopher?”

“Right here! Hey Buck!” Christopher said as he rounded the corner from the hallway. Buck immediately met him in the middle to give him a big hug.

“Hey bud! You ready for tomorrow?” Buck said, feeling warm and happy now that he was in both their presence. It was a difference from being in his loft, and the more he recognized that feeling, the more he came to accept that it did feel like home when he was with the Diaz boys.

Christopher nodded, smiling brightly, “Dad said we could exchange cards right after breakfast.”

“He really wants to give you his present, is what he’s really saying.” Eddie added with a fond smile.

Buck let out a chuckle. “I’m excited too. I was thinking that we could have a slumber party out here and then just have a lazy morning, indoor picnic kind of thing?” He looked to Eddie for approval, and the look in Eddie’s eyes sent a shiver down his spine.

It was still difficult to sometimes get a read on Eddie’s feelings, even as he was beginning to open up, mostly to him. But lately, something in Eddie’s demeanor changed around Buck and it was something that had him hoping he wasn’t misreading. Now, it just made Buck feel tingly.

“I think that’s a great plan. Christopher, why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch while we get the living room set up?” Eddie suggested.

“Okay!” Christopher headed over to the couch while Eddie took Buck’s bag for him and placed it on the chair in the corner.

“You get the sheets and I’ll get the pillows?” Buck said as he headed down the hall.

“Works for me.” 

Within 15 minutes, they had everything they needed to have a sleepover in the living room. Buck went into the bathroom to get comfortable as well since the other two were already in PJ’s. He put on his blue sleep shirt and some long basketball shorts, red for the occasion.

Settling down in the pillows, it was late enough that it didn’t take long for Christopher to drift off. Buck could see out of the corner of his eye that Eddie was watching his son sleep with a soft smile. The glow from the television made them both look angelic and Buck wanted to commit it to memory.

When Eddie looked up at him, Buck blushed and tried to look away. “Hey,” Eddie said softly. Buck looked over at his friend. “I’m really glad you decided to spend the day with us tomorrow.” 

“Me too. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Buck said seriously, looking deep into his eyes. If this was any other moment, he would lean in, test the waters. But with Christopher right there, it felt too intimate. He settled for moving his arm, allowing it to gently brush where Eddie’s was resting above Christopher’s head. When he didn’t move away, Buck kept it there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Buck was the first one awake. And as much as he wanted to take in his two favorite people beside him, he decided to get up to make breakfast as promised. On the menu would be heart-shaped pancakes, which had sent Buck on a deep search for only the best cookie cutters to make it happen. 

(Maddie would later tell him that this was so corny but so perfectly him when he would tell her the story.)

Along with the pancakes would come a generous helping of bacon, sausage, and strawberries. Buck expertly weaved his way through the kitchen, finding the tools he needed and cleaning up as he went along. Eventually, he heard footsteps and turned to see Eddie coming in. “Morning.” He said, rubbing his eyes, looking impossibly cute not to kiss.

Buck had to look at the coffee maker to avoid that thought, pointing at it. “Morning sleepyhead. Coffee’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Eddie got two mugs down, making two cups of coffee. Black for himself and a dash of cream and sugar for Buck. It felt so domestic and Buck had to focus on not burning the pancakes.

“Christopher up?”

“Almost.” Eddie leaned against the refrigerator. “He’s really excited to give you his present.”

Buck smiled, “I can’t wait. And you? Did you get me something?” he mostly asked in a teasing tone, but then Eddie suddenly blushed. If he could make Eddie blush for the rest of his life, he would happily take that challenge.  “You did, didn’t you?”

Eddie smiled bashfully, looking anywhere but at Buck suddenly. “Maybe I did.” He appeared to be feeling bold now that his coffee was kicking in. “And you’ll be happy to know that I even decided not to cook.”

Buck put a hand to his heart. “No food poisoning on Valentine’s Day. Cap will be thrilled not to see me in a hospital bed this year.”

He laughed but Eddie just looked at him with a bemused expression. “Don’t burn the bacon.”

“I’m not-oh!” Buck immediately went back to what he was doing so he could salvage breakfast.

Eventually, the sounds of Christopher waking up had them plating their food and bringing it onto the blanket they designated as their picnic spot. 

After they ate, Christopher declared it was time for gifts. Even though Eddie seemed to have one extra gift in hand, he just gave Buck one, mouthing “Later” to him when he looked at him in confusion.

Buck focused on Christopher, trying not to think of the reason that Eddie had an extra present for him. Not that he was one to talk, with his own gift stashed away in hopes of seeing if his feelings were reciprocated. He wasn’t sure about doing this at first, but the longer he was here, the more he felt sure it was the right thing to do.

Christopher’s present consisted of a papier mache heart with a firefighter hat attached to it. A piece of paper was glued to it, saying “To my second favorite firefighter.”

Buck smiled, feeling tears in his eyes as he reached over to hug Christopher. “I love it buddy, thank you. I hope the number one spot is reserved for your dad.”

Christopher smiled cheekily. “Nah, that’s Ravi.”

Eddie looked absolutely affronted, but the twinkle in his eye let them know he knew his son was joking. “I’m just glad Buck hasn’t taken my spot.”

“Never, Eds.” Buck said seriously, but also with plenty of love.

Christopher got up and let them know he was going to get changed.

“Okay, bud.” Eddie replied before looking at Buck. “You like your gift? He worked hard on it.”

“I love it.” Buck was still amazed at the craftsmanship and he put the gift on top of his bag carefully so it wouldn’t get crushed. He decided now was a good time to give Eddie his gift and he took it out of his bag. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with nerves and he took a breath, not wanting to let the moment pass again.

He turned around to see Eddie standing close to him, leaving Buck feeling breathless. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Eddie looked towards the hallway before facing Buck again. “I know I already gave you a gift, but um, I got you something else. As you could clearly tell earlier.” He chuckled, embarrassed.

Buck smirked. “I did notice. You didn’t have to give me two gifts, Eddie.”

“I wanted to. The first one was silly.” It had been a joke card game that Eddie had discovered while bored one day scrolling on his phone. It was a whole bunch of cheesy valentine’s day quotes from different movies, figuring it would give Buck an edge when Chimney once more bemoaned the fact that the Buckleys in his life had sorely missed out on important cinematic experiences.

But why the second one then? 

Eddie took a deep breath. “Look, um, this is hard for me to get out and this present, it’s…it’s a way for me to hopefully get out what I wanted to give you.” He held the box in his hands, gently turned it over before holding it out to Buck. “But what do you give someone after you already gave them their heart?”

Buck knew exactly what Eddie meant. Once, he thought it was conditional on losing the man he loved more than anything in the world. But now he understood that Eddie was bringing him into their family, showing Buck that he belonged with them. He just didn’t know in what capacity that was. And now it seemed like there was more to that.

Gulping, Buck opened the gift and could see it was a box that could hold a necklace. He looked up at Eddie before opening the box. Inside sat a beautiful silver pendant, just big enough to hold two initials. ‘ED + EB.’

“Eddie…” Buck said softly, not daring to hope this meant what he thought it did. He stared at the necklace, even as Eddie began speaking, words that he focused on intently so he could transcribe them onto his heart.

“Buck, I spent so long denying myself of what I wanted. What I deserved. And I know it took a while, but I’m standing here right now, with my heart on the line here, and hoping that like always, you’ll be there to have my back.” Eddie’s hands reached out to take his and he looked up into those beautiful brown eyes. “Evan…I’m in love with you. I want us to be a family. You, me, Christopher. It’s all I want more than anything.”

Buck could only smile as he tried not to cry. It was as though every fiber of his being was bursting with happiness. All he could do was pick up the box he had been about to hand Eddie and gently push it into his hands.

“Open it.” He said.

Eddie could only go by the smile on Buck’s face as he opened the gift to reveal a heart shaped pin with the words inscribed ‘Eddie, Please Be Mine. My Heart Is Already Yours. Love, Buck.’

As soon as he could tell that Eddie had read the words, Buck spoke the words he had been dying to say for so long.

“Kiss me.”

Eddie smiled, leaning forward to press his lips against Buck’s. It was as though everything fell perfectly into place that this was where they belonged. Tomorrow, they would figure things out and how their new relationship would work. But for right now, in this perfect moment with their son just a room away, there was nothing better.

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous lover (part 4)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, not proof read

Word count : 2.6k

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - You're here - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

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

Sirius was slowly starting to desparate, it has been now almost three weeks seen he received the letter from that mysterious person and he had no idea who it could be. He and the marauders –with the help of Lily- had search for them among Evans’ friends, but none of them matched the headwriting or even admiting being the writer of the letter.

He is not that surprise, after all it was said in the letter that they didn’t know each other that well, and most of Lily’s friends were people he knew himself and was close to, but it was worth the shot he told himself.

He was in potion, lost in his own mind,  he didn’t hear someone calling next to him and he snapped out of his mind, “You said something ?” It was Y/N, his potion partner, despite being a slytherin, she was always nice, a bit discreet in class, even if he heard a story or two from Lily of little mischiefs she has done, the more time they spend together, the more he was surprised she was a slytherin.

“I was asking you to give me the mandrake leaves”, Sirius looked on his left were the leaves were, he then looked at the cauldron on the table, it had a greenish color with some pinkish sturls, bubbling heavely. He wasn’t paying attention at the beginning of the class so he had no idea on what that was, so he decide to just hand over the madrake leaves to Y/N.

She ground the ingredient before putting it in the cauldron who turned completly pink. She then looked at Sirius, “Are ok ? Y' look a bit.. Off"

Sirius straighten his back on his stool, trying to look more composed but he sighed, “Yeah yeah ‘t‘s just...”, he hesitated a bit, should he talk to her about it ? But she looked so concerned. “It’s just there is that person who gave me a letter a few weeks ago and I don’t know who it is. I’d like to meet them” He was playing with the little kiss card, he had since forgotten the feeling and the paper was slowly tearing up by being touch all the time.

Y/N simply smiled at him, “Yeah, I heard about it. Who knows, if you’re lucky maybe they heard about it too and will come to you ? Or send another letter ?”

Sirius just nob a little, he hoped she was right and that wasn’t just a one time thing. He decided to pay more attention for the rest of the class.

After the lesson of this morning, he went to the Great Hall with the marauders to eat, his stomach was rumbling louder than Peter’s snorring at night. At the table he thought about what Y/N had said, apparently some people had heard about his desire to find a mysterious lettermaker, maybe indeed they had heard of it and would send another one ? Maybe even directly talked to him ? He tried to not put his hopes too high but he couldn’t resist to look at the owl’s entry and wish to see one arrived for him, he wasn’t a patient person after all.

He tried to pay attention to what James was saying, something about the perfect plan to ask Lily on a date. “She will say yes !” the boy was confident.

“Of course, like the 437 other times” mocked Remus, his friend open his mouth agape, absolutly scandilise, “Don’t be a party pooper Moony ! Friends are s’pose to support each other !”, Sirius was about to retort something but his head snapped at the sound of wings flapping around, making his friends laugh. “You think you will have another letter ?” asked Peter.

Sirius sighed, “I hope so ! They can’t just send me a wholehearted letter and then send me obsoutely nothing ever again !”, he waited a bit and his eye widen when an owl landed in front of him with a letter decorated with stars in the beak, he was completly overjoyed. “NO WAY !!”, he screamed a bit, making heads turned to him, includind Y/N’s, who observed him from afar.

Sirius looked at the enveloppe, it had a new constellation draw on it, and didn’t wait to open the letter, completly ignoring the owl who was waiting for his reward, it’s Remus who ended up feeding the animal who then flew away, the marauders all looked at Sirius, waiting for a reaction, who just had the biggest grin on his face.

It was written in a beautiful emerauld green this time, with forget me not flowers as well as lilac, it smelled beautifully good and was quite soothing.

“Dear Sirius,

I heard you were looking for me ? I must admit that I’m flattered and happy you liked the first one so much, it warm my heart to know it had the reaction intended.

Looking at you from far away searching for me at the wrong place is very entertainning, that’s why I’m going to let you keep looking for me a moment”

Sirius open his mouth in shock. “What, what are they saying ?” James leaned accross the table, trying to see. “They wants to play a little, apperently it makes them laugh to see me struggle finding them”;

James laugh, “She seems fun !”, “Or he” told Sirius.

“FINE ! Wanna bet ? 5 gallons it’s a girl !”. Sirius stopped to think for a moment, he didn’t care of the gender of the person but he really wanted to bet with James, they did that often and it wasn’t a big deal in the end. “That’s a deal then, Prongs”. Sirius then went back to the letter.

“But since I am not a complete monster, I am going to give you a hint : I am not a gryffindor. And because I will dare to say I am quite generous, I am going to let you write to me too if you desire to do so. You may have noticed with the kiss from last time –that a hope you liked- I like inventing a few things, in the enveloppe you will find pieces of paper to stick to you letters, the charm of the paper will transcribe you’re message onto a parchment that I possess. I could tell you all the magic behind it but I will keep it for another if that interest you.

Game on Sirius Black ! 3 gallons you can’t find me before at least two months.

P.S : The pieces of paper are a new creation so it might malfunction, I will send you an update in ten days if I have no news from you, or you could always scream in the Great Hall if you want me to send something sooner”

Sirius looked in the void for a few second, ok, that was a lot of information to take at once, he let James took the letter so he could read it. He looked in the enveloppe and there were indeed five pieces of paper, he guessed it was singled used. He looked some more and was incredibly disappointed to not find any kiss in it. He had really hoped he could feel it again. Well, from them, when Sirius better explain to James what was the kiss he had felt, he put into an habit to kissed his friend good night to tease him, always getting a smack from Sirius in return.

“Wow, they seemed brillant” said Remus who had now th letter in hand before giving it back to Sirius. "Must be a ravenclaw” remarked Peter, that’s where they will be looking next. But for now, he couldn’t wait to write to them, the first thing he will do once back in the dorm.

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

And that’s what he did right away once the day ended, he thanked them for the letter, telling them how much it had helped him to feel better and how grateful he was for all the nice things they had said. Of course he took the challenge, he never back away from an opportunity to win, especially one such as this one, he had flirted a bet a date at Hogsmeade he will find them before those two months. He ended the letter by demending more kisses to use, obviously.

Once he was satisfied with it, he decided to try out the piece of paper to transfer the message. At first nothing happened, he was a bit scared the thing wouldn’t work, but when he was about to voice his worries, the lines started to shine of golden glow before slowly disappearing. Wow, they are brillant.

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

Sirius was more than happy to received a letter the next day, the paper had perfectly worked out ! That letter was way more casual, with less decoration, talking about the few past weeks with an added candy, their favourite one they said, Sirius made sure to note that somewhere in his mind as he was eating it, sour, just like he liked them.

He also was delighted to see they had added kisses with that letter, two, with three used each that made six in total, he used one right away, he had missed the feeling too much. He had to slap away James who wanted to try it out too, to see what was so great about them.

“C’mon Pads, you said it could be reused !” had he complain. “And it’s not like you’ll run out, now you can have more whenever !”, Sirius just threw bread at him, “Don’t you fucking dare Prongs, I wil envoy each one of them !”.

Him and the rest of the marauders have given up on searching on their own who the person was after a few days, they used energy for not much and apparently the anonymous person envoyed sending them in the wrong direction, Sirius having some akward conversation with people he barely knew to know if they were or not the person he was looking for. He decided rather to focus on the letters.

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

And that’s how Sirius and the anonymous penpal fell into a routine, he will write in the evening and have an answer the next day at lunch, writing to each other almost everyday. He smiled at the evolution of the letters, it became more natural, the penpal slowly loosen up the handwriting to a point were it would be impossible for someone who didn’t lived “the downfall to incomprehension” as he tease them about, but he loved that, it fell special to him to be able to read them so well when other struggled.

The marauders had read the letters occasionally when the penpal was giving hint of who they were, which was a rare occurrence, bu they had given up days ago. James had froaned at the letter, he thought he had seen it before but he couldn’t recall where, he simply pushed that idea in the back of his head.

He groaned a bit when they turned out to be a she, handing five gallons to James who simply sang “I told you so” over and over again. At that Sirius simply rolled his eyes and went back to the letter.

They were always written in colored ink, with always at least one doodle, often of flowers, especially roses, she apperently loved them very much. He keep that in mind among the other little details about her and the gifts he could bring her once they met. He also were given more kisses, some on the cheeks, or the hand, whether on the knuckles, fingers, the palm, he loved it all. He received one on his jaw that he absolutly loved, but he has teased her about it and so as a punishment he never received more of these.

Truth be told, Y/N was simply completly embarassed of what she has done, she send this one a day were she felt particulary bold and regretted it the very next day at Sirius’ teasing.

He also received some hugs. Boy did he loved those, they never lasted long enough for him. He finded them so comforting, and by the repetition of them, he could tell she was smaller than him and that had him completly melted. And he swore he almost passed out the day she sended her voice.

It wasn’t much, just “Have a nice day, Sirius !”, but he listened to it every single day, delighted when he was told it was unlimited. Y/N had took a big risk that time, but she really wanted to send him just that special one, he often told her how much it made him a bit sad that the hugs and kisses were so limited, so she sent that one line, modifiying her voice just enough to be a bit out of her ordinary one.

She wasn’t as scared as before to meet Sirius, after so many days speaking to each other, she would dare to say they were close, both had confessed in their letter deep secrets and insecurities, and they trusted each other enough to be vunerable with one another, she almost asked him to meet in the astronomy tower.

But a few things were preventing her to do so ; the bet, she was a slytherin after all and wasn’t going to lose to a gryffindor; her insecurity, despite feeling better than before, a big parts of her still was terrified to the idea of meeting him as the person he has been writing to for weeks, she didn’t know how she would react; and finally, she has heard Sirius badly talked about slytherin a few times, and she didn’t want to ruin everything because of who she was, she was proud to be a slytherin despite the surprise of many people to discover which house she was in, but depise that she had let her feelings for Sirius get in the way and now very selfishly didn’t want to let that go.

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

The two months were soon over, and Sirius still didn’t know who his penpal was, he wanted to win the bet but didn’t know how to at this point, with the tests and essays they recently had, he didn’t took the time to search for her. He was planning on asking her in his next letter if she will revealed herself by the end of the bet, hoping with all his being for her to say yes.

He was now in potion, sitting next to Y/N, both were silently taking notes, as for once, Sirius decided to stay quiet the whole time, he had a bit of struggle with this potion and he needed to focus, not used to have difficulties in class.

Y/N saw his struggle and decided to talk to him. “Do you need help with that potion, Black ?”

The boy looked at her for a few second and sighed, “Yeah, that one’s a bitch, can I burrow your notes ?”

Y/N hesitated a bit, not knowing if she should, she knew he could read her handwriting but didn’t know if he would put two and two together. She decided to hand them to him, after all she proposed her help and it would impolite to stop now, and she told herself he will probably not recognise it, some handwriting could look alike without being from the same person.

Sirius gave her a greatful smile, “Thanks Y/L/N”, she gave back a smile “No problem”, she put the rest of her stuff away and spoke without thinking, “Have a nice day Sirius !” and she got out.

Sirius immidiatly froze, was that ..?

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

Taglist : @blackpinkdolan  @jentaculargums @bruxa0007 @deathkat657 @theincredibledeadlyviper

[utterlyinevitable]

Darling Dom😘 kiss #4 for e&b? Please and thank you🌻

Again. 

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Becca Lao) Rating: Mature/NSFW Summary: It’s been three months since the incident. They haven’t been intimate since.. except today Becca thinks it’s time to try again.  Warning: Eludes to pregnancy termination/loss Trope: NSFW, Partnership, Pregnancy, In Love, Traumatic, Ethan POV. 

#4 …where it hurts. 

A/N: from the write a kiss list. Oh Petra thank you for requesting this 💚 I was seriously stuck on what to write for these beans for a very long time. One night I was in my feelings and spilled this out in the dead of night. It’s raw, got away from me and I’m not really sure there’s a coherent plotline. It’s also my very first attempt at smut.  This is in the DWHAF? universe with the intended audience of just you and me. I know you’re on hiatus right now and hope you’ll find this soon.  I love you 💕

A/N2: this is emotional porn. again, i have done ZERO editing to this. please be gentle. 

__________________

It hurts. 

Not physically, no. 

It’s an ache in the chest that never seems to heal. 

Becca thought she was ready. It has been months, after all. Three weeks was the recommended recovery time, her own proclivities chose six just to be safe. Just to make sure everything healed the way it should. 

The reality is it’s been three months.

They haven’t had sex since the week before she took that daunting test. 

Ethan hadn’t pushed her. It wasn’t his place too. And he had bigger worries than their libido - like the grim look on her face, and getting her back to work. Bringing the color back to her smile. Even when it did return, duller than before but there, he worried. 

If Ethan was being honest he hasn’t felt like it either. 

So Becca got to choose when they were ready to go farther than sweet kisses and soft above-waist caresses. 

She chose tonight; quite randomly Ethan must admit. Nothing about the day was very romantic nor inspiring, everything about it was the same mundane routine they’ve fallen into. 

The only difference being the hunger in her eyes as they left work and the fervent kisses up his arm and on his neck in the elevator up to their condo. The way she pulled him down to her lips the moment his key scraped against the lock of their door. Her determined fingers unbuttoning half his shirt before they’ve even crossed the threshold. Shoes tossed in the same motion as their tops. 

Ethan gathered her in his arms. Hiked her up around his waist carrying her to the bedroom. His lips never leaving her skin. It’s been so long it feels like the first time. The butterflies and electricity and static and wonton anticipation, he’s already hard and twitching just thinking about being in her again.

He sets her down on the bed as gracefully as a his inherent carnage would let him. Becca bounces on top of the memory foam, her fists gripping at his pants. 

Ethan playfully bats her away - a few fingers to her shoulder pushes her back towards the mattress. Now she’s laid out before him like so many times before - her open mouth and flush cheeks saying more than she has all day. 

He leans down to try to seductively remove her trousers, wants to try to have a semblance of lasting foreplay. Ethan wants her to be ready. Sure. Confident that it’s the right time. Becca wiggles with splendid impatience that has his devious smirk broadening. He peels the skin-tight pants off her legs and admires his woman. 

She’s in the most remarkable unremarkably mismatched lingerie - a horrendously lime green everyday bra and blue cotton panties. 

It’s his favorite sight to behold.

Then her hands are reaching for him, opening and closing like a toddler reaching for a parent. 

For a moment Ethan falters. 

For a moment he’s forced to remember why this time is special. 

Why he needs to be careful. 

That even though she hasn’t talked about it, it’s a heart wound that may never heal. 

Ethan swallows back the emotion that begins to build in his throat. The leftovers of which manifest in the glaze of his eyes. Mixes with every ounce of love for his beholder. 

He’s resigned to believe he’s made peace with what’s happened weeks ago. It wasn’t his place to get involved more so than as a supportive partner. He didn’t have a right to make any part of this about him. It may have been his baby but it wasn’t his body, his life on the line. He’d take a thousand more weeks like that one if it meant keeping Becca by his side.

Ethan laces his fingers through hers, uses her as an anchor to bring them closer together until their clasped hands are pressed into the mattress and he’s hovering above her. Until mandarin oranges and peony are in his nostrils. The smell of her mixed with the sweetness of sex starting to transpire on her skin. Until one of her legs hooks around his and pulls him closer. 

It’s a tender kiss with soft lips. Another to her jaw. To the other side. Peppers of pecks down her neck. His hands follow to free her breasts, tongue swirling around one nipple while the other is teased by the tips of his fingers. It’s the switches when she groans, perfect lustful reverberations. Then she’s wiggling more seeking friction between her legs, grinding against what she can get from his thigh.

Ethan can’t help but oblige.

Lips trailblazing the plain of her body, hands following until fingers curl in the waistband. Tugs one side then the other down. 

Becca lifts her hips eagerly. 

The motion shouldn’t have stopped Ethan in his tracks. 

But it did. 

He has to take another moment to appreciate this sight. Her. His Madonna. His siren. The love of his life. The woman who far surpasses any of his wildest dreams. 

His partner.

She feels his intense gaze - his azure eyes weighted down with so much love. It makes her uncomfortable. 

Bare and barren in front of him Becca throws her arms over her face. 

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want the attention - didn’t want the cloud of despair that hangs over her every moment of the day to rain on this one bit of normalcy. She wanted to get back to the way they were. Wanted to get so intoxicated on him that she didn’t feel anything anymore. 

She wanted to go back to before.

Ethan catches the shift. His hands are rubbing up and down her thighs comfortingly, and Becca feels one side of the bed dip below her hips.

The air is filled with terminal understanding.

His fingers are still grazing her upper thighs, to her hip bone, through her tuft to the other side and around again. Drawing a parallelogram around her most sensitive area. Sparking sensations she hasn’t felt in months and desensitizing her all the same.

Becca peeks out from her hiding place. Even in the dampened glow of Boston through the windows, she can see him so clearly. His eyes so dark and large, inviting and questioning. 

She forces a half smile. 

He responds with a kiss to her lips with every ounce of understanding he has to offer. 

His smiles matches her own when he receives a roll of her hips as his forefinger grazes the crease of her legs. Then he gets a moan of encouragement. She parts for him and his finger meets her labia, sticking out like always. He gives it the attention it deserves then dipping further into her folds. Wet and biologically ready. 

Further up he circles her clit and the little groan she makes is music to his ears. It’s a groan of pure satisfaction. Deep and pleasurable. Ethan looks over and Becca's eyes are shut once more. Enjoyably light and without creases. Like she’s lost in his touch. Her hands twirling in the sheets in anticipation for what’s to come.

Ethan shifts. Swift movements down the bed to kneel between her legs. She smells sweet and a little like chlorine and undoubtedly like sex and they have barely started yet. It settles deep in his abdomen, his cock twitches. 

He wants to keep going. 

He will keep going. 

He’ll worship her and bring her to ecstasy multiple times. 

But, before he does anything else, he leans over.

He leans over to place a delicate everlasting kiss to the inner area of her pubic bone. To the area she’s clutched and cried out in pain over. A quick recognition of what was, has been. 

They’ll never forget. 

But they’ll move on. 

They’ll make it better, together.

__________________________

a/n: woowee this was a doozy. can you see what i mean by i didn’t edit and just sent it off into the void? this was also my first attempt at smut so i hope it wasn’t cringe-central 🤞 

thank you for reading ♥

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations 

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[quirkisms]

OFF YOUR CHEST - M. TOGATA (i)

pairing: mirio togata x fem!reader

summary: Mirio tears himself apart, and you're there to heal the pieces.

word count: 2k

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, strangers(ish) to lovers, AU where UA is college, not highschool (i dont want 2 write about minors), mirio is quirkless and is Dealing With It, slow burn, trauma and anxiety coping 

ao3

He splits another knuckle open.

It’s no different than any other exercise or training, but he’s different. He’s stronger now, and smarter but he’s still less. He punches the wall again, willing it to go through. For a second, he thinks he can feel the soft tendrils of the void past the surface beckoning him, urging him forth. It’s asking him where he’s been, that it missed him and that he’s back. For that second, it’s real. His hand is sinking through and he’s back.

But the rough texture of the wall sinks into the cuts he’s ripped into his skin and he’s pulling back, sucking in air through his teeth and withholding curses.

He cradles his right hand with his left, blood trailing down the grooves of the taught tendons on both battered hands.

Mirio’s chest is heaving, his breaths varying from deep to shallow, his heart rate erratic. The buzz in his pocket disrupts his stare at the red stains his punches had left.

TAMAKI

where r u

It hurts to curl his hand around the device, but he does anyway. He wipes the other hand on his pants before responding.

Training! What’s up?

TAMAKI

patrolling tn. just wanted to lyk

Okay - Stay safe! 😀

Mirio pockets his phone. He wants to manually rub the grime out of the cuts or even just leave them the way they are. The sting is a juxtaposition from how his life was before. No longer can he float in the nothingness, phase through infinity until he needs to come up for air.

He feels everything now.

He makes his way towards UA’s medical clinic. It’s late, past dinner at least, which means it’ll be empty save for one person. Recovery Girl doesn’t work the hours like she used to, not since you came in. The clinic after hours feels safe, secretive and his. You’re always there late, as far as Mirio knows. Since the first time he injured himself by pushing himself past his newfound limits (which were significantly less than what they used to be) you’d always been there when he’d sneak in.

Tonight, you were hunched over textbooks, highlighter dangling out of your mouth. If he could’ve, he would’ve lingered in the doorway to watch you. Instead, the few droplets of blood spilling from his hands alerted you of his presence. You peek over your shoulder at him before capping the marker and nodding for him to sit on one of the empty exam beds. It was routine.

“You outdid yourself this time,” You said as you cleaned the open wounds. He’d beaten the flesh raw, almost exposing bone and you wanted to scold him but you knew it was useless. He’d just brush you off with a shrug, a smile and tell you it’s not that big of a deal. Pain is part of getting stronger.

Mirio doesn’t respond. Instead, he chooses to let his eyes flick around the room. Recovery Girl’s absence is notable - no more jar of candy, and you’ve taken over her desk and littered it with your own knicknacks. Your textbooks, an All Might water bottle, a Kamui Woods pez dispenser. It’s cute, he thinks.

“Did you have a punching match with one of those hardening quirks?” You’re frowning as you pop a piece of jerky in your mouth. “Maybe Cementoss?”

“Cementoss,” he confirms, only because that would be the only way he’d have so much...particulate within the splits. Cementoss was made of rock, and Mirio would rather die than admit to you he was relentlessly punching a wall.

You snort, shaking your head as you chew. You both know he’s full of it, but you drop it. You always do.

A soft, blue glow escapes from underneath your hand. His hand feels fuzzy, like it's fallen asleep before it dissipates and you remove your hand, motioning for him to lift his other so you can begin the same process.

As you clean the other hand, Mirio watches you work. You ignore the weight of his gaze the best you can, focusing on repairing the skin and not how strong and smooth his fingers are. His hand is heavy in yours, and the glow of your quirk flickers as you lose focus imaging what his grip would feel like on you.

“Done,” you said, flicking your used gloves into the wastebasket by your feet. Mirio flexes his fingers. Healed. “Y’know, after all these visits,” You raise an eyebrow, “I think you owe me.”

Mirio looks up from his hands to tilt his head at you.

“Tell me how you really get these injuries,” you grab one of his hands loosely and run your thumb over the freshly regenerated skin.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Mirio gapes at you like a fish out of water, like you’re Thirteen and you’ve sucked all of the air out of the room. He pulls himself from your grip to rest his hands in his lap. He’s uncomfortable, uneasy now. He’s liked this place, liked you because questions weren’t asked that he had to give real answers to. It’s not betrayal that Mirio feels, it’s more like loss. It’s the loss that comes with the realization that you can’t outrun everything you want forever. With all the training, all the work Mirio had put in, he thought he could.

“They’re self-inflicted. The bruising, the wound placements. It’s like you’re training yourself to death.”

“It’s not like that - I’m fine, I promise!” Mirio throws his hands up in a defensive motion. He’s summoning the sunlight, the optimism and charm that swooned UA and motivated him to keep working, keep training, to save a million people. He can feel it churning in his chest, but it’s been pressed so deep he’s grasping at the edges and they don’t want to meet his fingertips.

Mirio knew you never believed his excuses - you knew he knew that and you’d been pulled thin between wanting to show concern and ask what was up and respecting his privacy. But at the previous state of his knuckles, you couldn’t drag your feet any longer.

You watch him, face soft and stoic. You’re not coddling, but you’re not cold either. He realizes that you’re just simply waiting.

“I just train too hard,” he gives in, just a little. You raise your eyebrows a fraction and he continues. “I have a lot to make up for, so I tend to overdo it!” He laughs it off - the injuries are a joke, truly. They’re funny to him.

“You get more banged up than Midoriya,” you look at him over the clear frame of the glasses you seem to only wear at the clinic. “How does your training get you more banged up than the other heroes?”

“I’m not a hero,” he’s quick to say, and it stings more than it should. He was, should’ve been, should be.

Your face is soft again, and it’s an art you’ve mastered over time. You’re good at composing your features to appear passive and static. In your many hero encounters, pity is the quickest way to lose trust. So you watch Mirio, with his soft smile and now long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He’s analyzing you just as you are him, and you keep your eyes from flicking to his knuckles when you respond with, “Okay.”

His stomach is churning, still sour with his words but he rubs his hands on his thighs. Why are they so sweaty?

In his distracted state, Mirio doesn’t notice you scribbling down something on a notecard shaped like an anatomical heart. You hand it to him, knocking him out of his trance.

Seven digits, followed by the letters 3G, and four more digits.

“What’s this?” he asks. Obviously the first line is your number, but you lost him with the rest.

“My number,” you aren’t looking at him. Instead you choose to refold the sleeves of your white coat as you continue, “and the passcode to get into my dorm building.”

Mirio does white. The passcode? Why would he need that?”

“I can’t be staying here late every night in case you show up.” You hated trudging back to your dorm on the nights he didn’t show, both eyelids and textbooks weighing you down. “Just stop by my dorm if it’s late like this.”

Mirio opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Floor 5F, my name is on the door.”

He closes his mouth and smiles, nodding and bowing in thanks. He doesn’t trust his voice, not right now. You’re packing up your textbooks as he exits the clinic.

It doesn’t hit him until he gets back to the 3A dorms that he doesn’t know your name.

He beats himself up about it the whole night. He wishes he could go into Tamaki’s room to distract himself, to ask him about the person who’s basically taken over Recovery Girl’s mantle. Tamaki frequented the clinic as well - used it as an excuse to get out of the heroics lessons and sleep. He’d definitely know your name, unlike his golden counterpart who visited her frequently and never thought to ask.

Mirio tried to comfort himself by thinking that maybe you didn’t know his name either. You’d never asked. But then again, Mirio is (was?) part of UA’s Big Three. The aftermath of the Shie Hassaikai was all anyone talked about for weeks. You’d definitely have to know who he was. Mirio Togata, the kid who lost his quirk. Le Million, the hero who gave and lost everything. You went to UA yourself - there was no way.

He didn’t want to be that sob story to you. But he was constantly coming to you with injuries - split knuckles, a dislocated shoulder, a torn achilles. Maybe he wasn’t exactly that sob story, but he knew you pitied him regardless. Maybe that’s why you always stayed so late - you felt bad for him.

The thoughts makes Mirio uncomfortable.

And so much so that to make himself feel better, he adds your number to his phone. Typing in the numbers, he thinks about how he likes that your handwriting was shitty. Another little thing you let him see, let him learn about you. In lieu of a name, he makes your contact name the stethoscope emoji. He laughs to himself when he saves the contact and types out a message:

How late is too late?

He hesitates, but hits send. It delivers, and after fifteen minutes, Mirio is worried he confused one of your twos for a seven or vice versa. Or, maybe he should’ve introduced himself instead of just sending you a basic question that revealed his identity in no way whatsoever. In the eighteenth minute, you buzz back a response.

🩺

Why?

Might break a bone tomorrow.

It only takes eleven minutes for you to respond this time, and Mirio hates that he’s counting.

🩺

I’ll be sure to eat breakfast then.

No later than midnight, tho.

Okay!

Seven minutes this time. He wasn’t expecting a response.

🩺

You don’t need an injury to stop by, you know.

Mirio grins. A real one.

If you insist. Still might have a scratch or two, though. 😀

Two minutes. Mirio is oblivious to the fact that you are cringing hard at his emoji usage.

🩺

don’t be taking advantage of my quirk :(

You’re right… promise you will be compensated for your time. 👍

It’s immediate.

If it’s not edible, I don’t want it.

Mirio decides he might take it a little easy when he trains tomorrow.

[mainviper]

since the valorant protocol discourages fraternization, how would Soviper hide their relationship?

Well the birthday is mine but I wrote this as a gift for you anon! I hope you enjoy!

Sova x Viper - Excuses

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Sabine knew she could never be intimate with someone within the protocol, she made the rules, she needed to settle an example and never fool herself again thinking about working with the same person you sleep with, hell, she couldn't even think about spending time with someone else THAT way ever again.

And Sova was insufferable since the beggining. Vipere just knew it was a matter of time that she loose control over him IF they ever get close. So she put a wall that worked until their first mission together. Why did they have to make such a great team ? Why that inexplicable sync ? The way both walked, feet by feet knowing every angle to cover, every utility to use, every bullet being shotted with a purpose.

She came back, making sure she never ever get in the same situation or something really serious could happen, because Sova was slowly breaking her wall without even realising. He is too much of a gentleman to ever notice, and if she wanted to go away she would just say it and of course he would respect it. But as easy as that sounds, she couldn't do it.

So when Brimstone came at her lab's door with a bunch of documents looking worried but certain, she knew it was a mission. A very specific one, that require not only her scientist brain but her battle training and why not ask Sova since he needed a sniper ? She rolled her eyes not wanting to, but he insisted.

Sova also had some doubts about being next to Viper. Not that he didn't want to, but because he knew his presence made her unconfortable as much as he liked being near the scientist, observing, learning, discussing things. He always waited for her, wanting so bad her attention, her eyes to glance at his presence whenever he entered the room. She made him had feelings long forgotten and he treasured her for that.

They had a reservation. Disguised as a couple, both packed and went away to kill some doppelgängers.

The housekeeper was very suspicious about their stay, and how distant they looked when arrived. Of course both were very cautios and looked inside every corner, every object, furniture, any decoration item that could have some sort of device or gadget spying on them. Nothing was found so while undercover, the controller took her space and remained silent just barely talking to the initiator when the room maid came into their room to clean.

It was enough. Mission accomplished, side by side again and that was that.

Two weeks later, another mission for them because apparently, they worked well together. Brim could always count on Sova to be there and Viper never came back with a failed mission. So their dynamic evolved, their synchrony developed more and more to a point that basic things like reloading were timed by heart.

They became partners and were almost always assigned together.

And some speculation begun, gossip at the HQ's corridors about how they were together.

But Viper shutted everyone down making very clear that she made the "no fraternization" rule for a reason and she would never, under any circunstances, be such a hypocrite. She als said that romance were inevitable for some people, the time that some of the agents spend together and the constant danger they're in could bring up these feelings so that was the reason she decided that "discouraging" was the right therm for that.

"It doesn't mean it's forbbiden, but it's also non acceptable."

So if any couple within the protocol could never work together under the same cathegory or mission, how could she be always partnered with him ?

Viper also stopped showing up at the common areas whenever Sova was around, she changed her training routine and for a while stopped doing work outside the HQ.

It hurted Sova. He was upset that some simple gossip could make Viper completely change her life, so he decided to talk to her face to face and demanded and explanation.

"An explanation ? For doing my job and trying to make this place safer ?"

How dare he ? The reason that rule existed was so no agent could ever be taken by surprised when another was killed on the battlefield. They couldn't afford that type of misbehaviour, they couldn't loose more lifes because X Agent was trying to save Y Agent. It had to be that way.

They had the best stats and that pettiness could cost a lot.

So he didn't give up, trying to understand how that type of behaviour would end the gossip around. He didn't want to admit that void she left, the way he was always worried about never telling Viper how important she was for him.

Sova convinced her for a mission after almost begging Brim to give it to them. It was supposed to be simple, just a little spy on enemy lines, watching far away what was going on. That night started calm, like nothing new was happening. But they should know better by now.

So when the two were discovered, knowing damn well they were surrounded, he took a deep breath and kissed her before anyone could catch them. A single tear left her eye, she kissed him back almost too afraid to let go and made up her mind. They had to go back, they had to live and be together for at least one night or she would loose her mind completely.

They jumped into the fire stairs taking all the equipments and shooting whoever came in their way. They took a taxi, a bus to another state, rented a car and finally after 4 hours they went to one of those cheap hotels and got some sleep.

Undercover as a couple, they spended the night there and called Brim on the other day. He said he was coming, that they had to wait for a couple of hours for the rescue and demanded them to not leave the room.

And while waiting, Viper kissed him again, devouring, savouring the moment with Sova. They made love, knowing that could never do again, memorizing every second of it.

When they arrived, the initiator and the controller tried to live their lives like nothing happened. But they seemed to always find themselves touching the other, they were always cornered ina small space at every training their lunch was always at the same time and their free time too.

One night Sova entered his room only to find a Viper shutting his mouth and closing the door. She needed him so much, she was flustered and really trying to keep on her toes, she scolded him saying Sova was trying to seduce her, that they could never do what they did EVER again.

An almost ofended Sova tried to argue but he realised she was coming closer and closer while arguing with him and just shutted her mouth with a kiss. That was the second time they made love, and it felt as amazing as the first, it was hard to go on after that.

Viper visited him three times before finally being able to talk about their boundaries under the protocol. She stopped the "we're not doing this" speech because it was useless to resist.

Their encounters happened when a lot of agents were away on missions, very late at night or very early in the morning. NEVER in public, always keeping distant being extremely cordial with the other, and soon the gossip stopped.

Everyone knew that Viper would never go against her own therms and rules, and she would be very strict with Sova. He also begun to go away for a while, counting the hours to see her.

They knew it was necessary, because they were certain about what would happen later.

And they did a lot of things together, talking about the past, the future and their personalities. Discovering and enjoying the company, cooking, reading and even massaging the other.

No one suspected what they did when they went on a mission by themselves, hell, even when they had other agents they would rent their rooms on the same floor or side by side.

After a while they lost the fear of being discovered, but they kept some precautions and safe words to know exactly how to handle every situation.

Until they didn't have to hide anymore.

But that's another story...