#post event; not throwing away my shot

[ashleyishere24]

what if at the end of the hunger games Katniss Everdeen says “Katniss Everdeen, what a joke,” and cuts and bleaches her hair in President Snows honour

[pumpkinpaix]

Very curious for your opinion- what do you think of it when people write modern au wwx as being very active in social justice movements? Personally, I can buy it but I don't think it should be a given?

maybe an unwise first question to pick out of my moldering askbox but whatever it's the first one that i felt like i had an answer prepared for off the cuff so yolo i guess!!

short answer: at this point, i don't buy it. It's a detail that I can and have put up with for fics i really like for other reasons, but i think it's pretty far off the mark in terms of how I understand wei wuxian's primary motivating forces.

ok now to get into the weeds! :D

there are several reasons why wei wuxian being heavily involved in social justice movements doesn't ring true to me--the easiest one to point to from outside the narrative is that the sort of activism wei wuxian is written to participate in is often modeled on how social justice circles look in the US. It feels really culturally alienated in a lot of ways. I can't really blame authors for this, though, because it's a very understandable approach to write what you're familiar with--but it does often take me out of the story because i find it kind of jarring, especially if the story in question is ostensibly supposed to be set in China where modern social activism necessarily looks very different than in the states.

but that kind of feels like metagaming the question, so: in terms of interpreting the text, i really just don't think wei wuxian would be inclined to that kind of work for two main reasons.

first: I think he'd be really bad at it lol. social activist movements are necessarily collaborative, and wei wuxian is kind of terrible at playing well with others, compromising, discussing, etc. he often favors action over diplomacy and has terrible impulse control, tending to act first, think later, often to pretty devastating consequences for the people he's ostensibly standing up for. See: antagonizing Wen Chao, which precipitates the chain of events that ultimately leads to the massacre at Lotus Pier; confronting the jins and basically threatening to kill everyone at jinlin tai if they opposed him, thus alienating all his potential allies and leaving the wen remnants essentially completely dependent on his individual power for survival etc. thus dooming them entirely when he died.

(also see: "can we stop talking and just start killing each other" at guanyin temple)

even really minor events in the past show the same kind of pattern, such as at the qishan conference when he throws his support behind wen ning as an archery competitor--wen ning panics in the spotlight and flubs his shots to public ridicule from being put on the spot. jiang cheng is the one who drags him away in mortification while wei wuxian simply doesn't give a shit about how it reflects upon him, not really considering how it might reflect on his sect.

i'm not saying that these were "wrong" actions to take in the moment: wei wuxian has an admirable righteous streak. he does not, however, always take other people into consideration when he makes his decisions. he basically ignores anyone who tries to change his behavior, sometimes carelessly, sometimes reacting with anger (Jiang Cheng, Lan Wangji, literally everyone post-sunshot frankly). that kind of individualist mentality is really ill-suited to activism, which requires an understanding that the individual has less power than the group and that you cannot bend the world around you. a lot of fandom comes down super hard on characters like jiang cheng and yu ziyuan for the things they say to wei wuxian, but i think they're honestly quite understandable, even if the way they express themselves is sometimes cruel or hurtful. the rationale isn't particularly surprising. It's one thing to act in a way that gets yourself hurt. It's another to do so when you know that your position will drag a whole lot of others down with you.

i feel that even if wei wuxian had the interest in joining a social activist group, he would probably eventually butt heads with the others until they either expelled him or he left himself. his thick skin would be a great tool in certain calculated actions (he would do very well as a symbol or a charismatic fall guy) but unfortunately, he's not very good at listening or adhering to a plan.

second: i just don't think wei wuxian thinks about systems of oppression very much. i summarized how i feel about his relationship to class already in this post from like 4.5 years ago (jeez.....) and I still stand by it! wei wuxian is not particularly class conscious because he is, in fact, relatively wealthy. he also like, pretty clearly doesn't think very hard about women's work or status either, except in personal terms--after all, he plays with A'Yuan frivolously, planting him in the dirt and does not think about the kind of work that goes into maintaining a standard of living, which is often women's work. (before anyone says anything, yes, i am aware he is not outright misogynist about women's work). throughout the text, wei wuxian just doesn't put a whole lot of thought into how a woman's gender might affect her status and power.

furthermore, this is kind of mentioned in the class meta, but again--wei wuxian's defense of the wen remnants isn't singularly motivated by the desire to uplift an oppressed class, because the wens are not an oppressed class. They are a sect, which is both familial and alliance-based, not an ethnic group or a class of people. Their treatment is still unconscionable, but it's not systemic oppression. the attempted killing of all the wens is not much different than xue yang's vendetta against the yueyang chang clan, except in scale. and until wen qing comes and personally begs him to help her find her brother, wei wuxian doesn't really have any thoughts to spare for the wen remnants and how they might be faring. he goes to help wen qing and wen ning because he owes them both a serious personal debt, which is something that he feels strongly about! and once he gets to the camps, he obviously isn't going to just ignore the other people suffering (esp because they are the wen sibs' immediate family). he is righteous, after all, but often fails to apply it in a big-picture way.

wei wuxian cares a lot about paying back those who have been kind to him or have helped him, which is pretty evident through his self-sacrificing streak throughout the narrative. he often forgets or deliberately does not take his own well-being into consideration--but, as established, he also forgets that he is not an isolated entity and that his well-being is tied to the well-being of others as well.

throwing himself in front of the brand to save mianmian, making sure everyone else gets out of the cave before he does, immediately coming to terms with having his right hand cut off, giving up his golden core, publicly distancing himself from yunmeng, personally defending the wen remnants, taking jin ling's curse mark onto himself, making himself into the yin flag at the second siege and so on--it's all one long extension of paying back debts, in some way.

personally, I think this is because he considers his entire life to be one that is owed--his life, his skills, his body etc. is all owed to others. I also think, however, that this tendency is often confused by fandom into characterizing wei wuxian as having low self-esteem, which he patently does not. wei wuxian thinks he's hot shit. he's arrogant, a show-off, and is so insistent in his own skills and abilities that he icaruses himself into literal bits. when he thinks he's about to lose his right hand he's like welp. guess i gotta learn how to do this with my left, without really any question about whether or not he can. of course he can! he's wei wuxian! can he bring wen ning back from the dead? for sure!! definitely!!!! can he totally do this night hunt blindfolded? hell yeah he can! and he's usually right. i think wei wuxian has very low self-worth, which is a different thing: he throws himself away at the drop of a hat for others that he cares about or feels indebted to because, whether consciously or unconsciously, he thinks that their well-being, survival, happiness etc. is something he should ensure at any cost, even himself because he owes it to them. he owes his whole existence!

so circling back to the initial topic, I think this pattern of thinking is pretty at odds with social activism. he puts those he feels he owes above himself, but doesn't have a lot of attention to spare for people he considers irrelevant--which is most people. (never learning jin zixun's name, for example). I think that while he understands the nature of systems of oppression to a certain degree (like, he understands jin guangyao's motivations, but he's not particularly interested or sympathetic), it's not something he's really passionate about correcting. his reaction mostly seems to be like "well, that sucks". he only really goes out of his way to defend those that he has personal affairs with or those that happen to pique his notice

wei wuxian doesn't actually have big-picture ambitions. he didn't want to be a leader of anything or start his own sect or anything else. he doesn't spend much of his thoughts on making a better world so much as how he might be able to be content in the world that exists with the people that he cares about. that kind of self-focused drive leaves me unconvinced that he would get involved in social justice in any meaningful way in a modern au. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i think that makes him a really fun protagonist, tbh. the tension between his selfishness and his propensity for self-sacrifice makes for a very interesting dynamic.

.....

:'] i guess i never left the weeds.

(ko-fi)

[deonsx]

Hope i’m not too late to request 😭

but i’d love a sae fic where the reader is a very famous hollywood actress, and the content would just be her in japan with sae coming to that u20 meeting, coming to the match, cheering for him, being shown on the big screen while doing so, and fluffy moments in front of the paparazzi

and also how the crowd and especially how the u20 members would react to it all (sendou would be interesting since bro wants an actress gf so bad lol)

i’ve been binge reading your posts the whole day today and i just HAD to request 💕💕 thank you so much 🤭

hiii love!! You made it before the last hours, I loved this request have a good read (also the rq has already closed, thank you to my loves who sent requests still, but I haven't finished the ones in the event yet. I will be ready for a new event) AND THANK YOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS(｡◕‿◕｡✿)

Sae sat with the rest of the U-20 team during their pre-match briefing seemingly unbothered by the noise outside. But even his teammates couldn’t resist teasing him “Yo Sae care to explain why she is wearing your jersey” Sendou smirked nudging Sae’s arm “You’re dating her right You have to be. There’s no way she’d just show up for no reason”

Sae shot him a bored look “Focus on the game”

“But-”

“Shut up” Sendou groaned but didn’t stop staring at the monitors where the VIP section was being shown live “Man I swear if I had an actress girlfriend I’d retire from football right now. Goals achieved”

“Good thing you don’t” Sae replied flatly but his lips quirked up ever so slightly. The match began and the tension was palpable. Every time Sae got the ball the crowd roared but the cameras inevitably panned to you. You clapped enthusiastically leaning forward in your seat and when Sae’s shot curved perfectly into the net you jumped to your feet cheering louder than anyone else

The stadium erupted. Fans screamed his name but all Sae could hear even amidst the chaos was the faint echo of your voice. He looked up at the stands and found you beaming hands clasped in excitement. He allowed himself a brief glance just long enough for Sendou to notice

“Did you just smile at her” Sendou asked incredulously running beside Sae as they moved back into formation “Play the game” Sae said but there was a rare softness in his tone

The game ended with a U-20 victory. Sae dominated the field but the post-match buzz wasn’t just about his performance. The cameras couldn’t get enough of you rushing down to meet him at the sidelines. You threw your arms around him unbothered by the press or the dozens of lenses capturing the moment

“You were amazing” you said voice slightly breathless. Sae let you hug him one hand resting casually on your back “You’re loud you know that”

“You like it” you teased pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. The photographers captured every second your bright smile his subtle but unmistakable fondness. Fans online exploded with reactions some gushing about your chemistry others lamenting how “unfair” it was that Sae got the girl of their dreams

Back in the locker room the teasing was relentless “I can’t believe it” Sendou groaned throwing his towel to the floor “She was hugging you Sae. Hugging you. Meanwhile I can’t even get a text back”

“You’re embarrassing yourself” Sae replied tying his shoelaces “I don’t care. Introduce me. Tell her I’m funny” Sae stood slinging his bag over his shoulder “She’s not interested in idiots” The entire team burst into laughter as Sendou collapsed dramatically onto the bench

Later that evening Sae and you managed to slip away from the chaos and grab a quiet dinner. The restaurant was discreet but a few paparazzi still lingered outside “You’re the talk of Japan right now” you teased swirling your drink “How does it feel to be the center of attention”

He leaned back in his chair the corner of his mouth lifting slightly “I could ask you the same thing” You laughed leaning across the table “Oh please. You’re the real star today. I was just a very enthusiastic fan”

“Too enthusiastic” he muttered though his tone lacked any real annoyance “You didn’t seem to mind when I was screaming your name” Sae’s gaze lingered on you for a moment soft and unguarded “Maybe I didn’t”

Enjoy!

[nerdy-novelist017]

Omg yay!! Ok obviously feel free to decline this since the subject matter could be rough for some people but, canon Benny’s reaction to what happened to Kathy was definitely my least fav part of the film and I need it to be rectified through fic🙏🏽. So could you write something about the aftermath of something like that happening to reader when her and Benny have been dating for a while? Im starved for caring and protective Benny unfortunately

Starve no more, anon ;) I have more protective Benny fics in the works! I made this one as a one shot to my Benny x Bunny series, hope that's okay! (This ISN'T the next part to Little Bunny! It's just a little one shot for after they're together ;) I'm working on getting the next part posted tonight!)

Word Count- 1.1k

Summary- Benny couldn't possibly want you after what almost happened, right?

TW- SA, 18+

*Please don't read if you are uncomfortable with the content!

Life Raft (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Benny was going to be so upset with you.

Your hands shook from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. You blinked and the tears burning your eyes threatened to spill over. Kathy’s hand rubbed the spot between your shoulder blades soothingly as she sat on the edge of the bed with you. Downstairs, you could hear the party wrapping up, Johnny and Funny Sonny trying to get everybody to leave. The party was over, too many bad things had happened for everyone to just pretend they didn’t see it, pretend they didn’t hear it.

You swallowed roughly, the events of the last hour still looping in your mind. The way his cold eyes raked over your body, the way he smiled sinisterly as you backed away. The course palm of his hand that wrapped around your throat, pinning you against the wall. His hot breath fanning across your mouth as his tongue invaded. His other hand going up your skirt, grazing the line of your panties. 

You squeezed your eyes shut at that part. You had screamed, but Benny wasn’t there. Kathy wasn’t there. Zipco wasn’t there. Brucie wasn’t there. You were alone with this man, prey to this predator. And who even was this man? You hadn’t seen him before, even though he wore the colors you had been so used to seeing almost every day. More chapters were popping up everywhere and with it, came new faces to the parties, meetings and picnics. Strangers, dangerously prowling through the club now, waiting for opportunities of solitude to attack.

You had only left the bonfire for a moment, telling Benny that you were going inside to grab a soda from the fridge. They only ever had beer coolers outside by the fire. You would only be gone for a moment. But a moment was all this animal needed as he stalked into the kitchen after you.

You were alone and that realization sent ice through your veins. This animal could do whatever he wanted, and you were powerless to stop it.

And then suddenly Johnny was there, grabbing this man and throwing him away from you. You were stuck against the wall, frozen in fear as you watched Wahoo and Corky jump into the fight as well. The two dragged the man out of the room, heading for the back door.

“Hey, kid, you okay?” Johnny asked, trying to make eye contact with your frantic gaze. He reached out slowly and pulled the hem of your dress back down to cover your trembling legs. “C’mon, let Kathy get you upstairs.”

You hadn’t even realized Kathy was there too now. She wrapped her arms around you, guiding you to the stairs. 

“B—Benny?” You tried to ask and Johnny nodded. 

“I’ll get him for ya,” he said, eyes empathetic.

That seemed to be hours ago. Or maybe it was only a few minutes. You weren’t sure; everything felt a little hazy. However long it was, Kathy never left your side, having planted herself next to you. You tried to say something to her, to thank her, but your throat was too dry and your mind too incoherent. You felt dirty and scared and you just wanted to go home. 

Benny was going to be so upset with you. 

Footsteps climbed the stairs and you stiffened at the sound. Benny appeared in the doorway and you wanted to sob. The man you wanted to run to, the man you wanted to hold you tight and carry you back to safety stood there, a dark expression on his face. With one look at Kathy, he dismissed her. She squeezed your arm gently. 

“I’ll be right downstairs if ya need me,” she promised softly and then she was gone. Benny closed the door behind her and a heavy silence filled the bedroom.

Your heart raced as he moved to stand at the dresser across from you. You could see the tension radiating from him and you swallowed back any kind of hope for him to love you still. 

“What happened?” he asked finally, his voice wavering with barely-controlled anger.

“I-I just wanted a pop. I just came in-inside and he—he . . . I couldn’t—couldn’t get away—” The words tumbled out of your mouth incoherently. 

“Which one?” 

You looked up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. “I—I don’t . . . Did Johnny not—”

“Johnny didn’t tell me who. Just told me . . .” His words died as he looked at the purple marks forming on your neck. His jaw clenched hard and he looked away from you. Your heart sunk at the action. He couldn’t even look at you anymore. He was so disgusted that he couldn’t even look at you. You could feel him slipping through your fingers and total desperation hit you like a wave. The ocean, you thought, that's what it felt like. You were lost in the middle of the ocean and a storm broke a nasty hole in your tiny ship. You were sinking, drowning in that vast, dark water.

The tears broke free from their dam and rolled down your cheeks as a sob caught in your throat. “I’m—I’m so sorry, B—Benny. Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” He looked back at you but you couldn’t face his hard gaze. 

Looking down at your lap, you cried. “Please don’t be upset with m—me. I’m sorry.”

He crossed the distance between you, lowering himself to his knees before you. You squeezed your eyes shut to avoid his gaze, heart shattering in your chest.

His warm hands enveloped yours tightly. “Bunny.”

Please don’t leave me here to pick myself up, you wanted to say. Please don’t abandon me to this darkness, I'm already drowning. I'm still me. I'm still your girl.

“Bunny, look at me.” His voice was so soft, just barely above a whisper. 

You obeyed his gentle command. His face was inches below yours, eyes examining. Slowly, he lifted his hand and his fingertips ghosted over the bruises forming on your throat. His brows pinched together but his eyes were soft as they returned to yours. His fingers traveled over the curve of your jaw and up to swipe the heavy flow of tears from beneath your eyes.

“I could never be upset with you, Bunny," he whispered. “I could never.” 

Your hands came up to grip his wrists as if he were a life raft holding you afloat. His hands, you realized, were shaking slightly and you held even tighter, anchoring him to you. 

“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. Angry that I wasn’t there to protect you.” His voice wavered, tears rimming his beautiful blue eyes. “I promised to always protect you and I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry, Bunny. I’m so, so sorry.”

Words failed you, but you never needed them for Benny. You threw your arms around his neck, burying yourself into his chest. He reacted immediately, pulling you impossibly close as he moved to sit on the bed beside you. You cried, and he let you.

And when Johnny came to check on you, that’s how he found you: curled into your Benny's chest, his arms a protective shield from the rest of the world as he whispered into your ear, hands running gently through your hair. And Johnny knew that you’d be okay, because you had Benny. And Benny would be okay because Johnny and his boys had already taken care of the ex-Vandal who dared to lay a hand on their little bunny.

*Tag List *

@Imusicaddict @elizabeth916 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer

[societyfolklore]

 Favour - Part 1

Title: Favour (Part 1 of 3) Pairing: ClubOwner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  When your boyfriend messes up with the wrong people he offers you up as free labour in Bucky Barnes Club.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut (eventually) DubCon (squint), forced labour, Jerk boyfriend, swearing, threatening behaviour, eventual violence and blood.    

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Bucky 108th Bday event  Will be posting the whole fic over March (hopefully) Square: a1 – Clubowner AU Card Number: 4B003 The night air was thick with the scent of sweat, booze, and bad decisions. The Winter King wasn’t the kind of club where mistakes went unnoticed. It was a place where men like Bucky Barnes built empires and burned anyone who got in their way. And tonight, Brock Rumlow was about to learn that firsthand.

You barely had time to throw on fresh clothes before Brock was pulling you out the door. He had been pissed the second you got home- late because of the damn train delays- and even more pissed that you didn’t change fast enough.

“Told you to wear something nicer. Something more.” His fingers gestured vaguely at his own chest, scowling at the modest neckline of your top. *“*You know- show off the girls a little.”

You ignored him, just like you always did when he got like this. You were already exhausted from work, and now you were being dragged by the wrist into Winter King- the club Brock and his friends frequented- but no one explained to you why. Only that it had something to do with a 'favor' 

“Don’t say anything, alright?” Brock hissed under his breath as you approached the entrance. “Just stand there and look pretty.”

Your stomach churned. You weren’t stupid- you knew Brock was into some underhanded things. Once upon a time, that had been thrilling. You had liked the way he made your head spin, the rough stubble, the gruffness, the edge of something dangerous.

But now? Now he was just Brock. And you were starting to see through the cracks.

“These guys are a big deal,” Brock muttered as you neared the door, adjusting his jacket. “So just... let me talk, okay? Hopefully, I can get out of this mess.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What mess, Brock?”

He didn’t answer right away. The grip on your wrist tightened. “Just need more time.”

That was all the confirmation you needed.

Your stomach sank. You had been through this cycle before- Brock needed time, which meant Brock owed money.

“This got to do with that truck?” you whispered.

Brock’s jaw ticked. His fingers twitched at his side before his grip on your wrist tightened sharply, a silent warning. His eyes flicked toward the bouncers at the door, then back to you, voice dropping lower. “Shut up.” The words came out as a hiss, sharp and laced with frustration, but there was something else there, too- something uneasy. He didn’t want you talking, not just because he was annoyed, but because he was afraid of what you might say.

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, rubbing at the sore spot he left behind. “You always do this,” you muttered, voice sharp but quiet enough not to draw attention.

Brock shot you a glare. “Do what?”

“Get in over your head,” you snapped. “Drag me into it without telling me a damn thing.” Like the time you'd had to drain your savings to pay back a bookie. 

His face darkened. “Don’t start, alright? Not now.”

“Not now?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You didn’t tell me shit before we got here, Brock. You didn’t say anything about money, about owing someone like Barnes- ”

“I said shut up.” His voice was low, dangerous. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you like that. But tonight, it cut deeper.

He was supposed to handle a job for Bucky- whether it was moving product, money laundering, or setting up a deal- but he botched it.

Worse? His failure cost Bucky money. A lot of it.

Now, he owes, and in Bucky’s world, debts always get paid.

Inside Bucky’s office, the tension was suffocating.

He took a few steps inside, rolling his shoulders like he was settling into familiar territory, but there was an edge to it- like he was waiting to see how Bucky would respond before pushing too far. His confidence wasn’t quite as effortless as he wanted it to be. "Gotta say, the place looks different when it's not packed wall-to-wall with people. You almost get to appreciate the decor."

Bucky didn’t respond. Didn’t even look up right away. He simply sat behind his desk, fingers drumming idly against his glass of whiskey, the weight of his silence stretching thick in the air.

Rumlow cleared his throat, shifting slightly. "Didn’t know you were gonna call me in so soon, Barnes Figured I had a little more time to- "

"Cut the bullshit," Bucky cut in, finally lifting his gaze. His voice was smooth as silk, but carried the weight of iron. "Now, where’s my fucking money?"

Rumlow barely sat down before the excuses started pouring out. "Look, I don’t know what to tell ya." He tried to sound charming, like he could talk his way out of this, but even you could hear the desperation lurking beneath it. "The intel was bad, alright? The cops showed up, I barely got outta there with half the shipment- "

Bucky exhaled sharply, amusement flickering across his face before it disappeared into something colder. He rolled the glass between his fingers, the ice clinking softly, before taking a slow sip. His other hand adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, movements unhurried, controlled- like a man who had already decided the outcome of this conversation before it even started. “Cops? Thought you were smarter than that, Rumlow.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You still owe. You think I just give out extensions?”

Rumlow’s face twisted in frustration. “Come on, Barnes. I did you a favor, fronting up this little venture, I'm out too.”

Bucky’s fingers stopped drumming. The room grew eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made your skin prickle. Then, he let out a low chuckle. “Oh you're out of pocket..” he echoed. “I took a chance on you for this job. You said you could handle it, promised to deliver, and now I'm out of pocket and short inventory.”

Rumlow clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling under the surface. “My boys and I are good for this. But I can't control everything, Buck- ”

Bucky’s expression darkened instantly. “It’s still Barnes to you, Rumlow.”

Your stomach twisted as you shifted awkwardly in your seat. The neon glow of the club lights flickered against the dark mahogany of the office. You didn’t belong here.

You never did.

But when Brock told you he was in trouble, when he said he just needed 'a little favor,' you hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be brought here- to him.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just a club owner. He was something else entirely. The kind of man that made people lower their voices when they spoke his name. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to make people listen. And right now, he was looking at you like he was deciding whether or not you were worth the effort.

Rumlow shifted in his seat, desperation oozing from him. “Look, I don’t have the money yet, you know I can get it sorted, I just need some time. But I got an offer. Help ease the sting a bit.”

Bucky arched a brow, not even trying to hide his boredom. “Enlighten me.”

Rumlow gestured to you.

“She can work for you- bartending, club floor, whatever you need. She’s not useless.”

Your head whipped around.

Was your boyfriend serious? You had a job- a copywriter at an advertising agency. Not this.

“She used to do this in college,” Rumlow continued, barely sparing you a glance. “She can pull her weight.”

The air in the room shifted.

For the first time, Bucky actually looked at you. Really looked at you. His gaze swept over your frame, slow and considering. Not in the way Rumlow did, not like you were something to be used and discarded. No, Bucky Barnes looked at you like he was measuring your worth.

A lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re offering me your girl to pay off your debt?” he asked, amusement flickering through his tone. “That’s low. Even for you.”

You opened your mouth- to protest, to argue, to say something- but Rumlow beat you to it.

“She can handle herself,” he insisted. “It’s just bartending. You get free labor, she'll even hand over tips.”

Bucky hummed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He turned his attention back to you. “That true?” he asked. “You need a job?”

Your pulse pounded.

Before you could even open your mouth, Brock scoffed. "She’s got a day job. But a second job at night wouldn’t kill her."

Bucky's eyes flicked between you and Rumlow, lips curling, not quite amused, not quite impressed. His tone, when it came, was low and edged with something dangerous, a quiet warning wrapped in velvet. "You always let him talk for you, sweetheart? Or you got a voice of your own?"

Your jaw tightened. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to owe anyone anything. But your options were slim to none, and you could feel Rumlow’s grip tightening on your wrist. A warning.

This wasn’t a question. Not really.

And yet, something about the way Bucky watched you made it impossible to lie.

“…I can work nights,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky exhaled a slow, knowing chuckle. Then, he leaned back in his seat, draping an arm over the back of the booth. “Alright,” he said. “You work for me now.”

Rumlow let out a relieved breath. “Good, so we got a deal- ”

Bucky’s gaze snapped back to him. “Oh no,” he corrected. “You still owe me. She just bought you a little more time.”

Rumlow’s nostrils flared, his grip tightening on you again, but Bucky’s tone was enough to shut him up.

“Careful,” Bucky murmured, watching the way Rumlow’s fingers dug into your skin. “You’re already in deep. Don’t make it worse.”

Rumlow hesitated, then released you, jaw clenched tight.

Your throat felt dry. "His mess is my mess," you murmured before you could stop yourself- your mother’s voice in your head, telling you to be loyal, even when it hurt.

You could still hear her words, crisp as the winter air back home. Family sticks together. Loyalty is everything. You don’t abandon the people you love, even when they make mistakes.

But was this loyalty? Or just fear of what came next if you let go?

No, just too stupid to get out while you still could.

For the first time that night, you realized just how screwed you really were.

[ssa-dado]

The Ship of Theseus (prelude)

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (?), pining - I really do suck at tagging Summary: Never fuck your boss. Never fuck your best friend. And definitely never fuck Aaron Hotchner. But you did anyways. And now you’re left with the post-coital edition of Mr. Practical and all the messy aftermath that came with it. And a makeout too. Apparently the big scary man fell asleep right into your arms. Warnings: It's mentioned that they fucked. Whoops. IDK. In doubt - +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. No actual smut, but it's STEAMYYYYY... way too suggestive. Also, some cuss words here and there. Hotch being a softie. Word Count: 4.1k Dado's Corner: It’s a Chekhov’s gun of Ethics but without the actual gun… unless, of course, we’re talking about Aaron’s GUNSHOTS - oh, wait, there it is! The gun! Aaron’s thick, throbbing GUNSHOTS - oh shit, that’s so cool

masterlist

If there was ever an Olympic event for post-coital efficiency, your dearest friend – and funnily enough – your boss Aaron Hotchner would be taking home the gold.

Truly, what a sight to behold.

One moment, he was wrecking you within an inch of your sanity, and the next - barely a minute later - him and his ridiculously long legs were back in your bedroom, carrying a towel in one hand, a damp washcloth in the other, like the world’s most disciplined housekeeper.

So proper, so effortlessly composed, even now.

Because of course Aaron Hotchner - former prosecutor, Unit Chief, insufferable neat freak - would handle post-coital cleanup like it was just another task on meticulously organized, color-coded to-do list.

Sex: Completed (highly successful, performance rating: exemplary)

Orgasm(s): Confirmed (3, official review pending, though “best orgasm of my life” was strongly implied)

Post-coital hydration: Pending (but water bottle is within retrieval distance)

Aftercare protocol: Initiated (warm washcloth acquired, towel deployment imminent)

Debriefing & emotional processing: Ongoing (mission parameters unclear, subject remains evasive yet sarcastic)

Sheets: Ruined (replacement required, but can be postponed in favor of further activity)

Boss/subordinate ethical violation acknowledgment: Not yet addressed, deliberately ignored

Cuddling: Proposal under review (high-risk scenario)

Exit strategy: TBD (complications may include the inability to leave this bed for the foreseeable future)

And, obviously, you could not let him get away with that.

"Look at you, being all domesticated," you teased, propping yourself up slightly as he walked over.

"Someone has to take care of you," he shot back smoothly, dropping the towel onto the bed and kneeling beside you like this was normal.

Like you weren’t both still bare, still caught in the strange, floating space that existed after.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

The teasing - the constant, insufferable push and pull - was easy. That was your rhythm. That was safe. But this was something else entirely.

Something that left you both a little flustered, a little unsteady.

Even you - you, who could talk your way out of anything, who thrived on throwing him off - found yourself at a loss, your mouth opening, reaching for something to say, for anything that would keep this from feeling like more than what it was.

But then he touched you.

Pressed the warm cloth to your skin with so much care, with so much intent, and whatever sarcastic remark had been forming on your tongue just evaporated.

It wasn’t fair how tender he could be, how his hands - capable of so much control, so much discipline - could be this gentle, this careful. On you.

"You don’t have to do that," you murmured, breathless and barely audible.

"I know," he said simply, his gaze flicking up just long enough to see you before returning to his task. "But I want to."

So you let him. Let him take care of you.

Let yourself watch him, tracing the way his thick brows furrowed with concentration because he wanted to get it just right, the way his jaw tensed and relaxed as he worked, annoyingly meticulous, like this was just as important as everything that had come before it.

Gentle. Steady. Intimate. Intentional.

In a way that made your chest ache.

In a way that made you terrified of what it meant - now that the lust had passed, now that you were both just... here, bare, with nothing but each other.

And especially when he started pressing slow, lazy kisses along your knee, your already-marked thigh, your hip - like he needed to, like he couldn’t help himself, like he wanted to remind you that he had been there, that you were safe with him, even now.

Every second was more devastating than the last.

When he finished, he set the towel aside and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a beat, then another, then another, until he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.

"There," he murmured, lips still brushing against your skin. "All set."

You shook your head, forcing a smile, forcing yourself back to safer ground. "So thorough, Hotchner. Truly, I’m impressed."

His mouth quirked, but apparently, he wasn’t done being insufferably tender, kissing your cheek up next. Wasn’t he just adorable?!

"I aim to please," it was so utterly him it made your stomach flip, but not even more Aaron Hotchner than when, suddenly, he was back to bossing you around in your own home.

"Now, we change the bedsheets, take a shower, and then I’ll see you back here so we-"

And then he stopped. Oh no. Cat got your tongue, bossman?

"We what?" you prompted, raising an eyebrow, watching with unholy satisfaction as the tips of his ears turned red.

He cleared his throat, hesitated in a way that was so unlike him it almost hurt to witness."We… could cuddle. If you want. Or talk. Or whatever you want to do, really. No pressure. I can leave, all you have to do is tell me."

The longer he spoke, the redder he got, his words tripping over themselves, and honestly, it was taking everything in you not to burst out laughing right in front of him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" you said instead, leaning in to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, hopefully to calm him down – or at least that was your excuse. "Big, scary Aaron Hotchner, suggesting cuddling in the same breath as ‘no pressure.’"

You mocked him, because humbling him was your second nature, and judging by the glare he was giving you, you were winning yet another round. Still, you didn’t want him to just leave. That much was obvious.

He exhaled slowly, gaze steady. "So… what do you want?"

You pretended to think about it, dragging it out just to see that little furrow in his brow deepen.

"Well, I suppose I could settle for cuddling… " you mused, letting your fingers ghost along his shoulders, "but only if you’re the little spoon."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Little spoon?"

Oh, wasn’t it just glorious. 2-0

"My house, my rules," you said smugly. "If you don’t like it, next time we’ll do it at your place, and you can do whatever you want."

And the second the words left your mouth, you definitely wanted to die.

Next time.

As if this was a thing. As if you had even talked about what it was, what this meant. As if you had acknowledged that what you’d just done was completely, wildly, against every rule in the protocol - and common sense as well.

Especially because he was your boss.

"I’m joking, of course," you backtracked quickly, though you felt the heat creeping up your neck.

"Of course," he echoed, but there was something in his expression, something behind his eyes that said he wasn’t entirely convinced, probably because he caught you with your hands in the cookie jar. "This was…"

Great. The talk.

"An accident," you supplied.

"Against protocol," he continued.

No shit, Sherlock.

"Because you’re my boss-"

"We work together," he chimed in, but his voice was softer now, trailing.

"Could cost us our careers," you pointed out, waiting for him to acknowledge it, to confirm the obvious.

"When there’s a pattern of offending behavior," he murmured, almost to himself, slipping into technicalities - because of course he would.

But then - he smirked. Just the slightest tilt of his lips, still – he smirked.

Oh.

And that could only mean one thing.

"A pattern," you echoed, watching him carefully.

And just like that, because he was only a man - logical, brilliant, but still just a man - he reached the same inevitable conclusion you had, just a breath later.

His fingers found yours, intertwining, and it was stupid how calming that simple gesture was.

Or maybe it wasn’t the touch itself but the truth laced between your hands.

Or maybe both.

Or maybe it was just this - how the whole conversation had shifted without either of you stopping it.

It didn’t mean you wouldn’t push and pull anymore. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t still play cat and mouse. You would. Just differently now. With your lips on the other’s skin instead of just grazing the air.

"We’re very good at patterns," he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, pressing a kiss there.

"At recognizing patterns," you corrected, your breath hitching as you tilted your head, catching the corner of his mouth with yours.

"What is a pattern, after all?" His lips moved along your cheek, his hands sliding up your spine, settling against your back.

"A repetition," you answered, barely above a whisper, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear.

"A repetition," he echoed, voice rasping, pressing one to the curve of your jaw.

"Exactly that." You murmured as your fingers traced patterns over his bare shoulders.

"Depending on a series of factors," he continued, shifting slightly, pressing another kiss to your collarbone.

"Such as…?" You exhaled against the bruise you left on his throat.

"Subjects involved," he murmured.

"Location," you supplied.

"A very important factor," he agreed, flashing his intoxicating dimples, nudging his nose against yours.

"Fundamental in analysis," you teased, smiling against his lips.

"If the location changes," he murmured, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, "the recognition of the pattern could be…"

You barely heard him, too focused on the way his breath ghosted over your skin, but still - hearing him talk like that, with his voice all low and thoughtful and dangerous, made you shiver.

"Devious," you countered, barely referring to legal theory anymore.

No, he was devious - the way his mouth was just barely touching yours, his hands skimming your sides like he wanted to devour you but was forcing himself to behave.

You've had enough. You tilted your head, catching his lips in a kiss, cutting off whatever legal analysis he thought he was about to give.

"Faulted," he corrected, the words slipping straight into your mouth, delivered onto your tongue by his, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

"You can never be sure…" your voice faltered, swallowed by the way he pulled you flush against his bare body, his fingers digging into the skin of your lower back.

"…if it’s the same pattern," he finished for you, just before his teeth caught your bottom lip, just hard enough to make you gasp.

"Or a copycat," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, feeling completely dizzy, straight-up autopilot - you barely even knew what you’d just said.

Judging by the way he chuckled, though, it was probably nonsense.

No, definitely ridiculous, because now he was repeating it back to you, still grinning, "…A copycat? You’re crazy."

Still, he never looked away.

Right… you definitely weren’t exactly talking about unsubs now.

"So one single act can still be admissible?" you asked, fingers idly tracing over his cheek.

"It was just a little lapse in judgment," he chuckled, but you could already feel the gears turning in that brilliant lawyer’s mind, already bending the rules in real time, looking for the inevitable loophole in the very system you both swore by.

"...At your place," he added, like that alone made all the difference. "And that’s just one location."

You smirked. "Not your apartment."

"To be precise," he murmured, his mouth brushing over yours, "it was just your bed… which means that technically-"

"Technically", you could still fuck each other everywhere else.

"Oh, I love the way your brain works…" you hummed, punctuating your words with another kiss, this time against the sharp line of his jaw. "So… not the shower."

And just like that, it became a game.

A list. A reckless, bucket list.

"The desk," he murmured, and fuck, you had to squeeze your thighs together at that one, trying so hard not to let your brain go there - not to picture which specific desk you wanted him to bend you over, not to imagine the feel of his hands gripping your hips, his voice low in your ear, telling you to keep quiet.

Definitely not the one in his office. No. That would be unethical.

"The kitchen counter," you whispered, voice already a little breathless.

"The floor," he added, lips dragging just beneath your ear, voice husky, teasing, unfair.

"Of all the rooms in this apartment…" you trailed off, tilting his chin just slightly so you could press a slow kiss right between his brows, smoothing away the tiny crease there.

"The couch," he murmured. Low blow.

You bit your lip, because that wasn’t fair, because now all you could think about was straddling his lap, sinking down onto him, rolling your hips while his hands dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you in place, watching you come undone.

You had never wanted to ride a man so badly in your life.

"Against the front door," you suggested next

“The armchair” he added, and okay - so he really wanted you to ride him. Noted.

"The stairs," you countered, throwing something ridiculous just to regain some control.

"We don’t have stairs," he said, lips curving against your skin.

"Fine," you huffed. "The car."

"Backseat or front?" he asked, way too inclined to indulge in your proposal.

"Front if I’m driving," you mused.

He groaned at that, and you took the opportunity to press your advantage, brushing your lips over his throat, smirking against his skin as you felt something become quite… hard.

"My bed," he rasped suddenly, and damn, you knew you were done for the second those words left his mouth.

Because that - that was dangerous. The thought of being wrapped in sheets that smelled like him, tangled up in his warmth, surrounded by the scent of sex and sweat and that insufferable, frustratingly attractive man…

You would not survive it.

"The elevator," you rasped before you could stop yourself.

And that was when he froze - for half a second, you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. And then-

"Jesus Christ."

"I don’t think that one’s possible, Hotchner.."

Still, his mouth parted, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left, and for a second, you genuinely thought he was about to die right then and there. Would’ve been tragic, really - death by horny legal loopholes debate.

Explain that to Erin Strauss...

But then he groaned, deep and wrecked, dropping his face into your neck like he needed a moment to recover. Maybe he wasn’t going to die just yet.

"The elevator?" he muttered against your skin, muffled, bewildered, like he couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation.

"The elevator," you confirmed, absolutely shameless.

"Jesus."

"I’d prefer it be just the two of us, if that’s not a problem for you," you deadpanned.

He let out a deep, suffering sigh against your neck, like he was physically restraining himself from debating elevator logistics.

"I don’t even know what to do with you," he muttered.

"I have some ideas."

He exhaled, then lifted his head just enough to look you dead in the eye. "We are never having sex in an elevator."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"That sounds like a lawsuit," he corrected, still so visibly distressed that you could not stop laughing.

"Thought you used to be a good lawyer, Hotchner," you teased, your fingers dragging lazily along his spine. "Wouldn't you know your way around a legal loophole?"

"Oh, I do," he sighed. "I also know how to avoid federal charges."

"You’re truly a prude."

"You're truly reckless," he shot back, eyes closed, mentally revisiting every questionable decision he’d made in the last hour… or maybe the last two…

Honestly, who was even keeping track at this point?

You smirked, shifting until you were draped half over his chest, resting your chin on your folded arms as you gazed at him. "Oh, c'mon, Hotchner, live a little."

His eyes opened just enough to give you a look.

You huffed. "Okay, okay, fine. No elevators. If you really wanna be lame about it."

"Thank you," he said flatly.

A pause. Then, you couldn’t help it. "The jet."

His entire body went rigid. You swore you felt his soul attempt to leave his body.

"The jet?" he repeated, voice hoarse.

You nodded sagely. "The jet."

"Oh my God."

You grinned, slow and so wicked. "Can you imagine it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Small, enclosed space-" you started.

"Oh my God."

"-turbulence, you pinning me against the-"

"No." He cut you off.

You cackled, absolutely delighted by his suffering.

"The team is on that jet," he tried to argue.

"Not always," you countered, “sometimes Strauss is there too.”

His entire face drained of color. For a solid three seconds, he just stared at you, mouth slightly parted, horror creeping into his very being.

"Get out."

You wheezed, collapsing against his chest, “Of my bedroom?! You can’t really dismiss me here unfortunately for you.”

"I don’t ever want to hear the words sex and Strauss in the same sentence again," he grumbled.

"I believe you just said them yourself, Hotchner"

A slow blink. A deep sigh. He was so close to reconsidering every single choice that had led him to this moment.

And yet-

Instead of answering, he just exhaled, letting his weight sink into you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder like admitting defeat.

Because you both knew exactly what this was.

A game.

A flimsy, shameless, beautiful excuse to keep doing this - to keep falling into each other, to keep breaking rules and bending logic, to keep pretending it wasn’t something more.

But neither of you said that.

Neither of you needed to.

Instead, you simply thrived in the ineffable, in the space where words didn’t need to be spoken. In the way his body melted on top of yours, drawn to you despite himself, despite the attitude, despite everything.

Because with you, he could just be.

Simply, truly, exist in his truth.

Not Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Not the unshakable leader, not the man who carried the weight of everyone else’s burdens on his back, never allowing himself to falter.

Just Aaron.

The six-foot-two little spoon who swore he wouldn’t be, yet here he was, folded into you like he’d never belonged anywhere else, all because you’d jokingly set it as a condition for him to breathe this close to you.

At least, that’s what you told him.

But in reality a part of you wanted this.

A part of you wanted the man who always stayed close – from the victims, to the UnSubs, and everyone he cared about, always making sure he was the one who bore the weight so no one else had to - to have someone stay close for him.

To let him know what it felt like to be held.

Because the thought had been lingering at the edges of your mind for far too long now - unwelcome, unavoidable -

If he was there to protect everyone, who was there to protect him?

Not that you were volunteering. Not like that.

Actually if you said it out loud, he’d probably just laugh at you, and use that damned dry humor of his and tell you “How can you protect me if you can barely shoot?”

And you’d laugh, you’d tease him right back - and nothing would change.

But you knew the truth - you’d been his anchor for the past decade.

And so your fingers traced idle patterns along his back, thoughtlessly, feeling the tension unwind from his muscles, bit by bit, until there was nothing left but the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

"You’re warm," he murmured after a while, rasping at the edges, making your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to think too hard about.

"You’re a bit heavy," you murmured, lips quirking slightly.

"Mhm." But he didn’t move, didn’t even try.

You smiled to yourself, dragging your fingers gently through his short hair, feeling the strands slip between them, coarse and slightly mussed.

"You don’t have to do that," he said softly against your skin.

"I know," you whispered, your hand still smoothing over his back, still holding him close, like you weren’t fooling either of you. "But I want to."

A pause. A deep breath.

Then-

"Thank you," he sighed, pressing a barely-there kiss to your shoulder, too tired to move, too tired to do anything but exist against you.

Just holding each other.

Just existing in the same space, in the same breath, with no expectations, no pressure, no future to consider beyond the feel of his heartbeat against yours.

"You know, there’s a philosophical dilemma called the Ship of Theseus-" you started, your voice a gentle hum in the quiet, earning a small huff from him in response.

"It questions whether an object remains fundamentally the same if all of its components are replaced over time. If every original part is gone, is it still the same thing? Because technically, it’s not… if identity is tied to its physical components and not something more abstract, like function or form."

You felt the slow, subtle curve of his lips against your shoulder.

"Which brings us to," you added, lips curving now too, " is this even the same bed if we just change the sheets? On some criteria, following this logic… it isn’t."

A beat.

No reply.

Just the steady, even sound of his breathing.

And - oh.

Oh.

He’d fallen asleep on you. Mid-philosophy. Unbelievable.

Great. So apparently, you were the boring one now. Perfect.

But before you could dwell too much on your bruised ego, he stirred, mumbling something barely coherent against your skin.

"Mmmh… we change the sheets… shower… come back here and-"

“’And’ what?” You sighed, your fingers still lazily running through his hair.  “Aaron, you sound like a low-battery version of yourself.” You huffed a laugh, shaking your head.

"M'practical," he slurred, as if that was a valid argument.

"You’re half-asleep."

"Still practical," he muttered.

"If you move, I’ll take care of the sheets. You go shower," you offered, voice quiet, fond.

He barely responded, just a low, unintelligible grumble against your collarbone before-

"Mm-mm… we don’t… shower together?”

You sighed. Of course that was where his sleepy brain went.

"Will we just shower?" you asked, knowing full well he wouldn’t have the energy for anything else.

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice barely above a whisper-

"What if we don’t?" he muttered, already half-asleep. "S’not against the rules…"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Aaron-"

"The ship… applies to your shower too…" his words trailed off lazily, completely nonsense, but you could hear the hint of a smile in them. "If you replace the soap… ‘s a different shower…"

Well, at least even in his on-the-brink-of-unconsciousness state, he was committed to following through with your logic...

"I’m saying this for your own good, Hotchner, because you really don’t have the energy for another round."

"I do," he grumbled, shifting, his arms tightening around you like you had to believe him.

"Sure," you murmured, kissing his forehead. "I’ll believe that when you make it to the bathroom without falling asleep in the doorway."

He made a low, unintelligible noise, like he wanted to argue, but his body had already betrayed him, too heavy, too settled against you.

"Go," you whispered, nudging him gently.

A deep sigh. Then-

"Fine."

He peeled himself off you with the effort of a man being dragged out of bed by force, his body moving like it was actively resisting him.

You bit back another laugh as he stumbled toward the bathroom, catching himself on the doorframe for just a second before disappearing inside.

And, of course-

When you finished your own shower and stepped quietly back into the bedroom, he was already collapsed against the bed, completely dead to the world.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment you eased yourself into bed, trying your best to be quiet, he shifted -

One sleepy, instinctive movement.

And suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you without thinking, his body curling into yours, his head tucking against the crook of your neck, snuggling.

Clingy.

"Annoying little spoon," you muttered.

You felt a muffled hum against your skin. "Next time… we switch."

You sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, letting your fingers drift through his hair one more time. "Go to sleep, Aaron."

He sighed against your skin, warm and content, the weight of him only settling deeper into you.

"Mmm. ‘M already sleepin’…" he murmured, words barely holding together.

A beat.

Then, even softer-

"You should too… two hours ‘til work."

Oh, he just could not help himself - spent a full minute reminding you, over and over, that you just fucked your boss.

Damn it, Aaron. At least he could try to pretend...

"Actually, it’s one and a half." you bit back.

A pause.

Then-

"Shit."

Shit indeed.

Phi's Corner: BOTTOM HOTCH RIGHTS!!!!!!!! Also don't worry filthy goyals, you will be fed with some actual smut tomorrow. And probably some context too... maybe?!?! hope you enjoyed this anyways...

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[unabashegirl]

The Cover — sneak peak

Y/N and Harry, lifelong best friends, pretend to be a couple for a family wedding weekend in Edinburgh. As they navigate the event, old feelings resurface, and what starts as an act turns into something real, leading them to confront their true emotions for one another.

Author's note: hello, the cover has already been posted on Patreon, but I wanted to give you a sneak peak to it. Just in case you want to give it a read on my Patreon. It's a four part story. The final part will get posted tonight.

check out my patreon (starting at $2) and get full access to all chapters, various one shots and much more :)

masterlist

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Harry sat next to Y/N, his body half-turned toward her as he read a book, legs tucked beneath him like a cat seeking comfort. There was a distinct softness about him when he was in his own space, away from the flashing cameras and curious eyes of the public. His hair, dark and messy, tumbled over his forehead, catching in the dim light, giving him a boyish charm that contrasted sharply with his usual confident and polished public persona.

He wore a simple white t-shirt, the fabric clinging loosely to his lean frame. His broad shoulders spoke of strength, but his posture, slightly hunched as he leaned into his book, gave off an air of vulnerability. His long fingers traced the edges of the pages absentmindedly, and now and then, his green eyes flicked up from the book, studying Y/N with a kind of quiet amusement, like he was aware of the unspoken understanding that lay between them.

Harry had always been attentive, almost in a way that felt second nature, as though he knew more about her moods than she did. There was something undeniably magnetic about him—his laugh was a little softer here, his voice a touch lower. His fame could never overshadow the gentle heart he showed her when they were alone.

Y/N’s eyes hovered over the same paragraph for what felt like the hundredth time. The words blurred together, the meaning lost as her mind wandered to the man sitting beside her. She was supposed to be reading a novel on leadership—something meant to inspire her as she navigated her demanding corporate job—but her thoughts kept drifting back to him. It was ironic, really. The book talked about control and decisiveness, yet here she was, lost in the one thing she couldn’t control: her feelings for Harry.

She had always found him attractive. No—more than attractive. Beautiful in the kind of way that felt effortless. His messy hair, the way his lips quirked into a half-smile, those green eyes that seemed to see straight through her… It all added up to someone she could never quite believe was real. He’d always been larger than life to her, even before the fame. Back when they were younger, when they were just two young adults with dreams and no idea where life would take them.

But then, his life had soared into stardom, and hers had stayed grounded in the corporate world. He became Harry Styles—the Harry Styles—and she remained his best friend, hidden away from the glamour of his world. She had watched as women swooned over him, throwing themselves at his feet, and she had silently swallowed her feelings. She knew she could never compete. He was out of her league, in every possible way.

And yet, sitting here next to him, as close as they were, it was impossible not to be reminded of just how deep her feelings for him ran. His presence had always had this effect on her, an electric undercurrent that made her skin tingle and her heart pound just a little harder. She stole a glance at him over the top of her book. He was engrossed in whatever he was reading, completely unaware of the thoughts swirling in her mind.

That’s what made it all so painful—he would never see her that way. She was just Y/N, his best mate, his confidant. The one person who was always there, but never the one he looked at with desire. She felt a knot tighten in her chest as she allowed herself, for just a moment, to imagine what it would be like if things were different. If she were someone else. If he saw her the way she saw him.

As if sensing her gaze, Harry suddenly looked up, catching her in the act. His lips twitched into a small, knowing smile, and he set his book down on the coffee table.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, his voice low, breaking the silence between them. His eyes locked onto hers, and the way he studied her made her feel exposed, as though he could read her thoughts without her saying a word. “You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”

Y/N quickly dropped her gaze, closing the book to avoid his probing eyes. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, though the heat rising to her cheeks gave her away.

He tilted his head, not buying it for a second. “Come on,” he coaxed, a teasing edge to his voice. “Spill it. I know you. You’ve got that look.”

She shifted uncomfortably, trying to laugh it off. “What look?”

“The one where you’re overthinking everything,” he said, leaning back against the couch, still watching her closely. His gaze softened. “Talk to me, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as Harry’s green eyes bore into hers, his expression filled with gentle concern. She had always struggled to lie to him. Whenever he looked at her like that, like he truly cared, she felt like he could see right through her. The panic rose quickly, threatening to bubble over, and she knew she had to say something—anything—to steer the conversation away from the thoughts that were tangled up in her mind.

She blurted out the first thing that came to her. “My cousin’s getting married.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. “Which cousin?”

Y/N let out a long sigh, glad for the distraction, though the topic she’d chosen wasn’t much better. “The worst one. Out of the three, I mean. You know, the one who’s always got something to say about everything. Perfect life, perfect fiancé, perfect job… perfect everything.”

Harry’s expression softened into one of amused sympathy. He knew exactly the kind of family pressure Y/N was talking about. He stretched out his legs, making himself more comfortable, as if settling in for a story. “Ah, her. That sounds like fun,” he teased, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Y/N rolled her eyes, tucking her legs beneath her as she faced him. “It’s not just her. It’s the whole family. They’re all so excited, and for some reason, they’re all hell-bent on me bringing a date.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t even have a boyfriend, but everyone keeps asking if I’m bringing someone. They’re already assuming I’m going to show up with a ‘plus one,’ and I just… I don’t want to deal with the humiliation of telling them I’m still single. Again.”

Harry’s brow furrowed slightly as he listened, a small frown tugging at his lips. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her thoughtfully. “Y/N, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. If you don’t want to bring someone, then don’t. Your family’s expectations shouldn’t dictate your happiness.”

Y/N smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but her heart was still heavy with the weight of the situation. “I know, but it’s just… hard. It’s like they see me as incomplete because I don’t have someone.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t understand that I’m happy with my life. But at a wedding, it’s like a flashing neon sign that I’m alone.”

Y/N smiled weakly, appreciating the sentiment, but her heart was still heavy with the weight of the situation. “I know, but it’s just… hard. It’s like they see me as incomplete because I don’t have someone.” She let out a bitter laugh. “They don’t understand that I’m happy with my life. But at a wedding, it’s like a flashing neon sign that I’m alone.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze softening even further. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but then paused, seemingly deep in thought.

Y/N bit her lip, realizing she was rambling, but it was easier to talk about this than the real issue she was trying to avoid. And with Harry sitting so close, his concern for her so palpable, it made her feel even more off-balance. Every time he cared, every time he listened so intently, it reminded her of how much she longed for something more than just friendship.

But that wasn’t an option. Not with him. So, she buried it all under the wedding invitation and the pressures from her family, hoping it would be enough to keep him from asking more.

Harry studied her for a long moment, eyes searching her face like he could sense there was something more she wasn’t saying. He tilted his head slightly, lips pressing together in that way he always did when he was thinking hard.

“Is that really why you’re freaking out?” he asked gently, his voice laced with quiet skepticism.

Y/N felt her stomach twist, the question catching her off guard. She hated how easily he could see through her, but she wasn’t about to crack. Not when it came to her deeper feelings. So, she nodded quickly, clutching onto the family wedding excuse like a lifeline. “Yes, it is. It’s a big issue, Harry. Every time I visit my family, it just… it tears me down a little more. They make me feel like I’m somehow falling behind because I don’t have someone. It’s exhausting.”

He sighed softly, his eyes softening with sympathy, though there was still a trace of doubt in his gaze. Without saying anything more, he leaned back against the couch and picked up his book again, his fingers absently running along the spine.

For a few minutes, silence fell between them, the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages the only sounds filling the room. Y/N watched him out of the corner of her eye, heart still racing from the close call. She didn’t know what she’d do if he pushed further—if he managed to pry open the lid she’d been keeping on her feelings. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on her book, but the words refused to make sense.

Then, just as she was beginning to lose herself in her own anxious thoughts, Harry broke the silence.

“I’ve got an easy solution,” he said suddenly, his voice calm and casual, like he hadn’t just spent several minutes in contemplative silence. He didn’t even look up from his book. “I’ll go with you.”

Y/N blinked, his words not quite registering at first. “What?”

He glanced over at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll be your date. To the wedding,” he clarified, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Problem solved.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing to catch up. “You… you’re serious?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Harry Styles, her best friend—and secret crush—offering to be her date to her cousin’s wedding?

“Of course,” he said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. “If it’ll make things easier for you, I’m in. I’ll go, smile for the family, and be the perfect distraction. You won’t have to deal with any awkward questions about being single.”

Y/N stared at him, stunned. He made it sound so simple, like it was no trouble at all. But for her, it was anything but simple. Having him at her side, pretending to be her date, while she tried to keep her feelings under control… It sounded like both a dream and a nightmare all at once.

She swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. “Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, closing his book and turning his full attention to her now. His gaze was steady, sincere. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. If this is stressing you out, let me help. I’d be happy to go with you.”

Her heart swelled at his words, warmth spreading through her chest at the thought of him being there, by her side, at a time when she felt most vulnerable. But at the same time, the reality of pretending—of standing next to him, feeling things she shouldn’t, knowing it was all just for show—made her feel dizzy.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost unsure...

[lunahearts]

Okay I'm doing it. I'm chapter 96 posting.

This is not meant to be a big analysis post this is mostly just me sharing all the little moments that Marcille & Laios show their care for each other because they are SO beloved to me. Join me on the journey if you wish.

(but also the above statement may be a lie. I do have a point here, it turns out, and the point gets at some of my Big Feelings of what Dungeon Meshi has to say about the nature of friendship & living in the world)

So, first of all, the conversation about Laios being king at the start of the chapter. Just in general Laios insisting on presenting himself in his own way here is so good. Character development!!

Before the events of the story he hadn't shared his inner world with anyone but Falin. Now he's like Actually I'm gonna dress up in the discarded remains of my monstersona and that's just how it is.

And even though there are a LOT of parts of the story and bits of character growth that go into this, I think it specifically highlights some interactions from a few chapters ago.

After all, his initial reaction to having been in that monster form & coming out of it was trying to hide from everyone.

And I think everyone helping him put things in perspective here contributes to how he is able to present himself as king. They assure him that he is accepted, despite having just been seen by EVERYONE at his Peak "Weird Monster Guy" mode.

Highlighting what Marcille says here especially:

Going out to "face them with a smile" is EXACTLY what he does. Not right away. He's still pretty stressed in the following scene in this chapter. But he is able to face the crowds with a smile, eventually...

As king. Dressed in the memory of his most vulnerable moments, the most honest expression of his desire.

BUT I'M GETTING A LITTLE AHEAD OF MYSELF. Before the King Laios speech, there's a little moment with Marcille I want to highlight, because...

Did y'all know that by the end of the manga, Marcille isn't like... grossed out by eating monsters any more? Or at least, she's definitely changed her reaction to it. It's Namari who makes the "yeah it smells good despite what it is" comment, not Marcille.

We even get shots later of Tansu, Shuro, and Kabru being kinda grossed out by - but still going ahead and eating - the different Falin foods. Chilchuck also throws out a line about it being surprised that it's good.

But there's no disparaging comment from Marcille, despite the Everything of the situation. I just think that's also a nice little detail. She may not be as far in the monster eating game as Laios, but she's more willing to roll with the weirdness.

So after this little moment, this is when Laios comes out in his new regal outfit. And first of all...

This is such a good contrast to the moment when the group goes to save Marcille in chapter 84. The monsters had stopped attacking, and everyone's reactions to Laios and the others framed him as unsettling. Creepy. Maybe even traitors.

They even use some of the same labels (lord of the monsters/lord of the dungeon, dark lord/demon king)., but the context is that they are disgusted. The parallels in this manga....

Have a tendency to destroy me. What a difference in reception.

Anyway, after this moment, Laios stops to talk to the group... and I'd like to point out again: MARCILLE ISN'T FLIPPANT HERE EITHER!!

Chilchuck is still Chilchuck, of course, and I want to be clear I love that, too. Chilchuck is who he is to his core. His little jabs are very affectionate in this chapter.

But Marcille... Marcille only points to the Winged Lion symbol as being weird, not the monster bits. And like, considering what she's just been through with the lion, being skeptical of that part is... fair.

(don't get me wrong, her "that's fine and all" isn't exactly excitement. BUT the point I'm trying to make is less about her completely changing her feelings & preferences. It's more about how she expresses them, and how she treats Laios and HIS feelings & preferences)

And she continues to be so encouraging!! Wah!! Like, despite, all four of these people definitely caring about Laios, it's Marcille specifically who tells him to relax and just be honest. And you know what? I think that's what Falin would have said, too.

Please also note how cute everyone's little faces are in the crowd:

(see, Chilchuck loves him too!! Look at that fond face, and the cheer. and Senshi! and Namari! They really are such a family)

Laios' short speech actually has a little bit I'd like to highlight as well, since I think it is a nice little reflection of his choice to keep the lion insignia on his new outfit:

"Eat to your heart's content," he says. Not just "enjoy," or "let's eat."

Dunmeshi does such a wonderful job of framing so much about the Winged Lion with nuance, and this is a good example of that. Desire is not bad! Craving and consuming is beautiful. As Laios says when explaining the lion insignia...

It's not just something to get rid of.

So then... on to the feast!

And not only does Marcille not express any grossed out feelings, as I mentioned before... she even helps to gross out Chilchuck!!

Her weird girl powers are only just in their infancy. She will only grow more powerful in time...

As the feast goes on of course we get the group's realization about her hair, and I'd like to point out:

I really feel like they have such similar reactions to finding out about how the other has been affected by the Winged Lion

Just... the quiet concern. Not making a huge fuss, but... worried. Understanding. A little heartbroken for each other.

SPEAKING OF HEARTBROKEN REACTIONS THOUGH. WHAT COMES NEXT REALLY GETS ME.

After Chilchuck braids Marcille's hair for her, the topic of her needing to leave everyone comes up and...

God, these expressions. Every Time I see these panels I think about about what Laios saw in her nightmare. Her fears. The weight of inevitable loneliness, and the way it has marked her. As much as Marcille tries to keep things light when talking about it, he knows what this means to her. And it HURTS.

So he doesn't accept it. But do you notice how he frames this. Do you see. Not "do you want me to fix this." Not "hey I have an idea."

"Would you be willing to stay."

He doesn't know whether she will accept. Whether she will hate the idea, actually, of staying here with him. He's putting himself out there fully prepared for rejection & dismissal, as he has faced many times before.

But his pitch, his proposal to her, it's not JUST an excuse to ask her to stay, either. He's put thought into this. Into what Marcille could mean and do here. Not just to and for him, but for the people of this area. The place he has taken responsibility for.

He's also thinking about Falin. And about all the other little girls, the people of all sorts, just like her. He's thinking about the people who have been killed (burned at the stake???), hurt, shunned. About the people who have been abandoned. The people who are still alone.

He's not just offering Marcille an out from her isolation, he's offering her a new purpose. A new way to continue her work, to do the things she cares about. He SEES her! he understands her.

BUT ALSO HE'S SO NERVOUS OUGH. FIDDLING WITH THE PLATE. UNSURE IF SHE WILL CARE. UNSURE IF HE HAS IT RIGHT.

HE'S NOT GOOD WITH PEOPLE HE'S NOT GOOD AT THIS.

BUT THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER. AND SHE WANTS THIS LIFE HE'S OFFERING HER.

Still... it's not that simple for her, even if for a moment she is swept up in how much she wants this.

Again here, Marcille is working so hard to be chill about the whole 'going west with the elves' thing. She looks absolutely devastated in the first panel, but puts on a smile in the second.

Maybe she doesn't want to bring down the mood. Maybe she doesn't want to burden everyone with what seems like the only option she has. Maybe she had already accepted the cost that might come with bringing Falin back. Maybe after everything with the Winged Lion, she doesn't want to risk letting herself fight for her desires too hard.

But hey. Desires aren't always bad. They aren't something to just get rid of.

A small bit of visual storytelling here... I love that Marcille is confined by the panel, but Laios is stepping outside of it. He's literally pulling her outside of the box she feels trapped in.

Also, I love that his first acts as king are:

1) welcome everyone to a big feast

2) stand by his friend and help her find happiness

It's great stuff and it's so Laios.

In addition to that, I love how this whole act actually plays out. I love that, while getting the elves to let Marcille go, he gets to be extremely cool and protective...

but also like. Not THAT cool and protective.

No really, I mean it! I think it's important! It's important that cool 'suave king guy Laios' is a front he puts up when he needs to deal with these strangers, and one that he completely drops once it's just him and Marcille.

He's not trying to impress her, or convince her he's cool and suave. Why would he? He trusts that she's okay with the messy, often unimpressive, sometimes kinda gross reality of who he is.

And isn't that what Dungeon Meshi is all about? Messy, unimpressive, gross reality. And how beautiful, how wonderful, how very precious it is

Especially when you get to share it with your friends.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

I loved Juno! Would you consider writing more Glenn x pop star/reader? It was amazing 🤩

absolutely!! hope you love it !

Hot like fire

pairing:glenn powell x popstar f!

As the stadium lights burst to life and Y/N strutted onto the stage, she oozed confidence and allure. Her outfit was dazzling, hugging her figure in all the right places, and her movements were smooth yet powerful. The crowd went wild, the energy electric as she began to sing the first notes of her hit, “Hot Like Fire.”

“I’m burnin’ up, can’t keep it cool,” she sang, her voice smooth and sultry, her hips swaying to the beat. With every step and flick of her hair, Y/N commanded the audience, moving with a teasing confidence that had the fans screaming. She reached the edge of the stage, winked playfully, and ran her hand down her side, making the entire crowd erupt with excitement.

Glenn watched, completely captivated. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the way she seemed to play to every person in the crowd while throwing sly glances his way. The way she looked at him during the chorus made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

The stadium was buzzing as fans filled every seat, awaiting pop star Y/N’s performance. Her sold-out concert had drawn massive attention, not only because of her talent and latest album but also due to the ongoing speculation about her rumored romance with actor Glenn Powell. The press had been buzzing for weeks with photos of them at events together, fans piecing together clues on social media, yet neither had confirmed anything.

After the final song, Y/N took a bow, grinning from ear to ear as the audience chanted for an encore. She threw one last glance into the crowd, where her eyes met Glenn’s. A small, secretive smile played on her lips as she raised her hand, giving him a subtle wave. It was barely noticeable to anyone else, but fans with sharp eyes caught it immediately.

Backstage, Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before Glenn was there, weaving through the crew, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without hesitation, he grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

“Ready to blow up the internet?” he whispered, his tone playful but eyes soft with affection.

With a giggle, Y/N replied, “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

Hand in hand, they dashed out of the backstage area, ignoring the photographers who were quick to capture every step. Glenn helped her into his car, and before she knew it, they were speeding down the freeway, laughing and giddy from the adrenaline of it all.

They decided to stop by Taco Bell, both too hyped up to think about anything other than fast food. But as soon as they stepped inside, they were met by a group of fans who recognized them immediately, gasping in disbelief and pulling out their phones. One fan managed to get a video of Y/N ordering tacos with Glenn right beside her, laughing as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Within minutes, photos and videos were posted online, and the internet exploded. Fans tweeted about seeing Y/N and Glenn at Taco Bell, speculating about their relationship status even more fervently than before. The hashtag #YNNGlennConfirmed shot to the top of trending topics within hours.

Meanwhile, Glenn and Y/N just laughed about the whole situation, eating their tacos and completely absorbed in each other. He leaned over, brushing a crumb from her cheek and murmuring, “Well, guess we’re officially out of hiding.”

She grinned, eyes shining. “Guess so. Ready to be my partner in crime?”

“More than ready,” he replied, giving her hand a squeeze as they prepared to face the world hand-in-hand, unafraid of what anyone might say.

As they finally made it back to Y/N’s penthouse, the city’s lights cast a gentle glow through the windows, creating a cozy, intimate vibe. Y/N kicked off her heels and let out a deep breath, still feeling the adrenaline from the concert. Glenn smiled as he watched her, clearly still mesmerized.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” he murmured, leading her into the bathroom. She looked at him, a little surprised but grateful for the gentle care in his eyes. With a soft touch, Glenn reached for her makeup wipes, holding one up with a playful smile.

“Allow me,” he said softly, moving closer. She closed her eyes as he delicately wiped the remnants of glitter and eyeliner from her face, his fingers grazing her cheeks. He took his time, making sure to be extra gentle, pausing to give her little smiles and whispers of how incredible she’d been tonight.

Once her makeup was off, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the bathroom counter, his hands steady and comforting. She chuckled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her forehead against his.

“Thank you,” she whispered. He just leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You deserve it,” he replied, his voice low.

Moments later, they found themselves in the living room, wrapped up in blankets on her plush couch. She picked up the remote, scrolling through channels until she found Friends. They settled in, the familiar laughter and comforting sitcom vibe filling the room.

Y/N snuggled into Glenn’s side, resting her head on his chest, her arms tucked around him. His arm draped around her, pulling her closer as his fingers traced soft circles along her shoulder. They both laughed at the episodes, quoting lines and finishing each other’s favorite scenes.

As the hours ticked by, Y/N felt her eyes getting heavy, her head nestled in the crook of Glenn’s shoulder. His hand stroked her hair, lulling her into a peaceful state as the laughter on the TV faded into the background.

“Best concert of my life,” he whispered, glancing down to find her already fast asleep, a soft smile still lingering on her lips. And as they lay there, with the city lights twinkling outside and the cozy glow of her penthouse wrapping them in warmth, Glenn knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

[st4rssky]

You wanna kiss me so bad..

☆ inspired by this silly post from Ro<3 ☆

“Are you kidding!? The main character is obviously in love with her best friend!” I huffed in frustration, feeling the heat of our argument pulse in the air. I had been going back and forth with Satan for the past fifteen minutes over the book he had so enthusiastically recommended.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the pages of his current read, a sly smile forming on his lips. “I see how it may seem like that to a novice reader like yourself, but I can assure you it’s not like that.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes with a laugh. “Novice? Just because I don’t have my own personal library doesn’t mean I’m a novice. I know what I read.”

Satan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, the smugness radiating off him like heat from a flame. “Ah, but sometimes the best stories require a deeper understanding. You have to look beyond the obvious.”

“Look beyond? Seriously?” I shot back. “The girl is practically pining over her best friend in every chapter! It’s like a neon sign.”

He tilted his head, pretending to ponder my words. “Or it’s simply a reflection of a strong platonic bond. Not everything has to be romantic, you know.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Sure, if you ignore all the longing looks and the way they keep finding excuses to be alone together.”

“Maybe they’re just really good friends,” he countered, a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re reading it like a rom-com when it could just be a heartfelt exploration of friendship.”

“Yeah, right. Tell that to the thousands of readers shipping them online.” I leaned forward, fueled by my conviction. “You’re just in denial because you like this book too much.”

Satan chuckled, shaking his head. “Or maybe I’m just more discerning. You should try it sometime. Might improve your perspective.”

“Discerning, huh? Sounds like a fancy way to say ‘wrong,’” I retorted, but a smile crept onto my face. The playful banter was what I enjoyed most about our discussions, even if it made me want to throw the book at him.

“God, you are so stubborn!” Satan replied, a smirk tugging at his lips as he chuckled. “It’s okay to be wrong, you know?”

I shot back, folding my arms defiantly over my chest. “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

He paused, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. Silently, he closed his book, stood up, and took a few steps toward me. “Oh? I can’t make a fool of myself now, can I?”

Before I could respond, he backed me against the bookshelf, the hard wood pressing against my back. My breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Satan's fingers brushed gently along my jaw, sending an electric thrill through me.

He held my gaze, his eyes searching mine, before flicking down to my lips. There was a heartbeat of tension, and then he leaned in, kissing me sweetly.

It was soft and lingering, the world around us fading into the background. My initial surprise melted away as I kissed him back, warmth flooding through me. When he finally pulled away, that teasing smile returned.

“So, am I still stupid?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“HE KISSED ME?? WE WERE FIGHTING AND HE KISSED ME??” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth in front of Asmo’s bed, my heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events.

Asmo giggled lightly, his focus on filing his nails, a playful smile dancing across his lips. “Maybe next time he’ll get you naked~”

I stopped mid-step, turning to face him. “Asmo! Are you kidding? We were literally at each other’s throats one minute, and then—bam! Kiss!”

He tossed the nail file aside, leaning back on his hands, looking thoroughly entertained. “Sounds like a classic move to me. Tension builds, and then... surprise romance!”

“Surprise romance? I was ready to strangle him!” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “And now I’m supposed to just brush it off like it’s no big deal?”

“Why not?” Asmo shrugged, grinning. “Kissing during a fight is like a plot twist! You know you’re dying to see where it goes next.”

My steps faltered lightly, my face flushing. I looked away, huffing under my breath. I hate it when he's right.

@l3viat8an mwah mwah<3

[battydora]

masterlist | rules | pinned post

synopsis: they lose a bet and they have to take a shot from your breasts (inspired by: this tiktok)

cw: suggestive, drabbles, modern au, human hantengu (i refer to them as demons anyways lol), gn. reader (afab), written with a chubby reader in mind, reader has big breasts, pet names, consensual, mentions of alcohol, drinking games, teasing, + sekido's confession

note: i saw that tiktok and can't stop thinking about it, so i decided to do it with hantengu clones, self indulgent because i want to stop feeling insecure about my chest and i need them to drink a shot from my tiddies, yeah that'll do it. i wanted to do this only with sekido but the others can join too bye im so gross about these four (btw sekido is my favourite so his part is longer, i'm not sorry) btw karaku is shamelessly dirty lmao i love him

UROGI

"haha! you lost, urogi!" karaku's voice yelled as he jumped from his seat on the ground, throwing his cards to the table out of excitement.

"ah, screw you, karaku" the joy demon complained, also throwing his cards to the table aswell looking rather annoyed, side eyeing you. he hid the fact of actually being excited about losing a bet, i mean, with a bet like that who would like to win? whatever's the case, he remained calm and collected despite everything.

"oh that's a shame" your voice spoke, sarcasm asserting presence in your tone, you were obviously not against the idea, you agreed this from the very beggining because, come on, how could you not take the chance of any of these four to bury his face into your chest?

you grab the little glass and the bottle of vodka from the table and start serving a shot. the four demons dagged their glares at you as you unbottoned a... suggestive amount of bottons of your shirt, a little smile growing on your face as you -tried to- hide your excitement for the upcoming events. you grabbed the glass and stuck it between your breasts, your hands pushing both of them together so the glass didn't pour. urogi, sekido, aizetsu and karaku looked at you a bit astonished, sekido glares away quickly, aizetsu stares for a few seconds before also looking away and karaku looks at urogi with a devilish grin, almost encouraging him. urogi didn't hesitate and, with a wide smile, walked towards you and knelt infront of you.

"okay babe, are you ready?" he asks, clearly full of confidence, he seemed excited, like a small child who just got gifted a candy.

"i was born ready" you teased pushing your chest closer to him, he flinched slightly, his eyes widen just as his smile in response, however, he was no chicken. his hands were about to hold your waist but karaku stopped him instantly, a grin on his face.

"ah, ah. no hands!" you both look at him, then at eachother. you smirked once again and winked at urogi, challenging, he only chuckled as a response and, with his hands well hid behind his back, he buried his face in your chest. he missed a few times before actually getting to the glass, his tough lips made contact lightly with your chest, making him laugh just a little bit, you bit your lower lip with a grin as you saw him struggle. you giggled as he took the glass out and threw his head back drinking the liquid within the glass, now grabbing it with his hand.

he sighed out a laugh after, shaking his head due to the alcohol burning his throat. he looked directly into your eyes with a wide smirk.

"now that was fun!"

KARAKU

"oh man, come on!" karaku throws his head back as his hands slam the table, grunting at loosing to aizetsu "you cheated!"

"you can't accuse me of that, you cheated in the first place" aizetsu protested, putting his cards down calmly "stick to the consequences"

"yeah, you're no one to speak, karaku" your teasing voice said, as you crossed your arms with a grin, karaku's annoyance dissapeared in less than a second when he shrugged and smiled back at you.

"ah, as if the consequences were so terrible anyways. let me see 'em babe!" he was shameless while asking, you laugh at him before unbottoning your upper buttons, exposing your bare chest only covered by your bra, his eyes and smile widen in excitement, he looked like a puppy.

"you will excuse me" he added taking the bottle and glass to fill it himself and stuck it between your boobs, you laughed at his lewd and fun look on his face when he stared at your chest "cheers!"

those were the last words you heard from him before he buried his face in your breasts, purposefully staying in place for a few seconds wrapping the glass with his mouth to have you close for a little longer.

"get it over with, karaku!" sekido was the one to scold the green eyed for staying there for more time that he should have, not that you minded tho.

so, just to tease both sekido and karaku, your hands pushed your boobs up just so karaku would sink in them even more, his laughter was muffled by his mouth being busy with a glass to then finally pull it away and drink the alcohol within. he took the little glass and chuckled with his precious laugh and looked at sekido.

"in your face, sekido!"he mocked and the red eyed just grunted, looking away. karaku then looked at you "sorry babe, i'm tempted, can i give any of your buddies a hickey?" he shamelessly asked, your eyes widened as you saw from the corner of your eye how sekido and aizetsu grossed out at him, which only made you laugh out loud.

"yes baby boy, go ahead" you heard an annoyed 'oh come on! you're disgusting!' coming from sekido aswell as you heard urogi laughing at the whole situation, granting you some sort of satisfaction, this was fun.

"man, cheating was so so worthy!" karaku cheered to himself before putting his mouth to use again.

SEKIDO

"this is ridiculous, i'm not doing it." sekido is the first one to make an objection against the bet HE accepted.

"oh no! you're not backing away like a coward!" urogi laughs at him, shaking his head.

"yeah, man, you can't bet and then not confront the consequences" karaku backs up urogi, laughing at sekido's face right now, man's infuriated.

"shut up both of you!" he states loudly, crossing his arms, avoiding any sort of eye contact with you, he is denial... and embarassment.

"you accepted the challenge, sekido. don't be a pussy" you say now, your elbow resting on the living room table, your face is one of amusement and your eyes locked on the anger demon. he does not answer to you so karaku speaks again.

"if you're not gonna do it, i will" his grin is devilish, he tries to touch a nerve in sekido. the red eyed demon turns to him absolutely furious, more than he normally is.

"fine, shut up, let's get this over with" he grunts and sighs, karaku laughs at him.

"that's the attitude, i knew you weren't so stubborn to let this chance pass by" urogi teases now, you laugh at all the teasing to the poor sekido and serve the drink in the small glass. the red eyed simply groans and decides to ignore them, now putting his attention solely on you.

he kneels infront of you, his knees glued to eachother and fists sitting on them almost shyly, he frowns at you but then looks down, avoiding looking at you, only for a second until he notices you begin to unbotton your shirt, then is when he becomes nervous, he tries so hard to not look at your chest, he is already so embarassed for doing this and can barely look at you. he can't avoid it any longer and eventually lifts his gaze and takes a look at the glass sitting between your big breasts, a beautiful black bra cupping them so prettily. the view is arousing and makes sekido actually thirsty. you stare at his astonished look and make him snap back by pressing your chest lightly.

"what's the matter? gonna try to chicken out again?" you tease in a playful and sweet voice, making the blush on sekido's face grow wider. he gulps and responds.

"of course not, i'm no coward"

he builds up courage from his own words and leans to your chest, his face flushes in dark red when his skin touches yours as he tries to catch the glass with his mouth and pull it out as soon as possible to end this embarassment. his hand lands on your thigh for support (yeah, support...) squeezing softly before finally pulling out the little thing out of your chest, throwing his head back drinking the alcohol in it. the hand touching you takes the glass and slams it to the table.

"done." yep, you definitely enjoy when he's upset like he is in this very moment, his fanged grimace remaining on place as he returns to his seat, avoiding eye contact with you for the rest of the night, because he knows you're looking at him with that look, that exact look you make when you want to tease someone. not that he feels disgusted, he just doesn't want to lose himself infront of his friends.

later that night, you stay over at the hantengu's place, karaku, urogi and aizetsu went to bed a little bit tipsy from a fun night and you're about to do the same until you come across sekido in the hallway, he is dressing the loose t-shirt and shorts he uses as pijamas, his angered expression looking strangely soft right now, or maybe you are imagining it, the hallway is dark and the alcohol in your system is not entirely gone.

"hey, i just wanted to say, i wouldn't mind taking another shot from that chest of yours anytime" he states confidently but in a low voice, the statement surprises you but you play along, whispering some words in response.

"oh yeah? what changed your mind? you seemed vexed carrying out the bet earlier" you look directly into his deep red eyes, he frowns before answering.

"i don't like being watched, those bastards were putting a lot of pressure, i didn't enjoy it as i wanted to"

"aw you're adorable" you say, smiling playfully. you walk to him, standing only a few centimeters away from him, your hand landing on his muscular chest and going down, teasingly "how about we go to your room and try again? bet you'll enjoy it accordingly this time" his angered expression changes for an instant when a teeth showing grin appears on his face, nodding in agreement.

"i would love to rip off that pretty black bra after"

AIZETSU

"do i really have to do this...?" the sorrow demon asks, as if he could back away now that he is kneeling in front of you, chest on full display, a glass of vodka already waiting for him.

"i mean, can you really chicken out now?" karaku says, chuckling to himself.

"yeah, you have to do it" urogi follows, giggling knowing aizetsu has the fattest crush on you and that this was definitely not in his plans.

"i guess i don't have other choice..."

his lips are twisted in an awkward grimace, his face is red as sekido's eyes, he is so ashamed and embarassed right now, he just wants to end this.

'why do i get myself in these situations...' he thinks to himself, trying not to panic as he leans forward, his hands are shyly sitting on his lap.

he is a sweetheart, he loves you (and desires you) deeply but he will do anything in his power to have the littlest touch with your breasts as possible, even if you consented to this. he is very respectful of you no matter the circumstances. however, he kinda fails his commitment because the glass is unfairly buried in your chest (you did that on purpose to tease him, poor thing) so he had a hard time getting it. after some hard work, he finally manages to pull the glass out and drink the alcohol within, his face is red as ever and his eyes avoid yours at all costs.

"d-done, i'm going to my room now, excuse me"

"oh, aizetsu, man come on! it's okay!" urogi tries to cheer him up but the blue eyed already headed to his room, you start to feel lowkey bad for him, what if he didn't like it?

"i feel bad now... was that really okay? he seemed upset" you say with a guilty tone, furrowing your brows, thinking you might've ruined the night for aizetsu.

"no babe don't feel bad! ... i'm not sure if we should tell you this but-" karaku begins to talk but is soon shut by sekido interrupting him.

"the dumbass has a crush on you, it's so dang obvious" he grunts crossing his arms, his revelation actually surprised you, i mean aizetsu kinda hit on you in past situations but you may not have noticed it because his signals were a bit subtle, so it wasn't so obvious for you, maybe to them it was because they're his closest friends.

"oh... is that so?" you ask, still a bit shocked.

"yeah" karaku speaks again "so, if i were you, i would check on him" he smiles rising a brow at you with a smug smile, clearly suggesting you should have some alone time with the blue eyed.

"yeah! we won't bother you" urogi chuckles, winking at you.

"just don't make too much noise or i'm kicking you out" sekido adds, frowning.

you try to hide your blushing face laughing amusingly at them, you loved these dorks so much, supporting you in this whole thing, maybe the night isn't exactly ruined, more seems like it just begins.

thanks for reading!

[doctorbunny]

A little speculation about Corpse Disposal and J-horror

But I'm a little bored so sharing a part-theory, part-headcanon on Muu and Rei

So we unfortunately don't see much of Rei in "Its not my fault" but I want to point out three key times we do

The first time we see Rei in the MV, is her wet sleeve (we know its not Muu because Muu wears a pink jumper under her blazer)

Then, after a lot of bug stuff, we're finally back in the real world, where Muu has just killed her Post-After Pain. In INMF, we don't see the surroundings as well, just the dirt track and bushes. But in AP, we see this is right next to a rushing river (Muu's undercover card also features a bridge as a landmark)

The next time we see Rei after her corpse, is a flashback to the start where she turns the hourglass over. Then it cuts just further back to before Rei stood up - as she pulls herself up off the floor She's alive and absolutely soaked after a session of intense bullying (which we saw Muu insert herself into in AP)

However, I want to now switch a little to talk about cinematography and a concept called the Kuleshov effect The video I linked is pretty concise but the gist is that if you put two shots next to each other, even if they were filmed separately, the brain interprets it as a continuous scene (so if you film a character looking off screen, then a picture of an apple on a table, we're going to assume they're looking at the apple)

Therefore while we understand chronologically that the sequence of events is Rei (wet and alive) -> Rei's murder on dry land ↺ Flashback to Rei still wet and alive Which I think everyone understood as a commentary on how this power struggle was a constant cycle of the hourglass being turned over

I think visually, it also implies a sequence like Rei was bullied -> Muu kills her -> Sopping wet, Rei crawls back to the classroom

But wait! That sequence suggests a missing step How did Rei get wet again?

Well, we know Muu killed her next to a river And if you were a scrawny teenage murderer with a body on your hands, would you leave it there where someone could see it while you grab a shovel and stand in broad daylight digging a hole in tough ground??? Or try lighting a fire in public??? Of course not!

It'd be much easier for Muu to, in a panic, just roll her body into the convenient river and let all the evidence wash away!

(Of course, if Muu was panicking, she might not have been very careful. Given she ended up in MILGRAM, there must've been something tying Muu to Rei's death and in T2 Muu seems to have finally remembered losing her left shoe...)

Fun fact: this is the same shoe Cinderella loses in the animated Disney film (and the best known version of that story came into English from France)

Shoe break over, back to the Endless Queen's Game

So, if we assume Rei's corpse was thrown in the river, what does it matter? Its just a pointless headcanon

But I speculate the meaning goes deeper!

So that image of Rei, soaking wet, crawling off the floor reminded me of something: J-horror ghost girls! Specifically the most famous of ghost girls Samara/Sadako Who became a vengeful spirit after being thrown in a well and now crawls out of TVs to kill people who watched her VHS tape

Her story too is a cyclical one (its called 'Ring' for a reason), the only way to break the curse is to copy the tape and have someone else watch it, who will then become the victim unless they can themselves copy the tape and show it to another unsuspecting patsy

The story goes back further because this movie is based on a novel, which is based on the legend of 番町皿屋敷 Banchou Sara Yashiki. There are many versions but generally a maid girl Okiku is proposed to, and when she rejects the proposal, her master breaks one of ten plates and promises to forgive her if she marries him. When she declines again, he beats her to near death then throws her into a well (sometimes it's a jealous mistress instead of a master)

Interestingly, Atrophaneura alcinous (swallowtail butterfly) larvae found in Japanese wells became known as Okikumushi お菊虫 (Okiku bugs), tying back to the whole insect thing...

It's been said a bunch now, but the name 'Rei' can be read as 霊 meaning ghost (seen in words like Yuurei 幽霊, a more common word for ghost than Rei on its own)

We know Muu is afraid of ghosts too (though I must admit she says Obake, not yuurei, but both words refer to ghosts)

Remembers the i/井 in Sakurai/櫻井 can be read as 'well' I'm sure that has nothing to do with anything

Uh, I can't think of a conclusion because its 1 am and I had to look up a bunch of spooky images

TL;DR: I think Muu may have quickly shoved Rei's body into the river next to where the murder happened (maybe forgot her shoe at the scene of the crime) and now she's scared by the cycle continuing and Rei coming back to haunt her

[nameless-jamie]

PR Disaster

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Jamie Tartt was a nightmare to work for on an average day. But on a day when he was desperate? He was unbearable.

Y/N had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get through her emails while Jamie sat across from her desk, relentlessly attempting to convince her to do something insane.

“Come on, love,” Jamie pleaded, drumming his fingers on her desk. “It’s just one night. Just a little thing. Barely even a date.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend at a charity gala.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Jamie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N, you have to.”

“Oh, I have to?” She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. "M'not getting paid for this so I don't have to do shit, Jamie."

"Don't be difficult, babe. I beg you!"

“Let me get this straight. You, a fully grown man, need a date to some fancy event, and instead of—I don’t know—asking out one of the many women who throw themselves at you, you come to me, your freaking assistant?”

He sighed dramatically. “I can’t take some random girl. That’d make it worse.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Worse than what?”

Jamie slouched lower in his chair and sighed. “Some wanker journalist wrote a whole article about how I’ve ‘lost my edge’ since I’ve been single. Said my game’s sufferin’ ‘cause I’m too ‘unfocused.’” He made air quotes, looking deeply offended. “He said I'm too horny for the pitch or some shit. Like, I can’t be single and good at football at the same time. It’s bullshit.”

“That does sound like bullshit.”

“Right?"

"Too horny for the pitch, is my favorite thing anyone has ever said about you, though." Y/N laughed, wiping a small tear out of the corner of her eye.

"Y/N be fucking for real right now. The plan is, if I show up with a girlfriend, it shuts everyone up. And if I take you, it don’t get messy. No expectations. No awkward post-date texts. Just you lookin’ dead fit in a fancy dress and me lookin’ like a man not in the middle of a public downward spiral.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’ve thought way too much about this?”

Jamie grinned. “Because I have.”

She exhaled slowly, staring at him for a long moment. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Best ones usually are.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

"And if the press wants us to kiss it wouldn't be awkward because we already did that once!"

"Jamie, that is still a fucking accident. We don't talk about that!"

"I mean I want to talk about it—" Jamie couldn't finish that sentence before a pen was thrown his way.

"Pick me up at 7. Go away now!"

The night started when he picked her up for the gala, in a freaking stretch limousine.

Y/N opened her door.

Jamie’s brain short-circuited.

She stood there in a dress that was so—fuck. It was tight in all the right places, dipping low at the neckline, hugging her waist like it was personally designed to ruin his life. Her legs? Glorious. The slit in her dress? Criminal. Her makeup? Perfect.

He actually forgot how to breathe.

Y/N tilted her head. “Jamie?”

He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to speak. “Huh?”

Her lips twitched. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking like a fucking teenager. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, you look—” He gestured vaguely at her, struggling to find a word that wasn’t fuckable. “Good. Nice. Decent.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Decent?”

Jamie winced. Fuckin’ idiot. “Nah, not decent. I meant, like, proper good. Like, unfairly good. Like—fuck, what’s the word—illegal?”

She laughed, and Jamie swore it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, that’s good to know,” she teased. “Considering I’m supposed to be your date.”

Right. The fake date. The one that wasn’t real. The one where he definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how he wanted to keep her locked in his car all night so no one else could look at her.

Jamie exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Get it together, Tartt.

Y/N gave him a knowing smile. “You ready to go?”

Jamie didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead, he just opened the car door for her, staring straight ahead as she got in—because if he looked for even a second longer, there was a very real chance he’d be showing up to the gala with a boner.

And that was definitely not part of the plan.

Y/N soon realized that the problem wasn’t the gala.

The problem was Jamie.

Because he was apparently way too good at fake dating.

For someone who was supposedly just trying to fix his reputation, he seemed very committed to the role.

He kept his hand on the small of her back all night, his thumb moving in slow circles against the fabric of her dress like it was second nature. He leaned in close every time he spoke to her, his breath warm against her ear. And worst of all, he kept looking at her like that. Like she was the only person in the room.

He also seemed to be having the time of his life making up a fake relationship history.

“Oh, yeah,” he told an interviewer from The Athletic. “She played hard to get at first, but I wore her down.”

“She pretends to be annoyed by me,” he added later, “but really? She’s obsessed.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue multiple times to avoid strangling him.

But then came the real kicker.

“She makes me a better man. I mean fuck— have you looked at her. She is not going to her own flat tonight, am I right love?”

Y/N nearly choked on her champagne.

What the fuck was he playing at?

She was fully prepared to murder him the second they got into the car.

But before she could, the event photographer asked them to pose for a picture, and—

Jamie pulled her in, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers brushing the bare skin at her side.

Her breath hitched.

And then—

Jamie fucking winked.

The camera flashed.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a journalist called out:

“Jamie! One more shot—how about a kiss for the cameras?”

She froze.

Jamie, however, seemed thrilled by the idea.

“Oh, yeah?” He turned to her, smirking. “What d’you reckon, love? Give the people what they want?”

She stared at him, genuinely considering murder.

But the cameras were waiting. The journalists were watching. And it's not like it would be their first one...

Jamie—the absolute menace—was already leaning in, his lips curling into something dangerously close to a real smile.

She had two options: make it awkward as hell by shutting it down, or commit to the bit.

FUCK, she was his freaking assistant. And she's totally into him. But that wasn't important right now. If she did not kiss him the press would know that Jamie Tartt brought a fake date or worse they would think that his own girlfriend hates him. If she kisses him though, the PR disaster after that would fucking suck.

Fuck it. With a deep breath, she reached up, placed her hand on his chest, and let Jamie close the distance between them.

It was barely a kiss—a soft press of lips, just enough to make it convincing. But Jamie’s hand tightened on her waist, just for a second, and her fingers curled against the fabric of his suit before she forced herself to pull away.

The cameras loved it.

Jamie did too, judging by the way he looked at her afterward.

“Not bad, love,” he murmured, his lips still inches from hers. “Please tell me that one was an accident too. Or else I might have to take you home with me tonight.”

She just rolled her eyes and shoved him. Idiot.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to absolute chaos.

Her phone had exploded.

Twitter was going insane.

She clicked on the first headline that popped up.

"Jamie Tartt Goes Public With Stunning Mystery Girlfriend at Charity Gala—And We Have ALL the Details"

She scrolled down, her horror growing with every paragraph.

"From the way he looked at her to the way he kept a protective hand on her waist all night, Jamie Tartt was absolutely smitten. Sources tell us that he was completely devoted to her the entire evening, barely paying attention to anyone else. And let's not forget the viral moment when he told reporters, 'She makes me a better man.' Our hearts? Melted."

“Oh, for fuck sake. I knew it.”

She stormed into Nelson Road, phone in hand. “Jamie fucking Tartt!”

Jamie, who had been laughing with Dani, turned at the sound of her voice. “Mornin’, love.”

She marched up to him and shoved her phone in his face. “Do you know how many people think we’re actually together?”

He barely glanced at the screen before shrugging. “Yeah. Bit mad, innit?”

“Mad? Mad?” She scrolled further. “People are already speculating about a wedding! I just got an email from Vogue asking if we’d do a couples photoshoot and a fucking interview!”

Jamie grinned. “Vogue, yeah? That’s kinda sick. Let’s do it. I can tell ‘em about how you snore when you fall asleep on the couch.”

“I do not snore.” She gaped at him. “Jamie. This is not funny.”

“Babe, you do,” he said, voice dripping with amusement, "And it’s a little funny.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

“Nah,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “You love me, remember? You make me a better man.”

“You fucking prick. You even liked a post that said, ‘Jamie Tartt and his girlfriend are the it couple of the season’!”

Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, yeah. ‘Cause we are.”

Her jaw dropped. “We are not.”

Jamie tilted his head, a playful glint in his eye. “You sure about that, love?”

She refused to answer.

Jamie must’ve noticed her hesitation because he leaned in, dropping his voice. “Just say the word, and I’ll post a proper ‘soft launch’ photo of us on Instagram.”

She shoved him away.

But later, when she caught him scrolling through a fan edit of them kissing with that smug little smile, she had the sinking suspicion that Jamie had no intention of letting this fake relationship die anytime soon.

And worse?

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. She had to clear the air, though...And the PR of all of it was going to be a fucking disaster.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 20 🍒

"Baby Loves Me"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 8,823 (she's a big'un)

Summary: A blizzard, a wedding, family secrets, and two people who can't stop thinking about each other. Are these fateful events going to drive you apart for good, or bring you even closer together?

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place a few days before Christmas 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of health issues, oral (m & f receiving), Ellie has anger issues, use of guns for recreational shooting, jealous!Joel, mutual pining, reader wears makeup and dresses, unprotected piv, creampie, TW for minor heart attack and hospitalization (everything is okay in the end), getting back together and having a happily ever after. In this universe everyone is alive and happy.

Author's Note: this series was the first story I ever posted on AO3 and then recently here on tumblr. I had no idea so many people would love it, and it's currently my most liked, most commented-on, and most bookmarked work on AO3 ♥️ It feels so good to finally have this complete, but I will write some one-shots about this couple in the future, because part of me really doesn't want to let them go. Much love to those who stuck around and showed their support while I got this story hammered out. I love and appreciate all of you!

Please enjoy this playlist for your listening pleasure, songs that either appear in the series or provided inspiration

Series Masterlist

It's early when Joel wakes, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he puts his hand to his heart, eyes scrunched closed tight as he prepares himself for the increasingly painful palpitations. He grunts in suffering at the agony of the erratic pounding of his heart, body tense until it passes, and he sighs with relief, head in his hands as he runs his fingers through his greying locks.

It's been almost a week now that he's had these pains, happening every day now that Sarah's wedding day is nearing. He gets them on and off but lately stress has been catching up to him and reminding him he's not in his thirties anymore. Hell, he'd give anything just to be in his forties again.

He gets up to get a glass of water, quickly throwing on a shirt before going downstairs. The house is quiet though he can see the electric glow of the television light on underneath yours and Ellie's rooms. He hesitates just outside of your room, putting an ear to the door, hoping to catch some tidbit of your voice, some clue as to what you're doing in there, but it's quiet, just the low volume of something playing on TV.

With a sigh he goes down to the kitchen.

Alone with his thoughts, affected by the presence of you and Ellie under his own roof, he takes stock of his life, of all the moments he failed you when he should have been there for you.

That first night he set foot back in Austin after serving time in the Bexar County jail, wondering if he should call you, he'd gone instead to a bar and met Hailey. He didn't recognize her at first, but she'd come on so strong, and the alcohol ran freely that night, so by the time he'd taken her home and her warm, tight little mouth was wrapped around his cock, it was too late. He didn't expect that that one night would lead to her wanting more, but by then you were gone, tucked back safely away in Houston where he couldn't get his hands on you and where you could (he'd hoped) in time forget about him. You were too much of a good girl with too much potential to waste it on someone like him. Hailey was someone who was always going to be stuck in a small town, so he didn't have to worry he was holding her back. But he soon came to realize that all they had between them was fucking. Not that he'd ever minded it in the past, but after having you, experiencing what real love was like, what Hailey offered felt like a cheap replacement, and he just wasn't that man anymore. He knew Sarah hated her, so when he caught Hailey stealing from him he knew that was the last straw and ended things.

Sad to say he went back to his usual routine from before he met you. Working from sunup to sundown, coming home with new aches in his joints to a meal Sarah had had to cook herself, or pizza that had gone cold. On the weekends he'd be at the bar, either with Tommy or more often alone, and he'd find a woman and wind up at her place. He could never bring them back to his, not in his bed that he shared with you.

Seeing you in New Orleans that summer night had been a shock to his system. He thought he'd managed to get over you just a little, but seeing you, a little older than the last time, looking soft and happy and bright-eyed as you laughed with Tommy.. and that fucking rock on your finger that signaled you were taken. Something primeval in him stirred when he ran into you in that restroom hallway, your lips full and glossy from making out with his brother, jealousy surging through him that you'd be so willing to cheat on your husband-to-be with someone other than himself.. it led him to want you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Leaving you the next day had been the hardest thing, but he had to remind himself you were going to belong to another. He couldn't get in the way of that, not when he'd only shown his love for you by fucking you in a bar restroom. You were going to marry a military man and have a respectable life, that was what he wanted for you. To have a life with Joel would only make you sordid, ripe for gossip. He was old enough to be your father and you were in fact his his best friend's daughter. He couldn't sully your life with his mistakes.

On a last minute whim he'd come to your wedding, sat at the very back as you were oblivious to him, staring into your husband's eyes as you spoke your vows, each word a piece of jagged glass in his heart. He'd left before you could see him, driving back to Texas at a high rate of speed, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why hadn't he just objected? He could have done it, raised his hand and told the entire congregation that you were his god damn it. He would have led you out, carrying you bridal style, ripped your damn dress off you and fucked you senseless.

It was later that Tommy suggested the dating app. Joel wasn't a fan of technology, and in fact still had his old Nokia phone that Sarah was warning him was becoming obsolete and cajoled him into upgrading to a smartphone. Once she and Tommy had helped him with setting up a profile on eHarmony, the requests piled in. Women from all over the state showed their interest. He had his pick of almost anyone. While he went on a few fruitless dates (some of which actually ended up in sex) there were few that actually interested him.

Until Tess. She was so much like him, and more suited to his age. A divorcee, she knew what she wanted in a relationship and stuck by her values. Beneath her tough exterior Joel found she was actually very kindhearted, even sweet. She cared about animals, liked beer, and was a homebody. She'd resisted his charms at first, but eventually neither could give in to the spark they felt. It took some convincing to get her to marry him. She accepted only on the terms that he move to Boston. She'd visited Texas a few times on business, but she wanted to stay in the northeast, and Joel, in love again for the first time in years, acquiesced.

The problem was they were too much alike. Both wanted to lead, and while he was happy to let Tess have the reigns now and then, it became an issue. This led to more arguments, tense discussions over things that shouldn't have mattered. The divorce, when it finally happened, was a blessing in disguise. Joel followed Tommy away from Boston and found comfort here in Wyoming, in a place he could start anew.

Sarah had been none too subtle when she brought you up in conversation. "Did you know she's a teacher?" "She's single now, divorced actually." "She's in California with her daughter."

Every damn day there was a phone call or a text where you were mentioned. And now, with you here under his roof at Sarah's behest, it was apparent that she was trying to get you two back together again.

He knew he needed to speak with you about that comment you uttered, about "our" daughter Ellie. He'd done the math in his head, just to be safe, and had calculated that he could indeed be her dad. But he had to get the honest answer from you.

It'd be easy if you would at least acknowledge his presence.

Your cold shoulder is more like an arctic icy blast. Your refusal to even meet his eye is like an arrow through his heart. He wishes that you would at least glare at him, or say something sarcastic or hurtful, but your silence is the coldest thing, even with the blizzard outside.

He's hopeful during one moment the next morning, as he's going into the hall restroom while you're coming out. Freshly showered, you're wearing a towel around your body, skin glowing, hair combed back and damp. The steam that surrounds you from your hot shower makes you look like a figure from a movie, an ethereal angel come to earth. His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your beautiful eyes wide and plush lips parted. Then you resume your coldness, pulling your towel tighter around you as you go to your room. When he steps in he smells the jasmine aroma of your body wash still in the air around him his dick hardens in response.

Hearing that Sofia has arrived is the one bright spot in your time here.

You meet her at the Tipsy Bison after everyone has helped out shoveling snow off the path. You'd found yourself working next to Joel and said nothing to him, ignoring his silent appeal for you to talk to him.

Now the crew is indulging in some food and beer at the bar while you catch up with your cousin.

"How did you get in? I thought the roads were impassable," you tell her after a big hug and an introduction to her fiancee Ruby. It had come as a surprise to you when she'd told you she was marrying a woman, but Sofia had said she'd only followed her heart and didn't consider herself stuck to any sort of label. Ruby was the perfect person for her and there was no looking back.

"Tommy sent a pilot friend of his to pick us up from the airport when our taxi couldn't make it through the snow," she says, nearly knocked over as Ellie pummels her with a bear hug. "We were helicoptered in, like a couple of VIPs."

It's like old times as you share a booth altogether, different kinds of appetizers in the center of the table as you catch up on things.

"How did you manage to still stay friends with Tommy?" you ask when Ruby and Ellie go to make change for the jukebox. Hearing that Sofia is staying with Tommy and Maria during their visit, you can't help but wonder how other people can so easily put aside the past.

"I think it helped that we were friends before we started dating," she shrugs. "And.. to be honest, our relationship never got that serious. Not like you and Joel," she finishes in a whisper, darting a glance at the elder Miller brother, who's knocking back some beer with Tommy and a few others.

"Why do you ask?" Sofia continues.

"I don't know how to deal with being under the same roof as Joel," you admit. "Everything that he put me through.. I know we're only here for a few days but it feels like an eternity. It's becoming harder to avoid him."

"You should talk to him," she says gently. "You don't have to be best friends or anything, but you're a friend of the bride. You should at least be civil."

You sneak a look over your shoulder at him, just to find he's already staring at you. You quickly turn away.

"Does he know about.." Sofia motions with her head toward Ellie, who's at the jukebox with Ruby.

"No," you respond. "And he doesn't need to know."

"That's not fair to him," she softly scolds you.

"You are the only one I've trusted with this, Sofia. Please do not make me regret telling you."

Sofia is really the only family you have left. You never saw you father after that fateful night when Joel fought him, and your mother disowned Ellie when she came out, causing you to disown your mother in return. Your circle is small but faithful.

She backs off. "All right," she relents. "But what about Ellie? She'll resent you for keeping this a secret this long."

You watch your daughter, who's drifted from the jukebox to one of the pool tables, mindlessly spinning the cue ball upon the soft green surface. She's distracted when she sees another girl across the room, a pretty dark-haired girl around her own age, watching Ellie furtively, as if fascinated.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Ellie shouts, causing the girl to run away.

"Ellie!" you snap at her, and to your astonishment Joel walks past you to go to her. You freeze, watching their interaction, but all seems to be okay as they talk quietly.

"I don't know what to do for her. I don't know how to help her.. she's so angry, especially since the divorce. And Justin rarely ever sees her. The only thing he's good for is the child support." You swig your beer, itching to go and talk to her, but the stubborn side of you refuses to be closer to Joel than is necessary.

Sofia folds her napkin in sections. "She called me and told me about Riley.. and the little mishap at the mall."

Earlier that year, Ellie and Riley had been picked up by the cops for trespassing in an abandoned mall and vandalizing some stores. It was completely unlike her, and even though you both sought family therapy for all the issues you were going through, it didn't seem to be making much leeway.

"She doesn't seem so angry now," Sofia mentions, and you turn to see Joel and Ellie starting a game of pool. You both watch as she tries to pull off complicated trick shots and Joel just shakes his head in feigned frustration. Once again your gaze lingers too long and you lock eyes, but this time you offer a tiny smile, mouthing 'thanks.'

"Hey Mom, can I go with Joel and Finn? Joel said I have to ask you."

You look up from where you're steam-cleaning your dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. "Where are you going?"

"It's near the woods on Joel's property. We're just going for a hike," she shrugs.

"I guess.. just behave yourself, okay?"

She grins, glad to have gotten permission. You follow her down to the foyer where Joel and Finn are getting their hats and gloves on. "Be careful," you tell them, though it's mostly meant for Joel.

"Of course. You're okay with her shootin'?"

"What?!"

Ellie manages to look chagrined. "I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew guns would be involved."

"Well you thought right!"

"I won't let her if you won't allow it," Joel offers.

"Come on!" Ellie groans.

"Just remember that you're on thin ice back home," you tell her without wanting to let on to the others about Ellie's troubled past.

"Somethin' the matter?" Joel asks, eyes darting between you and her.

"Nope," Ellie's all smiles when you hesitate to answer. "Let's get going!"

She and Finn race out the door into the snowy yard just as Joel stops for a brief moment. "I won't let her shoot if you don't want her to," he says solemnly.

The nearness of him, the rich baritone of his voice could easily bring you to your knees. It feels like a chore just to swallow that emotion and consider it dead, a mistake.

"Just be careful," you repeat, a smile flitting on your lips. Heat rises in your face when you see his gaze drop down to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his own lips.

"You could come with us."

Your first instinct is to refuse, to keep that wall built between him and yourself. Good fences make good neighbors and brick walls keep people from reliving past trauma.

But damn it's hard to say no when he's here right in front of you, after all this time, and the parts of you that have healed just want to give in, to go into his arms again.

It's not a surprise when you're in the passenger seat of his truck, like old times. And though it's a newer model and the seats have warmers and the upholstery makes the whole car smell like it was just driven off the lot, in a way it still feels like summer 2003.

Finn's done this before, the apple of his grandfather's eye. Even with the skill of a child, he shoots with ease, knocking down most of the targets Joel had set up on a fence.

When it's Ellie's turn she's eager for the gun, but her practice shots are haphazard: off an old fallen tree, a random snowbank. She huffs in frustration.

"Wide right," Joel tells her. "You're flinchin'."

Ellie shakes her head. "The target's too small."

"I made it bigger than I should've. Eject the cartridge."

You watch your only child move with precision, handling the gun with ease despite being new to this. "I'm not flinching, the rifle just sucks."

You and Finn exchange a look, suppressing your laughter.

"Okay, give it." Joel changes places with Ellie, who quips, "It doesn't aim right, you'll see."

It's hard to tear your eyes from him as he sets up, moving with the ease of someone half his age. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it," he says, ignoring Ellie's teasing remarks. "Gentle, steady, nice and slow."

"You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" she smirks, and when you laugh out loud Joel shakes his head, pulling off the perfect shot.

After, you rest on the tailgate of the truck while drinking warm beverages from your thermoses. Ellie and Finn gather their energy quickly enough, playing in the snow and chasing each other. It brightens your day to see your daughter smiling.

"I wanna apologize for the other day," Joel says, his eyes flicking to you. "I was outta line. I've apologized to Ellie too. I think she and I are good now."

You nod, somewhat relieved that he'd brought it up first. "I'm sorry too. I guess I get pretty riled up when someone tries to out-parent me."

Joel looks away, towards the mountains that peak their grayness against the clear blue sky. "He been outta the picture long?"

"Who? Justin?" You notice Joel winces at your ex husband's name. "Long enough. He was supposed to spend time with her for Christmas but chose his new wife over his own daughter. She didn't take it very well."

"Fuckin' bastard," he mutters. "Always figured there was a reason for me to not like him."

You give him a strange look. "You didn't know him."

"Didn't need to. He took you away from me. That's reason enough."

"Joel," you say quietly, both a scolding and a scoff. You remember his body against yours that night, the way your sheets bore his scent until the day before Justin came back from out of town and you had to wash away the evidence of your betrayal.

"I'm sorry I didn't go after you. There were a million opportunities and I failed each time."

You say his name again, with softness this time, your hand finding his, his palm almost completely dwarfing yours. You think about his fingers inside you, teasing you for the first time, showing you how to open up to him, and how you ended up giving away your whole heart.

In the moment where you can say the most heartwarming or romantic or even angry thing, what comes out of your mouth is: "You never accepted my friend request."

Joel looks puzzled. "What?"

"My friend request. On Facebook. I tried to add you but you never accepted it, so I canceled it." Cringing at your own words, how needy they sound, you take your hand from his, but he traps it within his own again.

"Darlin', I never look at that stuff. I only got one 'cause everyone else goaded me into it." His eyes look mirthful as he sees your doleful eyes.

"And that's how I found out about Tess.."

"Oh." The mirthful look is gone, replaced by a dark, blank look. The first marriage, the only marriage he ever had, so late in life, ended.

"What was she like?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He looks at the ground, as if the snow is so interesting. "What was that idiot fuckboy husband of yours like?"

You almost laugh, surprised that he's jealous, even after you've moved on from your marriage.

"He wasn't as great as I thought," you shrug. "But that doesn't matter now."

Joel smiles, agreeing. "Tess was.. we were good for awhile but you're right, doesn't matter now."

"Because we both turned out okay.. me and you."

He thinks it over a bit, eventually nodding. "Yeah.." His deep brown eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimmer of the man he was before, twenty years past, a single dad with a teenage girl and an interest in the new girl next door. "I'm sorry.. for everything. We happened so fast that my brain had to catch up with my heart."

You're afraid that if you think about it for too long you'll cry and never stop. "We don't have to talk about that.."

He nods, looking a little sad that you declined. "You're right, we don't."

"Look at you with all this land," you smile, gently teasing him to change the subject. "What are you gonna do with all of it?"

Joel shrugs, looking at his property, thinking again of the possibilities. "I might decide to turn it into a ranch, raise sheep," he shrugs. "They're quiet and do what they're told."

He's quiet another moment, before his voice drops an octave. "I'm really glad you came, babygirl.. it's really good to see you. Don't think I said that before."

A smile graces your lips, a genuine one, and the warmth of his words melts what's left of your defenses. "Joel.. there's something I need to tell you.. about Ellie.." The words are out before you even think.

Your heart pounds, taking residence in your throat as if to keep the truth from spilling out. Joel turns his whole body to you. His eyes search yours, without question or condemnation, as if he's willing you to say it because he already knows, because he just wants it made real.

When the moment passes it's a disappointment to both of you. It's getting later in the afternoon and you still need to get ready for tonight. The kids trudge back to the truck and you get in next to Joel in the front. There's a quietness that fills the space, thick and somewhat desperate.

The Tipsy Bison has gone through another temporary makeover for the rehearsal dinner: garlands of lights arch across the ceiling from beam to beam, creating a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. People mill around waiting for the bride and groom who are running a little late. Drinks are served and tables of food boast different kinds of cuisine.

Ellie makes a beeline for the hors d'oevres, immediately picking out what she wants and stuffing it straight into her mouth as if she hasn't seen food in months. Joel watches her from the next table over, trying hard as hell not to call her out too harshly, but as his stomach growls he joins her in the hunt for sustenance.

A tray of pastel-colored macarons catches Ellie's eye and she takes a light green treat with her fingers. "What are these?" She scrutinizes it, taking a quick sniff.

"It's some kinda cookie.. or something.. how the hell should I know?" he grumbles.

"Pistachio," she grunts in disgust, putting it back on the plate.

"Well, now don't put it back, you've already touched it and sniffed it and everything.." Joel quickly pops the discarded macaron into his mouth.

"If you want 'em they're all yours," she says, giving his shoulder a couple heavy claps before moving on down the line of food.

He just shakes his head, looking around for you for the tenth time tonight, finding you with Sarah and her soon-to-be inlaws at the bar. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you in a dark red dress, long-sleeved, cinched at the waist, and he feels a familiar rush of blood to his cock as he eyes the thigh-length slit on one side of the skirt.

"That color is sensational on you."

You turn to the voice you've just heard, as the group you were talking with disperses.

"Hi," you tell the older, well-dressed man in front of you. "I don't believe we've met." But then it hits you, and just as he introduces himself you realize you already know his name.

"I'm Frank," he says, a Duchenne smile lighting up his features and crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. He's handsome, and very friendly. And he was friends with Joel during his marriage to Tess.

He introduces you to his husband Bill, who regards you with a certain suspicion and gives a gruff acknowledgement to your hello. "He's like that with everyone," Franks explains in a stage whisper, while rolling his eyes. "He's just a big grump, but I love him."

"I'm a friend of the bride," you tell them after giving your name, and also introducing Ellie, who's arrived next to you with a plate piled high with shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and mini cheesecakes.

"She's a friend of Joel's," Frank tells Bill, as if to clarify.

"Um, yes.. I'm also a friend of his," you agree. Pretending to spot someone across the room, you excuse yourself, giving a subtle motion for Ellie to follow you, but she stays where she is, popping a whole shrimp in her mouth, eyeing the couple.

"There's a story there," Frank says enticingly as he sips his beer.

"What do you mean?" she asks, curious about the gossip.

Bill gives him a look and shakes his head. "She's a kid, she doesn't need your dramatic stories."

"Now I have to know!" Ellie insists.

Frank feigns annoyance. "Oh all right."

He weaves the tale of Joel and his wife Tess: happily married at first, so alike in attitude and hobbies. She thought she knew everything about the man she married, but when Tommy, in a drunken game of poker one night, recalled a certain young woman who Joel knew, a woman who could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue, Joel told his brother, in a similar drunken state, that he remembered her fondly, missed her like crazy, she was the one who got away.

Tess wasn't the type to hound someone for details, but she didn't like there was a part of Joel's past that she didn't know about. Especially if that past was filled with him falling in love with and screwing a college girl. This naturally led to arguments that Tess refused to drop. Joel didn't want to relive that time with you, and insisted it meant nothing since you were well and truly out of his life.

But the damage had been done, and the thorn of jealousy had pierced Tess's heart. You were a stranger to her and still could not be defeated.

Frank recalled with suppressed glee the night Tess had stormed out on a dinner party, ranting at Joel about "not being able to get over a stupid ass teenager" and causing a scene for the others to eat up. It had embarrassed Joel deeply, but when news of Sarah's wedding had become known, Joel couldn't keep it secret from the friends of his ex-wife. He'd come to like them in his own way, especially Bill, with whom he shared a predilection for quiet and keeping to one's self. They hunted and fished like old times and soon enough both he and Frank were invited to the wedding.

"There's a saying that goes," Frank is telling Ellie, "'everyone can see it but them.'"

Ellie glances at you across the room, and then at Joel. You and he trade silent, surreptitious glances at one another, filled with longing. You glance at him and he catches you before you glance away, and vice versa. The signal between your gazes is irrefutable. There's something there, has been all this time. All it needed was a little meddling from Sarah to bring the spark back to life.

For the first time Ellie sees you as something more than her mother. She realizes you had a past, a life before she was born, and a fraction of that life was spent in love with a man she just met a couple days ago.

"Hey Mom, can you help?"

Hearing Ellie, you immediately shift into Mom Mode, stopping your own get-ready routine to assist her. She's in your doorway, holding out her wrists. She picked out the suit herself, but the cufflinks are something new.

"Did you get these from your dad?"

"Joel let me borrow them for today."

It's finally the day of the wedding, and as the ceremony isn't until the evening, the whole house is a kind of organized chaos from morning through the afternoon. As if your nerves weren't already on fire, Sarah had approached you early that morning (fortunately for her while you were drinking your coffee) and asked if you'd replace one of her bridesmaids who'd come down with a cold overnight and couldn't attend.

You'd reasoned with her that you didn't have a bridesmaid dress, but that was easily solved when it was revealed the bridesmaids were all wearing jewel tones, and the sapphire gown you'd purchased off the rack would do just fine.

You had anticipated being part of a crowd. Now you'd be at the front of the congregation, all eyes on you, especially Joel's.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you finish helping Ellie with her cufflinks and let her entertain you with whatever teenage thought is flipping around in her brain while you touch up your makeup.

"I'm supposed to meet with Sarah and the bridal party at the church. You can ride with me or you'll have to find a ride with someone else."

"Joel will take me."

You brush away some stray powder on your cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe he could take both of us. Want me to ask him?"

"No--"

But she's gone before you can stop her.

You feel Joel's eyes on you as you during the short drive to the church, and you blame the heat you feel coursing through your body on the seat warmer.

"It's a nice thing you're doin' for Sarah, steppin' in at the last minute," he says, eyes finally on the road.

"I can't let down a bride in need," you say somewhat cheerfully. "She'd do the same for me."

"Maybe at your next wedding." Ellie pipes up from the backseat, and Joel's frown is not lost on you.

The lead-up to the actual ceremony is a blur, as it was at your own wedding fifteen years before. The bridal party clusters around Sarah, who looks radiant, as she promises she isn't nervous. You can sense her agitation in the way her knee bounces as she's seated, one of the bridesmaids doing a last minute touch up to her hair. The air is heavy with excitement, the scent of hair spray and perfume all around you, reminding you that you're flammable.

"Remember this day," you advise her, and she looks up at you with a grateful smile. "It goes by unbelievably fast."

You wonder if you'll ever have this again, the butterflies in your stomach as you wait for the moment when you see your man at the aisle, awaiting you. You were lucky to have it once. Twice would be an anomaly, considering you haven't had a real relationship in so long.

Joel knocks and, granted entrance, the bridesmaids flutter about, getting ready for their entrance into the church. The bride and her father are left alone, no doubt exchanging words of love before he gives her away to her true love.

You had no one to walk down the aisle with when you were a bride, and the memory threatens to cloud your mind as you take your small bouquet of white roses and camellias. "Canon in D" starts, and the line makes its way down the aisle, towards the altar where Theo and his groomsmen wait.

Situated at the altar, the congregation rises as the music changes, and Sarah walks in, arm in arm with Joel.

Your eyes are on him the entire time, and your heart feels to big to fit in your chest. You've never seen Joel in a suit, but this one is perfectly tailored to his broad, strong physique. His hair is perfectly styled, his grey visible through the curls you long to run your fingers through.

When Sarah and Theo exchange vows your gaze unexpectedly meet Joel's and this time neither of you look away. You catch the glimmer of a tear falling down his cheek, which he does not wipe away. The bride and groom's words seem to ring loud and true: a promise of love through hard times and illness; of love that only grows in each others' absence; of love that does not die even after death.

The reception is held at the Tipsy Bison, and you marvel at how it's managed to disguise itself once more from a saloon to an elegant wedding atmosphere. A lot of money has gone into the week's events, and you know it's all Joel's doing. He's giving away his daughter, sending her off in style, giving her a day she'll remember forever.

You watch Sarah and Joel during their father-daughter dance, a tradition you didn't get to have yourself. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland starts up by the band onstage, and it tugs on your heartstrings to watch them. In the back of your mind you see them, Joel still thirty-six and Sarah still fourteen. By the time Sarah and Theo have their first dance as husband and wife you're already in the ladies' room, splashing cold water on your face so no one can see you've been crying.

Later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have scattered, dancing or drinking at the bar, mingling. You stay at your seat at the now nearly-empty wedding party table, fingers twirling the stem of your champagne glass.

Mired in your own thoughts, you don't realize Joel has approached, crouching next to you.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice nearly a rasp with how nervous he is.

Wordlessly you take his hand, which practically dwarfs your own, as he leads you to the dance floor. You fall into a rhythm as the band starts up "Tennessee Whiskey", swaying softly to the music. His right hand rests on your lower back, gently guiding you. Your heart pounds as you gaze into his eyes. You haven't been this close to him since the night you conceived Ellie, the fateful night that threw a wrench into all your plans.

"It was a beautiful wedding," you lean in close to be heard over the music.

Joel shivers at your proximity, the brush of your lips against his ear, and he pulls you a little closer. "I'm happy you came all this way for it. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you affirm, your hand gliding up to his shoulder.

The air is thick with tension, much like in the days you'd first met. You have to turn away or risk your feelings made known to everyone here.

Ellie's at one of the booths with the dark-haired girl from a couple days ago, watching something on her phone. As the girl laughs you see Ellie looking at her with a warmth you haven't known her capable of for anyone else.

"She's going to hate me for having to take her away again.." you tell him. "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

He clears his throat. "Maybe now she has a reason to return." He nods towards Ellie and her new friend.

Your limbs stiffen a little in response. You're not yet ready to think about the future, the possibilities it holds. You've barely begun to mend your friendship with Joel.

"Maybe," you relent, quietly, a promise made in the ether.

Joel's silent as the music moves smoothly in the air between you. His grip tightens on your body as he asks, "She's mine, ain't she?"

You snap from your thoughts, your heart in your throat as you stop dancing. "Excuse me?" Your eyes bore into him, daring him to speak the truth for himself.

"The other day you said 'our daughter'.. the timeline's right, I'm not that bad at math," he manages a smile.

"Joel, I.." you shake your head. "It's all too much. I can't think about this right now."

"Just tell me the truth," he says quietly.

"What would it matter if she was?"

"It'd make a whole hell of a difference. Two daughters, two Miller girls. Don't you think somethin' like that would make me happy?"

For a rare moment you let yourself think about the day your mother came to get you, pull you back home to Houston seeped in shame and regret. She'd lied and manipulated facts to get you on her side. You vowed you'd never be like her or put Ellie through that.

"Yes, Joel.." you whisper. "She's yours.."

The joy that shines in his eyes is like nothing you've ever seen before. When his arms wrap around you your lips find his as if twenty years has never passed between you. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, you're making out like teenagers.

"I want you," he growls.

"Let's get out of here," you agree.

You're barely through the front door of his home when he presses you to the wall, his mouth hungry for yours. You hadn't thought you'd experience this level of passion again, but time has not diminished it for either of you.

"Joel," you moan as he presses himself to you, the blunt hardness of his erection teasing you. "Fuck me, Joel.."

He groans at your words, body aching with desire as he goes to his knees in front of you, lifting the hem of your dress. He presses messy kisses along your thighs while his hands roam over your hips and ass, his breath hot against your skin as he approaches the spot he most wants to taste again.

"Been too long, darlin'," he murmurs as he pulls your lacy underwear down your legs. "Been too damn long since I had you like this."

You kick your panties off, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he dives in, tongue lapping at your sweet pussy like a thirsty man finally finding water.

He stays there, tongue dancing between your folds and then tickling your clit, tasting you so deeply that you cry out, head falling back, body arched towards him, fingers tangled in his hair. Joel feasts like a man starved, slurping you up, inhaling your scent that surrounds him. There's nothing about you that's changed. You're still so sensitive to his touch, responsive to his lips, tongue, and now fingers pressed deep inside, finding the spot that makes you scream while his lips purse around your throbbing clit.

He doesn't stop after you come. He feasts on you over and over again, making up for lost time, pleading for your forgiveness this way, literally on his knees until you scream his name, convulsing around his fingers, your honey collecting on his large digits. Only when you feel completely boneless does he remove them gently, licking up your syrupy taste.

Joel picks you up, your dress falling back in to place as he carries you bridal style up to his room.

All roads have led back to him. No matter where you went, no matter who you chose, Joel was always going to be there at the end of the path, your guiding light, even when you thought you hated him and when you thought he would never choose you again.

Even now, his body over yours, he's the missing piece of the puzzle. He teases you with his cock until you beg him to just put it in, to make you whole again. The glorious slide of his flesh into yours causes you both to gasp and your bodies still for a moment, taking in the significance of this act which you've done so many times before.

He's older now, but his vigor is not gone. He fucks you gently at first, then with impatience, as if he's afraid you'll dissolve like a dream in daylight. You'd know the feel of his cock among any other, the smooth outline and the ridges, the way he's molded his perfect shape into you, marked you years ago when you were a virgin, as if leaving his initials inside you. Mine.

You've never had a man to match him, never had someone so in sync with your body. He knows all your buttons, every dip and valley that his hand caresses. He's mapped out your skin like a cartographer, claiming the land in his own name.

You come almost too quickly the first time, before he flips you on top of him, gripping your hips as you ride him. "Love you," you moan as you come close to the edge again, heart and soul flying ahead of you into the bliss you've only really known with him.

Beneath you Joel's eyes go wide when you come, his hips lifting up into you, warmth spilling into your core.

"Babygirl," he whispers, a choked grunt as he turns pale, his skin clammy and sweaty when he loses consciousness.

As soon as Sarah and Ellie arrive at the hospital you hug them, overcome with worry for Joel's medical emergency.

"How is he?" Sarah asks, still in her wedding dress. Even in the emergency waiting room she's generating a lot of interested looks her way.

"They just took him in a few minutes ago," you tell her, secretly glad she wasn't there to see her dad in such shape. "I think it was a heart attack.."

"Oh my god," she puts her hand over her mouth and sits on the nearest chair, Ellie right next to her, comforting her.

"The party's winding down at the bar," Ellie explains. "Only a few people know-- Theo, Tommy, Maria.."

"We didn't want to worry anyone else," Sarah adds.

You look at her, heart aching. This is supposed to be her special day.. and if something happens to Joel--

Don't think like that.

The three of you sit down, drinking stale coffee from the machine down the hall. Soon Tommy joins you, Theo staying at the house to keep an eye on Finn.

The worst thoughts poke through your brain, teasing you and taunting you. But at last the doctor comes out, a guy even younger than yourself, green scrubs and white coat.

He talks with the family, letting them know the diagnosis. "It was a silent myocardial infarction, basically a mild heart attack," he explains it. "He's going to be fine and he's resting right now."

"A heart attack?" Tommy and Sarah exclaim together.

"At his age it's not uncommon.. he's fifty-six years old," the doctor checks the chart. "Now, we have him on some aspirin and beta-blockers. Tests show he doesn't have enough blockage to necessitate surgery, but he'll need blood pressure medication and to keep a healthier lifestyle."

"Can we see him?" you ask.

"Yes, two at a time, preferably. We want to keep him calm while we're monitoring him." He checks the chart again and looks at you. "You brought him in, correct, ma'am?"

"Yes.. why?"

"What was Mr. Miller doing before he exhibited symptoms of his coronary event?"

"Um.. what?" you pretend not to understand.

"What was he doing before he had his heart attack?"

"Mild heart attack," Tommy emphasizes.

"Well.." you race to think of what to tell him.

"I take it you were celebrating a wedding," the doctor says, seeing Sarah in her dress and the rest of you in tuxes and gowns and whispers a 'Congratulations' to her.

"Yes. Well, we danced.." you answer, and the doctor keeps his eyes on you as if he knows you're lying.

You go up to him, giving a subtle whisper. "We were.. intimate--"

"Sexual relations," he nods, writing it on the chart. "It's important for us to know what was a causing factor in his event. Now, two at a time can visit him."

Tommy and Sarah go first. He gives you a sly wink. "Y'all were fuckin'!" he teases, passing by. Sarah gives you an excited smile, to which you just purse your lips.

It's quiet but for the bag of Lays Ellie has opened, eating the chips slowly. "So you and Joel?"

You nod.

"But not just tonight.. a long time ago, right?"

There's an odd sensation in your stomach, as if the unspoken truth is fluttering around inside, beating its wings as it tries to find a way out. "I guess there's a lot I need to tell you. But only when you're ready."

Ellie seems to steel herself for whatever conversation is on the way, nodding at last, crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the bin. "Ready."

Seeing Joel in the hospital bed is a sobering visual. Years ago your age gap represented something illicit, scandalous. Now you're reminded that no matter what road you and he take from here, you will most likely outlive Joel Miller.

He's awake when you and Ellie go in. It's obvious he doesn't like being here, but in his current state is not fit to complain.

"Hey," you say softly, going to his side. "How are you feeling?" You caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

Joel's eyes close at your delicate touch, and when he opens them there's a warmth in them that can't be denied. "I've been better, babygirl," he says. "But I'm damn glad you're here."

He glances at Ellie, seated in a chair on his other side. "And how about you, kiddo? You okay?"

"Am I okay?" she says incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one in a hospital bed." But her face clearly shows relief that Joel's all right. You also see her brain working over everything you've told her (well, the gist of it.. there are some things she doesn't need to know).

"I was so worried," you tell him, your voice soft and warm, all your feelings coming to the forefront. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

Tears appear in Joel's eyes, which he brushes away impatiently. "You ain't losin' me yet, baby. Not for a long time, not if you don't want to."

"Joel.." you whisper. "Do you really want to do this? After everything that's happened.. all the hurt we put each other through.. all the secrets.." you cast a glance at Ellie, who looks more reserved than you've ever seen her before. Sensing this is a moment you want to share alone, she gives a fleeting smile before she leaves, giving Joel a playful mock hit on his shoulder. Still smiling, Joel pats the space beside him in the bed and you snuggle in with him, his body warm.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Joel asks softly, eyes imploring you. "You're mine and I'm yours. That's how this thing of ours operates: you belong to me and I belong to you. Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty years, that's been the one constant." His hands grips yours, thumb running over your knuckles. "I don't care if I've got thirty years or thirty days left of my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, babygirl."

You search his eyes, seeing nothing there but the truth, laid bare and ready for you to either accept or deny.

He continues, "I don't wanna keep failin' you. I'm too much in love to let you go again." Then he gently lifts your chin, making sure you meet his eyes. "But only if you want me back."

Some would say you're on a precipice in the choice you're about to make, but it's not that difficult to choose. It's simply the separate paths you're on, converging at last. for good.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," you whisper. It's not a fancy declaration of truth, a bit surprising coming from an English teacher, but it's the only thing Joel needs to hear before he pulls you close for another kiss.

Joel's released on Christmas Eve, and the two of you don't waste any time.

You and Joel are married in a small, intimate ceremony in the spacious living room of his home. Ellie, Sarah, Theo, Finn, Tommy, Maria, Sofia, Ruby, and even Bill and Frank are in attendance, watching as a judge from town and friend of the Millers officiates.

Joel promises you a nicer wedding when the frost thaws, anywhere you want in the world. You tell him you can't imagine a more perfect place to marry the most perfect man for you.

Your first wedding went by in a blur, but this time around you engrave it upon your heart, make note of every little skip of your heart when you and Joel hold hands, his delicate touch as he places a gorgeous sapphire ring on your hand, the sweetness of his lips when you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After Christmas, Sarah and Theo leave for their honeymoon to Maui, and with the weather more agreeable the guests take leave too. Tommy sees to it that you and Joel have your house all to yourselves for your own honeymoon.

You insist on taking it easy with Joel, but he tells you he'd rather die while inside you, his name pouring from your lips the last thing he ever hears. He seems to get a second wind with you, making use of every possible flat surface in the house. You feel better about such activity when he takes his medication, promising to take it faithfully so long as you follow it with a kiss.

One morning after a particularly strenuous night, while drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing your plans, Ellie returns, calling out to you before she enters.

"You're not doing anything gross in there, are you?"

"No," Joel laughs.

"Yes we are, we're working on making a sibling for you," you smirk over your coffee, glancing at Joel and giving a little shake of your head when his eyes go wide.

"Gross," she mutters, walking in. "Joel, Tommy says everyone's meeting at the Tipsy Bison for lunch later. But he couldn't get through to you on the phone." She makes a playful, pointed look, eyeing the two of you.

She's lukewarm to the idea of calling Joel 'Dad', and there's going to be some legal hoops to go through regarding Justin and his parental claim. But it all seems so small in comparison to the problems that plagued you before. You can get through anything because now you have each other.

You and Joel get ready as Ellie goes back to Tommy's, enjoying spending her time with Finn and getting ready to leave with them instead.

Unable to keep your hands off each other, it takes you twice as long to get dressed, hands going into each other's back pockets, lips finding each other's throats.

There's all the time in the world for it now.

Driving up to the Tipsy Bison, Joel turns on the radio. "Cherry, Cherry" starts to play, and you sing along with Neil Diamond, catching your husband's eye as he smiles and sings along too. The road before you is smooth, mountains standing guard in the distance, staying the same grand height no matter how far along you drive. Joel's hand finds yours, presses a kiss to it before entwining your fingers.

"Babe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Miller?"

You smile. "Let's not go right away. Let's drive around a little, play this song again, just soak in this moment."

"Of course, babygirl. I don't want to share you with the others just yet anyway."

Neil continues on the radio: No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to Girl, we do whatever we want to Ah, I love the way that you do me Cherry, babe, you really get to me

It's come full circle, and it only took two decades to complete. You and Joel in his truck, your song playing, the sun shining through the hazy clouds. You could close your eyes and it'd be 2003 again.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Hell Is A Teenage Girl - Chapter 1

series summary: Y/n is finally a part of the most popular clique in school, something she’s always wanted. The only catch is they’re total airheaded bitches, making her dream life not everything she had dreamt it would be. But when new girl Hazel Callahan finds her way into y/n’s life, everything changes.

chapter summary: Y/n meets the charming girl who caught her eye in the cafeteria, feeling the beginnings of a crush already starting to form. Meanwhile, Brittany decides to take y/n to her first frat party, but a run in with Hazel at the gas station puts her plans on hold.

warnings: use of a gun (no one is injured), bullying, crying, language, tim says the f slur

word count: 2k

a/n: fem reader, no description of reader’s physcial appearance. im so sorry this took so long! i’ve been so busy with school and i didn’t wanna post this chapter if i wasnt actually proud of how it turned out. but i finally finished it, and i hope you guys like it!!

series masterlist

*****

Y/n sighed as she watched Annie run out of the cafeteria in tears, an event she made happen. She knew she should’ve found it hilarious, especially since everyone else in the cafeteria seemed delighted by Annie’s misery. But instead, there was a pit in her stomach. Since when was she the type of person to deliberately hurt someone else? And the fact that she was friends with people who did just that on a daily basis didn’t sit right with her. But they were still her friends. What could she do about it?

With her friends distracted, y/n walked off to the side, leaning against a wall in the back corner of the cafeteria, in dire need of some space. Looking beside her, she couldn’t help but notice the dark and brooding new girl sitting by herself, who also happened to be staring right at her.

“So why’d you do it?” the girl asked, clearly unamused by the events that had just transpired.

”Huh?” y/n responded, not quite understanding the question as she found herself lost in the stranger’s piercing blue eyes. 

“The note. Why’d you write it?” the girl asked, standing up and stepping closer to her.

Y/n scoffed. “As if I had a choice. Brittany made me.”

”You just do everything she tells you?”

”You make it sound like I’m a pushover.”

The girl smirked to herself. “Well? You shouldn’t do something just because you’re told to. Especially if it’s not something you believe in,” the girl said before walking away.

”Wait! I- uh, didn’t catch your name,” y/n called after the girl as she walked away.

Turning around, the girl smiled at her. “I didn’t throw it.”

Y/n smiled, feeling her face heat up as she watched the girl walk away.

~

Jeff and Tim watched the encounter between y/n and Hazel unfold, matching scowls on their faces.

”Who does that girl in the jacket think she is anyway?” Tim said, glaring at Hazel.

”Y/n’s into her act, no doubt,” Jeff said, watching the way y/n smiled as Hazel walked away. 

“Let’s kick her ass!”

”No, we can’t do that to a girl! Isabel would kill me. Let’s give her a good scare though.”

Tim followed behind Jeff as they walked over to Hazel, cornering her against a wall. 

“Hey, sweetheart! What’d your girlfriend say when you told her you were moving to Rockbridge Falls, Illinois?” Tim said, a nasty tone in his voice.

Hazel turned to face them and leaned against the wall behind her, sighing in almost boredom. 

“My buddy Tim just asked you a question,” Jeff said, glaring at her.

”Hey, Jeff, doesn’t the cafeteria have a ‘no fags allowed’ rule?”

Hazel scoffed, already past fed up with this conversation. “They seem to have an open door policy for assholes, though.”

Jeff’s eyebrows furrowed in anger. “The fuck did you just say?”

Hazel smiled, reaching into her trench coat. “Let me repeat myself,” Hazel said, pulling out a gun and firing it twice.

~

”I can’t believe she only got detention,” Brittany complained while lining up her croquet shot. “She used a real gun. They should throw her ass in jail.”

Brittany swung her mallet, sending her croquet ball across the field and knocking it into Isabel’s ball. Brittany smirked. 

Y/n rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face. “No way! She used blanks. All she really did was ruin two football uniforms. Maybe not even that. Can you bleach out urine stains?” Y/n said with a giggle. 

Brittany scoffed. “You seem pretty amused. You like the new girl, don’t you? I thought you were giving up on highschoolers.”

Y/n shrugged, feeling her face heat up. “Never say never.”

Finally seeming to zone back in, Isabel pouted as she stared at her croquet ball. “So what’re you gonna do, Brittany? Take the two shots or send me out?”

Brittany huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast? First you ask to be red, knowing I’m always red…” Brittany stepped on her croquet ball and whacked it hard, sending Isabel’s flying into the bushes. “And now this. I expected better from you Isabel.”

Isabel seemed to shrink away. “Shit.”

“It’s your turn, Isabel.”

“No, Brittany. It’s Stella Rebecca’s turn.”

Stella Rebecca perked up at the mention of it being her turn, lining up the shot and sending it flying through a wicket, squealing in delight as she did so. She turned to Isabel with a smile. “It’s your turn!” 

Isabel walked over to the bushes, searching for her missing croquet ball. Brittany couldn’t help but smirk proudly, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched. “No way, no day.”

Y/n let out a laugh. “Give it up, girl.”

Finally finding her ball, Isabel set up her next shot. She hit the ball with her mallet, sending it flying back onto the field, and miraculously through a wicket. 

Y/n and Stella Rebecca cheered in delight at the impressive shot, meanwhile Brittany huffed, seemingly annoyed at Isabel’s triumph. 

“Holy shit, Iz. That was incredible!” Y/n said, a smile on her face. Isabel preened at the praise. 

Brittany rolled her eyes. “What. A. Shot.”

Y/n walks up to her ball, lining up her next shot. 

“Tonight’s that party, right? Are you two excited?” Stella Rebecca asked, her eyes beaming with excitement. 

“I’m giving y/n her shot. Her first Emerson party. Fuck this up and it’s keggars with kids all next year,” Brittany said, yet another cocky smile on her face. 

Y/n swung her mallet, completely missing her shot. She let out a huff of defeat, moving out of the way to let Brittany go again. Brittany hit her ball again, sending it right back into Isabel’s. 

Isabel sighed, another pout on her face. “Why?”

Brittany smiled. “Why not?”

Mrs. l/n walked over, a pleasant smile on her face. “Isabel, your mom’s here.”

Isabel set her mallet down and started to gather her things. “C’mon whoever wants a ride!”

Brittany and Stella Rebecca followed suit, grabbing their things and running off with Isabel, leaving y/n all by herself. Y/n placed her own mallet down with the rest and walked over to her parents, sitting down beside them at the patio table. 

Mr. l/n turned to his daughter wearing a vacant smile. “So what was the first week of spring break withdrawal like?”

Y/n shrugged, seeming indifferent to the topic altogether. “I dunno. Fine, I guess.”

Mrs. l/n smiled. “Prom’s coming up soon. Any contestants worth mentioning?”

Y/n smiled, her mind brought back to the new girl. “Maybe. There’s kind of a dark horse in the running. She’s… different.”

“Goddamn, will someone tell me why I read these spy novels?” Mr. l/n said, setting down his book. 

“Because you’re an idiot.”

~

“BQ or plain?” y/n asked, walking towards the entrance of Snappy Snack Shack.

“BQ!” Brittany shouted back from the car impatiently, sounding annoyed that y/n would even ask such a question. 

Y/n shook her head and sighed to herself. “Right. How could I forget?” 

As she grew closer to the door, her eyes couldn’t help but linger on the motorcycle parked out front. The same one she had seen in the school parking lot earlier that day. Something about it intrigued her, and she couldn’t help but wonder whose it was.

“Hurry up!” Brittany yelled from the car, honking the horn impatiently. 

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, y/n finally walked inside and grabbed the BQ corn nuts for Brittany before wandering around to find something for herself. 

“You gonna pull a super chug with that?” an all too familiar voice said from behind her.

Y/n turned around to see the pretty girl from the cafeteria, her face heating up at the sight of her.

“No, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a slushie. I see you know your convenience speak pretty well.” 

The girl smiled, taking a step closer. “I’ve been moved around all my life; Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas, Rockbridge Falls Illinois, there’s always been a Snappy Snack Shack. Any town, any time, I can pop a ham and cheese in the microwave and feast on a turbo dog. Keeps me sane.”

Y/n giggled and gave the girl a knowing look. “Really? That thing you pulled in the caf today was pretty severe.”

“Yeah, well, the extreme always seems to make an impression. Did you say cherry or coke slushie?”

Y/n smiled. “I didn’t. Cherry. I’m y/n, by the way. Are you ever gonna tell me your name?”

“I’ll end the suspense.” The girl walked closer and shook y/n’s hand, a slightly flirtatious smile on her face. “I’m Hazel.”

“Nice to meet you, Hazel,” y/n said, pulling her hand away with a giggle. 

~ 

The two finally walked out of the store together, y/n holding a giant slushie in her hands, along with Brittany’s corn nuts. Hazel walked over to the motorcycle y/n had noticed earlier and got on it. Y/n couldn’t help but smile wider, the sight of a really attractive girl on a motorcycle getting to her a bit. 

“Great bike,” y/n said, feeling her face heat up a little. 

Brittany honked the horn again, glaring at y/n impatiently. Y/n glanced over and huffed before returning her attention back to Hazel.

“Just a humble perk from my mom’s construction company. Or should I say deconstruction company?”

Y/n giggled, fiddling with the straw of her slushie. “I dunno. Should you?”

Hazel sighed, leaning back on the bike and making y/n’s stomach do somersaults. “My mother seems to enjoy tearing things down more than putting things up. Seen the commercial? ‘Bringing every state to a higher state’,” Hazel said, rolling her eyes as she recited the slogan, clearly over hearing her mom talk about it over and over.

Y/n’s eyes widened in realization, a smile growing on her face. “Time out. Your mom’s Callahan Construction. Must be rough, always moving from place to place,” y/n said with a sympathetic smile.

Hazel shrugged, seemingly over the whole thing by now. “Everybody’s life’s got static. Is your life perfect?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure, I’m on my way to a party at Emerson University.”

Brittany honked the car horn again, shouting y/n’s name out the open window impatiently, clearly getting fed up by how long y/n’s conversation seems to be taking. Y/n rolled her eyes in annoyance and slurped on her slushie.

“I don’t really like my friends.”

Hazel scoffed, glancing over at Brittany. “I don’t really like your friends either.”

“It’s like they’re just people I work with and our job is being popular and shit.”

“Maybe it’s time for a vacation.”

Brittany honked the horn again, looking about ready to storm out of the car and drag y/n over by her hair. Y/n turned back to Hazel one last time.

“I should get going. Brittany’s even worse when I take too long,” y/n said, the smile fading off her face.

Hazel started her motorcycle, revving the engine a few times as she got situated. “See you around, y/n. Think about what I said.”

Y/n watched as Hazel drove off before walking back over to Brittany’s car and getting in. 

“What the fuck took you so long?” she asked, snatching her BQ corn nuts out of y/n’s hand. “Why were you talking to that freak?”

Y/n shrugged, a dreamy look in her eyes as she twirled around the straw in her slushie. “I dunno. She’s kinda cool.”

Brittany scoffed, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. “That’s not exactly the word that I would use. You shouldn’t hang out with her anymore, it’s bad for our image.” 

Y/n sighed, staring out the window as Brittany drove them to the Emerson party, her mind filled with thoughts of Hazel. Maybe Brittany was right, and talking to Hazel probably would tank her image. But something about her just drew y/n in. Hazel was so… different. Y/n had never met someone like her, and she couldn’t help but want to spend more time with her, no matter what Brittany thought. 

tags: @hazelvrr @ohnomywenis @fictionalgap @ihyperfixatetoomuch @usuck @mxqdii @girlsarecool @thestarkinternship @bluerazberrystarz @riverrivrio @cannibalsclass @lesbodietcoke @dangladam @bibihzel @sevyscoven

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[softboo]

love me, ever so gently

pairing: austin butler x reader

summary: you recently moved to a new apartment, making new some eccentric friends along the way. but what you didn't expect was falling in love with a stranger. a stranger you somehow couldn't stop thinking about

words: 2.1k

warnings: depictions of domestic abuse, dark themes of relationships

author's note: i made this on an extremely impulsive whim and i have never been so terrified of posting this. my anxiety of trying to make this story went from writing this for three days straight to now suddenly having multiple parts. i'm literally almost done with part III so we'll see how far this goes. hopefully you like my very first fic... i haven't written in years... ehh... and thank you in advance for reading this :3

next part

part I

"you're either incredibly talented or horribly lousy."

george stated right before you tore down the stack of books from the pile. you groaned in frustration, ignoring that thing buried right under the surface of your heart. if bookstores and libraries could make something aesthetically pleasing, then so could you. just like you were able to do a year ago.

you huffed once more before starting the process over again.

george took your silence as a precautionary warning, tentatively placing a small cup of coffee next to you, hoping maybe a little space and some caffeine couldn't hurt your pride more than he did.

"as long as you don't make a mess, it makes my job a thousand times easier," he offered you a toothy, yet slightly lopsided grin before leaving you to your uncomplicated complicated endeavors.

george circled around the remaining tables that were also still being set up for the fair at the community center. you were a regular volunteer for these events, moreso because your neighbors invited you to them in the first place. one of your neighbors being george, who hobbled right back to where you were, smiling proudly at his empty tray.

"well, my services are done."

he flashed another innocent grin before leaving you be, "make sure you get that done before cass sees you!"

"george I'm going to throw this empty tray at you."

he let out a belly laugh, even though he was as thick as a twig. he pulled you over to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"there she is!"

you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn't help a smile. you still remember when you met him for the first time.

~ ~

your first week at the new apartment building was stressful enough, splitting your belongings in each individualized box and suitcase. and somehow through all that stress, someone as joyous as george just so happened to crash right into you with all of his groceries.

and he had this distinct smell, something between a book you haven't opened in years and an old worn out knitted sweater. at the time, he greeted you like you've been friends for years, something you deeply missed when you moved away from your hometown. from everyone.

"welcome to the neighborhood!!" he screamed in your ear, forgetting his hearing aids before he left for the store. you let out a polite, yet awkward, kind of laugh, thanking him for his very enthusiastic greeting. it's funny to look back on it now, a stranger you would've never imagined becoming friends with. including everyone else you met along the way.

~ ~

evelyn and cassandra peered from the hallway behind you, coming from the kitchen. cassandra with her big box of jewelry for her stand, while evelyn followed suit.

"did george call me cass again? i hate when he calls me cass. it sounds like ass."

"because you are an ass."

cassandra shot him a quick glaring look before he started laughing again, placing her boxes down. she pointed a shaky finger at him.

"you know one of these days, i really hope i end up dying before you. i can't stand that laugh of yours." she grumbled, which made you laugh.

"can't keep a happy man down cass. you're stuck with me forever," he bellowed, leaving a messy kiss on her cheek before she swatted him away. george dramatically saluted them before hobbling away again, wanting to mingle and socialize before the fair officially opens.

cassandra gathered her things once more as she eyed your table with a sense of pride.

"you never cease to amazing me sweetie. i always love how you decorate your books."

her words swelled in your heart and that thing that was buried right under the surface dissipated, only just for a moment. and you were completely and utterly okay with that.

"thanks cassie..." your voice drifting ever so softly. like she was going to catch it in the end like she always does.

~ ~

when you met cassandra last year, you heard her voice before you saw her. you were seated at the lobby of your apartment building, waiting for a blind date that never picked you up. it was about two hours before you decided to call it and when you looked up, you saw her.

she was a bright eyed woman, her grey hair tossed behind a small pink scarf, something you've only seen worn a few times or rather only in movies. she looked at you with a look of concern. you weren't crying of course, why waste tears on some stranger right?

but you got your hopes up immensely high and someone as experienced in her years as she was, she could tell a disappointed look when she saw one.

"oh my dear, what's the matter? are you hurt?"

you shook your head no, having no energy to formally respond with a voice.

"come here love, let's bring you back home. do you live here?"

you nodded.

she waddled her way towards you, keeping you close to her. she was a tiny woman, hunched over slightly as she led you to the elevator. once you were both inside, she asked what floor you were on and pressed the appropriate button for you. her floor being the one below yours.

"sorry we have to stop at mine first..." she began and you shook her head to stop her.

"don't be. it's okay... i was heading up anyway." you finally had strength to talk again, "i should be saying sorry for keeping you from getting home."

she scoffed at your response, displaying one of the warmest smiles you've ever seen.

"sweetie, you're doing me a favor."

the elevator dinged and opened to her floor, the woman turning to walk out.

"i am?" you asked her and she nodded, standing outside the elevator doors.

"yes. because no man deserves to make someone as lovely as you this sad."

your face went from feeling defeated to utter confusion as the woman smiled again. this time knowing exactly what you were going to ask.

"i know disappointment when i see it."

and just like that, the elevator door closed.

~ ~

"how are you feeling otherwise?" cassandra asked you, momentarily glancing over at your beautiful table.

"better. only sometimes," you responded, a lump suddenly appearing in your throat. feeling as if you were half lying somewhere.

"that's okay. just remember that someone who's broken you then doesn't deserve to break you now," she gently held your cheek, looking at you as if for the first time again.

"and besides, who knows who you'll might meet today."

~ ~

cassandra's words rung in your ears, weighing heavy on a hopelessly romantic heart. being alone was easy and you weren't lying if you admitted that to anyone because it was true. that was one of the perks of moving here, along with meeting all of your new friends.

but being lonely... that was difficult. especially when the fall season would blend into the holidays. one night after the other. because everyone seemed to find their someone by the times gifts were supposed to be given. which is why you wanted to put everything into the community fair this year.

and because heartbreak anniversaries were apparently a thing on your calendar.

you glanced over at your table, the last few books lingered for awhile. some people glancing over at them, while others would pick it up just to place it back down again. you didn't really know why seeing a book not being chosen hurt a small part of you. but it did.

or maybe you knew but didn't want to face it.

soon enough, you noticed someone hovering near the entrance, like he was contemplating whether or not to let his curiousity get the best of him. it may have been a little more than an hour or so when he actually approached your table.

you quickly stood up in response, as you noticed him eyeing a few of the older books. his hands lingered on each cover, not saying a word. his hair was blonde, wavy and messy, like he'd just woken up. the rest of him was covered by a black mask.

you did notice the way his hands moved though, hesitating to pick something. shaking a bit, a shadow crossed your peripheral and you could've sworn you saw a bruise somewhere on his knuckles.

"do you need help finding anything?" your voice coming out a lot softer than you had hoped. he looked up and you felt this entire weight lift off of you. like something encapsulating you just shattered into a million pieces and suddenly you could breathe again.

his eyes were so blue, like you were swimming in this endless ocean full of life and somehow you couldn't tell the difference between the stillness of the water or the blueness of the sky.

you could see a slight smiling forming on his face before he shook his head no.

"oh well if you want anything... i really recommend any of the classics."

his eyes glimmered a bit, letting his hand linger on one of the few books he was eyeing before.

"how much is it?" his deep tone caught you by surprise as you hesitated to respond. your own voice catching in your throat.

"oh um... everything is free."

"really?"

and just like that, you noticed something switch in him, a sense of curiosity filling those calm waters.

"which ones have you read so far?"

you didn't realize it, but your eyes lit up at the question. and he noticed. a small smile forming on his face.

"oh this one is my favorite... i haven't finished it, but it was really good from where i left off," you pointed at pride and prejudice.

you smiled at him, like your excitement was taking over and he could tell how much you loved talking about books. his gaze never wavering as you spoke about the stories that overwhelmed you and the others that never lasted a few pages before you decided to stop. he listened with such intent, such intrigue, it made you feel like you were someone he had known for years.

his aura was beautiful and a part of you wished that something would lead to something which would lead to something else. you didn't even feel anything in that regard, not yet anyway, but that same part. it was pulling... gently. ever so gently tugging at your heart.

"thank you for all of your recommendations," he began, holding on to ever single book you spoke about. you were about to protest that he didn't have to, but he was adament on keeping every single one.

"are you sure you want to get all of them?" your voice wavering on worry, but all he did was smile at you, letting out a soft laugh.

"i'm sure."

his voice was so reassuring, you almost forgot to offer him a bag. there was a slight pause before you realized, eyes widened in embarrassment.

you quickly apologized to him, running to the back to get a bag. you left the table feeling this overwhelming warmness flow through you as you noticed your heart beating against your chest. you tried to hide the excitement, but your heart was already getting your hopes too high.

but when you came back, your heart instantly dropped right into your stomach. a woman was now standing next to him, but something was different in his eyes. the oceans were no longer waves crashing against the seashore. they were climbing under thunderstorms. drowning in its own current.

her hair was dark red in color, flowing to accentuate the curves of her body. she was unbelievably gorgeous and your heart sank even more. but there was something about her that you couldn't figure out.

"here's your bag, i didn't mean to—"

"why your table is absolutely gorgeous, isn't it austin?"

he didn't glance at you or her or anyone. all he did was nod. you noticed the grip she had on his arm. it was tight. suffocating.

you offered the bag to them, but she shooed your hand away, like you were merely just a bug.

"no need sweetie, we were just on our way out. he was just looking anyway."

you tried your best to keep your composure, but you were fuming on the inside. only cassandra could call you that and at least when she did, it was endearing. not spiteful.

she flashed you the biggest smile that fueled your fire even more as she pulled austin away. you noticed him stiffen when they left the table. he couldn't even look at you.

and he couldn't even say goodbye.