#maple maple maple maple ... even the word is so beautiful

[kiwiana-writes]

2024 Writing Round Up

Thanks to @cha-melodius for the tag a couple of days ago—I put this in draft to wait for my Christmas gift fic to be published, even though I still have a couple of 2024 deadlines remaining. This is... a long fucking list, so under the cut it goes. I’m tagging everyone mentioned below abs anyone else who wants to play!!

JANUARY

None of my love will go to waste [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,306 words] Henry has made peace with the fact that he's in love with his straight roommate. When he walks in on said "straight" roommate with a man, though, he may need to re-evaluate. [A gift for @clottedcreamfudge]

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,895 words] Five times Henry puts his foot in his mouth in front of his customer crush, and one time he puts his dick in his customer crush's mouth instead doesn't.

[PODFIC] Going Platinum [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2:11:26 long] Podfic of Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise

FEBRUARY

[PODFIC] but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1:03:31 long] Podfic of but if you could see us from a distance, you’d know i’ve always been so close to you by @anincompletelist

A thousand dreams that would awake me [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,935 words] Henry visits a sex club to get spanked the way he's craving.

MARCH

Pankakke [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 644 words] The first trickle of syrup that hits him is always the best. He gasps, opening up his batter bubbles to allow more in, writhing in pleasure as the maple tips his bottle until he's spent. Henry moans appreciatively as he absorbs the thick liquid, welcoming it in.

Thus may poor fools believe false teachers [RWRB; Oscar & Rafael; rated T; 1,808 words] Rafael's POV of the Dad's Way cancellation; a prequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) [a gift for @inexplicablymine]

APRIL

What a beautiful tone [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,345 words] First time rimming but make it really, really introspective.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,131 words] Alex is a senator; Henry is a prince who knows exactly what he wants.

Nature's infinite book of secrecy [RWRB; Alex/Henry, Oscar & Rafael; rated T; 1,981 words] Five times Rafael tried to figure out when Henry might propose and one time Oscar did something with that information; a sequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) [a gift for @cricketnationrise]

[PODFIC] …But My Boyfriend Is [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:16:40 long] Podfic of ...But My Boyfriend Is by @clottedcreamfudge

MAY

[PODFIC] kiss me like you love me [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:14:47 long] Podfic of kiss me like you love me by @getmehighonmagic

[PODFIC] You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 0:15:28 long] Podfic of You're So Attractive; How Did That Happen by @sparklepocalypse

[PODFIC] I Hear It (When I Look at You) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated M; 0:37:45 long] Podfic of I Hear It (When I Look at You) by @affectionatelyrs

[PODFIC + LIVE READ WHILE BAKING] An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated T; 0:38:29 long (podfic), 0:45:24 long (live read)] Podfic of An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat by @firenati0n

Like loving the stars themselves [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 7,219 words] Alex is a Time Lord, and time is complicated; Henry keeps meeting him out of order, and it's been a while.

Steep my senses in forgetfulness [The Pairing; Kit/Theo; rated G; 416 words] Theo can hear the way the ocean rolls up to the shore, lapping up over the beach before falling back, summoned into the chill of the Atlantic.

A Prince in the Pâtisserie [RWRB/The Pairing crossover; Alex/Henry, Kit/Theo; rated T; 588 words] “Parlez-vous anglais?” Alex Claremont-Diaz asks, his smile somehow even more blinding in person than it is on TV—and, yeah, maybe Kit only really started paying attention to US politics when Ellen Claremont was elected. Sue him. “I really hope so, cause I’m pretty sure Henry’s getting sick of translating for me.”

[PODFIC] No Ordinary Friend [The Pairing; Blond Calum/Ginger Calum; rated M; 0:22:25 long] Podfic of No Ordinary Friend by @cha-melodius

The wind in our free-flowing sails (and the liquor in our cocktails) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,889 words] Henry is a speakeasy bartender, and Alex is the surface for body shots. Then they fuck about it. That's the fic. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

When a man has fallen down upon his knees [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,886 words] Henry is a Broadway star, and Alex is his principal dresser. There are a LOT of quick changes. [A gift for @blueeyedgrlwrites]

A compass that fell silent at the sound of song [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,542 words] The golden age of piracy has come and gone, but every ending is a new beginning. [A gift for @cactusdragon517]

One day we'll be living in the stars [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated M; 1,262 words] Alex is a new settler on Mars, and Henry helps him settle in. So to speak. [A gift for @ashesfromashes]

JUNE

[PODFIC] Through His Stomach [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1:21:59 long] Podfic of Through His Stomach by @frostingway for @aroyallybigbangrwrb

With his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,110 words] Savile Row tailors have spacious dressing rooms. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

Just let me get that, slick back [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 2,069 words] Henry's hair is long, and Alex feels extremely normal about it. Honest.

A midnight medication (just show me where it hurts) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated T; 2,121 words] Henry became a paediatrician to help sick children—not to flirt with their adults. [A gift for @sail-not-drift]

JULY

Naturally adapted for bodily exertion [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 1,954 words] Alex and Henry are competitors in the Olympic Pentathlon... in 444BC. [A gift for @three-drink-amy]

Never want to live (or die) without you [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 9,999 words] Alex Claremont-Diaz is a pretty ordinary guy with a pretty ordinary life. He has a kinda shitty corporate law job, a nice apartment, and an incredibly sexy husband. It's a good life, overall. He's not anticipating any major changes to that life anytime soon. Major changes like, for example, eating some sketchy shellfish during a client lunch meeting and suddenly finding himself undead and with an irresistible craving for human flesh. You know. Hypothetically. (A Santa Clarita Diet AU)

I pictured you with other girls in love [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 5,187 words] Henry has an unfortunately physical reaction the first time he meets Alex... and it's not the one you're thinking of. [A gift for @sparklepocalypse]

AUGUST-SEPTEMBER

Brain break(down)

OCTOBER

SERIES: Kinktober 2024 [RWRB; various pairings; rated E; 40,000 words total]

Collars

Incubus/Succubus

Wax Play

Xenophilia

Somnophilia

Rough Sex

Nipple Orgasm [Alex/Nora]

Service Top

Tentacles

Cigar/Ash Play [Oscar/Rafael]

Hair Kink

Mutual Masturbation

Wing Kink

Magical Healing Dick

Boot Worship [Zahra/Shaan]

Biting

Hand/Finger Kink

Exhibitionism

Merpeople

Belly Bulge

Voice Kink

Fisting

Selfcest [39-year-old Henry/38-year-old Alex/19-year-old Alex]

Glory Hole

Double Penetration [June/Nora/Pez]

Orgasm Delay/Denial

Dry Humping

Dendrophilia

Omorashi, Humiliation [two prompts combined because I missed a day]

Sex Toys, Power Bottom, Knotting [all three prompts used for the last day of Kinktober!]

NOVEMBER

Someday your rainbow will come smiling through [Cinderella; trans man Cinderella/Cinderella's Prince; rated G; 3,108 words] A trans take on Cinderella [originally written as an original short story and shared on AO3 when it wasn't submitted for publication]

[WIP] Years of dreams just can't be wrong [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 13,330 words currently published] An Anastasia AU.

We gonna need some brand-new jeans [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 930 words] Finding a use for Thanksgiving leftovers. [Written for Smutsgiving 2024]

DECEMBER

Make heaven drowsy with the harmony [RWRB; Zahra/Shaan; rated M; 2,630 words] Zahra and Shaan's story before and alongside With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest). [A gift for @cricketnationrise for @fandomtrumpshate]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered [RWRB; Liam/Pez; rated E; 3,682 words] Five times Pez brings in something ridiculous to post to his friend in the States, and one time Liam has to put his foot down. [A gift for @onthewaytosomewhere for @fandomtrumpshate]

I only want you under my mistletoe [RWRB; Alex/Henry, Liam/Pez; rated E; 5,649 words] Pre-Christmas shopping is hell, but some retail workers make it more than bearable. [A gift for @everwitch-magiks]

[TBD by the end of the year] Inside you the time moves [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 10-20k] A gift for @amanita-fierce for @fandomtrumpshate

[TBD by the end of the year] All my promise and my pride (all my fear and all my fight) [RWRB; Alex/Henry; rated E; 10-20k] A gift for @larkral for @fandomtrumpshate

[5-puthyyy]

masterlist : agatha x rio / agathario x reader

⟹ read guidelines

✔ = complete

✖ = ongoing

☀ = fluff

☁ = angst

☂ = smut

★ = recommended

ｓｅｒｉｅｓ

the apprentice -- agathario x reader ✖

 ch.1 ⤐ ch.2 ⤐ ch.3 ⤐ ch.4 ⤐ ch.5 ⤐ ch.6 ⤐ ch.7 

summary: life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. they take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for... ☂ ★ ☁ ☀

ｏｎｅ－ｓｈｏｔｓ

the magick that binds us -- agatha x rio ☁ ☂

summary: 

“What exactly is your plan now, then?” Agatha asks, taking a different approach hoping to talk her way out of this, “You haven’t thought this through, clearly. Are you just going to stand there, gaping like a fish? Staring at what you can’t have?”

Rio snaps her head to Agatha, frowning at her words. “I already have you…” she claims, pulling her dagger out of her boot. Agatha gulps, clenching her hands into tight fists.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Agatha panics as Rio gently presses the blade to her neck, just above the collar of her buttoned shirt, “You can’t kill me. That’s not allowed.”

Rio grins, wide and wild. “Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart…I’m only giving you a little death.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Agatha tries to set Rio up but really she set herself up for a good old fashioned hate fuc---

you're looking a little green agatha x rio ☂ ☁

summary:

Rio waits a moment, sniffing deeply then sighing out and nuzzling her nose to Agatha’s skin. Gods, she missed this scent of dark Magick, of lavender and honey, of maple trees and something so distinctly Agatha. “Tell me you want me.”

Agatha’s jaw tightens, though her head movement opens up more of her neck for Rio. “I don’t.”

The Green Witch chuckles, her soft lips brushing against Agatha’s sensitive skin. “Ah, ah, ah…what did I just say? No lies,” Rio’s hand digs into the curve of Agatha’s hip, “Tell me you want me…and not her.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Rio's drawn to the powerful Magick of the hex and finds Agatha flirting with a powerful witch that isn't her. I cannot be blamed for the filth that follows

river of life -- agatha x rio ☀ ☁ ☂ ★

summary: 

“A gift?” She repeated, stepping forward. The dead witch’s protests were easily ignored now; Death’s only focus was Agatha. Agatha, smiling at her brightly, eyes as bright and wild as her hair.

“A gift. For you,” Agatha revealed, taking her own step forward. Her lips trembled slightly, maybe from the cold or maybe from her nerves, Death does not know. But what she does know is Agatha just killed someone for her.

“Me?” Death breathed out, eyes wide and completely hypnotised by the beautiful gesture done for her.

Agatha attempted to step even closer but realised this was as close as she could get. The tip of her nose was just inches away from Death’s, the proximity immediately causing a shiver to run up her spine. “For you…my love,” she breathed out in confession, eager for Death’s reaction.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Death is a simp and Agatha kills witches to court her.

(So also a simp)

[ratatatastic]

He looks so different with glasses 😂 did not recognize him at first

terribly funny how much more generic he can get with a thick frame of raybans like ive always believed the whole glasses as a disguise would never work irl but i got punked so hard that when i first saw him in glasses i was like "oh another man" glossed over him then felt the same sensation as when i forget to buy milk at the store, swiped back, scrutinised this for far longer than im comfortable admitting publicly and went "oh my god THATS MY MAN GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING"

[wewontbesleeping]

maple syrup <3

[tsukimirecs]

nekoma // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works + the synopsis for each fic belongs to the author who wrote the fic

kuroo tetsuro

taste test - kaientai

synopsis: when you taste the same thing as your soulmate, things get interesting

red all over - meldve

synopsis: you are trapped in an elevator with your work rival, kuroo. what else could go wrong?

your name - tsukisemi

synopsis: kuroo finds you really cute, too bad you keep giving him a fake name every time you come into the coffee shop he works at

public transit - orphan_account

synopsis: your heart pounded, knowing you were being touched, and he was watching you.

but when he loves me - sweetcandyliar

synopsis: there are so many ways that kuroo tells you he loves you.

somewhere only we know - wanderwithme (wanderlustt)

synopsis: four times kuroo proposes to you - and the last time he does

meeting the boys - orphan_account

synopsis: in which no one really believes kuroo could get a girlfriend as incredible as you

落葉 | rakuyou - deltachye

synopsis: maple leaves are most beautiful in which they have died, falling slowly, waiting patiently to be reborn

riverbank - itsleese

synopsis: you're reminded of the little boy you loved way back then, the riverbank you played at together. maybe you should go see it?

caring cats - haikyuu_philia

synopsis: nekoma is family

disrupted meetings - sansos

synopsis: dr. tetsurou kuroo’s research group has transitioned to hosting meetings online. what could go wrong?

cat ears - just__j

synopsis: kuroo approaches you, captain of the girls club, with a proposition of a bet for the losing captain

kozume kenma

change the channel - alkale

synopsis: "i want to buy your game from you"

kodzuken does not have a girlfriend - bunnytime

synopsis: it has been a running joke that kodzuken lies about having a girlfriend for years now. needless to say, his fanbase is convinced he doesn’t really have a girlfriend

second place - yourqueenhasarrived

synopsis: kenma forgets your anniversary and once again pushes you aside for his gaming career. how much can you take?

an inconvenient crush - the_only_iris

synopsis: kenma has had the biggest crush on twitch streamer, (y/n). what happens when their paths cross?

learning process - nomazee

synopsis: you and kenma always had an interesting dynamic. kuroo found it nice for everyone involved

thank you for being a friend! - heichoe

synopsis: ”if it helps: when you gave kuroo head in high school, he said it was great"

yaku morisuke

who dares speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak) - sunmoonstarsrain

synopsis: yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze

artists eyes - teapots_and_teacups

synopsis: yaku was used to being ignored on the court

if only i were selfish - this noodle writes

synopsis: yaku was anything but a selfish man, but being selfless had cost him you once before. so, when he gets the chance to see you again, will he finally be selfish enough to try?

note: as you can tell, i'm trying a different recommendations style- what do you think? do you think i should switch back to the first one or is this one better? would love to know your thoughts

[macfrog]

epilogue sex on fire

once more for old time's sake, hm?

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: guess who's getting married - and you're all invited.

warnings: age gap, alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, a weird bus metaphor. idk where it came from. but it works. enjoy!

word count: 6.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

It passes in the blink of an eye.

Letting go of your mom’s hand at the school gates; forgetting when you next reached for it. Dancing around a laptop with an acceptance email from your first-choice college onscreen. Walking into a new job with a broken heart; walking out whole again.

All in the blink of an eye.

Joel says it too, as he scrolls through floorplans.

“…Used to be Tommy’s room, way back when,” he swipes to the next screenshot, “I thought it’d look good if we – we took down this wall, and – you see?”

You nod, twisting the hem of your T-shirt around your finger, and curl a little closer into his chest.

He still smells like the fresh coconut bodywash he stole from your bag. The sweet scent that he lathered up and let spill down your tummy, foamy bubbles slipping over your hips.

Under the rainfall shower, he massaged all the pain away. The sweet ache of three hours spent rolling around the bed of your bridal suite, letting him hold you and kiss you and fill you in ways only he has ever done.

You can still feel the heat of him between your legs. You miss him there.

“I see,” you whisper, tucking in beneath his chin.

Joel kisses your head. “You okay? You’re quiet, baby.”

“Just listening,” you reply, and he locks his phone.

“Maybe that’s enough Maple talk for the night, hm? We oughta be relaxing, getting ready for tomorrow.”

“No,” you turn in his grasp, “I wanna see what you’re doing with it. I think it���ll look good, Joel. Did you get the home report yet?”

He slides his phone onto the nightstand and wraps his arms around you. “Not yet. Soon as the work’s done.”

“It’ll look brand new. Totally different.”

“Mhm,” he smiles, “Sure will.”

You lay down on his chest, trimmed hair tickling your cheek. His heartbeat is familiar against your ear. It still skips a beat, even four years in. Still quickens anytime your hand falls over it.

“Are you ready to let go of the place?”

Joel takes a deep breath. “I guess I have to be,” he says, though the words tremble in his throat. It’s not often you catch him feeling uncertain. “Mom’s gone, Tommy said he don’t want it. Unless we pack up ‘n move outta the city, place would just sit there – empty.”

“Hm. Too many memories to let it go to waste.”

“Well, they ain’t all good ones,” he admits, drawing circles on your shoulder.

You thought, that afternoon in your bedroom, that he’d shown you his whole hand. Thought you knew every suit, every card he held. All the things that made Joel who he was – perfectly polished.

The cars, the property, the jet. The company – Jesus, there ain’t a thing he seemed more natural at, than running a multimillion-dollar business. He made it look so goddamn easy.

It used to drive you insane – how together he was. The cracks you could barely see, he’d glued them so perfectly. The ease with which he could hold himself in one hand, and hold you in the other. Just take it all on his shoulders like it weighed nothing.

For every card of yours that was turned, though, Joel revealed another of his.

Maple hadn’t always been the postcard it so looked. White walls, red mailbox. Flowerbeds and slamming doors; two boys’ bikes and one empty dining chair. He told you things with a flash in his eye – and you were never sure whether it was the fire of fury or the salt of sadness.

Joel isn’t so seamless after all. He’s a mosaic of everything that has ever happened to him. Joy and pain, everything in between. A shattered collection of shards, shimmering in the sunlight.

He’s beautiful. For all the brokenness, all the stitched skin – he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He makes you feel beautiful, too.

“Well,” you say, “Maple raised you, so – I love it.”

He looks down at you like you’re brand new. Like it’s the first time he’s ever laid eyes on you.

Running his business looks natural, sure – but loving you comes as easily to Joel as breathing.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he says. “Bedtime.”

You groan into his chest, nose flat against the threads of silver. “Don’t wanna go to bed, Daddy,” you mumble.

He cups your head. “You’re nervous, huh?”

You nod between his pecs, and Joel laughs.

All this time, all the moments of doubt you’ve squashed with the toe of your shoe – and they still manage to creep back in. The corners of your vision still blur, the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. The scars have long closed, but the skin still remembers.

“You know I’m gonna be there, right?” he says. “The whole time. I’m kind of the one you’re marrying.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “So that’s who you are.”

He lifts his hands, mirrors your stupid smirk. “Pleased to meet you.”

“What if we don’t see each other? I mean – before…”

“We will,” he promises. “I’ll getcha at the bottom of the stairs.”

“’s gonna be a pretty hectic day, Joel. We might not have time –”

His chin lifts. His lips part, the way they do when he’s about to chew up your panicked gibbering. He takes a breath and, straight as the line of his brow, repeats himself.

“I will get you at the bottom of the stairs. Okay?”

Your frown melts. Okay, you mouth, and he pinches your nose.

“I love you. Now, sleep.”

He flicks the light off.

Four years. Four years passed in the blink of an eye.

Twelve hours after your leaving party, you were strolling through Lavender Oaks, hand in hand. Nothing to hide anymore, no one to convince – not even yourself. You loved him then, whether you really believed it or not. Whether you had the courage to look it straight in the face, or not.

You had loved him for a while, really. It was the last card you had to deal. And Joel knew, long before you’d admitted it to yourself. He’s always been the patient one, hasn’t he?

That night, then, deep in the belly of last summer. Some leafy, twinkling rooftop garden of a restaurant that you can’t even remember the name of, because all you remember is him. Loose collar, long day. Drinks menu in one hand, the other cradling yours.

He was tired, and you knew it. He’d hardly stopped since seven a.m., working all through lunch and straight to eight – but he’d promised you dinner that week. It was already Thursday, and he had a conference or a company retreat or whatever it was that weekend.

You can’t remember. All you remember is his face, the second you said –

When are you going to ask me to marry you?

Joel faltered for all of three seconds – though if he’d had a mouthful of wine, he’d probably have choked on it.

Tomorrow, he said. Yesterday. Now. Marry me.

You laughed. I’m serious. I want you to ask me.

Really? His smirk faded into something more earnest. He looked like a boy, the way his eyebrows lifted and his lip trembled. A boy who believed in magic. The candlelight flickered across his face, suddenly wide awake and glowing with life. Would you say yes?

Mhm. And I wouldn’t break it off two days later, neither.

Lucky me, he mused. He paused, then added, You know we don’t have to, right? I’m happy, baby. I’m happier than I ever thought… his voice wavered and he gulped, I’d be happy the rest of my life, the way we are.

Joel, you lifted his knuckles to your lips, I want to be your wife. I want you to be my husband. Just – just ask me. I’ll say yes.

He beamed back at you like some lovestruck fool. You suppose he was; suppose he had been since the moment he first saw you. A goner as soon as he opened that office door, as soon as he felt the way your hand fit so perfectly in his.

I love you, he said – for what felt like the millionth time. Somehow, he made it mean more each time.

I know, you replied, leaning over the table to kiss him. I love you, too.

In the blink of an eye, your life changed from lonely blue mornings to bright golden dawns. From two boxes of stuff and a Swiss cheese plant, to an entire office with your name on the door.

You collected stripe after stripe, took leap after stride; chased every promotion, every chance, every speck of something over the horizon. Life got busy, you worked your ass off – but for the first time ever, you felt like you were becoming something. Becoming someone.

Joel sat up through all your late nights at the kitchen table. He poured coffee after coffee, carried you to bed when you couldn’t stare at the laptop any longer. He carefully consoled and aptly controlled every stress-induced breakdown you ever had.

He bought you a peace lily to keep your monstera company. He held your hand at every work event you had. He promised you could do it, and slowly, surely, you realized he was right.

So when you told him you were ready – and only then – Joel traded that little gumball ring for a new one.

A real one.

It happened in Paris. He took you back to that same glitzy restaurant – the delicate wine and rich steak, the chandeliers and renaissance ceilings. He echoed every word of French you spoke in a little Austin accent; played footsie under the table and flirted like it was your first date.

He was nervous. Indestructible as he seems, he still has his tells. He played with your hands the whole night, asked if you were okay every second sip of his drink.

Yeah, you said, I’m good. You?

Yep. Yeah. Good.

Your hands are shaking.

He smirked. I’m on a date with a real pretty girl.

He could barely wait for the elevator to reach the suite. He kept closing in on you, pressing words into your neck and playing with the straps of your dress. I love you, I love you, I love you, he said, gripping your waist.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.

Everything sparkling – the champagne, the stars, the thousand and one candles he had lining the balcony. Everything golden – the tower, the ring, the feeling flooding through your chest. And in a shaking voice, on a shaking knee, with shaking hands you had to cup as he spoke, he asked you.

Easiest yes ever.

He’s already asleep. Head tipped back, snoring to the ceiling. He looks so cute that it makes you giggle.

“’night, baby,” you lull, and cuddle into his chest.

Joel’s alarm splits the morning at seven.

He reaches over to silence it, groans into his palm, and rubs his eyes open. “Mornin’, angel,” he sighs – same as always. The same two words that kick off damn near every single day since you got together.

“Morning,” you reply, and hug him tighter.

You watch as he comes to life. Stirring beneath you, heart fluttering against yours, skin still warm and sleepy. You’ve been awake for the last hour just watching him – fingers trailing the valleys of his collarbones, nose nuzzling into the rugged hinge of his jaw.

Sometimes you wonder if it’ll ever fade – the rush you feel when you see him. The way the world tinges pink, mutes for a moment or two – and Joel is the only thing in any of your senses.

He lifts his arms in a loud stretch, biceps popping. He sucks in a deep breath. “We should do something today.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

His lips turn. I dunno. “Make some lifelong vows, maybe.”

“Sounds boring,” you huff, pushing yourself up. You roll from his grasp and pad over to the bathroom. “Why don’t we grab lunch instead?”

“Boring?” Joel scoffs. He follows you to the sink and curves around you in a bear hug. “Spent over a hundred grand on this thing, Ms. Miller. You telling me we wasted our money?”

His hands sneak under the material of your tee, lifting it over your bare hips. There’s a weight building against the small of your back – another thing that kicks off nearly every single day. It sits heavy, twitching when you reach for your toothbrush and your ass ruts against him.

Joel hisses. “Goddamn, darlin’,” he grabs your hips and steadies you, “Easy on me, now.”

“I’m not the one groping.” You spin in his arms, toothbrush between your molars.

“Can’t help it –” he kisses your neck, “– when you look –” the other side, “– so sweet –” he lowers with a tiny groan, “– ‘n you taste –” he places a long, damp kiss to your tummy, “– even better.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Joel, we don’t have time for –”

“Sure we do,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue to your slit. “It’s us they’re waitin’ for.”

You drop your brush into the sink with a gasp. “Tommy’s gonna be here any second.

His eyes flash up to yours. “Who?”

He scoops your ass and pulls your thighs over his shoulder. Deft with it, a body he knows as well as his own by this point. A body he loves even more.

You open up for him like he never left. Still warm and wet from last night, still coming down from each high he took you to. Sometimes it feels like this is all you do. Sometimes, you wonder if there’s ever a time you feel more you, than when you’re wrapped around some part of him.

Joel’s voice reverberates through your body. He groans as he licks, nips and sucks between your legs, slowly easing you off the counter and onto his mouth.

You reach for his hair. The salt and pepper streaks, the bedhead only you ever get to see before he’s washed and groomed into that perfect shape of himself. A carefully carved shape, ruggedly handsome but intentional.

He’s more relaxed this way. Your way. Before the world seeps into him, before the suit and tie and hundred-dollar cologne. When only his sun has seen him, stirred him, swept her fingers across his broad chest and whispered sweet nothings in his ear.

Heat is pooling in your stomach, flooding through your veins. It’s cracking open your chest, drawing breath from your lungs. You grip the edge of the counter, back arching, hips rutting against Joel’s tongue – and you come.

He doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t miss a drop. He laps every second of it up, every pulse of your cunt, slowing only when you crumple against the mirror and sigh.

Your fingers swirl around his hair. Your body feels heavy with pleasure. The shock is still looping around your bones.

Joel kisses the inside of your thigh and stands, crossing his arms at your spine.

“I love you,” you hum, licking yourself from his lips.

He smiles. A dreamy, golden thing. Still just him and the sun. “Love you, too.”

This morning, of all mornings, might be cutting it fine. They’ve already started setting up downstairs. Twenty tables, one hundred and fifty chairs, one thousand roses, forty bottles of champagne, three grand behind the bar.

The last thing you need on the day of all days is for the bride and groom to be late.

Still. He’s rock solid and right there, throbbing against your tummy.

You slip your hand around him and squeeze, massaging his tip with your thumb.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He feigns offense. “Baby, we don’t have time,” he says, eyes on his cock as you guide him south.

“Shut up,” you breathe, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Ain’t saying no to that,” he replies, and his hips meet yours.

You groan in harmony, wrapping closer together. Joel finds a quick pace, body snapping into yours, holding you strong and steady in his arms.

“Jesus,” he pants, “Three times last night wasn’t enough for you, huh?”

“F-feels like it wasn’t enough for you, either.”

He laughs. “Forever wouldn’t be long enough in this little cunt, sweet girl. She’s too good to me. Loves her daddy, don’t she?”

You follow his gaze down, where his thick cock drags between your legs. Soaked with you, slick and shining with each thrust of his hips. Deeper and deeper, touching a part of you only he’s ever been able to reach. Pulling noises from your throat only he has ever been able to pull.

Joel rolls his forehead against yours and lifts your eyes to his, a messy kiss to your lips. “Like it when you watch,” he whispers. “You see how pretty she looks?”

“Mhm,” you hook an arm around his neck, “Feel so pretty, Daddy.”

“My beautiful girl.” His lips close around yours again, tongue hot and heady in your mouth. His pace stammers when you moan against him. He curses, hips jolting.

He’s close. All too close.

He won’t come before you. Not before he’s drawn another from your body, felt every pulse of your pussy around him. Not before he’s watched you fall apart; felt you collapse into his arms with it.

He slips out, kissing your temple to shush your petulant whine. “’s okay,” he folds your legs to your chest, “I gotcha. I’m here.”

Over his shoulder, the sun lights your reflection in the shower glass. His toned back, the swells of muscle across his shoulder. Hiding the shape of you from the morning – his moaning mess of a girl, gripping onto him and screaming into his chest.

She sobs his name and you taste it on your tongue. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Each one louder than the last, each one sorer.

The window is cracked open. Anyone might be walking under it.

And you like it, don’t you?

The chance that someone might hear. Might know exactly what Joel’s in here doing to you. Ruining you for anyone else, like he’s done a million times over.

It’s as though he lulls you into it. Like waves, starting in the pit of your belly and rolling outward. Heavier and deeper and sweeter, until your orgasm crashes over you in bursts of warmth.

Your arm tightens around Joel’s neck, brows knitting when you reach your peak. You keep your eyes locked on his, and he mirrors your expression.

“Oh, good girl, honey,” he rasps, pausing when his own high overcomes him. He twitches, little bursts of heat in your cunt before flooding the entire thing. He holds your hips flush against his until his cock stills and breath fills his lungs.

He pulls you against his chest and sits you back on the counter. If there’s one thing better than being fucked by him, it’s the comedown. The aftercare. The kissing, the fixing you back into shape.

Your pussy flutters around him. Your ear against his chest, you feel your heart beating in time with his.

Joel cups your head and dots kisses down to your shoulder. He makes to pull out, and you fuss.

“Stay,” you whimper, tugging on his arm.

He smiles. “Oh, baby, wish I could,” he squeezes your waist, “but I heard Tommy knockin’ on the door five minutes ago.”

He strolls back into the bedroom, massaging a knot out of his shoulder.

You sit, stunned, leaking all over the counter, before rushing through at his heels. “Asshole!” you hiss.

He chuckles as he pulls a hoodie over his head. “Couldn’t leave my lady unsatisfied, could I?”

You throw yourself into a pair of his pajama bottoms. “I think she’d have been fine with it, given your fucking brother is right outside.”

He swings the door wide open. You curl around one of his arms.

Tommy leans against the opposite wall, picking at his nails. He straightens, scratches his beard, and smacks his lips.

“Told you you’d sleep in, brother.”

Joel’s chin lifts. He nods, amused. “You did tell me that, yeah.”

You want to slap him for how cocky he definitely feels. His little brother is none the wiser.

The denim-donned Miller steps over the threshold and reaches for you, a bristly kiss to your cheek. “Mornin’, sweetheart. How you feelin’?”

“Good,” you lie.

“Nervous,” Joel corrects, cocking an eyebrow.

Tommy laughs. “Talk to Maria. She’ll calm you right down. She felt the exact same on our day.”

Their day. Almost ten years ago, back when you and Joel were strangers – and he and Tommy were as good as.

Credit to him, he put up with the pestering from both sides – that is, you and his mom – for six months, at the start of your relationship. Slowly – painfully slowly – he began to entertain the conversation. Never gonna happens turned into if it ever did happens.

He learned to unlock his jaw, to make eye contact with his mom when she talked about Tommy. He asked questions he hadn’t asked in years. He learned where he and his wife lived, what they named their son.

He learned that they’d had a spring wedding. He learned that Tommy’s best man was his drinking buddy. He fell quiet, and his mom knew to change the subject. On the drive home, he held your hand a little tighter than usual.

Six months which, in the end, felt less like convincing him – and more reassuring him. Yes, Tommy might ignore all of his calls. Maybe Maria might answer, and tell him in a hushed voice that now’s not really a great time, Joel.

Maybe his brother might pick up the phone himself, tell him to go straight to hell.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t hardly recognize his big brother’s voice, at first. There was a pause a few breaths too long right after Joel reintroduced himself – long enough that you thought you might’ve kicked him all the way back to square one. And then –

Well, shit, brother. How the hell have you been?

You spent your first anniversary in Jackson. You took Joel’s mom up there every year after. The brothers fit back together like they’d never been apart, like they’d never forgotten the shape of each other’s hug, the cut of the other’s good humor.

Tommy took you in like you’d been part of Joel even before either of them knew your name.

Your fiancé pulls you into a hug. He kisses your head and asks his brother to grab the elevator.

Tommy salutes as he turns down the hallway. “See you later, little sis.”

Joel holds your face and taps your nose. His lips twist in half a smile, half frown. “You gonna be okay?”

“Sure,” you sniffle. The sting of tears brims your waterline already and you blink them away. You’re hiding from him.

“I’m right downstairs if you need me,” he says, spotting you clear as day. “Just call.”

“Not supposed to see you before the ceremony.”

“Yeah,” Joel winces, “don’t think we’re supposed to have sex, either, but we broke that rule a long time ago, pretty girl.”

His hands are so big around yours. So steady, pulse loud only from your morning tryst – if at all. He plays with your fingers, straightens the ring on your third.

A sharp bell sounds. Tommy whistles for his brother. Your chest aches.

“Few more hours,” Joel says. “Few more hours and then we got the rest of forever, just you ‘n me.”

He wanders down to the elevator, turning inside. He leans against the back wall and crosses his arms. His eyes meet yours, lips curl in that trademark smirk of his, and the doors close.

The stairs are cold and breezy. The manor doors have been wide open all morning, guests filtering through, allowing the cool to cluster in each corner of the house.

It’s been a busy morning. Par for the course, so you hear. No bride gets through her wedding prep unscathed.

You’ve spent four ass-numbing hours dutifully planted in your chair, your nephew in your arms as something of a comfort blanket, eating fresh fruit and drinking cold champagne and promising not to touch your makeup after the artist is done with it.

Maria uses the light from the window opposite the top of the stairs to finish buttoning your dress. She balances on the second step, peering up at your trembling figure.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” she says.

“In the blink of an eye?” You scoff, but she nods.

“I’m serious. You won’t even feel it, and it’ll be over. You’ll be lying in bed tonight telling Joel, Maria was right.”

You clasp your fingers around your bouquet. “I’m sure he’ll love that.”

“He could stand to hear it more often.”

You giggle.

A pair of warm hands sweeps down your shoulders, turning you by the elbows. Her dress is a deep olive, spilling over her arms in waves of shining satin.

“Mom,” you breathe, leaning into her.

She smiles, pinching your cheek. “This is it,” she says simply, like it is as simple as tying your shoelaces. “Deep breaths.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of…” Your eyes scan the summery wallpaper behind her. It offers no answers. “…What if we’re not ready?”

She glowers. “Oh, yeah. Good point. I’m sure the man who flew you to Paris after two weeks is not ready to marry you. We should send everybody home.”

“It’s just a big deal,” you continue, “Lots of people downstairs.”

“No, there’s not. There’s not,” she cuts your protest, voice sharp, “There’s only one person in that room, and it’s him. And you’ve done scarier than this, right?”

Your head wobbles in weakened agreement.

She links her arm through yours. “I remember,” she leads you downstairs, “a little girl with shaking knees, boarding a bus to camp for the summer. I remember her teary face, her tiny hand waving goodbye from the back window. Ain’t this just the same?”

Your bridesmaids slip past, hoisting their silky dresses above their ankles as they tackle the winding staircase.

“Alright, well,” you sniff, “I was eleven when I went to camp, so. Significant difference.”

“I disagree,” she says. “It’s a scary thing to do when you’re eleven, and maybe getting married is a scary thing to do when you’re thirty. But you got on that bus because you wanted to, and you’re doing this because you want it, too. It’s simple, sweetheart.”

She pauses a step below. Her hands drop from yours. Her eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spoil her makeup.

“Sometimes,” she whispers, “we mistake fear for excitement. Butterflies can feel an awful lot like nerves. Sometimes, something scary can take a similar shape to something wonderful. And you never know the difference until you step on that bus.”

She takes another step down and you reach for her hands – the same way you reached for them at the school gates, twenty years ago.

“Mom –” you squeak, twisting your fingers around hers.

She kisses your knuckles. “You are going to live the happiest life with him, I just know it. You’re going to take such good care of each other.”

She skips off around the bend in the stairs, shawl flurrying. At the bottom, she crosses paths with someone, squeezes their sleeve with affection.

He sways into view slowly, carefully, like he’s trying not to spook. Hands in his pockets, suit sleek and smart. Beard trimmed as close as you’d allow, hair fixed as neat as he’d allow.

He cleans up good. He always has. If it weren’t for the handrail, you might faint into his arms.

When he speaks, his voice is light, warm, soft on your skin. Wraps around you and draws you in, safe and sound. Calls you home.

“There’s my girl.”

And you walk to him.

“Hi,” you say, voice soft, heels clicking.

Joel watches every step. His eyes loop up and down your figure, scanning from the swishing hem of your dress to the twinkle in your eyes. He’s somewhere between the widest grin you’ve ever seen on his face, and shattering into tears.

“Oh, darlin’,” he sighs as you twirl into his arms, “You are so beautiful.”

You straighten the flower in his pocket. “You’re pretty beautiful, too.”

You fall together, bodies magnetized. Joel’s chin lifts and your lips connect in a tender kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands travelling north along the figure-hugging material of your dress.

“Good choice,” he mumbles into your mouth.

“Mhm,” you reply, a joyful lilt to it. “Knew it was a winner.”

You stand for a moment, swaying together. Your arms crossed around his neck, his snug around your waist. Breathing one another in, steadying each other. Souls finding the other again.

Some last-minute guests scurry through the doors over his shoulder. Their footsteps echo through the hall as they find their seats. Joel holds you all the tighter.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. More than I’ve ever been, my whole life.”

“We can still call it off,” he smirks, “Take off on the honeymoon, never talk to any of these assholes again.”

He laughs when you do, relief blooming on his face.

“No, Joel,” you say. Your voice feels clearer, stronger with your body against his. “I love you. I love you so much, and I…I wanna get on the bus.”

His brows pinch. He tilts his head, scoops your jaw. “You…Wh–? What, baby?”

You nod to yourself, staring at his tie. “I wanna get on the bus,” you repeat, voice barely there.

He blinks down at you. His thumb strokes your cheek. He makes to reply – some dumbfounded quip, probably – when a voice splits you apart.

“Psst! You two!”

Your mom ducks her head out into the entrance hall. She clicks her fingers. “They need you up front, Miller.”

He nods and turns back to you, bending to look you in the eye. “Catch your breath,” he says. “Just a little while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you decide. “I’m ready.”

“Alright. Then let’s get on this goddamned bus, whatever the hell that means.”

The celebration is alive with a string melody, the tinkling of glasses, and bursts of sweet laughter.

Your cheeks ache from all the smiling. Your throat is dry from all the talking. And you don’t care. You could do this for the rest of your life, if Joel would let you.

Turns out getting married is pretty fun – once you’ve done it, that is. When all that’s left is to swing between tables, chat until you run out of breath, dance until your feet hurt. Eat until you feel sick, drink until your head dizzies, weep in the bathroom with your friends then reapply your makeup and repeat.

It’s a year-long effort with only a day’s payout – but as far as days go, it’s not half bad.

In the same grand hall you said I do in three hours ago – soaring windows with drapes strung to the heavens, pale flowers arranged on every table, chandeliers glistening overhead – you search for the one missing piece.

“Have you seen my husband?”

Drew scoffs as he approaches your spinning figure. Beer in one hand, his daughter in the other. He shakes his head, laughing.

“You ain’t used to saying that yet, are you?”

“Nope,” you pinch his daughter’s hands, “and I hope I never am.”

She squeals with laughter, kicking her legs under swirls of chiffon. She throws herself out of her father’s arms into yours and you catch her, perching her on your hip.

“Good for you, kid,” Drew says. “You deserve it. You both do.”

You smile and peer down at the toddler tugging on your diamond necklace. “Your uncle Joel bought me this,” you babble in her ear. “If it breaks, you’re one sorry individual.”

She giggles all the louder.

“Last I saw him,” Drew tilts his bottle towards the patio doors, “he was out on the terrace.”

Your eyes flit to the twinkling, dusky sky. “Alone?”

He shrugs. “Guess so.”

You pass his daughter back, fixing the bow on her dress. “I’ll find him. Thanks, Drew.”

The breeze breathes between the doors as you walk over. It’s a chilled night, but the fresh air is a welcome breather from the busy dancefloor.

Veiled by the sheer curtains, his figure relaxes against the balcony, staring out at the rolling lawn. He exhales a thick, scattered cloud of white to the sky. His head turns at the sound of your heels on the patio.

“Nice view, huh?”

Joel hums. His voice is clotted with tobacco. “Sure is, Mrs. Miller. Fine choice of venue.”

“Teamwork,” you reply, and pat your fingers against his palm in a weak high five. You cross your wrists over his shoulder and stare out at the mountains in the distance. “Out here all by yourself?”

“Just needed a moment. Take it all in.” He tilts the cigar in his hand. “Make use of my wedding gift from my best man.”

There’s a blanket of chill slowly settling over the valley. It hugs a little too tight around your bare arms. You shiver, nestling closer to Joel, and he straightens.

“Here, baby,” he says, shrugging his jacket off. He drapes it over your shoulders and rubs them warm. He plucks the cigar from its ashtray, offering it silently.

You scoff. “I’m not gonna like it.”

“I know,” Joel replies, “but we’re celebrating.”

The stick is heavier than you expected, dry and hard between your fingers. The cap is sliced, dampened by Joel’s lips.

He watches your mouth, smiling when you inhale. “Not too much,” he clasps your wrist lightly, “Only a little.”

It’s rancid, if you’re honest. Clogs your lungs with what feels like unbreathable heat, a sickly-sweet flavor that crinkles your nose. The smoke punches from your lungs in a broken cough. And once they’re clear – you lift the cigar for more.

“Alright,” Joel says, taking it back after a couple more puffs. “That’s enough, Kennedy. Like it?”

“Not bad,” you croak, stealing a swig of his champagne. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, ma’am.”

You lean into him, elbows on the railing, following his outstretched hand as he points out each mountain peak.

He talks about the years he and Tommy spent camping, the long fishing trips with his dad. Regales in excruciating detail the time he pitched his tent right by a cluster of poison ivy, and woke up covered in bloody, blotchy blisters.

He talks about all of it easier than he has in years. As though the dust has settled over the memories, the good and the bad, and all that’s left is to look. No more shifting things around in his mind, trying to find where it all fits. Everything is exactly where it needs to be.

After a while, he kisses your head. “Hey,” he says. “Congratulations.”

You lift your head. “You, too…?”

“You got married today.”

“Did I? Shit, I didn’t mean to.”

He flicks his eyebrows. “That something you saw yourself doing, five years ago?”

No. Not at all. But then my boss held my waist to his in a dive bar, and – you know the rest.

“Hm,” you flatten your lips, “No, but then – you’re not something I saw myself doing, five years ago.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Stay classy, pretty girl.”

You giggle. “I’d do anything, long as it’s with you. Mess around on the first date, fly to Paris on the second. Meet your mom, like, three weeks in.”

“You are not countin’ that lunch with James from accounting as our first date,” he protests. “That shitshow was not our first date.”

“You paid for my meal and you fucked me in the bathroom. Date.”

“No,” he points a telling finger in your direction, “No. If we have kids one day, they’re going to ask. We gotta get our story straight. Our first date was Paris. I took you to Paris.”

“Whatever you say, old man.” You bunch your shoulders, snuggling deeper into his jacket. “Deep down, you know the truth.”

“Can we change the subject?”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

He searches the skyline, plucking up courage when the last of the setting sun catches his eye. “Well,” he sounds nervous, “I thought I could give you your gift.”

You fiddle with your necklace. “I thought you already did.”

Joel shakes his head. He takes your wrists and lifts your hands. “Close your eyes.”

“If you drop a living thing into my hands, Miller,” you screw your eyes shut, “Divorce.”

“Uhuh,” he mutters.

He holds your hands in one of his. There’s the ruffling of linen, a faint jingling, a roaring cheer from inside.

There’s the cold kiss of metal in the cushion of your palm – tiny, featherlight – followed by a coiling, and something jagged.

You hold in a laugh, breathing nervously. “I’m scared,” you whisper, and Joel kisses the hinge of your wrist.

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I trust you.”

“Then, open.”

Your eyes flutter, and there he is. Still standing before you, still smiling. Still holding your hands. He nods down, and you look.

In your palms lies a small brass key. On the end of the chain, a single silver maple leaf tag. It winks back at you, moonlight reflected in its grooves.

You lift the key. It’s worn by time, metal nicked and imperfect. Brass a little tarnished. The leaf sways in your clutch.

“Maple?” you ask, and Joel nods. Your eyes begin to well.

“I know we’re happy in the city,” he says, “and I know it’s just some little paint-chipped house. It’s probably still got school reports ‘n shitty comics up in the attic. I just – God, I can’t shake it, baby.”

You look up at him, a question in your teary gaze.

“A little birdie once taught me,” he steps closer, “that it’s okay to lose things. To let ‘em go. I didn’t believe her at the time. I was scared. Scared to lose her, scared she might find something better. I reckon she was pretty scared, too, but – even when I thought I lost her, she came back.

“She said this thing about making new memories. Better memories. And I just can’t shake it.”

The words catch on your tongue on their way out. You’re only just now realizing how different life was before. Before him, before this. How empty and cold it felt, how little you noticed before the sun peered through the clouds and said something in a drawl laced with love and humor.

How quickly you ran into its warm, open arms.

Joel goes on. “The guys are making a real good job of it. They said there’s plenty potential, and you know it has that huge yard. Now, if you don’t want it, say the word and it’s gone. Out of our hands. But,” his voice breaks, “if you do, then – it’s yours, darlin’. It’s been yours since the moment you walked through the door.”

And, well – hasn’t everything?

The job was yours the very second you tiptoed into his office. He told you so himself. The job, the desk, the free trip to Europe. You walked into his life and flipped everything on its head, without even knowing it.

You worked for him for three years before anything ever happened. Three whole years of elbow nudges and fleeting glances and one too many questions about whoever the other was dating. Joel figures he loved you all that time. You figure you loved him, too.

You changed everything for him. From that first glance, the first meeting of your hands, nothing was ever the same. All of it, from the spare cabinet in his bathroom to the third finger on his left hand – it was all just waiting for you to make it your own.

Hasn’t Joel’s heart belonged to you since you first laid eyes on each other?

You turn the key between your fingers. The answer rolls along the tip of your tongue. The longer you stay quiet, the more nervous you know he’s feeling.

Your eyes meet his – and you smile.

“I want a porch swing.”

Joel chuckles. “Done.”

“And we host Thanksgiving every year.”

“Every year?” He almost grimaces.

You’re staring each other down. It’s as much a game as it is a genuine request, like most of what you do. Just as much teasing as sincere.

You nod. “Every. Year.”

“Okay,” he relents. “Anything else?”

Your eyes drift off behind him. Inside one of the windows, Drew and Rachel twirl their little girl in time with a familiar guitar melody. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter and they pick her up, spinning her around.

Joel glances over his shoulder. He breathes a laugh. “I’ll give you that tonight if you really want it.”

You lean into his chest and kiss his jaw. “I just want you.”

“You got me,” he says. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

The rest of the band kicks in. The raspy lead singer, the perky drum beat. The dancefloor fills some, hands thrown to the ceiling, glasses spilling over.

You bite down on a smile, eyes flitting to Joel’s.

He twists his shoe into the patio, nudging into your side. He extends his arm and you link yours through, following his lead inside. “Good song,” he mutters.

“Hm,” you agree. “Little before my time.”

[whirlybirbs]

— THE FOOL ; KYOJURO RENGOKU ; 煉獄

summary: all you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside to the ubuyashiki mansion's onsen. pairing: kyojuro rengoku / f!hashira!reader wc: 3.6k tags: set-pre season 1, rated T, hashira dynamics, kyojuro's impeccable manners, tengen uzui is a son of a bitch, good fluff, embarrassed flirting, slightly forbidden romance, retable reader insert who just wants to be left alone to bathe in peace a/n: don't look at me.

Your bones are tired. 

Not just your bones — but every ounce of marrow in those very bones. The expression 'bone tired'? Yea, it was written and smithed with you in mind. Tonight, you're the muse for true exhaustion — battered, bruised, and barely hanging on. 

The short walk up to the Ubuyashiki Mansion's onsen is proving formidable. 

Every muscle in your body aches and with each step closer, you pray you'll have a moment of quiet peace to yourself. After all, Shinobu insisted (read as threatened) that you soak in the hot spring after administering simple medical aid post-mission. 

Something, something, hot spring stimulates blood flow, blah, blah, strong healing properties.

All you wanted was to pass out in your room, but no. Here you are, dragging yourself (quite literally) up the mountainside through the willows of wisteria on a lantern-lit path to the hot spring.

Your geta catches on a root and you trip up, scoffing tiredly as you catch yourself and grumble a curse. Ow. Irritation simmers under your skin, and you wonder absently what's gotten into you. 

It normally takes more for you to be so... cranky. And openly so.

When you reach the gate of the onsen, your eye twitches.

Son of a —

There's Hashira abound tonight. 

"Look who's back from her little foray out East!"

Did Tengen need to be so loud? 

All the damn time?

The small, dimly lit spot is surrounded by wisteria and maple. The gravel crunches beneath your feet as you sigh and shut the red gate behind you, paying careful mind not to catch your fingers in the latch. Lanterns are perched on rocks, candles only beginning to run with wax in the evening air. The open-air bath overlooks the sprawling estate down the mountain. 

You sigh deeply from your chest, your eyes practically at half-mast when you turn around to snipe Tengen with an unamused look.

"Our dear Dream Hashira... you look like shit," comes the rogue commentary, "No offense, beautiful."

Tengen is at the far edge of the steaming bath with both arms outstretched along the edge. As always, he's taking up as much space as humanly possible. His silver hair hangs about his shoulders — and he even goes so far as to pin you with a rogueish smile. You stare flatly at him in response.

Then: the middle finger. 

"Woof. Tough crowd tonight," he rumbles as he slides a look towards a decidedly uninterested Sanemi. The Wind Hashira has his head hung back against the edge with a towel over his forehead — his eyes are closed. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was asleep. 

"Tengen, do me a favor," comes the gritted reply from the scarred man, "and shut the hell up." 

You motion plainly to Sanemi — the gesture says thank you — with your brows raising in silent agreeance. Even the act of speaking right now is all too much. 

"I must agree with Tengen," comes the wistful and soft voice of Muichiro Tokito as he lifts his chin from its submerged position; his hair is swimming about him. The Mist Hashira looks... almost peaceful; but his words are damning, "You do look like shit."

Somehow it's worse when Tokito says it.

That makes Sanemi lift his head and pry one eye open. 

You serve him an unenthused look from your spot by the benches. You hope for a bit of sympathy, but instead:

"...What the fuck happened to you?" comes his dry response to your current state of being. 

Which — fine, maybe it's fair. The others rarely ever see you in any state aside from perfect. You're meticulous about your appearance; from your uniform to your posture, you value perfection over all else. The devil that has always haunted you is the details. Perhaps it was your rigid upbringing, but regardless—

"Ah!" suddenly, there's a resoundingly warm voice booming across the small courtyard from the onsen's koshitsu, "I see you've returned, Lady— Oh... my, are you quite alright...?"

You've got to be kidding me.

Kyojuro Rengoku's face is twisted into genuine worry. He's standing in the middle of the path, his focus entirely on you. His hair is undone and the sunburst strands are spilling along his chest and back. There's a small cotton towel slung around his narrow waist. You purposefully level your eyes with his, not daring to let your gaze waver — and then you curse Kocho Shinobu a thousand times over for sending you here.  

(Tengen is smirking. You want to throw your sandal at his head.)

Finally, you speak. 

"I'm fine." 

You don't sound fine. You sound like a woman who'd endured being unceremoniously whipped about by a snake Demon in a swamp for three hours before she could finally land a killing blow. 

Kyojuro frowns. His eyes — like two gems of carnelian — are nearly glowing with concern. Those dark brows of his knit and you try to grit out a tight smile. It fails. It looks more like a wince than anything.

It's... pathetic.

"Perhaps a soak will help," the Flame Hashira offers gently. His tone is soft with pity.

Shit. Fuck. Damn it. Fucking Shinobu, fucking hot spring, fucking swamp demon, fucking—

Right. Right, a soak. It's the thing that Tengen Uzui is somehow singlehandedly making more unbearable — he's dragging Sanemi and Muichiro by the necks from the onsen — by leaving you alone with Rengoku. 

"Go on you two! We're just leaving anyways, right fellas?"

"Die," you spit hoarsly in his direction; your expression is flat.

Tengen throws you a wink. "Relax a little, pretty. You deserve it!"

You could still hit him with your geta. Maybe if you put enough force behind it, it could kill him. 

After all, he's been doing this ever since you let it slip about your little crush. 

And just when a girl thinks she can trust an ex-shinobi... never again. You don't care if Tengen is the one offering to buy the sake, you're never drinking with that man again. He's a gossip and a whore. A gossiping whore. A devoted husband-whore who gossips like no-fucking-other. 

Admitting to Tengen Uzui's stupid face that you've been avoiding Kyojuro Rengoku because of your feelings was the second worst mistake you ever made.

Your first worst mistake was not dragging your sorry ass back down the mountain after you and Kyojuro were left alone in the onsen. 

At least — at the very least — it's quieter now, even if the silence feels oddly intimate. 

You're thankful Kyojuro has retreated into the water of the bath; the distance allows you to ignore the burning pit in your gut at the thought of him and you together. In the onsen. Alone.

You've bathed alongside the other Hashira before. The whole lot of you are warriors. There's no shame in the body — and admittedly, you grew up around konyoku onsen in Tokyo. 

It wasn't the nakedness that was the problem. 

...Maybe it was a little bit of the nakedness. 

But, mostly the fact it's Kyojuro Rengoku: the kindest man you've ever met, a man whose smile is nearly as bright as the morning sun, a man whose laugh feels like a summer thunderstorm. A man who is tall, strong, and handsome. It's no small secret he's well-loved among the ranks; respected, admired, sought after... Who wouldn't make an attempt atcatching his eye? After all, he's capable, swift, courageous, honorable—

Having a heart attack.

He's having a heart attack.

I mean — it's you. And him. Alone. 

...Naked. And alone.

He himself could have strangled Tengen when the ex-shinobi scurried off, leaving him here — though he'd never admit it. That sneaky bastard is fully aware of Kyojuro's feelings towards you, and Kyojuro swears the Sound Hashira gets off on forcing him to confront the very thing he forbids himself to even dwell upon. 

Your voice pulls him from his enraptured internal monologue.

"I am fine," you break the silence as your fingers work at the obi around your waist in nervousness. Your back is to him, and as the grey kimono slips down your shoulders, he panics, "I swear."

"I'm not sure I've ever seen you in such a state as this," he tries to sound level, confident, as he turns in the water; suddenly the mountainside is very beautiful. Yes, very nice. Very... mountain-y. 

Kyojuro's eyes flick over his shoulder briefly, back at you.

He sees skin. More of your skin than he's ever seen. There are dimples at the base of your spine. Good god. He swallows tightly and turns his gaze forward once more. 

Even the act of shrugging your kimono off is enough to make you rasp. The ribs Shinobu had been so concerned about are protesting now. It's fine. Everything is fine. You peek over your shoulder. Relief floods you as you realize Rengoku's back is turned. 

Quickly, you slip into the onsen. It's the quickest you've moved all night. 

You plunge in deep, ignoring the burn of the water along of the more raw marks and bruises bitten into your skin. Your ribs wail in protest as you inhale sharply at the heat, and you try your best to coach your expression into unwavering when Kyojuro turns back around. 

"Better?"

All you can do is grunt from your submerged position.

That makes him laugh.

You try to memorize the warm sound and tuck it neatly into your heart. It's cute, the way his eyes scrunch when he laughs. You find yourself staring for a second before swallowing down your affections.

"Shinobu demanded I come," you explain slowly, lifting your hands and playing with the surface of the water, "If I had it my way, I'd be in bed."

Or murdering Tengen in his sleep.

"The hot springs are good for healing," Kyojuro chirps brightly, canting his head as he speaks almost as if he's going to reprimand you. His voice drops an octave, "You know that, Lady Hashira."

He's teasing you.

He's — he's seriously teasing you.

You're naked and he's teasing you.

You sink a little lower into the water and narrow your eyes at him — the act makes you look a bit like an angry, wet cat. Kyojuro can only grin. Truly this is rare form for you. Your disposition is usually sunny, if not well-manicured and mindfully well-mannered. You are every bit a Lady Hashira. Moreso than Shinobu or Mitsuri in a way. 

You are the Dream Pillar, after all, and a woman composed purely of romanticism in his eyes. It's the way he could see you, in another life, in a fine silk kimono and delicate make-up; he could see you in gold and pearls, pouring tea worth more than his monthly salary into fine ceramic cups. Suitors abound.

Though, perhaps that's not so different than now.

Not with the way you're delicately pouring yourself a helping of Tengen's abandoned sake at the edge of the onsen. You'd think it was the most expensive liquor in the land with the care you take to not spill a drop. 

You slide him a hesitant look over your shoulder, the water lapping at your bruised back. Kyojuro lifts a brow.

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence as you turn back to the task at hand, "It'd be a shame if it went to waste."

"I didn't know sake had healing properties," Kyojuro offers slowly, his lips twitching upwards as he watches you take a long sip from the cup.

"Something, something, blood flow," you murmur mostly to yourself, tossing back the rest with a scowl and a wince, "I'm sure Shinobu would agree."

Kyojuro leans back against the wall, sinking a little deeper as he settles onto the seat beneath the water. The ends of his hair are soaked, turning an even darker shade of crimson. His shoulders flex as he relaxes his arms against the stones. 

His own body is tired. Beneath the water, he absently stretches his legs and pays careful mind to the twinge of pain in his left knee.

"Whether she agrees or disagrees is none of my business," he supplies diplomatically.

You reach for the jug, giving it a light shake. It's nearly empty anyway. 

You extend it, offering it to Kyojuro.

The Flame Hashira shakes his head. "No thank you. I reserve drink for special occasions only."

You quirk a brow. Your tone is light. Airy, almost. "I didn't know that about you."

He hums. You place the sake down, sink lower into the water, and try to focus on his face — not the strength in his forearms, nor the water running in rivets down his chest. 

"My father has quite a love for the stuff," he admits with a controlled frown, "I avoid it when I can."

Ah. 

Right. 

Your own father, also a retired Hashira, voiced many a feeling about Shinjuro Rengoku when he was given the chance. You'd visited home months ago and when you mentioned serving alongside Kyojuro, his eyes narrowed dangerously and impeccably sharp. His tongue lashed out at you — as if you were the retired Flame Pillar himself. 

There's a history there, it seems.

"I apologize."

"Don't," he says; firm yet soft.

"It is better that way, really," you mumble in an attempt to soothe the ache you can see across his face, "Liquor leads to making many a fool."

Kyojuro's brow quirks. "You sound as though you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps," you say slyly, wandering to the far end of the pool. You're nearly submerged to your nose, "A lady shall never tell."

"And if I asked Tengen?"

"You wouldn't dare." The water splashes as you whip around and glare — though Kyojuro senses no real malice. 

It was no small secret you'd been dragged through the mud after you and Tengen's night on the town. Why the Master called a meeting that morning was beyond you, but there's a part of you that wonders if he was slightly amused at your less-than-pleasant state. You swore you were going to puke all over the engawa when you bowed — never mind the fact the morning sun's brightness was enough to nearly drill your brain into a pulp. 

Kyojuro had never seen you so... disheveled. 

Second to tonight, that is.

The Flame Hashira smirks. "If the lady forbades it, then who am I to ignore her wishes?"

Fucking Tengen, fucking Shinobu, fucking Kyojuro—

Fucking honorable, respectable, polite Kyojuro.

"Well, this lady does forbade it," you say with narrowed eyes, "So there."

"You really are in rare form this evening."

He's smirking. That's new.

"Yes, well," you mumble as you lull your head back and wet the rest of your hair; the warmth seeps through the strands and feels soothing on your scalp. You already feel better. Less like a swamp demon's plaything, more like a girl trying her best not to let her petal-mouthed feelings slip out, "We can blame Muzan Kibutsuji for that."

"I surmise it has been a difficult day?" he rumbles quietly from his spot in the onsen.

"You haven't the slightest idea."

"Care to enlighten me?" 

"And embarrass myself?" she mutters, splashing absently, "I'd prefer to remain capable in your eyes, Rengoku. I'll spare you the details. And anyone else who asks."

He's grinning. That sort that appears in an optimist's dream. Bright, sunny and so enrapturing it feels like your heart is being scorched by its warmth. 

"Your capability will never waver in my eyes," Kyojuro supplies as he flicks the water absently; his gaze has fallen to the sway of the wisteria in the evening air, "You are amazing. One particularly bad day does not diminish that fact."

Maybe it's the sake. Maybe it's the compliment. Either way, the tips of your ears feel warm. 

That little, nibbling feeling is back in his chest. The very one he's been trying his best to ignore for months. 

"You are only being kind," you mutter, "Because, as the other's made very clear, I look like shit." 

Kyojuro finds himself smiling a bit at the jest — his fingers glide along the top of the water, tracing idly patterns into it as he watches you sink deeper and deeper into the hot spring. Finally, for a moment, you descend below the surface.

Then, you break the surface slowly. Your hair is swimming around you, clinging to your bare shoulders. You exhale, brush water from your lashes, and inhale. You look... beautiful. A different sort of beautiful than he's used to. This sort of beauty is relaxed. Tired. You seem a bit freer than usual — unrestrained by the image you aim to keep well protected amongst the others. 

Kyojuro sinks a little deeper himself.

He's still watching you.

Your eyes find his. 

There's a moment where all you two can do is blink — Flame and Dream mingling for a breath beneath the stars. Wide eyes bound by a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation. He feels like all the breath has been swept from his lungs. All Kyojuro can do is stare into your eyes.

Then, he speaks.

Blurts, more aptly.

"You are beautiful."

...Did he just say that? 

Your lips part in quiet shock.

Suddenly, his posture is more rigid, and his expression a bit panicked — perhaps because your own eyes widen a mile at the words that spill from his mouth. Kyojuro raises his hands as he inhales sharply, the heat of the bath inching a degree hotter. Whether it's from the sudden admission or a misfire of his breathing technique, you're unsure. 

His cheeks are hot. He leans forward, shaking his head.

Damn you, Tengen. Damn you, damn you—

"I-I simply mean — you... You do not look like shit—" He attempts to explain.

"Oh—"

"Yes, yes, I—"

"Thank you," you say quickly, trying to calm your own racing heart as he swallows down a bought of embarrassment and offers a pained smile your way. It's enough to quell his panic.

"Of course," he breathes out, sagging a bit deeper into the water as he fiddles with his hands. He has a habit of rubbing at his callouses. Kyojuro swallows, then hoarsly admits: "One might think that I was drinking the sake with the way I'm making a fool of myself."

Your laugh is like a balm. 

"Hardly," you offer as you sink into the water with a smile; your eyes are glimmering with something a bit mischievous as you swim towards the water's edge. You pause, then slip a look his way over your bare shoulder, "...Do you mean it?"

"That I'm a fool? Of course."

You scoff quietly. Kyojuro's smile is tight — knowing. 

Then, he speaks warmly and kindly. He confirms your question with ease. His arms are wound across his chest. "You are truly beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever had the grace to lay eyes upon, my Lady." 

Maybe you could drown yourself here. 

You're not entirely sure how you'll ever recover from this — not from how tender he says it, not from how honest his words sound. So suddenly you feel as though he's hung every star in the sky for your eyes only, having wished upon them, time and time again, for nothing more than a moment of your time. It's reverent is what it is.

You're about to open your mouth and say something when a bright, girlish giggle cuts through the tension—

Kyojuro Rengoku has never been more thankful for Mitsuri Kanroji's ill timing. Behind her is Lady Shinobu. 

The pink and green-haired Hashira is ecstatic to find both yourself and Rengoku in the hot spring — her delight is palpable as she waves her arms and cheers brightly into the air. Her crow caws overhead. Her darker-haired counterpart levels them both with polite smiles.

"Oh, this is just lovely! My friends!" she's chirping as she closes the gate, "I am so glad to see you both back safe and sound—"

"Heading my advice, it seems," Shinobu says slowly — almost like she knows something you don't. Her pale, lilac eyes flick between you and Rengoku. For a moment, you almost suspect she's about to ask something.

"How are you feeling?" Mitsuri cries in your direction, shrugging her kimono off with ease — unbothered entirely by Rengoku's presence. The two are like brother and sister, and Mitsuri has never batted an eye about nudity, "How are your ribs?"

Kyojuro levels you with a look. 

You offer a sheepish grin. 

"Yes," Shinobu mutters as she slips out of her geta, "Four broken ribs."

Kyojuro's nostrils flare. "You said nothing about the sort."

You lift your chin in defiance. "I told you I was sparing you the details."

Mitsuri's bright eyes dart between the two of you — a little bit of giddiness blooming at the sight of Kyojuro looking so worried about their fellow Dream Hashira. 

He slides a look towards Kocho. Then rolls his shoulders. With a sigh, he moves to stand, the water lapping at his waist. You decidedly find the edge of the onsen very interesting as you try to coach yourself through the overwhelming urge to stare. 

"I trust you'll monitor her condition, Kocho," he murmurs as he moves through the water; the words sit nicely in your heart and you feel a little pride swell at his indication that he cares if you're alright, "I'll let you ladies have some time amongst yourselves."

You catch his eyes for a second. A moment. A lingering little breath that mingles between you — like Kocho and Mitsuri aren't there. Then, he stepped from the bath and gathered his robe.

For now, the two of you will pretend earlier never happened.

For now.

Just a little thing between the two of you — and suddenly, you're not so cranky. Once the muse for exhaustion, you're now the muse of lovesickness. 

When the gate closes behind Kyojuro, Kocho speaks.

"...What was all that?"

Nevermind. The crankiness is back.

"Shut up."

[eddiesxangel]

Could this be Fate? | Alpha!Eddie x Omega!Reader

CW: omegaverse, alpha!eddie, omega!reader, f!reader, strangers to lovers, typical omegaverse lore, mention of assault but nothing specific (not on reader), breeding, mention of suppressants, biting, oral (f), p in v.

4.1K words

S/o to @lesservillain and @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with this one 🥺💜

As Eddie leisurely wandered through the grocery store, his mind drifting through thoughts of daily tasks and work deadlines, he was suddenly stopped by an alluring fragrance. The mouth-watering scent of warm cinnamon, rich coffee, and a hint of maple filled the air, wrapping around him like a cozy embrace and awakening a deep longing. Despite the rarity of fated mates, Eddie's heart fluttered with new hope as he was irresistibly drawn toward the captivating aroma, igniting an unspoken quest within him to find its source.

At first, he thought it came from the bakery, but the closer he got, the more elusive the scent became. So, he followed the irresistible aroma, realizing he had never smelled anything so strongly.

The scent was like joy etched into his brain – the sweet essence of serotonin intertwining with his other senses. He finally understood what love was, and it called to him.

Eddie hurried ahead as the scent intensified, and there you stood, eying different cheeses. With your hair draped over your shoulder, you compared Brie and Camembert, deep in deliberation. You were oblivious to the alpha staring at you, mouth open in awe, until you inhaled deeply to make your choice, only to catch an unexpected aroma of leather and coffee.

You snapped your head up, forgetting about the cheese, overwhelmed by the aroma that invaded your space. You tucked your hair behind your ear to get a better view, and that's when you noticed him. He was strikingly handsome with rough edges. All hair, tattoos, and leather, yet there was an endearing look in his big, beautiful brown eyes that let you know he is kind.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat as your eyes met his. The colour of your eyes was unlike anything he had ever seen – a mesmerizing blend of rich hues that captured his attention, yet bright enough that he thought he saw stars.

"Hi," Eddie sighed, already lovestruck. His dorky smile was so endearing you couldn’t help but smile back at the stranger. 

“Hi,” it came out almost as a whisper. Your heart was racing, and your stomach did a flipflop. 

You have never felt like this before… like you needed to claim this man standing beside you… like you needed to mark him, to make him belong to you and you to him… yet you don’t even know his name.

“Hi,” he breathes again, not knowing what to say, making you giggle. 

“What would you pick?” You ask him, not wanting him to leave. 

“What?” He snaps out of his aroma high you put him in. 

“Brie or Camembert, what would you pick?” 

“You,” he says without a beat.

“Very smooth,” you try to hide your bashful smile as the blood rushed to your face so fast you swore you could hear it pumping through your skin. 

“I’m Edward… but you can call me Eddie.” He clears his throat. “Edward, but Eddie,” he stumbles his words and sticks out a tattooed hand. 

You take it, feeling sparks as your skin connects, and you both know it but are too scared to admit it. This was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it softly to commit it to memory. 

“You wanna shop around with me?” He scratches his head, not too sure what he is even saying. 

“Um,” you pause to think about it. “Yeah, I would.” You smile, and the breath Eddie was holding finally lets out. 

Spending time with Eddie was the best part of your day. Things had been rough for you, especially since you were running late to prepare for a get-together with friends Robin and Nancy. The stress about the charcuterie board and wine now seemed foolish; but seeing Eddie made all those worries vanish. You both share a magnetic connection, almost as if you're destined to be together.

Neither of you has voiced the idea of being fated mates, as that seems absurd and extremely rare. It's impossible to think he's your perfect match. Yet, as you continued through the grocery store, you both realized this was something different. Surprisingly, instead of feeling nervous around an alpha, you felt safer.

You have never met anyone who found their fated mate. You learned about them in health class, where you were told that you should recognize them by scent, attraction, and connection. However, they are so rare that statistics indicate only one in ten million people find their mate. Therefore, it seems impossible for this to happen to you.

When the girls came over, you couldn’t wait to tell them about the man you met today. 

“You always hear about ‘when you know you know,’ but this felt like I knew.” You babble. “It’s like I was seeing colour for the first time? But of course, I know what colours are, but it’s like… I don’t know….I sound crazy.” You shake your head.

“No, keep going!” Nancy encouraged. Her bright smile so genuine you couldn’t say no to her.

You take a long sip of your wine, “Do you guys believe in fated mates?” 

“I think they are real.” Robin nods.

“I think so too. There is no way all the stories can't have some truth behind them,” Nancy offered her thoughts, as she always did with such intelligence.

Based on what you described, they were utterly convinced he was your soulmate. The endless questions began—they wanted to hear every tiny, intimate detail, especially since they had never known anyone who experienced such a connection, let alone their closest friend. You vividly recounted how you felt an overwhelming urge for him to tear your clothes off and claim you right there in the dairy aisle. Yet, he was the epitome of a gentleman; he walked you to your car, pushed your cart for you, and meticulously loaded your bags into the trunk. If you had been a bus rider, you were certain he would have offered you a lift without hesitation. His disappointment was palpable when it came time for your goodbyes. This inexplicable connection lingered, though you waved off their comments, chalking it up to a whimsical notion of a hopeless romantic.

Just like he knew you were gushing about him, he calls while the girls are over. Thankfully, he had asked for your number in the parking lot before you had driven off. If he hadn’t, you would have asked for his; there was no way you weren’t seeing this guy again. You both lingered, not sure how to feel. You were both nervous, but he also made you feel safe, not something you were used to with an alpha. 

You had to quell Nancy and Robin’s excitement while they eavesdrop in on the conversation.

Eddie had asked you out for coffee, keeping it light and casual, instead of inviting you to his place. He was considerate of your need to be in a public space for safety. He didn’t have much money to spend on you, and coffee was easy and relaxed; he didn’t want to come off too strong; he had just finished high school a year ago and didn’t want to scare you away. The only thing he wanted was to keep you. He was aware of what some other alphas had done, often covered in the news—taking whomever they wanted, whenever they wanted, believing they were entitled just for existing. They acted like gods... but not Eddie. Eddie wanted to protect his omega and ensure you were never stressed. He felt a deep, primal urge to keep you safe.

Eddie didn’t fit into society’s archetypes about what alphas should be and look like, so when he started changing, he didn’t believe he was one until his first rut… that sure was something he didn’t expect. 

Sure, Eddie was different, but he was still an alpha; he wanted to claim, mark, and breed you. He pushed away x-rated thoughts of the two going at it in the grocery store parking lot. He knew it was too soon; only a crazy person would have the urge to want to mark a total stranger… to want to make them theirs…. to have them feel safe, and stop at nothing to do so.

You have been on Eddie’s mind every second since he met you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you soothed his soul, how he couldn’t even think straight.

So coffee on Tuesday afternoon seemed like a safe bet; thankfully, both of your schedule’s allowed it.

By the time it hit two o'clock, you were buzzing with excitement. Eddie was due any moment, and you couldn't stop fussing over your outfit. Did you seem too eager? Was your hair too big? Too much makeup? Or not enough? Your mind was a whirlwind of questions until the door speaker announced his arrival.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Eddie was on the other side, and all your worries floated away when you saw him with a bouquet. No one had ever gotten you flowers before… 

When Eddie came to pick you up, you initially didn’t have the heart to tell him that this coffee shop was your place of work, but all of that went by the wayside when Steve, your manager and another Alpha greeted you. 

“So, what brings you in on your day off? Can’t get enough of me?” Steve smirked at you, and Eddie had to swallow the burning jealousy that was bubbling to the surface. “I’m on a date.” You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. 

“Well, it’s about time someone snatched you up.” Steve winked at Eddie, and he could be strangling him right then and there. Eddie didn’t want to feel this way, but his alpha was taking over. He didn't appreciate the wink.

Eddie paid for your drinks and insisted you get a snack, so you picked your favourite muffin. Steve gave him the employee discount without his knowledge, but you said nothing. You wanted this to go well. 

Steve seemed like a good guy, but Eddie wasn’t a fan of your working so closely with another alpha. He had doubts; he hated how he smiled at you and how Steve could make you giggle. Eddie tried to push down the thought of the two of you working alone. 

You suggested you sit outside on the patio, away from prying ears.

“Are you sure this is okay? If I had known, I would have taken you somewhere else, like ice cream or something...” His leg bounced, and you could see how he was in his head. He felt like an idiot for thinking this would be an excellent first-date spot. 

You had sat across from him, but you scooted your chair closer and rested your hand on his knee. 

“I’m okay, Eddie. I promise. I’m happy to be with you. I don’t care about the setting… we have the best coffee anyway.” You giggle. 

Eddie melted at your touch; everything about you calmed him but riled him up. 

As first dates go, this had been the best one you’ve ever been on. You delved into each other's worlds; the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you can’t recall the last time you laughed so heartily. Eddie was loud, theatrical, and boisterous, and you relished every moment. 

He loved how attentively you listened to him and didn’t make him feel embarrassed about his nerdy interests. He was astonished by your genuine curiosity and the warmth with which you sought to understand him. 

Your heart raced when Eddie walked you to your door, only to kiss your lips tenderly. You had longed to kiss him throughout the entire evening, often holding yourself back from leaning in, but now that the date had concluded, you didn’t want him to leave. 

This kiss was unlike any other, a swirling kaleidoscope of colours flashing behind your closed eyelids as your mouths moved in perfect harmony. Eddie’s strong hands held you firmly by the waist, grounding you in this extraordinary moment. 

Eddie wanted to roam his hands along your entire body badly, but he squeezed your hips instead to keep them in place. Your body reacted to the pressure of his fingertips, and you pressed your body further into his, and he slipped his tongue inside of your mouth. 

Groping at one another like a bunch of horny teenagers, you both didn't stop until your neighbour's door unlatched, starting you both.

“Do you want to come inside?” 

“I do, but if I come in, I’m going to want to take things further… and you deserve more than a hook-up on the first date.” 

“But what if I wanted to?” You look up at him with those mesmerizing eyes, and he fights with himself in his mind.

“You’re killing me here,” he chuckles, and you slip your hands around his waist, proceeding to kiss his neck. 

“Shit, no, no. God, I’m such an idiot. Fuck. Please. I wanna treat you right.” 

“Okay,” you sigh, disappointed but not offended. 

“I’ll call you,” Eddie promised before giving you one more needy kiss, then reluctantly pulling away.

You and Eddie have been seeing one another for a few weeks now and still have yet to move past making out in the hallway of your apartment. 

The more time spent apart, the more anxious you have become. Your omega yearned for Eddie. You wanted him so badly you had the crazy idea to stop taking your suppressants. You stopped taking them becuse you wish for Eddie to breed you- but the stopping of your suppressant only made your hormones go haywire, and your heat came on much more quickly than the doctor had said it would.

You had failed to mention the amount of time you had been spending one-on-one with an alpha and the way you reacted to him in the process. Your body felt like it was on fire, you had been sweating all day, you were sent home early from your shift because it was clear to Steve what had been happening and there was no way he would be around for that. 

You got home, and your nest didn’t feel right. You piled the shirts and pants that you had seen Eddie in, the faint smell of him lingering, but it wasn‘t enough. This was the first time you experienced heat since your first one a few years ago. You didn’t want to go through it again without an alpha with you, but you hadn’t even had a chance to talk about it with Eddie. Your decision was rash, and you became nervous to bring it up. You wanted to sleep with him so much that your omega acted for you, dumping out the pill bottle down the toilet so you didn’t change your mind. 

The cramps set on pretty quickly after you got home. The pain was so great that you almost passed out. You lay in your bed for hours, unable even to pick up the phone for anyone.

Eddie was getting increasingly worried. He had anticipated your call to confirm you got home safely, but over an hour had passed without a word. Perhaps you were asked to stay late? He had called your place around six times. Yes, it was excessive, but he couldn’t wait anxiously for you to call back. His concern overwhelmed him, prompting him to go to your workplace, hoping to find you safe.

He reluctantly asked Steve where you were, and when Steve told him, he sent you home because you were not feeling well. That’s when the alarms sounded off in Eddie’s head. His alpha entirely took over his actions, not even saying thank you or goodbye to Steve; he raced out of the coffee shop, back in his van, and towards your apartment. The closer he got to your door the more he could sense something was wrong. The smell was off, you weren’t happy, he could smell the stress emanating out from under the door.

You think you can hear a pounding at the door, but maybe that was just a part of your fever dream? You were burning up; your body was in so much pain from your heat that you could hardly keep your eyes open. Nothing felt right; you were so stressed you could hardly think straight, and the nest was so utterly wrong you hated it, but you had no choice.

You can hear more pounding and maybe you heard your name being called. You for sure hear a loud slam and an overwhelming aroma of leather and coffee but mixed with stress and anxiety.

A whimper escapes you when the smell strengthens and the noises become more audible. Your name was called repeatedly, but you hadn’t the strength to open your eyes.

“Baby!” Eddie rushed to your side when he saw you there, naked, curled up in the fetal position, skin slick with a layer of sweat.

It finally registered that it was your alpha with you in the room.

“Need you.” You reach for him, and he’s in the nest with you within seconds.

You take a deep breath in, and he purs, hoping it will soothe you as he holds your body against his.

“Baby, talk to me,” he coos.

“Hurts so bad,” You cry.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Need you”

“I’m here, baby.”

“No, I need you.” Your hand grazes his crotch, and Eddie understands now. You must be going into heat, but you told him you were on suppresents?

The two of you never spoke about taking things to the next step, not that Eddie didn’t want to. Trust, he wanted to, but he didn’t think you were ready.

“Baby, are-are you sure?”

“Please, I need you so badly, alpha.”

Hearing you utter those words triggered something in Eddie so primal that he produced a growl so low he startled himself.

Not taking any more time to mull it over, Eddie gently lets you go and slips between your legs. He sees your swollen clit, your slick drip from you; it’s soaked through your sheets, and the smell of it makes his eyes roll back into his skull before he dove in.

Out of all the times you’ve dreamt about Eddie between your legs for the first time, this was never the scenario.

A small whimper of relief left your lips as your Eddie’s mouth made contact with your mound. The soft hairs tickled Eddie’s nose as he explored your slick-coated folds, revelling in your taste. It was like nothing he had ever tasted; he wanted more and more; he was greedy -he primal.

The way his tongue slopes along your folds and up into your pussy was so good; you hate to think how he learned to please a pussy so well.

Your body was on overdrive, so sensitive that every touch was like you were on fire. His mouth felt so good on your lower lips; the familiar feeling of your orgasm came crashing through you so quickly.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, fuck you’re doing so well, sweet omega.” He massaged your clit as he talked you through your orgasm.

“Eddie.” Your hands grip his roots. He feels so good underneath you, but the pain is still there. It wouldn’t go away until he was fully inside.

“More, Eddie, please; I want your knot.”

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His pants and boxers were off as soon as you finished telling him what you needed.

His cock was at attention, and your mouth watered at the sight of it.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Your alpha has you.”

“Hurts,” you cry.

Eddie is mindful; he stretches you out with his fingers first, and he knows his size is of the larger stature.

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby; I got you.” He aligns himself with your throbbing pussy and slowly pushes himself inside.

“Fuck” he grits through his teeth, never has he felt something so delicious.

Your head was spinning; nothing felt real, but your senses had been so heightened that you felt everything. The sweat dripping down your back, the electric touch of eddies hands on your waist, the way his cock stretches you so wide, and how he plunges himself so deep.

“Please, please, please,” You babble.

Eddie takes that as his cue to start pumping in and out of you. His knot was rapidly growing with each thrust, and it took everything in him not to plunge himself so deep inside. He took his time fucking you, making love to you.

He knew that you were it for him; even if the rumours were not true about fated mates, that didn’t matter. You were everything to him and more.

“Harder,” you plead.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, please; I need it so bad, Eddie. Need you so bad.” You grab onto his hips and push him in deeper. The thick base of his cock stretched you so well. Your body was made to take it as he ruts up inside of you.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” Eddie hisses. No one had ever taken his knot before, and god, was it good. Your tight dripping pussy wrapped around him as he plugged your hole.

Eddie’s cock was so deep inside you, and he kept rutting his hips up up up, hitting that delicious spot every time that your second orgasm washed through you like a tidal wave.

“shit,” Eddie couldn’t handle the way your pussy was like a vice on his cock. His seed spurting up into you and being locked in place by his knot only had your head spinning.

“Thank you. Your tears were streaming down your face, and Eddie repositioned both of you so you could sit up on his lap.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you. All you needed was your alpha to breed you, huh?”

“Not all,” you sniffle.

Eddie looks at you bewildered. What else could you be asking for? He cannot recall much of high school health class.

“Mark me, mate me, make me yours,” you beg.

“Wh-what? Princess, you’re not thinking straight. Its just the first few hours of your heat… we should talk about this.” He strokes your hair out of your face.

“No, please, Eddie! We are mates. Fated mates. I feel it in my bones, don’t you?” You try and hold back your tears but your heart feels so much for Eddie they come down freely.

“No baby, don’t cry. He wipes the tears away before pulling you in closer. Your naked body’s flush against one another. Your slick still trying to leak down your legs.

“I’m sorry, I love you. I want to be with you.”

You mumble into his neck, your nose graze his scent gland. You nuzzle your face into it before your teeth graze lower on his neck, daring to puncture.

“You love me?”

“Yes Eddie so much, it like I can’t breath when your not around.”

“No ones ever loved me before…”

“Oh Eddie, baby.” You kiss him like it was your last time you ever will. Your hips grind and Eddie’s cock hits that stops deep up inside you once again making you both main with pleasure.

“I love you so much, do-do it” he stutters. No way he could deny this connection any longer. You were right and he will do anything in his power to please you, to claim you, to have you, to love you.

“You sure?”

“Yes, baby, mark me. I want everyone to see who I belong to.”

You sink your teeth into the skin where his neck meets his shoulder and it’s like everything made sense. You never felt so much love, so much light and happiness. You could tell how much Eddie loved you just by the scent.

You lick at the wound and Eddie brushes your hair out of the way so he can claim you as his.

“You want my mark?”

“Please” you beg still grinding your hips trying to chase a third orgasm.

Eddie’s soft lips part against a higher point, closer to the middle of your throat and then it happens. His teeth sink into your skin and you feel a sing but then your orgasm hits you all at once. The connection between you two bound together for a lifetime. In that moment, it became undeniably clear to both of you that this was your destiny. Meeting Eddie at the grocery store was no mere coincidence; it was as if the universe had aligned to bring you together. Eddie had become your pillar of support, your perfect counterpart. This kind of serendipity doesn't come around for just anyone, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have found him.

“Holy shit”

“Wow”

You're both awestruck, soaking up the moment. Breathing in one another as Eddie’s knot shows no sign of deflating just yet.

Your heat would still be going full force for the next few days, however for now the pain has subsided.

“I love you.” Eddie whispers. “You’re the love of my life.”

“I love you Eddie” your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer. “Now breed me.”

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller — Part Three

SUMMARY: joel’s misery is palpable. you’re oblivious to it. until you’re not.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.9k, you are welcum.

WARNINGS: angst. reader is an eagles fan (do NOT come for me, they are my boys. go birds 🦅). F L U F F. mentions of reader’s dad. tommy and joel are jerks, but joel redeems himself. tommy can suck a fat one. i kidddd <3 this is probably the angst-iest this story’ll get because im addicted to the fluff so. enjoy. 🤞🏼 not proof read or edited, i cannot be fucked for that.

TAGS: if you would like to be added for future installments, then let me know besties!! if i’ve forgotten anyone that’s asked to get added, then please slap me. @millersleee @goodvibesonly421 @j0elmlllers @scorpio-echo

SERIES MASTERLIST

Joel’s hands seize the steering wheel of his truck—the same one that’s presently stationed on your driveway—knuckles turning sheet white for the hold that he has is completely unforgiving. And sore.

He’s irascible. Livid. His anger is sheathed by shame and hatred for himself as the way that he conducted himself this morning was unseemly. Even for Joel, it was appalling. And though you didn’t appear to have any reservations, he knew that he bothered you. Your face didn’t allude to irritation, nor did your tone or mannerisms, but Joel was more than conscious of your internal hurt.

He just knows you that well.

But now he’s sitting—legs numb and cheeks charring red—striving to conjure up an apology that’ll help to shirk any ill-feeling that you may have toward him. Because he was a fucking jerk this morning.

And it was all because of an Eagles sweater, believe it or not.

9.42 AM

Birch Grove is bustling. It's considerably brighter, this morning. The doom and gloom that enveloped your small town yesterday has now dissipated, leaving nothing but small puddles of rainwater and grit in its wake, and it’s beautiful. A sight to behold when you’re leaving your house today.

You avoid the wetness on the road—hoping not to muddy your shoes—and bounce onto the sidewalk, admiring the oil slick that blankets damp gravel on your way over to Joel’s. You swear that there’s a divot in the concrete that holds semblance to a heart, but you’re not sure if that’s just a delusion from lack of sleep or some sort of sign from the universe telling you that perhaps it’s time to find a significant other.

Nonetheless, you take in the scene. How yesterday—in the midst of a storm—not a single body littered the crosswalk, therefore leaving Joel’s little coffee shop completely empty. But today—now that the air has cleared and rain almost dried up—it’s like nothing had even happened, and the entire town is out in force. Like they always should be.

Joel watches in awe as you make tracks across the street toward the cafe—wondering how he ever deserved such a buoyant presence like you in his life despite the fact that he’s a perpetually miserable middle-aged man—and busies himself so you don’t think he’s been ogling you this entire time.

But then the bell rings, Joel’s eyes flick up—against his own will—and you bound over the threshold with the biggest smile. He swallows extremely thickly.

“Good morning.” You say, as happy as ever—clearly on a high from your not-date—and pad through the room toward him. “Can I please have a—“

“You’re late.” 

One of your perfectly tweezed brows raises. 

“For work.” He elaborates. Joel clears his throat. “You’re late for work.”

“I got the day off.” You remind him. He vaguely remembers you saying something about this elusive break on Monday, but was honestly too distracted by his brother attempting to use the coffee machine. 

Joel nods, taking your favorite mug off of the shelf. You smile at the sentiment. 

“Ah, you’re going shopping. Right?”

You nod. Your stomach gurgles when your eyes satisfy the gaze of a perfectly plump cinnamon roll. Not too thick, not too over-done, and the right bun to icing ratio. It’s sitting—alone—in one of the little cake cases.

“I am.” You reply, taking the glass dome off of the top. Like last time, you swipe the sweet treat right from underneath Joel’s nose. Only, today, you slide two dollars across so he can’t complain. 

But he wouldn’t anyway. Not today. Because he admires the fact that you’re ungovernable, while simultaneously respecting him. To an extent, anyway. 

“I can get you some fall decor.”

“No—“

“He needs to spruce this place up.”

His eyes roll when he’s pouring the frothed milk atop your latte, hardly going unnoticed by his larger-than-life, sometimes a bit too overbearing brother. 

Tommy acknowledges you by saying your name, and you grin back at him. It’s nice to see one of the Miller’s with anything but a stoic expression slapped against those rough, rugged features. Though there’s something about Joel’s that seems rather superficial. 

Despite being perennial at times, you feel as though you’ve cracked through his tough exterior and. You’re certainly able to decipher between his real and mock revulsion. Last night was the first time that Joel’s guard had truly been down, and it was wonderful. 

“Get him some pumpkins. A wreath—“

“I don’t need no pumpkins. And what the hell is a wreath?”

The youngest brother pulls a stool out next to you, and bumps your shoulder as he sits. He looks at you as if to say get a load of this guy, and you laugh. Joel passes you your latte, and you think that you see a hint of a smile tugging at those plush lips. But you won’t swear to it. 

“A wreath is what Mrs. McKlaren has on her front door for each season.”

“Yeah.” Tommy chimes in. He pulls one of the Birch Grove Gazettes from the pile beside the cake case, and opens it up. “But you knew that. You’re just playin’ dumb in front of—“

You elbow him. “Quit teasin’.” Further defending your friend, you say; “it’s not his fault if he’s not too polished up on the names of things. He’s not pussy-whipped like you are, Tom.”

Joel chuckles at that comment, thanking you with a nod. A man of few words, though you get him. Down to a fine art. 

“True.” He flicks through a few pages, before he’s turning to you with a grimace when you take off your jacket to reveal one of your dad’s old Eagles sweaters. “Oh, God no.”

You frown, putting it to sit on the seat next to you. 

It’s common knowledge around these parts that there are two teams, and two teams only that it’s acceptable to support. Unless you’re flaunting the badge of the Texans or Dallas Cowboys, then you’re basically committing a federal crime.  And the men of Birch Grove take this very, very seriously. 

“Joel. I know you’re friends with this broad—“

“Watch your mouth.” He grumbles, appearing from the kitchen. He has his head down, hands full of cutlery. 

“Sorry.” Tommy says oh so quietly. “But—but look. She’s wearing the mark of the devil.”

Your eyes are rolling so hard you fear that they’ll roll straight from their sockets and into your coffee. You just know that beneath the green flannel, Joel is donning an Aikman jersey.

“That’s so dramatic.” Arms are being folded over as you speak, and he still hasn’t looked in your direction. “It’s just a football team—“

“Woah.” The two Millers harmonize. Joel eyes you directly and turns his nose up as soon as he heeds the shade of green that should be classed as blasphemy, not midnight.  

He didn’t know that you liked them. Tess liked them, too. But you know that. You’re not fucking stupid. 

And perhaps she might’ve aided the disgust that percolates through Joel whenever he hears someone utter the name Brian Dawkins, but he can’t help associating them with her. That same way he thinks of her whenever Fall rolls around, or whenever you step into his little cafe. 

He has such strong feelings for you, but needs to put them aside. He needs to bury them deep for fear of the past repeating itself because he isn’t sure if he can go through that again. His guard goes up, and eyes go down. He busies himself with cleaning. 

“Sacrilege.” Tommy spits. “It’s not just a football team, woman. It’s Irreverent. To come in here and wear that is absolutely ridiculous.”

Your jaw rolls and you look down at the faded logo. 

“I respect that you root for the birds, I do. It must be hard to support such a shit team—“

“Language.” Joel scolds, a little heated. “But, I agree. Can’t go wearin’ that ‘round these parts. It’s almost as bad as you comin’ in here wearing a Steelers jersey.”

Tommy grimaces. It’s not quite as bad, but it certainly sucks. 

But, to you, what sucks is the fact that these men—grown fucking men—are chewing you out over a sweater. It’s child’s play. 

“They’re not a shitty team. They’re great.” You defend your guys, watching Joel try to control the bitterness threatening to bust right out of his lips. “I’ve always loved them. My dad is from Philly—“

“Explains why you have such crappy taste.”

You blink at Tommy. 

“Anyway.” You clear your throat. “I’ll always root for the birds, because they’re my favorites. I also, believe it or not, enjoy the Cowboys when they play at home, or against the Giants. It’s patriotic. But they are a pretty shitty team—“

“No, they ain’t.”

“They are.” You uphold, making direct eye contact with the youngest sibling. “Remind me, when was the last time they went to the Superbowl?”

Tommy’s jaw rolls, and Joel can feel himself slipping. 

“Ninety-five.” Begrudgingly, he says. “But that don’t mean shit—“

“Kinda does.” 

“No it don’t.” He growls. “When was the last time those damn birds won the big game, huh?”

Without missing a beat, you say; “twenty-eighteen. They beat the Patriots by eight points, Brady sucked and Foles was the MVP. I tailgated at the stadium with my dad and uncle—“

“In Minnesota?”

“Yessir.” You tell Tommy before taking the last sip of your—now lukewarm—coffee. “I’ll also be heading to Philly to see the Eagles v Steelers game.”

Joel scoffs. 

“Got somethin’ to say, old timer?”

He grinds his lips together before saying; “just baffles me s’all. Don’t get how someone—Dallas born ‘n raised—can root for a team from Philadelphia.”

“Just the way it goes. But I did say that I enjoy them from time to time.”

“Shouldn’t be that way.” Tommy interjects. “Texans are meant to support Texan-made teams all the time. Not fuckin’—“

“Tommy.” Joel gestures to the customers, scolding him again for his crudeness. 

You pull cash from your purse while the two of them bicker, putting atop the counter before Joel can even refuse. You shrug on your jacket, too, promptly doing up the buttons so the tension can dissipate a little. But it doesn’t. 

“I’m not arguing with you two morons over football any longer.” A little meaner than intended, you tell the two of them. You turn to Joel, brows furrowing. “And I know why you despise the Eagles; I’m not an idiot. I saw her walking ‘round the place with her scarves in the winter, ‘n the occasional jersey on football Sundays.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, sensing some friction. 

“Don’t project Tess’s shit onto me, Joel.” Blunt, you say. “I’m sorry that I was the reason for her leaving, but it ain’t my fault we have the same interests. You can’t pussyfoot around forever, and I don’t appreciate gettin’ admonished for a fucking football sweatshirt.”

“Don’t.” He warns, wrenching a dish rag between calloused fingertips. He knew that last night’s conversation was deep-rooted in something more than just you being curious. “I’m not pussyfootin’ ‘round. I just don’t wanna talk about her.”

“I know.” You say—realizing that you were a little too hot off the mark—but you don’t feel sorry. “But there’ll always be people who like the same things that she did, or say the same things, or remind you of her.”

He looks at you. He knows what you mean. He knows that you know that—in some kind of way—you make Joel think of her. You’re so strong, like Tess. So outspoken, exactly like her. But you’re caring and kind, and don’t get jealous over the slightest little things, and you let him speak. 

You let him tell you about his troubles, not that he shares too much. And you’re not pushy. But now, it feels like you’re being exactly that. 

“I’m sorry that my mere presence as a Goddamn Eagles fan pisses you off, Joel, but I’m not going to be able to change that. You’ll just have to try and detach those memories—“

The dishrag is being hurled onto the bar along with his fists. “I’m not gonna detach those memories! I ain’t gonna forget her just ‘cus you think you know me and my relationship with that woman so well! You don’t know shit. All you do is come in here ‘n drink coffee, rant about crap that nobody cares about, make me listen to your stupid fuckin’ problems—and I’m sick of it!”

You blink back tears as you stare at him, for the volume is intimidating and completely unwavering. You’ve never been yelled at before—in front of customers, by Joel—and you want to be sick. Everyone is staring. Some people are even leaving. 

Has he always felt this way? You wonder. Has Joel always thought that your ramblings are pointless, and that your issues are facetious? You’re sure that he’s just spewing nonsense at this point, but it still stings. 

“Joel—“

“Get out.” He looks down, hands gripping tightly the wooden countertop. He refuses eye contact. 

Tommy gives you a weak smile, immediately regretting setting foot into Joel’s this morning. Quite like you, really. 

“I’m really sorry for bringing her up, Joel, I know how—“

“Go.” His eyes lift to satisfy your gaze, hurt written over his features. “Please…Just leave.”

“Okay.” You nod, lifting your purse from the stool. It’s a quick bye to Tommy that has those damn tears spilling as you walk to your car, not even looking back to wave or smile at your friend like you usually do. 

You fear that this’ll change the trajectory of your relationship with Joel. And his brother knows that. 

He knows that if he doesn’t say something—at this point, anything—then Joel will just let this sit and fester, and become something that it has absolutely no business being. 

His brother knows that you’re the only constant in his life—aside from family—and if he lets you go, then he’ll be considerably more bleak. He’ll have his patrons to keep him company, but he won’t have you. The girl that has—unbeknownst to her—given Joel something to look forward to every day. 

The girl that Joel can’t help thinking of, or talking about, whenever he gets the chance. And despite not always showing his admiration, he’s besotted with you. Infatuated, perhaps. His fondness so clear that everyone can see it. Everyone, aside from you. 

Especially after that.  

“You’re a fucking jerk.” Tommy chastises. “She shouldn’t have mentioned Tess, but that was horrible—“

“I don’t care.” Through gritted teeth, he tells him. “She took it too far—“

“No, we did.” He admits. “She probably wouldn’t have brought the bitch up if we didn’t tease her for wearing her dad’s fuckin’ sweater.”

Joel swallows the lump in his throat, refusing to admit that Tommy could be right about this. 

“You need’a get a hold of your emotions, brother. Can’t be sendin’ her away like that when we both know you’ve got feelings for her—“

Joel grumbles as he rounds the counter, polishing a few tables in hopes that his sibling will go and leave him to it. But he doesn’t. 

“Can’t let Tess be the reason you two ain’t talkin’. ‘Specially ‘cus she ain’t even in the state anymore.”

Fuck. Off. 

Tommy watches him feign emotion, knowing deep down that his brother wants to beat himself to a pulp because you didn’t deserve any of that. 

“She’s right, y’know?”

“What?” 

Tommy says your name. “She’s right. If you don’t cut ties with the things that remind you of Tess, then you’ll never be happy. Always be comparin’ shit to her, and makin’ yourself miserable. Or miserable-r.”

“That ain’t even a word, dipshit.”

“True, though.” He says. “Joel, you’re so in love with this girl, you can’t let her go over a Goddamn football team—“

“Not in love.”

“Bullshit.” The youngest spits. “You get literal heart eyes whenever you look at her, and don’t even try ‘n deny it ‘cus Maria notices too.”

Joel blinks at him, wondering how he’d been so openly vulnerable. He‘a confused at how he’d unintentionally let his guard down enough to display his feelings. The ones that he wasn’t even certain about. 

“It mightn’t be love, Joel, but you’re mad about this girl.” He says a bit softer. Quieter. “And you can try to put these feelings aside, but what’re you gonna do if she walks in here with another man? Or she goes on more dates and finds the one? You just gonna live with it? Just gonna be jealous and miserable for the rest of your life?”

Joel walks to the café window and just stares for a few moments, secretly hoping to see you stomp across the street to give him a piece of your mind. But you don’t. 

“Think you’ve done enough wallowin’ in the past, don’t you?”

He supposes that he’s right. Joel knows that there’s some truth to what is being said to him, and so he turns the Open sign to Closed, and gestures for Tommy to get the remaining customers to leave. 

“What’re you gonna do?” 

“Make things right.” Joel grabs his jacket from the coat stand beside the door, and throws the shop keys to his brother. “Close up for me, will ‘ya?”

Tommy shakes his head. He gets off of his stool and goes behind the counter, grabbing one of the aprons from the hook beside the kitchen door. 

“Turn the sign back ‘round. You might’ve just lost your most loyal customer, you can’t afford to fuckin’ lose no more.”

Joel just nods. He has no fight left inside of him. He does as told, and storms across the sidewalk to his truck. 

He’s been stationary for the last fuck knows how long, just mentally preparing himself for whatever bullshit will spill from his lips the second he sees you. If you even want to open your door to him. He wouldn’t blame you, if you didn’t. He gave you shit, and kicked you out when you spoke your mind. And the truth. Because, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? As harsh as it might’ve been, it was the truth and it was what he needed to hear. 

It’s been two hours since getting a verbal beat-down and, strangely, he really misses the sound of your voice. The oddly dulcet tone. The sweet, honeyed rhythm that slips from between two of the plushest, softest looking lips he’s ever bared witness to in his entire life. And even though some of the words that fell from them were harsh, he no longer cares. 

If he doesn’t apologize, then he might not get to hear you speak again. And he’ll take several scoldings if it means that he can listen to your beautiful tone. 

Fuck. 

“C’mon, dickhead.” He tells his reflection in the mirror. He eyes himself, wondering whether the hat should stay on or off. Because if he takes it off, then his hair might look bad, but if he keeps it on then you mightn’t be able to take him seriously. 

He’s overthinking it. 

It stays on when he’s lugging his body—warm and palpitating—from the cabin, and onto the gravel of your driveway. He minds the flower beds when his boots hit ground, knowing that he’ll have hell to pay if he crushes your blooms or kicks up any mud.

His breath is hot and heavy. It’s like he’s just ran the Boston fucking marathon, not sit in his truck for the better part of twenty minutes being too much of a pussy to knock at your front door. 

But now he’s strolling to your porch, and can’t put it off any longer. He doesn’t even know if you’re home, but he guesses that you are. The wreath that you got today—golden leaves adorned with acorns and berries—is hanging proudly against the wood that you’ve painted sage. 

He laughs to himself when his hand comes up to knock, number eight. It’s almost comical how the number of your house coalesces with the number of his favorite ex-Cowboys player. But he’s not going to bring that up. Maybe another time. 

Joel takes a few deep breaths, heart only stuttering when he hears your footsteps approaching over the suspended wood flooring. The one that he actually had to help you sand down just eight months ago because you always felt that they looked too dark. Depressing. 

He smiles weakly. It doesn’t last long. When you swing the door open and your face falls, then so does Joel’s. 

“Hi.” He whispers, internally kicking himself for being such a wimp. He clears his throat. “Nice wreath.”

You fight a grin. Your disappointment outweighs any semblance of softness at this very juncture. 

After a few hours of mulling it over—and rage shopping—you’ve come to the conclusion that you were at fault. But Joel certainly didn’t make it any better when he kicked you off the premises after his hurtful monologue. 

“Thanks.” Your cardigan is pulled tightly around your body. Cream always looks so good on you. “Is—uh—is there something that I can help you with?”

Joel looks down for a split second. It feels like forever before he’s looking directly at you again. The thumping inside of his chest hasn’t once subsided since appearing at your street, he’s never felt like this before. At least, he can’t ever remember feeling like this. 

And it’s because of this—feeling—that he’s struggling to extrapolate his inward thoughts. You heed it. You know him like the back of your hand, apparently. His face is sullen—almost remorseful—and eyes hazy. 

Has he been crying? No. He’s probably just really annoyed. He looks like that sometimes when Tommy’s pissed him off, and he needs to vent. 

You shift aside, gesturing for Joel to come in. He hesitates for a moment, before he’s stepping over the threshold and into your beautiful home. The home that presently smells like a mixture of Sandalwood and Lavender, but Neroli and Bergamot in the summer months. 

What the fuck is Bergamot? Why do I know what that smells like?

He takes it in. The subtle scent, the fall decorations that make your cozy home look even more appeasing. It’s cute. It’s put together, clean, and inviting. It’s so you. 

You shut the door behind him when he takes a few paces into the entryway, just watching him. His broad shoulders swathed in soft, green flannel are tipped slightly forward. He’s not holding himself the way that he usually does. 

“Is everything okay, Joel?” You break the silence, shuffling past him through the hallway and to the kitchen. You hear him follow behind. Those heavyset footsteps make your heart ache, for some reason. 

Even by the way he walks—slow, long strides—he seems down. Remorseful, perhaps. And though he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, it’s always easy to tell how he feels. 

“Tea?” You offer without turning around, taking the kettle that’s just come to a boil on the stove. “I have chamomile, green, or English.”

“No coffee?” Your head shakes, pulling two mugs from the small shelf above the counter. Joel sits at your kitchen island. “How come?”

Two English teabags are being lifted from the carton—he didn’t specify, you just guess—and plopped into ceramic. 

“I don’t make my own coffee. Don’t taste the same when I do.”

His heart aches. After skipping a beat, of course. He takes a seat at your kitchen island, watching you potter around, clearly not prepared for a guest. 

“Tea is a little more warming, anyway.” You gesture for the sugar and he shakes his head. “Don’t enjoy coffee when I’m on my own. Only when I’m with someone.”

“That why you always come to see me in the mornin’?”

Faintly, you smile. Your head bobs a little bit, hanging low. 

He says your name. You look at him. “Y’know, if you ever want a coffee outta hours, I’m usually at home. You can come ‘round, if you wanna.”

That strange gnawing sensation returns beside a debilitating thumping. He feels the same, but you don’t know that. 

“Same here.” A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips and you bring Joel his tea. The white ceramic is festooned with acorns and leaves, and he swears that you’ve just given him one of your best mugs. 

You sip quietly your warm beverage, standing opposite to where he sits in an uncomfortable silence. A lull that neither of you realize lasts an entire minute before you’re clearing your throat, and Joel is still trying to find his words. 

“Listen.” He sets down the tea—the best he’s ever had—and shifts a little bit. Joel tries to avoid eye contact with you, but understands that this is one of the times that he needs to show you just how important this is. It’s not just a casual conversation at the coffee house, anymore. 

You’re facing him fully, now. Eyes wide, lips parted a little bit. 

“I’m really sorry about earlier.” His tone is honest, wreathed with a hint of genuine sadness. “I had no business being such a jerkoff to you, kid. I said some hurtful shit, and I let my mouth get away from me.”

“You were a total dick, Joel.” 

He nods. “I know.”

“And I know that I never shoulda brought her up, but I didn’t think you’d yell at me. In front of everyone.”

He starts to cringe as he remembers what he said. How he said those horrible things. You’re such a sweet girl, he can’t believe he flipped out on you that way. 

“Do you really think that what comes outta my mouth is crap?”

“No, of course not—“

“Is everything I say fucking pointless?”

“Hon—no—no, of course not.” Joel fumbles his words a bit, just glad that he didn’t refer to you as any other embarrassing fucking pet name. He's not even sure that you caught it, what with being blinded by such a haze of anger. 

You do, though. You just don’t acknowledge it. 

Your thumb loops through the glossy handle, and you look into your mug. 

“I choose to start each morning the same way; at your café. I don’t do it because I want to come in and ruin your day by ranting, or spillin’ my guts about shitty dates and bad friends.” You refuse eye contact, still watching the tea slosh around as you move the cup ever so slightly. “I do it because I like you, Joel. You’re a great guy, and make my days a little bit easier. I’d even go so far as to consider you one of my friends. But, if you don’t feel that way—“

“Hey.” He reaches out for your hand. He’s surprised that you don’t pull away when his tan flesh meets yours so suddenly. Joel asks you to look at him, and you oblige. 

It’s so sad. Your eyes—so full of hurt—now locked on his. Soft, warm fingers wound between his thick digits. He frowns. 

“Listen to me.” Stern, though soft, he tells you. “Of course I feel that way. I tell you shit that I ain’t even told my own brother, ‘course I see you as a friend. Probably the only person I’d even wanna spend time with, if I’m honest.”

“You’re just sayin’ that, ‘cus you hurt my feelings—“

“No, I ain’t.” Joel shakes his head, trying to ignore the fact that he hurt your feelings. “I’m serious.”

“As a heart attack?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo, as a heart attack.”

Eyes roll at the sentiment, wondering whether there’ll ever be a time where Joel doesn’t refer to you as kid or kiddo. He tells you that it’s because he’s a lot older than you, but you both know there’s not even a ten year gap between the pair of you. He’s just dramatic and wishing his life away. 

“I’m—uh—I’m no good at this shit.” He looks down, a little curl poking through the back strap of his cap catches your eye. “Feelings, ‘n all.”

Instinctively, your thumb traces over the skin of his hand. You nod. You know. 

He's not the most sentimental person—nor does he cogitate  with his heart—but Joel is one of the most thoughtful men you’ve ever met, and these last few days have you feeling a different way about him. You can’t say that it’s a crush—crushes are for kids, is what your mother often tells you—but it’s certainly something. 

You’re just worried about the fact that he can’t let go of Tess. 

“Don’t gotta explain feelings, sweetie.” You tell him with a smile, reaching for your mug. The tea is cool, now. A little bit easier to drink than when it was piping hot and burning the roof of your mouth. “Just gotta feel ‘em, that’s all. Explain once you understand.”

You take a sip of the drink you made a short while ago, hands detaching. Joel almost feels weak without your touch, now. But he supposes that had it lasted any longer, he’d crumble. 

“Always know what to say, dontcha?”

“I do.” Conceited—though completely satirical—you say. He smiles, and so do you. “But in all seriousness, Joel, I know that you appreciate me. And I know that today was a complete one-off, but I just gotta know one thing.”

“Go for it.”

You suck in a breath, hating where you’re about to lead the conversation. “Did last night make you think differently of me? Y’know, when I asked those questions and pried a little?”

Joel’s heart thumps. Again. He doesn’t know how to say yeah, last night changed everything. But not ‘cus of what you asked me. 

He supposes that he can’t lie to you. He’s as transparent as a pane of fucking glass, at this point. 

“No. Definitely not.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really. You had the right to know. Nothin’ has changed.”

Liar. 

He’s looking at you with those big fucking heart eyes that his brother teased him about earlier, and he knows it. He knows that he’s smitten. Truly, Joel is more than conscious of the fact that he’s falling—or more appropriately, fallen—for you, but he’s not at liberty to say. 

“You can tell me, y’know?”

He nods. “I know. There’s nothin’ to tell.”

“Okay.” Your tone is skeptical. He’s lying. 

He’s also been sitting here for far too long and is in desperate need of a long, cold shower to wash away the day and shirk any feelings before they come to bite him on his perfectly round ass. So he gets up—pushing the seat back beneath the island—and smiles at you. 

“Left Tommy behind the counter?”

Joel nods. “Yeah. He’s probably cussin’ me out right ‘bout now.”

Your laugh is genuine. Hearty. “Best get back then, hon.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry when his lips part to speak. Nothing materializes. Not even when he’s walking to the front door—you’re hot on his heels—can he figure out what to say. 

He’s opening it before he’s even certain of what he’s doing. 

“Miller.” You say and he turns around. He can’t help looking directly at your lips. “I’ll see ‘ya tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He coughs. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He’s about to walk away—and you’re about to shut the door—before he’s leaning over the threshold and letting all rationality dissipate. Joel’s left hand meets the doorframe—mere inches from your own—and his breathing grows sporadic. 

Well, now or never, I ‘spose. 

Your fingers tingle, legs weaken. It’s only a split second, but it feels like an eternity that Joel is just standing there; staring at you. He’s waiting to make a move, you’re almost certain of it. 

“You gonna do somethin’?” You taunt, tilting your head a little. It almost snaps him out of his anxiety-induced haze. It eggs him on, if anything. 

“Fuck—shit—yeah.” Joel steps forward so that he’s no longer leaning, and the tips of his boots meet your toes. He’s careful not to stand on them. It’s sweet. 

He’s sweet. 

“C’mere.” He’s telling you when one of his calloused hands meets the nape of your neck, and both of yours are instinctively pawing at his chest. The soft, white  jersey beneath that customary flannel is like satin against your fingertips. He draws you in closer. “I lied.”

“‘Bout what?” You whisper, letting Joel’s hand shift to your cheek. It’s hard not to melt into his touch. 

His thumb brushes over your skin. You wilt beneath it. 

“Last night.” Your eyes are locked. “Everythin’ has changed.”

You nod. You feel the same way.

“And I dunno how to go ‘bout this, ‘cus I can’t do this whole lovey-dovey crap, but I do know that I wanna kiss you.”

He pulls you forward so that your faces are almost touching, and your hands have no choice but to rest atop the peaks of his glorious shoulders. This is something you only could’ve dreamed of. You and Joel in this position—on your doorstep—like something out of a fucking romcom, or Gilmore Girls. 

C’mon, man. Kiss her. 

The man’s heart juts in his throat. Two noses graze one another—when Joel angles his face so that he’s not pushing too firmly against yours—and you can’t help smiling wide at the prospect of Joel Miller, grumpiest man in Birch Grove, taking a liking to you. 

It’s almost as if your entire time with Joel flashes before your eyes—all of the early mornings and late nights spent at his coffee house, the stories shared and secrets told—and everything comes to a head in this particular moment. 

Your smile doesn’t falter. Not even when his lips meet yours, and he pushes the most dulcet kiss against your mouth. It’s so gentle. Nothing more than a delicate peck, but so passionate in the sense that; the two of you need this. The tenderness of the other’s touch—the sweet, cloying taste of sugar on your tongue meshed with malt from the tea—is welcomed almost immediately, accommodated by an unexpected desire and thirst for intimacy. 

And though it is but a peck, the two of you know that this is the start of something. Something completely unexplainable and somewhat unexpected, but something nonetheless. 

You’re the first to pull away. He’s too enamored with you. 

“Joel.” You breathe against his lips. Cheeks are flushed red, eyes hooded and completely blown with lust. “Thanks for comin’ here, and apologizing.”

“Thanks for acceptin’ my apology.” He tells you. Joel takes a step back—not before running his thumb over your skin one last time—for fear of initiating something else. “Wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t wanna.”

“Don’t go sayin’ that. ‘Course I’ll always accept your apologies.”

Joel’s heart rate must be through the roof at this point. 

“Even if I run outta maple hazel syrup?”

A gasp falls from your lips and you feign anguish. You soon smile. He looks at his wristwatch, and sighs. 

“I better get goin’. Left Tommy alone a while, now. Not sure if I’ll have a cafe to get back to, if I keep him any longer.”

You laugh. “Go on. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“If it hasn’t been burned to the ground, you mean?”

“Yeah, if it hasn’t been burned to the ground.”

Joel nods. He’s fishing about the pocket of his flannel for the key. 

“Enjoy the rest of your day, hon.”

His cheeks heat up. “Yeah, you too, kid.”

You can’t help letting out a little ha ha when he’s getting into his truck, and you’re watching from your post against the doorframe. When he gives you a little wave, he pulls away and you’re ambling back into your hallway. Satisfied. Though somewhat confused. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the trajectory of this day, and you suppose that nothing will ever come close. You just need to figure out what happens next. 

[actiniumwrites]

Not sure if you’re taking request still but if you are was wondering if you could right abt reader hiding their fever from Tighnari or Diluc (or both)

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

synopsis: in which you try to hide your sickness from them, just trying to stay out of their way, except it doesn’t quite go to plan

characters: heizou, thoma, tighnari, dottore, and childe x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, descriptions of being sick, a tiny bit of swearing, established relationships

notes: thanks for the request! i tried pretty hard to come up with something for diluc but i wasn’t able to so i just did tighnari. i also added in some other characters, hope that’s okay :) also reminder that this is a relatively old request and i’m not actively taking requests!

heizou:

you hadn’t intended to ever hide your sickness from him, honestly

you woke up with the incoming feeling of what you assumed was a fever. your temperature was high and you felt fatigued

still, when your red haired boyfriend came prancing into your shared bedroom excitedly shaking your shoulders begging you to join him on his day off, you felt as though you couldn’t refuse

he was just so happy and you didn’t want to ruin that, not when he had been so stressed recently

walking around ritou with him seemed to be alright

the weather wasn’t bad and he even took you to a few shops for some lunch and souvenirs

but as the time passed, your head felt dizzier and your eyes stung a bit. the red of the maple trees was blending with the blue of the sky and the shops around began to spin

“are you okay?” he had asked worriedly, noticing your eyes began to droop and the overall fatigue you seemed to be experiencing

he put a hand to your forehead and noticed the burning sensation and light sweat building quickly

“shit, you’re sick? why didn’t you say anything?” he asked as he began to rush you home. his arms were around you, steadying you against him

“you were so excited,” you mumble against his shoulder, “i didn’t wanna ruin that, but it looks like i did anyway.”

the detective’s heart ached as the words left your mouth, he couldn’t believe you would say something like that, “please don’t say that again. your health matters way more than my fun, don’t ever forget that.”

when you got home, you fell asleep quickly, all snuggled up in the warm covers

heizou dimmed the lights and brought some medicine and water to place on the table next to you for when you woke up

as he got in the bed with you, he made sure to pull the blankets snuggly over you and bring you closer to his chest and placing a small kiss to your forehead

“i love you,” he whispered before shutting his eyes and holding you close.

thoma:

thoma hadn’t asked you to help him with chores, but here you were…helping him with chores

although the weather was beautiful, it was spring and in influx of new leaves and all sorts of pollen was in the air and on the floors of the estate

you were kind enough to help your boyfriend out with all of the spring cleaning to prevent him from getting stressed

unfortunately, it only lead to you getting stressed and consequently sick

you had already felt the oncomings of sickness for the past week

from various headaches, lack of sleep, the inability to eat, all the way to a runny nose and sore throat — you knew it was only going to worsen, but still clung to the hope it was just spring allergies

still, you chose to help him anyway while also leaving out the details of your sickness

about two hours had passed since your last break before fatigue hit you hard. the rake you had been using to gather fallen flowers was now leaned against the wall

your arm was resting against the railing to balance yourself as you sat on the small set of stairs under the shade

“thoma,” you called out to him through shut eyes and rushed breaths, “i’m so sorry, i- i don’t think i can help you anymore.”

he ran to you almost instantly, dropping everything in his hands to check if you were okay

when he saw you weren’t, he rushed you inside to your guys’ shared room

“oh archons, i’m so sorry i didn’t notice! you really didn’t have to help me if you weren’t feeling good,” he apologized, urgently trying to help you

it was like that for hours after

he was constantly apologizing for not noticing and you could tell he truly felt bad

he even brought you fresh homemade soup and anything else you so desired. you name it, he got it

at the end of the day, he fell asleep alongside you, swearing to stay by you until you felt better.

he didn’t even care if he got sick. if it was for you, it was worth it

tighnari:

tighnari had been frustrated all week

you had noticed that almost instantaneously and even if you hadn’t, all of his grumbling, dark eye bags (which he never seemed to have), and the distance he was placing between you would have made it blatantly obvious

he didn’t seem himself as of late and that made you feel a bit down yourself

eventually it got to the point where his mood was dampening everyone else’s and you had fallen ill

the forest watcher was so stressed that he hadn’t even noticed

you had tried to tell him when he requested you help him with collecting samples of withered areas, but he was quick to shut you down before hearing you out, requesting that you, “please just help me without complaining.”

under normal circumstances, you would have told him off and not allowed him to dictate over you like that, but you weren’t feeling well at all and didn’t have the energy to argue

besides, it would only be an hour and a half right? you figured you could get through that

you should’ve known what you were getting into. your boyfriend always took longer than expected, though you hadn’t expected an hour and a half to turn into two, which then turned into three

when you realized the time, you began to ask to go home and just come back tomorrow. it was getting dark and was definitely a reasonable request of him

but tighnari wasn’t in the mood and he brushed you off, choosing not to answer your question

moments later, his equipment fell and broke — almost as if karma had struck him

he was never one to lose his cool so easily, but here he was yelling at nothing and kicking his bag over

when you had asked him to calm down, he refused and snapped at you too.

he didn’t mean it — you knew that, but you couldn’t help but feel like he did. like he meant to snap at you and that all his anger was somehow your fault

mixed with the fatigue and shivers from your now fully developed fever, your eyes drooped and you fell forward into unconsciousness

hours had passed before you awoke. but when you did, you found tighnari right by your side handing you a cup of water and some of his homemade medicine

“i’m so sorry,” he started quickly, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize, “i was so selfish forcing you to go with me. i mean, what kind of boyfriend doesn’t even notice when their partner is sick?”

you cough before responding, “you were a little harsh, but it’s okay now. you were just stressed and no one was around to help you out when you needed it, so don’t feel too bad okay?”

he nodded sadly and fell against your lap, still guilt-stricken by his lack of awareness and clouded mind from just a mere few hours ago

he would take the next week off he decided. taking care of you was more important and he had a lot of making up to do

dottore:

you weren’t surprised the doctor had failed to recognize the fact that you were sick

while he was a doctor, he wasn’t one that cared for his patients or anyone besides himself

when he had called you to his lab early one morning to aid him in some lab work, you knew there was no chance of it ending well

you loved him, you really did, but your boyfriend was pushy. and when his mind was set on something, it became the most important thing to him

today he had asked for your assistance in his lab for whatever new experiment he had conjured up this time

initially, you refused as you weren’t feeling well and didn’t have the energy

but, as aforementioned, dottore is a stubborn man and wouldn’t take no for an answer

“dottore, i’m not feeling we—“ you tried to argue with him

“ah ah, i do not care what excuse you have this time. i need your help and only your help.”

he didn’t even hear you out

so you sucked it up and helped him

about an hour had passed when you began feeling strained

back and forth of reaching for different materials and finding information for him became too much

“can we just take a break?” you breathed out heavily, immune system weak from your sickness

“no, what did i tell you? it is imperative that we do not stop until this is finished,” he stops for a moment, tone softening as he turns to you, “i’ll take you out to that place you’ve been wanting to try later, i promise. just, help me with this and we can go.”

you smile at the offer, happy he was finally making the time to go out with you, but it wasn’t enough

as soon as he asked for the next object, your dizziness kicked in as your neck craned to see it up on the high shelves of his lab

and the next thing dottore heard was a thud with you on the ground

“dottore… i can’t— i’m so sorry,” tears pool at your eyes as your fever worsens

he helps you up with a stern look, his arms wrapped around yours as he pulls you closer to inspect your face, “why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“are you serious? i did tell you! you didn’t listen to me,” you exclaim

dottore softens in the way he only does around you, quietly offering you an apology and his coat to warm up your shivering body “i apologize, my love. i should not have been so neglectful of my own partner.”

he’s careful as he carries you to your shared bed and wraps you up:

“how about that restaurant? i’ll pick up whatever you want.”

childe:

sometimes childe can be a literal child. you knew that when the two of you began dating. sometimes you minded, other times you didn’t

he had a way of nagging when he wanted things and whining when he didn’t get them

you hadn’t gotten out of bed all morning and childe was getting impatient, hoping you would spar with him today for fun

you didn’t bother to tell him you were sick, thinking that he’d eventually realize later in the day

but childe was having one of those days and didn’t have a care in the world for anyone but himself

he came in to your shared room and collapsed on you, completely missing the pained grunt you let out as complaints flew left and right out of his mouth

things like: “spar with me, please!” and “c’mon we haven’t challenged each other in so long!” among many other complaints

he was right, it had been along time. and while you didn’t exactly want to spar with him today, you figured if you just indulged him for one round he would let it go

so you got up and got your equipment desperately trying to ignore the pounding of your headache

childe was beaming with excitement as he kissed your cheek and ran out to grab his equipment

when you got outside to join him, the chilly wind of snezhnaya bit at your skin and made your nose run faster than it had been before

childe quickly went in for a few hits, you dodged them and countered him quickly

it seemed to increase his determination as he charged at you effectively hitting you in the side

you didn’t let it affect you too much, aside from a bit of coughing which your boyfriend had chalked up to being from the impact of the hit

you had only lasted ten minutes longer before he landed one last hit, knocking you to the ground

“oh, c’mon! that one wasn’t even that bad. don’t tell me you can’t handle a hit that weak!” he laughed, just teasing you

you bent over on your hands and knees, violently coughing as tears poured out from your eyes

“hey hey hey, what’s wrong?” childe panicked as he dropped to his knees next to you with one hand placed on your back to support you

his hand reached your forehead, feeling a burning sensation, “woah, you’re burning up! why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“you were—“ you were cut off by your coughs, “so excited to spar. i figured if i just indulged you for a round or two i’d be fine…”

“hey, you didn’t have to do that,” he said softly, “i would’ve understood if you just told me. i care more about you than fighting, you know that.”

childe picked you up quickly and brought you back inside your shared home and to your bed, wrapping you up cozily under the covers before joining you

“childe, no— you’ll get sick,” you tried to push him away.

he smiled and firmly placed a kiss on your lips,“oh c’mon, when have i ever cared about that?”

[poppyflower-22]

Nothing To Worry About?

Summary: Benjicot confronts you on your past relationship with Aegon.

Warnings: Incest (as usual) This is a modern au. Small talk of virginity. Mention of still birth.

Side note: Spelling and grammar mistakes. This could be a part 2 to lifetime if you like.

To love someone is to love all of them. No matter there flaws. No matter what they do.

You had seen you mother love your father's. She had loved your step father Harwin Strong. And she had loved your father Daemon.

While the rest of your family was complicated you had always known and seen what love was and how it should be received and given.

While Harwin wasn't your father, he treated you like his daughter. He showed loved to you like a father should do.

It was how you had known that what you felt for Benjicot Blackwood was love. You had known because your mother had spoken of how that's what she felt for your fathers.

It had made you feel like you had butterfly's in in your stomach. And you had never felt like this, you could feel like this forever.

“Is he good to you?” Jace asked his sister. You turned to your brother and smiled.

“Yeah.” You looked back over at Benjicot, who was playing with Aegon, your younger brother.

You felt a hand on your arm. “I’m happy for you, sister.” Jace whispered, kissing the side of your forehead.

Jace was happy that his friend was good to you. He was always going to look out for you but more so after the whole Aegon thing.

You sighed and walked over to Ben. Benji smiled up at you as you bent down on your knees.

“Hey buddy.” You greeted your younger brother. Your brother smiled at you before going back to playing with his toy dragons.

“Aegon!” Rhaenyra called, making young Aegon run over to his mother.

“Come on.” You said as you took Benji’s hand and walked up to your bedroom.

Benji squeezed your hand as you both walked past the living room where your uncles were. Aegon, your uncle smirked at Benji, knowing it would get on his nerves.

“I bloody hate him.” Benji mumbled. As he lay on her bed. He lay on his side. He had his hand on his chin as he watched you.

Your orange cat, Maple, jumped on the bed and snuggled up to Benji. He pat her making her purr.

You sat at your vanity and took off your earrings and jewellery, but your promise ring Benji had given you.

“Just ignore him.” You mumbled back, not wanting to talk about Aegon.

“Well it’s hard to when he’s here all the time.” He shot back.

You signed. “You know mother and Alicent are being friendly again, and Aegon just tags along.”

Ben groaned and dropped his head onto her soft fluffy pillows, Maple not moving as she was a deep sleeper. You smiled at your boyfriend before walking over to join him on the bed. Maple purred as you moved her softly so you could cuddle your boyfriend.

Benji smiled, letting you cuddle closer to him. He put his hand around your waist. You kissed his neck as you were put to sleep by your boyfriend.

Even him just there made you fall asleep.

Benji was cresting your back as he heard you breathing get steady, meaning you were asleep. He carefully got out of your arms and put the stuffed weighted dragon toy in your arms.

He stepped out to your balcony that was connected to your room and lit his cigarette.

As he looked out the mountains that were literally in your back, he thought of you.

The first time he ever saw you was in that book shop. He knew who you were. How could he not? You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And you were a Targaryen.

You had giggled at him when he stumbled over his words. He was nervous to talk to you, but he got over that as you both started seeing each other.

His first had been you, his first kiss, the person that took it. He was even more drawn to you after that. He tried his best to love and cherish you with his whole heart.

He loved you too much to ever let you go. He thinks if you ever got away that he would simply die. Sounds dramatic, but his soul was yours.

And it was a plus your family approved of him.

Daemon had been harder to get the approval of. You were his little girl. And any boy wasn’t going to be good enough for you. But he liked Benji, he could protect you.

Jace was already sort of friends with him. They played football together. But they came closer after Benji started dating you. Jace was like Daemon, protective, but Jace knew you were safe with him.

Rhaenyra was the one person Benji had been he most nervous about meeting. You loved your mother with all your heart. You were her only girl. After your little sister Visneya died a still birth, your mother had been even more protective of you.

But the moment you told her about Benji, she knew that without even meeting the boy, he was the one for you. That he treated you like you were the only girl on the earth. And for that, Rhaenyra had treated Benji like another one of her sons.

Your door being open pulled him away from his thoughts of you. He turned his head to see who it was, he thought it would be your mother or brother but it was Aegon.

Benji sat up more on the rail at the sight of your uncle. He didn't like him. From just the way he used to treat girls in school and college. And also that you and Aegon use to have a close relationship.

You always hesitated in telling him anything about your time with Aegon when you were younger, but Benji had guessed what could have happened.

"What are you doing?" Benji snapped at the boy making Aegon snap his head over to him.

Aegon smirked and walked his way to the doorway of the balcony. "Just checking up on my niece."

"Well, she's fine." Benji grumbled and put his cigarette out on the rail before jumping off the rail to put it in the ashtray that sat on the small table.

Aegon shugged and crossed his arms, "She's my niece. We are close." He smirked at the black haired boy. Aegon watched as he clenched his jaw in anger. "We are so close. I would say closer than people think." He taunted the boy.

Benji clenched his fist before he took a step and got right in Aegons face, making him gulp at the glint in Beni's eyes. "You were close. Were. You're not close anymore. She has me. She doesn't need you. She comes to me with her problems, not you." Benji spat.

He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and moved some of your white hair out of your face.

Aegon’s smirk drooped. Yes, you and him were close. More close than anyone in the family. But after a while, when he had left for his first year in community college, you had distanced yourself from him. And before he knew it, you were bringing your new boyfriend home.

He glanced at the way Benjicot moved your hair softly away from your face. He used to do that with you. He taught you everything you knew.

Aegon walked angrily towards your bedroom door before he left he turned to Benji and said something that would hopefully make him angry, "Hey Benji, did she take you to her favourite place in Rome Did you take the nighttime walk where the violin players always play?" Aegon asked with a smirk before he left the room.

He left a confused and hurt Benji and a sleeping unaware girl.

The dinner was uncomfortable. You had tried to talk to Benji, but all he had done was tell you dinner was ready.

You don't know what had happened since you had fallen asleep. You had tried to hold his hand, but he shook that of as well.

He was sat between your brother and you. Helena sat next to you. Aegon sat across from him,

You had decided that if your boyfriend was going to be a dick to you for no reason, then you would talk to your sweet aunt.

Benji had tried to listen to Jace talk about his trip to Paris with his girlfriend Sarah Snow. But all he could think about was you.

When you had asked him if he wanted to go to Rome for a few days, he had jumped at the opportunity. You had been on many small trips together, but Rome was a place you loved.

And knowing that Aegon had been there and done exactly what you two did didn't sit right with him. Maybe it was jealously. But he just didn't like it.

"They had this amazing butterfly room there. You would love it Hel, we have to go, one day." You gushed to your aunt.

"Of course. Butterflies are just so beautiful. Anymore insects there?" Helena asked, interested in the other bugs you could have seen.

Aegon, laughing quietly and looking at you, made Benji snap.

"If you excuse us." Benji said to Jace, who nodded and watched as he stood up and took your hand. "We need to talk." He simply said.

You let him pull you away. Confused. "What's going on? Ever since I woke up, you have been acting weird." You huffed as he closed the sliding doors to the back yard.

Benji scoffed at you. "That fucking craven cunt." He spat making your eye widened in surprise.

"Wow, wow, wow." You rushed out in order for him to stop before he said anything else. "You need to actually tell me what's wrong. Not curse words. Words." You advised him.

Now, that's what he loved about you. You could stop him, calm him down before he went on and on, and worked himself up. But he was already worked up.

"Aegon!" He yelled at her, making her step back in surprise. "He basically told me that you both went to Rome together and that doesn't make me upset, no what makes me upset is that not only did we do what you and him did, you lied to me about it. All I want is honesty from you." He explained to you.

You sighed. You closed your eyes and pinched your nose. "Fucking Aegon." You cursed. He could always ruin something. "Look." You began taking his hand in yours. "What me and Aegon had was a long time ago. Yes we went to Rome together and did what we did. But did you ever stop and think why?" She asked him with a head tilt.

When he shook his head softly, you smiled sweetly at him. "It was because I wanted to replace that memory that I have with him with you. You are the one that I love. Not him."

You took a breath for the next words may be hard for him to hear. "I wish all my firsts had been with you."

Benji narrowed his eyes and, with a clenched jaw, looked away. He didn't pull away. Seeing this, you grabbed his face in your hands and brought his face back towards you.

"But I know I have many other first with you." You smiled up at him. You dragged your hands down his arms again. "Our first home, our first pet together, our first child..." You trailed off with a nervous smile. He smiled lightly at you, knowing you were right.

He had a bunch of first with you yet to come.

Benji sighned and leaned his forehead on yours. They stood there for a few monets. Just in the silence.

"I'm such an idiot." He whispered you with a small laugh.

You shook your head with a giggle. You put your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you in your unique purple blue eyes. "It's normal for you to feel thease things. I'm sorry for not telling you what really happened between us. And I will, but maybe when we go back to yours." You told him with a smile. You crest his cheek.

Benji leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your lips. You melted into the kiss. Benji wrapped his arms around your waist as yours went into his hair and pulled it, making his groan.

You parted and smiled at eachother.

"You were jealous. " You giggled at the blush of embarrassment on his face. He hated being jealous.

"I was not." He grumbled into your neck, making you giggle more. Benji smiled at your giggles. "I love you so much." He sighed in your neck.

You smiled, racking your hands over his hair. "I love you as well, Benji. So much." You whispered into his ear and placed a soft kiss there.

Even if Aegon was always going to be in your life, at least Benji had the resurgence of knowing he was yours and you were his.

You were from a complicated family. A family that was broken from the death of your grandmother. But you had each other to hold.

I am thinking of making this a little small series. I was bored and listening to music.

[heytheredelulu]

Simple

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Imagine

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1k (It’s a quickie)

C/W: It’s all smut. It’s literally nothing but cock sucking, okay?

Bucky Barnes enjoyed the simple pleasures in life.

A heaping stack of warm, buttery pancakes drizzled in maple syrup.

A glass of oaky, barrel aged bourbon, neat.

The sultry, nostalgic, slow jazz of the 40’s playing over the speakers he still couldn’t quite figure out how to connect his Bluetooth to.

His copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit”, worn and weathered from all the times he’d read it cover to cover while lounged lazily in his oversized armchair.

But perhaps the greatest pleasure he enjoyed was the feeling of his pretty baby’s pink, swollen lips wrapped around his thick and needy cock.

He’d had plenty of blowjobs before, many hot, wet mouths gagging on the impressive length of him but none, none of those encounters could ever compare to your ministrations.

He was smitten with you long before you’d knelt before him but it wasn’t until the first time you sucked the very soul from his body through his throbbing cock that he was fucking done for.

You were his, forever.

There was just something so beautiful about the way your soft hums of contentment vibrated through his shaft like you were singing him the chorus to the sweetest song ever composed.

The way your eyes fixed on him half lidded, attentive and responsive to his every twitch and pulse against your tongue. It wasn’t just the sheer skill of pleasing him that you possessed but the level at which you so clearly enjoyed the act itself.

Your eager wiggle on your knees while you suckled at his frenulum, your hand wrapped firmly around the girth of him as you traced the sensitive, velvet flesh of his cockhead against your soft, plump lips.

Oh God, the wanton groan that rose from your throat when you teased the tip of your tongue to his slit, lavishing the salty flavor of his precum on your taste buds.

And you hadn’t even put him in your slutty little mouth yet.

He’d always let you lead, slowly descending on him with your hands splayed on his muscular thighs, batting your lashes at him once he brushed the back of your throat as if waiting for him to cup your jaw and stroke your cheek affectionately with the calloused pad of his thumb like he always did while you ‘took a moment’ to adjust to his size. Part of him wondered if you really needed to adjust or if you just wanted to savor the look in his eyes as he committed the lewd image of you to memory.

You’d breathe heavily through your nostrils- the exhale blowing gently against the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock and the inhale shuddering like you were basking in the scent of him.

The first time you’d lapped at the seam of his sack with your tongue while he was seated to the hilt down your throat his toes curled as he gripped the arm of the chair with white knuckles, hissing out a string of curses.

Always so responsive to his body, you slowly eased off him, your hand stroking languidly along his thick shaft, applying firm pressure to the tip as you dipped down to gently draw his heavy balls into your mouth. The whine that erupted from his chest was a sound he’d never made before but then again, he’d never had a woman show much- if any attention to his sack during a blowjob, let alone roll them around in her mouth like they were a goddamn delicacy.

Lord have mercy when you descended on him again, your cheeks hollowed, your tongue flicking and swirling along his length, one of your dainty hands holding him firm at the base as you cupped and fondled his saliva-slicked balls with the other.

Somehow you even made gagging look seductive, inhaling sharply through your nose while your eyes watered and drool dripped down your chin, trailing across the hollow of your throat and leaving a wet sheen across your pretty tits.

Oh yeah, you absolutely had your tits out. Hell, you loved to be naked on your knees for him. It only made it that much easier for you to snake a free hand between your thighs, rubbing slow, gentle circles over your aching clit with the sweet arousal that wept from your cunt with how utterly turned on you were by sucking his cock.

You’d lose your fucking mind when he twisted your hair around his fist, shameless moans bubbling up from your chest as he bucked his hips, fucking himself down your throat. As soon as he’d pick up that merciless rhythm you’d slip two, sometimes three fingers into yourself, frantically pumping them to mirror his tempo until you came with a strangled cry, tears pricking at the corners of your lust-hazed eyes.

Holy hell that’d be his tipping point.

He’d hold your head firmly in place, his massive hand flexing against the back of your skull, his cock pulsing as he throws his head back, a deep and primal moan ripping through his chest as he comes hard enough to make his fucking ears ring.

Words of praise would fall from his lips in a breathless whisper as he caressed your cheek, lazily rutting his hips forward while you greedily swallowed down every last drop like it was your well deserved reward for your tantalizing efforts.

“Such a good girl.”

“So fucking pretty when you choke on my dick.”

“Oh baby, yes. Fuck, swallow it.”

“Shit, you’re so goddamn perfect.”

Sometimes when you were feeling extra submissive you’d sit back on your heels and open your mouth, proudly showing him the pearlescent fruits of your labors, pooled on your tongue.

You’d wait patiently, drooling unabashedly with a slack jaw as he tucked his spent cock away, zipping up his jeans and slowly buckling his belt while he kept you naked on your knees awaiting his order.

He’d pinch your cheeks in his large hand and dip down to press a kiss to your forehead, his chest swelling with pride at the power you allowed him to hold over you.

All the while, you’d stare up at him obediently with smoldering eyes until he’d nod, his lips twitching up into a crooked smirk before he’d finally speak his command in a low, gruff voice.

“Swallow.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @buckys-wintersoldier @terry2227 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Yeah, idk where this came from-

I was feeling feral again.😅

💋Sj

[pars-ley]

Title: When the leaves turn red

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader

Summary: A cosy weekend away for two at a cabin sounds perfect, but you had no idea just how perfect it could be.

Genre: Established relationship / smut / fluff / proposal / 

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Unprotected shower sex (wrap it before you tap it) / use of shower head during sex / oral (f.receiving) / fingering / creampie / explicit language / talk of marriage /

W/C: 2.8k

Banner: me

Beta: @downbad4yoongi and @moonleeai thank you both so much! 

Notes: this is for the "fall for you" event with @k-vanity my prompts were: Satay chicken noodle soup with squash - a cosy night in with a book and a mug of hot chocolate by the fireplace turns into something you could've never expected. Red maple cinnamon mocha: “Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect.”

The sound of your feet on the wooden steps echo through the trees as you jog up to the porch, escaping the sheet of rain that fell the moment your car arrived. Looking down at your drenched clothes as they uncomfortably cling to your skin, you can't help the laugh that escapes you. 

“Well, this is unexpected weather. Even for autumn,” you begin, as you wring the water out of the bottom of your shirt, “it definitely wasn't on the forecast when I checked earlier today.”

When you get no response from Namjoon, you glance at him. Unusually quiet, he stares at the rainfall with a frown wrinkling his brow.

“Hey,” you say, flicking water from your cuff at him in an attempt to recapture his attention, “who's upset you, and do I need to fight them?”

He doesn't react, his mouth not even twitching at your joke. “We can't do the waterfall trek today. Do you realise that? It'll be too muddy to get there,” he responds, his sombre and irritated tone surprising you. 

Attempting to ease his tension, you squeeze his broad shoulders, hoping to offer some reassurance. “We still have tomorrow and Sunday to be able to do that, Joon. The waterfall’s not going anywhere.”

You notice how his jaw clenches and juts out as he chews the inside of his cheek, which he only does when annoyed. 

“I know that, but I wanted us to go today.”

A slight frown creases your forehead as you attempt to understand his determination. Reaching up on your tiptoes, you press kisses to his taut shoulders. The combination of the hard muscles and wet clothes against your lips calls out to you, making your insides feel electric. Sighing against him, you push your want aside.

“Maybe the rain won't last long and we can go later?”

He relaxes slightly under your touch, melting into it. “Hm.” he agrees, reluctantly. “I just…I had a plan for today, and now it's ruined.”

“In the words of Winston Churchill, however beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results,” you quote.

He looks over his shoulder at you then, with thoughtfulness in his eyes that you could get lost looking at. “What do you mean?”

“Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect,” you respond, leaning against him again. “Besides,” your hands travel down the front of his shirt that clings flatteringly to his abs. Sliding your finger across them, enjoying the uneven path, mapping the way to a promise of pleasure, “all I want to do right now is take these wet clothes off and have a hot shower. Would you care to join me?”

His head jerks your way, full attention devoted back to you, and that frown suddenly irons out into surprise instead. He turns in your embrace, his arms sliding slowly around your waist and pulling you flush against him. The hard planes of his body mould to your curves, making your skin flush with heat, in contrast to the fabric wrapping itself in an ice blanket around your limbs.

His heated eyes are so focused on your mouth as you smirk up at him that you can't help but toy at your bottom lip with your teeth. His thumb is on it instantly, gently pulling it out and crashing his mouth to yours.

Heat consumes your body like a rapid forest fire. Your fingers desperately cling to the lapels of his flannel shirt and attempt to pull him even closer. The arm he holds around your waist tightens while his other hand slides down your leg, curving under your knees before lifting you off the ground making it seem effortless. 

He carries you across the porch, lips attached to yours as you fumble with the keys in your pocket. Reluctantly, you pull yourself away only to unlock and push open the cabin door, before he kicks it shut behind him

“You know, you're only supposed to carry me across the threshold when we're married.”

His body stiffens under your touch, and you roll your eyes, giggling. 

“Relax, Joonbug, this isn't a proposal. I'm just testing your reaction.” 

He smiles, but his eyes glance around the room awkwardly, a hint of crimson dusting his cheeks. 

“Note to self: do not discuss marriage yet. Revisit at a later date,” you say mechanically, your tone mocking. 

He sets you down, but his arms remain firmly around your waist, pinning you against him. “I'm happy to discuss anything that involves a future with you. You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Surprised by his openness, you arch a brow in his direction. “Is that so?”

He leans down and places a soft, gentle kiss against your lips. The heat from before dissipates and is replaced with love and adoration as his thumb gently strokes your cheek—an action so tender it almost brings tears to your eyes. His forehead meets yours, and your eyes close, savouring this moment and marking it in your treasured memories.

“How about this…” he whispers, “I'll light the fire, warm this place up a bit, while you run the shower so I can warm you up.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing down and leaving wet prints of his lips against your throat. His breath, a ghostly caress against your skin, “Then I'll make us both my famous hot cocoa, and we can spend the rest of the day talking about the future if you'd like?”

Your chest heaves, feeling full and ready to burst with love for this man. Your body and mind are in two different places, reading from two different books. 

“And this is one of the many reasons why I love you, Joonbug.” On tip-toes you kiss him tenderly, feeling him smile against your mouth. 

“I'm glad you're with me for more than just my cocoa-making skills,” he jokes, slapping you on the behind as you turn and head inside the bedroom.

Glancing back, feeling mischievous, you add, “Of course, you also have a really big…”

Your eyes travel the length of his body. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk playing across his mouth, before your gaze flickers back up to meet his.

“...heart.” 

His laughter rings out around the cabin. Glancing around the space you'll spend the next three days in, you admire the wicker rocking chair in the corner. The soft sofa with cushions so big it looks like you could disappear into it and the sheepskin rug in front of the log fire—a picture-perfect vacation for the two of you.

“I'll see you and your big heart in a minute,” you say, winking before heading into the ensuite bathroom. 

Turning on the shower, you peel off your wet clothes, shivering from the cold that sends instant goosebumps creeping across your skin.

Thinking about this time away with Namjoon and all the possible ways to spend your time. Impatience soars through you, wanting him inside you but also dying to know what he sees for a future between you. You’re eager to know what the time ahead looks like for him and if it matches what plays out in your mind.

Your core throbs for him, melting within and ready to accommodate him. Your head feels weightless, floating high up on clouds made of butterflies and his sweet words.

Stepping under the water, you bask in its warmth, goosebumps breaking out across your skin. When you hear the door open and click closed, your insides are alight again. Keeping your back to him, you continue to enjoy the water cascading down your front, warming your body. Hearing the clang of his belt as his trousers hit the floor, your excitement grows, butterflies swarming a tornado of arousal. 

Climbing in behind you, his body encases yours, instantly warming your back. When his lips touch the skin of your shoulder, it almost burns from the bolt of desire that courses through you.

Turning in his grasp, your breasts slide across his chest, and he pounces. Urgent, needy kisses trail down your neck and make their way to your bust. Sucking the erect nubs into his mouth happens so fast your body jolts in surprise. 

His hands are everywhere. 

You can't keep up with the sensations, your breathing fast and ragged in your chest, needing to feel more of him. He slowly lowers to the shower floor, his plush lips trailing a searing path down your stomach, leaving you to revel at the sight. He smirks up at you, knowing how much you enjoy him at your mercy, especially now, with the water trickling down his handsome face. 

His fingers spread you open, moaning in appreciation as he exposes your sensitive bud. Once his tongue touches you, unsteady on your feet, you grip at the walls, fingers sliding uselessly down the wet tiles. His tongue swirls relentlessly around your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers in his hair hold you up, but your legs shake beneath you. His hand grips your rear, pushing you closer and smothering him with your cunt.

“Fuck, Joon,” you gasp as you teeter on the edge of the precipice of inexplicable pleasure. 

He slowly slides a finger inside your throbbing core and beckons you to fall. With every stroke of his finger against that point of bliss inside you and every flick of his tongue, a red-hot poker of pleasure tightens almost uncomfortably inside you. 

The water streaming down your body now feels too hot, the air in the bathroom feels too dense. And just as all the sensations feel too much at once, you're falling, leaping off of the cliff and into the abyss. Wave after wave of elation vibrates through your body as you cry out, holding him against you while you ride out your high. 

“Turn around,” he commands, his lips brushing against you, making your pulsating core twitch from over-stimulation.

You obey, regardless of your wobbly legs, and bend forward slightly. Standing and positioning himself behind you, his fingers massage your rear and spread open your cheeks slightly. When the tip of his cock touches your entrance, a whimper escapes you. He feels so hot against you, hotter than the warm water cascading down the arch of your back.

He rolls his hips ever so slightly, pushing his head in gently before pulling it out. Teasing your pussy opening, but it's nowhere near enough, the taunting is too much for you to take.

“Joonie, please,” you whine, thrusting your backside back to meet him.

“You want more?” he asks, his voice so deep, so sexy you find yourself growling in response.

He chuckles before pushing himself into you, opening you up, stretching you until you swallow him entirely. When he is finally buried to the hilt, he pauses, his breathing now as fast as yours. His hand runs up the length of your spine, humming in appreciation as he rocks back and forth into you. His groans echo in the confines of the shower stall, accompanied by the sound of his wet skin slapping against yours with every powerful thrust.

Rolling his hips just the way you like, hitting that yearning spot inside, still hungry and not sated yet. Your fingers fan out against the tiles as you hold yourself up, bracing yourself every time he plunges deep inside you. 

His hand slides to your front, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it gently, using it as an anchor to pound into you faster. You clench am, and the hiss from his lips sends shivers down your spine despite the heat within this glass cage.

“That's how you like it, isn't it, baby?” He says through ragged breaths. You know he's nearing his end as his pace slows slightly and his grunts grow louder.

“Fuck, yes,” you squeak out, face now pressed against the wall, arms having given in, unable to keep you up any longer.

You see the shadow of his arm reaching up on the shiny tiles and hear the click of the shower head disconnecting: the water pressure changes and moves down your body. You cry out as he places it between your legs, the harsh massage from the water bringing you closer to the edge of the abyss once again.

“That feel good, baby?” he whispers.

Words die in your throat as all you can do is nod while you gasp. Your swollen core flutters around him as you chase your high, grinding yourself against his cock as he plunges into you.

“That's it, baby,” he mutters soothingly. “Let go for me.”

He leans over, kissing your shoulder blades, and the added sensation of his lips on your skin tips you over the edge. Crashing into the pool of ecstasy, you're blinded by white light as your orgasm hits. Your pussy contracts and milks him to his simultaneous end. His hips stutter as his warm seed fills you, both of you riding out your high as one.

As your breathing slows, and he slides out of you, making you feel empty but sated, his arms cradle around your stomach, holding you up. Pulling you to him, he peppers soft kisses from your mouth to your ear.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A sleepy smile stretches across your face. “I love you, too.”

He smoothes your wet hair away from your face, looking at you with complete adoration.

He grabs a fresh bar of soap on the shelf inside the shower and unwraps it, chucking the rubbish over the top. Lathering it up in his hands, he spreads it quickly all over his body and then yours, being particularly gentle as his hands massage every inch of your body.

“I'm going to make that cocoa now. You finish up, and we can get settled in front of the fire, hm?” he says as he rinses off.

You nod, watching him as he climbs out, dries himself, and leaves the bathroom. Blissfully, you relish the warm water on your skin and relax into the steam surrounding you. When your pleasure-hazed brain floats back down to earth, you climb out and get ready to return to him.

Feeling much cosier in your hoodie and sweatpants, you head back out to the living area with your book tucked under your arm, but when you open the bedroom door, your mouth drops at the sight that greets you.

There were dozens of candles scattered all around the room. A pathway of flickering lights across the floor led to the fireplace, where Joon stood waiting, holding mugs topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

Your heart swells, beating as fast as your legs carry you to him. You close the distance, suddenly feeling shy under his loving gaze, and take your drink from him.

“You are a god,” you say, smiling as you take a sip and wince from the molten-hot liquid. Clearly, too eager to wait for it to cool, you tear your gaze away from him momentarily to place it on the fireplace. When you turn back to him, he's kneeling before you, a chunky black box in his hand.

Any words you had were swallowed down with a gulp of sudden nerves. 

The fire is roaring beside you, orange light flickers beautifully on one side of his face, making you want to reach out and touch him but resist as he starts to speak.

“I had a plan to do this a different way, something precise and thought out, but you're right,” he sighs, taking your hand in his, “sometimes things work out perfectly regardless.”

Unable to believe the scene before you, you remain still as if any movement or sound will shatter its illusion. 

“You see, I have something to confess…” he holds the box out, a box that holds more than just a ring, but your entire future inside.

Tears fill your eyes in an instant, making him a blurry figure in front of you. You swipe them quickly away, not wanting to miss a moment, ingraining it in your mind.

“I would be honoured,” he smiles bashfully, revealing his dimples, and takes a calming breath. “If you would be my wife?”

As soon as the anticipated words are out and in the air surrounding you, your arms are around his neck. He falls back as your body slams into his, the two of you giggling like school children.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, winding one arm around your waist, pinning you to him.

Nodding frantically, the tears spill, leaving glistening trails down your cheeks in the candlelight. 

He sits you both up so you're straddling his lap and opens the box. It's perfect. It's just your style. Everything about it had so much thought behind it, bringing a new rush of emotion.

He removes the ring, his long fingers holding it so delicately, as if it might shatter under his touch, and slides it gently on your finger. It’s a perfect fit. You are not surprised, the man never ceases to amaze you.

Clasping your hand gently in his, he brings your fingers up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. When his shining eyes meet yours, so open and full of love, you're unable to help the way your insides melt as you crash your lips against his once again.

[promenadewithme]

Twelve Days of Christmas - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: slight angst (i swear the fluff is coming), sexual content (not sex, but mentions of it), food (sweets, coffee), established relationship (marriage and divorce), motherhood, not proofread and i'm sick so there might be some screwups along the way a/n: i swear I planned on writing a chapter a day and I'm so so so sorry for taking longer than that, but I'm really sick and can't think straight most of the day (I just finished writing this at 1am). I promise I'll try to finish this until Christmas. I hope you all like it, though <3 pls tell me if it sucks.

part 1 part 2 part 3

The rich vanilla scent of something sweet, the empty bed beside you, water running, Liv’s giggles, James’ footsteps. Any one of those things could have woken you. Even though you knew there were a few more minutes before your alarm went off, the noises were a comfort, ones you hadn’t heard in a long while. Ones you did not know if you would hear again after this holiday season. So, you sat there and absorbed it, every little crumb you could catch through the door.

As your daughter’s giggles got closer, you closed your eyes and pretended to be asleep. Liv loved waking you up, so you always let her think she did. Whispers were exchanged before the door to your bedroom opened.

“Mommy” she whispered, caressing your face “wake up, we have a surprise for you.”

Your eyes opened to a pair identical to your husband’s, the same kind, melancholy, piercing steel that reached your soul. Leaning against the door frame, food tray in hand, James watched you both. There was uncertainty in his eyes. Can I come in or not? They whispered. You didn’t know the answer, so you looked back at Liv.

“Good morning, angel” you smiled and pulled her onto the bed, hugging her tightly. Her giggles filled the room as you tickled her sides “What surprise do you have for me?” you asked once she calmed down.

“Show her, daddy.” She jumped on the bed and James finally came in, slowly and unsteady, to his side of the bed.

After lowering the tray with a tight-lipped smile, he clasped his hands behind his back. Waiting. His military training never quite leaving him. To others, it might seem like a residue habit, but you knew he acted like this when he wanted to keep his shield up. He was upset.

He has no right to be. That voice resonated in your head. And it was right. He was the one who never showed up, the one who stopped touching you, loving you. The one who walked away from this marriage, from his own family, the second things got hard. He was like a ghost, you knew he was there in the dead of night and sometimes left tracks behind, but you never actually saw him. Now it felt like you were being haunted, seeing him in broad daylight, close enough to touch. When was the last time you gazed into his eyes? The last time you saw the light stroke his hair to reveal auburn streaks? The last time you both stopped for long enough to actually look at each other?

“We made pancakes with maple syrup and coffee” Olivia said, and you realized just how long you and James had been staring at one another “Mommy, do you like it?”

Peeling your eyes away from your husband, forced the most natural smile possible “I love it, sweetie. Thank you so much.” You kissed her forehead before looking back at James “And thank you, daddy.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded, a faint blush painting his cheeks.

God, he was beautiful. You missed this, you missed him. There was so much you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, and kiss him, and ask so many questions, then hit him, but then kiss him better again. You wanted any excuse to put your hands on him.

Maybe I’m making a mistake. You thought gingerly.

But then his phone rang, and he said he had to take it outside. Then he left. Again. For what most probably was a work call.

Or not, the anxiety whispered, what would he have to hide from work?

Forcing yourself to believe it was paranoia, remembering that his clients were confidential, and that Liv had school, you brought yourself back to the present. It didn’t even matter anyways, in twelve days you would start the divorce process and all of this would be over.

“Have you eaten?” you asked Liv.

She gave you a sheepish grin and you already knew she had eaten the batter while they were making it.

“What?” you poked, matching her smile. You couldn’t help it, she was just too cute.

“I ate the batter.” She whisper-shouted and hid her head in the pillow.

You stifled a laugh and questioned whether or not she was still hungry, the answer being no. Hand in hand, you took your daughter to her room, leaving her to pick out her outfit of the day while you grabbed her lunch from the fridge and filled her water bottle. After a few minutes, she walked out with her still- tangled hair, a hideous Christmas sweater and pink leggings. Nothing matched, yet it was so authentically Olivia.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

Her answer was running back into her room. No, then. You were leaving her things by the door when James came back in.

“Do you want me to drop her off?” he asked quietly, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“No need, I’m taking her then meeting Wanda for coffee after she drops off Billy and Tommy.” You say, rushing into your room to change into something presentable. Since you were already off work, there was no need to dress business, so you picked out the first gym set you saw. Navy pants and jacket, along with a white top, that hugged your curves perfectly. You remembered James saying he loved how it made you look months ago. He also showed you how it made him feel. It had been a particularly good nailing. To the counter, then against the wall, the bed… You wondered if he still remembered, if you still turned him on.

He was staring at it like maybe he did, but you couldn’t be sure. You were never sure when it came to him these days. The silence was getting far too loud, him just standing against the door looking all gorgeous and delectable, looking at you. It made you feel like when you met him all over again. Not quite certain if he hated you or wanted to fuck your brains out. It always made you say the most awkward things, like the phrase that came out of your mouth before you could help yourself.

“You could tag along if you want” you offered a smile “Though I don’t know if Wanda would want to say certain girl things in front of you, so maybe we could get you a seat by the window, a few tables away from us. I could still get you a macchiato, though. Maybe even something with cinnamon, I don’t know if they still have it, but it would be quite festive, right? I might just get myself a tall glass of Christmas. Christmas in a cup. What rhymes with Christmas?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, you usually couldn’t when you were nervous. And you were. This was your best friend, your husband, but also a stranger you weren’t sure you recognized, someone you would soon only have one tie left with.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at you, looking almost in awe, an almost smile creeping in. That is, before he remembered his phone call.

“I wish I could, doll, I really do. But that was Stark on the phone”

“Right.” You nodded curtly, tongue against your front teeth, trying your hardest not to pick a fight over the same topic over and over again. Walking into the bathroom, you slammed the door and started to change.

There it was, the reason you were unhappy in the first place. Your husband was a workaholic. He had a problem, and he did not know how to set boundaries when it came to his boss. He was supposed to be home, with his family, and there he went back. Couldn’t even wait a whole day before giving up on giving his daughter a happy holiday.

“I’m sorry.” He said against the door.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” You spat out, wiping a stray tear and zipping up your jacket.

“I mean it. You won’t even notice I’m gone. I’ll be back before you know it, before you’re home. I promise”

You opened the door, revealing your husband leaning against it with those same kicked puppy eyes. So unfair considering he was the one doing all the kicking. You should be the one with the adorable puppy eyes. Fucking unfair that you couldn’t stay mad at him when you looked at them. So, you didn’t, you looked anywhere but his eyes. You wanted to stay mad. You couldn’t back out, especially now that you knew he would never change.

“I really don’t care, James. Stay, go, never come back for all I care” You tied your hair in the best ponytail you could muster to keep you busy “You’re never here and we’re doing just fine without you anyways.”

You knew it hit a nerve and you were too scared to look at just how sad he was, so you grabbed your things and met Liv, who waited patiently on the couch. You truly hoped she hadn’t heard anything. You were, after all, doing this for her. With both your jackets, gloves, and scarves on, Liv waves goodbye to her father, who wished her a good day. When she just smiled and grabbed your hand to lead you out the door, you knew everything would be okay. Even if you weren’t.

You relied solely on muscle memory to drop her off since your head was miles away.

“Why was daddy home today?” she asked when you were nearing the school.

Pondering your choices, you glanced at Liv. Should you tell her or not? Would James keep up his end of the bargain or would you both be disappointed again? The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to be sad. He did promise, though…

“Your dad is going to be working a little less during the holidays.” You decided was good enough “He wants to spend more time with you.”

“Really?” she beamed “Oh, we could go ice skating, make gingerbread cookies, watch the grinch, and put up the tree. It’s going to be so much fun.”

You hoped so, you truly did.

“Why don’t you make a list of things you want to do with us before the holidays end and give it to me after school?”

She nodded profusely, grin never leaving her face, and you couldn’t help but smile along with her. Being a mother wasn’t always easy but seeing that you managed to make your child happy made it all worthwhile.

 “Alright, time to go” you said, putting your car in neutral and handing Liv her lunch “Have fun, be nice, and learn a lot, okay?”

“Okay, mamma.” She blew you a kiss as she left and you drove off to meet with Wanda for your weekly coffee date.

Wanda was an unexpected friendship, one of those who came out of the blue. She had just moved into town with her husband and twins, but the other moms apparently thought she was ‘too weird’ and someone heard rumors she was a witch. You happened to think there was no such thing as too weird and that witched were quite cool. She turned out to be an incredibly sensitive soul and amazing friend. So, their loss.

The sweet aromas of ground coffee bean, vanilla, caramel, and pastries filled your nose as soon as you stepped into Sweet Tooth, the town’s renown bakery. Known for their amazing seasonal beverages, fluffy cakes, litany of focaccia flavors, and Peggy – the owner and best baker this town has seen. It also helped that the place was a cozy little slice of heaven. You could choose a seat by the window and watch the snow fall as the coffee went cold, or maybe you preferred a place on one of the burgundy couches, the mahogany counters were also nice when you were in a hurry. Either way, there was always a place for you, and Wanda had already found yours for the morning.

“Hi.” She waved you over with a smile, scrunching her nose in delight “It’s so good to see you.”

“You have no idea how good it is to see you.” You said, bringing her into a tight hug.

“What’s going on?” she asked, sitting down on the couch.

Should you tell her or was it too personal? Your mother always did say that a couples’ business was only their own. But she was miles away and your marriage was falling apart. You weren’t even sure if you could be considered a couple anymore. Everything was so confusing.

“It’s a long story.” You settled with.

“I’ve got nothing but time.” She smiled warmly, caressing your hand “Besides, the coffee will be here any minute and I ordered some cinnamon rolls to go with it as well as some Parma focaccia. We’re in for a Christmas brunch here.”

You nodded, gathering your thoughts, but nothing came out except for “James and I are getting divorced.”

“What?” She gasped “Oh, sweetie, what did he do? Did he cheat?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you? Oh, I swear I’ll end him if he did.” She said, rage in her eyes.

“No, nothing like that.” You were sure he never could.

She turned her head to the side “Then, what?”

“Well, it sounds kind of silly now…” you admitted, sudden tears brewing in your eyes.

“(y/n), sweetie,” she held both your hands, scooting closer “nothing that makes you feel bad is ever silly.”

“I just…” you looked at the ceiling trying not to cry “I feel so alone, like there is only one person in this marriage. He’s never home, we barely even talk anymore, he hasn’t touched me in months, and I just feel like… Like maybe he fell out of love with me a long time ago but is too afraid or too stubborn to tell me and end this once and for all. To let us both be free, be happy. So I told him yesterday night that I wanted a divorce.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said that he’d sign the papers after the holidays were over. We’re giving Liv one last Christmas as a family before we have to share her between Christmas, New Years, Easter, birthdays and god knows what else.” Leaning forwards and resting your head between your hands, you wondered what you could have done differently “This is a mess I never wanted.”

“No one ever wants to be divorced,” she stroked your back “But it’s his loss. I know it’s a cliché to say it, but it’s true. You are a remarkable woman. You are smart, kind, incredibly beautiful, and, in the time I have known you, proved to be a beautiful soul with a heart of gold. If he can’t see that, if he doesn’t want you, then he truly is losing the most amazing woman he could have ever asked for. So, his loss.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you hugged her tightly. Wanda held you, hand running up and down your back in an attempt to warm up your soul.

“If there is ever anything I can do to help, you tell me, okay?”

You nodded against her hair, that shined copper in the daylight. “Thank you for being here, for helping me through this.”

“Of course,” she smiled and rubbed your shoulders “that’s what friends are for.”

Wanda walking into your life was a blessing you didn’t know what you did to deserve, but you would be forever grateful for her. Good or bad days, she was always here. Gossips sessions, crying sessions, trauma dumps, – and now divorces – there was no theme she could not cover, no day she couldn’t brighten with a nose scrunch and an open heart.

“I think that’s us” she said before the barista called out her name “Stay put. I’ll be right back, and we’ll start planning a girl’s trip for next year. God knows we both need a rest from men and cleaning up toys.”

Ain’t that the truth. You thought. A girl’s trip to somewhere with no men, the peace of mind that comes with not having to worry about your husband… maybe even a new vibrator. Something with lots of fancy functions that promises the best orgasm of your life. Yeah, you could get used to that. Maybe being single again wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

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[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[froggibus]

Roadtrip - Overwatch Boys

Includes: Cassidy, Genji, Hanzo, Baptiste, Lucio & Mauga

Genre: fluff, some crack lol

Summary: take a summer roadtrip with your favorite OW man

CW: irresponsible/reckless driving, cops (Cassidy's), drinking (not while driving I promise), Genji slander, camping, very fun summer vibes w this one

This is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Cassidy:

definitely takes you through the midwest somewhere

insists on driving the whole way but its ok cause he has an insane sense of direction

like knows every road and shortcut like the back of his hand

tries to pretend like he doesn’t like your music but ends up singing along

loves stopping in old local diners

at least once the owner of a bar recognizes him and reminds him that he’s banned for life

and somehow he ends up talking the owner into letting you guys stay??

only drinks black coffee and pretends like he enjoys it

you forced him to try an overly sweet 6$ coffee one time and now he insists on stopping for one in every town

pretends to obey traffic laws but speeds whenever you’re on a backroad

a cop tries to pull him over and suddenly he turns into Max Verstappen and is offroading through a random field to lose them

“what the fuck is happening”

“I’m winnin’.”

you guys get takeout and eat it on the tailgate of his truck

stops at any bar that advertises live music 

will sing all the words all dorky to you and try to get you to dance with him

wants to stay on the road with you forever

Genji:

do not let this man drive he can’t drive for shit

wants to go somewhere neither of you have been before, but doesn’t really have a solid plan

matcha lattes at EVERY stop

you camp rather than stay in a hotel cause he never got to as a kid

like he’s never even tried a s’more or had a campfire before

chooses the most beautiful campsites ever with pretty beaches

neither of you can figure out how to set up the tent so you end up piling the blankets and pillows in your car and sleeping in the trunk

it’s surprisingly cozy though

also he totally winds up cuddling you for warmth

takes SO MANY pictures 

insists on using a paper map because he wants a more “authentic” feel 

results in you guys getting lost in the woods at least once

picks up handcrafted flavoured marshmallows at literally every gas station you stop at so he can make different kinds of s'mores

some of the flavours get wild too—like maple bacon or banana split

weirdly good at roadtrip games

brings his Switch or something so he can play Pokemon while you drive + names the ones he catches after the models of nearby cars

you end up staying on the trip way longer than intended because you guys have so much fun

Hanzo:

has a meticulously planned schedule of where you’ll visit and when

wants to take you through the Japanese countryside, maybe stop at a beach or two

very careful driver 

has a Nissan Versa that he babies and refuses to let you eat inside of (though if you bat your eyes at him enough, he’ll give in)

brings a polaroid camera so he can take pictures of all the beautiful sites

keeps the polaroids in a little folder tucked into the glovebox

refuses to get fast food and insists on stopping at cute local cafes

has packed for literally every possible occasion in only one tiny bag

you ask him to stop so you can buy something weird and obscure and he just so happens to have it

“I really wish I had Shrek 2 on DVD right now”

“check the glovebox”

???

has a soft spot for roadside fruit stands and had to stop at every single one to buy stuff 

the whole trunk is filled with fruit. there’s no escape

lets you play whatever music you like and will have your favourite songs memorized by the end of the trip

prefers experiences to souvenirs, but if you buy him a keychain or something he’ll treasure it forever

Baptiste:

annoyingly slow driver

everyone is passing you guys

has a pretty solid plan of where he wants to go but he’s open to feedback

has an immaculate sense for choosing the best local restaurants

always wants to try the most niche food combos he can find—like deep fried milk

needs to have his water bottle, an energy drink and a fun drink or else he can’t drive

wears sunscreen in the car and stops every few hours to reapply

cringes at your driving no matter how you drive and definitely gives you at least one (1) lecture about the dangers of speeding

loves tourist traps and wants to stop at every one you pass

insists on getting those dorky commemorative t-shirts from said tourist attractions so that the two of you can match

loves salt water taffy and looks for fun weird flavours wherever you find them

his entire centre console ends up being FULL of them by the end of the trip

he has the ac in the car on full blast to the point you’re shivering

not big on taking pictures but loves videos—he has about a thousand of the two of you trying new fun drinks and snacks

it’s been so long since he was able to be on the road without worrying about Talon—and he never wants to go back

Lucio:

nobody is more fun than him on a road trip

has a super fun car that he’s souped up and decorated to hell

the car has window tint so dark that you can’t see into it

does not obey traffic laws. you’re getting so many tickets, im sorry

buys those window markers so the two of you can draw on them when you’re bored

chooses the music and probably has a thirty hour long meticulously curated playlist

car singalongs all day

drinks so many energy drinks you’re surprised his heart still works

wants to stop in every single town to try their local specialties 

doesn’t really have a solid plan or anything, just wants to hit the road and see where you end up

wears increasingly goofy disguises when going out in public

“omg is that Lucio?”

“where?”

gets dragged into performing at least one impromptu concert somewhere

takes turns driving with you so the other can rest and reads out gossip articles about himself to entertain you

every hotel you stay in is a different gimmick and he goes crazy for it. the sillier the better

posts cute pictures of the two of you on his insta and is always taking candids

wants to make your roadtrip an annual thing

Mauga:

insists on taking his big ass Jeep that he refers to as “Little Betty” and refuses to let anyone else drive ‘her’ 

completely reckless driver too

drives with one hand on the wheel, music way too loud, the windows down even when you’re going like 110

he lets you pick the music as long as its upbeat 

constantly drinking some weird protein shake 

absolutely no plan of where he wants to go, just wants to hit up some nice beaches

has all of your stuff crammed in the back so high that you couldn’t possibly see out of the back window

drives in the sluttiest skimpiest tank top ever 

wants to try all the local cocktails and party in every town you stop in

gets drunk and becomes best friends with everyone he meets

needs to collect a Hawaiian print shirt in every place you stop in to commemorate the occasion

wants more than anything to teach you how to surf

he stops at every beach you pass and BEGS you to try it out

either wants to sleep in a five star hotel or on the beach with no shelter. there is no inbetween

takes one awkward blurry picture of the two of you throughout the entire trip and puts it in his wallet

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | Overwatch Masterlist

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