#so i might just post it very soon. as a glimpse of what my way of putting these things into words looks like

[sysig]

Reverberations, configurations (Patreon)

[seaofreverie]

Officially started writing down my thoughts on every Sparks album

[partycatty]

johnny, kenshi, kung lao, raiden, liu kang > lollipop

thank you for 450 followers! take a chunkier post as my thank you 🫶

suckin on a lollipop n wondering how they'd react >:3

warnings: they all need to be neutered

notes: it's orange flavored btw

[ masterlist ]

liu kang

• oh he tries, he tries so hard to not let it get to him

• but when your pretty lips part to speak and he catches a glimpse of the color staining your tongue? excuse him while he mad dashes to his quarters to smack one out silly style.

• no, not really. liu kang just avoids eye contact, tries to focus on training. perhaps he'd step away for just a moment to remember how to breathe.

• asks you to not eat during training, as it could be a choking hazard. he really just says that so you'd stop before he gets too hot under the collar.

• makes you hand it to him to discard, but when he sees the string of saliva as you remove it from your mouth you find it hard to miss the twitch in his eye.

• when you notice how much it gets to him, you make an extra effort to look up at him through your lashes when your plush lips pull the lollipop out with a pop. it's almost like a little game, how much you can do it before liu kang snaps.

johnny cage

• johnny couldn't ignore what you were doing, he would probably be under the delusion that you're sucking on it like that on purpose.

• takes several double takes throughout the day, having very little shame in being caught. he'd just grin at you and shrug after a light scolding.

• even when you put your lollipop onto your plate to eat or on the rare occasion you don't have one in, johnny's reeling over the tint to your lips. it looks like a pretty coat of lipstick, and johnny's hand squeezes so tightly on his chopsticks as his mind wanders, the boys wonder if it just might snap in two.

• it takes him some time, he doesn't want to come off as too weird after all, but at some point he draws the line when you flatten your tongue and swipe the lollipop down the entire length. johnny snatches it from your hand and puts it in his own mouth.

• could he recall the flavor, or is he too focused on your spit mixing with his? both! gross.

• winks at you as the stick dangles from his lips, trying not to lose his own mind over the taste.

• "i like this flavor," he cockily observes, pulling it out to inspect it. "tastes like you, sugar."

•...gross. did you even want to share? no. are you complaining? mm, not really.

kenshi takahashi

• kenshi cuts the habit short as soon as he notices. training is his priority. kicks, punches, slashes, the way the lollipop coats with your — NO.

• he coldly hisses orders at you to "spit that thing out." doesn't say why, doesn't say much other than that. what else could he say, "don't do that before i pop a hard-on?" are you crazy?

• speaking of kenshi, he's literally losing his mind over it but puts every ounce of anger he has accumulated since meeting johnny into hiding his expressions.

• "are you always this childish?" crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you unwrap yet another one from your pocket... how many are in there?

• hell, he might even try to tell on you. might make a stabbing comment every now and then when you're all together to train. choking hazard this, immature that.

• he wants to do what johnny does and just get a taste, but he's not as graceful. yanking it from your lips after catching it on your teeth, kenshi throws it on the ground and stomps on it, shattering the sugary goodness all over the cobblestone floor. sad face :(

• you want to be mad, to rip him a new one for not knowing how to mind his own business, but you A) have more in your room, and B) notice his blatantly obvious red hue to his face, and you know it's not anger.

kung lao

• all the charm, none of the grace. help this man, the image of your mouth haunts him at the unholiest of hours.

• lao would, at times, flick the stick dangling from your lips just to make it crack against your teeth and make you whine in surprise. he'd shrug and walk off, like it was somehow your fault for having a lollipop in the first place.

• he's not oblivious to your subtle advances when your tongue swirls around the flavored orb, and he's no better.

• "you really are shameless, aren't you?" kung lao crosses his arms with a huff, trying to roll his eyes but looking away feels like an incomprehensible task.

• pesters you endlessly, asks about the flavor and brand and if they're just like the ones at home! but he's just doing it so he can admire the glossy tint to your tongue and lips from the artificial dyes.

• stares so hard, raiden has to heel him in the foot so he'd pay attention to liu kang's lectures and announcements. it's like he's the only one that can hear the amplified swirling in your mouth, and he probably is (that is, because he is straining himself to hear).

• lao would ask if you had any extra in your pocket (of course you do!) and pop one into his mouth himself, giving you a taste of what he's been losing his mind over as his pursed lips suck and play with the lollipop. you thought you could get away with toying with him, didn't you? now it's an even playing field!

raiden

• come on, champion, keep it together! everyone notices the static raising their hairs when they walk by. that, and he's white-knuckling the fabric of his robes so hard they might just tear. thank god for his hat, as it conceals both the sun and his creeping blush.

• the sassy man apocalypse infects even raiden. sure, he's not a timid guy in the slightest, but something about how you toy with the candy makes him feel weak in the knees.

• "do you really need to have one at all times?" he'd ask rhetorically as he tucks his hands under his armpits. "those are pretty unhealthy for you." you become a victim of his polite scrutinizing, insisting that that much candy is bound to have a negative effect on you. anything to get you to put that thing away so he doesn't shock the next person he touches.

• raiden is trained, he is disciplined, he knows better than to stare. but the moment you're in his peripherals, he's side-eyeing you so hard you wonder if he's trying to send a telepathic message.

• whining his name as you pathetically jump up to reach his extended arm, clawing at the fabric after he tore away your lollipop the moment you pulled it from your lips. your subtle pouting brings a smug smile to his face as he watches you fruitlessly attempt to climb up his body.

• "four before noon is more than enough," he tuts, looking up at the lollipop before getting a downright evil idea. he's well-mannered and well-spoken, but if the opportunity to toy with you arises, of course he's taking it. boldness is one of his wildcard traits!

• he pulls the lollipop down into his mouth, sucking it in before you have a chance to protest. staring in awe as raiden moves the lollipop around in his mouth, an eyebrow quirked as he stares down at you.

• "hm," he hums, grinning down at you with the stick between his teeth. "this is actually quite nice." and of course, you're too flustered to argue further, instead retreating to your room to get a new one - and calm down from that sight.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Epilogue

Eyeless Jack x Reader

A Demon's Ache Masterlist

With this final part, EJ's POV is finally complete! There are a few one-off bonus chapters I'm thinking about writing, but they'll either come after y/n's POV or randomly scattered about

I'd also like to start up another longer form series soon, so send in some ideas/suggestions if you have any ^^ A select few will be posted up in a poll to decide the final work uwu

Finally, the entirety of this series is dedicated to @cookiereblogss 🖤🖤

I was previously way too intimidated to write a longer series, despite always wanting to, but with cookiereblogss' incredible support, I was able to overcome that fear. In a way, I'd like to dedicate all of my future fic series to them as well, because I wouldn't have taken that first step without them. Thank you truly from the very bottom of my heart 🖤🖤🖤

And without further ado, I hope you enjoy this short lil smutty epilogue to the series!

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

It’s quiet, peaceful

Jack doesn’t fall asleep—he can’t, not after everything that’s happened—but he’s perfectly content holding you in his arms for now

Every now and again, he has to squeeze you just slightly harder to make sure this is real

It’s real—you’re safe, and happy, and he gets to hold you, and he’s still unsure about a lot of things, but you let him hold you, so that must mean things are going to be ok

He nuzzles into your hair, breathes in your scent, tries to savor the moment to its fullest

And it almost works, too

Keeping his mind occupied almost lets him forget about his worries

But every time he’s on the verge of letting go, he catches a glimpse of the mark on your neck, and all of the shame, guilt and worry lumps in his throat all over again

You let him hold you, you let him rest by your side—it’s going to be ok

Carefully, as though the wrong motion might break you, he lifts his hand and traces the mark with the back of his knuckle

The contact has you stirring, and before he can pull away, your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze

A slow, soft smile grows on your lips

You lean into his touch, pressing closer into him

And then he just can’t resist tilting your chin up and stealing a kiss

Compared to the rushed, heated kisses that’d become the norm between you, this is the opposite

Slow and sensual, the warmth of your lips spreads to his chest and fills his body with a pleasant buzz

Your lips are so soft, your body so perfect against his, so warm and wonderfully inviting

You hum against him

Basking in it, basking in the peace of the moment, he cups your face and deepens the contact

He doesn’t expect anything more out of this

He simply wants to enjoy it

But when you make a muffled sound against him, almost like a whimper, something dangerous stirs within him

He tries to take a deep breath, tries to calm his less-than-pure urges, but when he breathes in, the scent of your growing arousal fills his lungs and his head starts spinning

Control it, control it, control yourself

Pushing down the temptation, he brushes his fingers along the slope of your face in an attempt to distract himself by memorizing the curves of your features

He follows an invisible line down your neck with the intention to eventually reach your hips and tug you in closer

But he doesn’t even make it halfway down your throat before you whine and push him off

Shit—he fucked up

Before he can blurt out a rushed apology, you push him onto his back, straddle his hips, and as if that wasn’t enough of a surprise, your lips clash with his, tongue reaching out to taste him like you're insatiable

The combination of it all short-circuits his brain

He doesn't even know what to do with himself; he simply lets you do as you please

It's only when you break the kiss to pull your shirt up over your head that he snaps himself out of his daze

“W-wait, (y/n)—“

He’s already panting, his stomach tensing with a knot of desire, but he manages to gasp the words out before you unclasp your bra

Pausing halfway through the motion, you look down at him questioningly

And at the sight of you, so visibly turned on with your lips freshly swollen from the make-out session—he immediately feels like an absolute idiot for telling you to stop

“Listen, I—“ he stumbles through his words like a horny moron, “I-you don’t need to do this. You know, y-you don’t have to—“

He cuts himself off as you finish undoing your bra, and the material falls away to reveal the perfect swell of your tits

Fuck, how’re you always so gorgeous?

It takes his breath away, and before he can recover, you take his hand and press it to the mark on your neck

The back of his knuckles trace over the bruised skin, slowly, softly, and as it does, you shudder

Your hips buckle, pressing down flush against his own, and a rush of heat has his cock throbbing against your sex

"I-I didn't realize it at first,” you murmur, “but..."

You trail off, and it almost looks like you're holding back a moan as you press his hand harder against your neck

"It's... it's sensitive"

You wriggle your hips for more friction, and he can't help but meet you halfway so that you’re fully grinding against him as you speak

“Whenever there’s any kind of pressure on it, it—it feels warm. Everything feels warm. And it—it aches,” you choke the word out, and fuck, if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost think you’re on the verge of begging for his cock right now

“I need you”

He holds back a groan as the words leave your mouth

And then it finally clicks

You’re in heat

Or, at least, as close as a human can get to a heat, anyways

He remembers reading about fresh marks triggering heats in his research—but he hadn’t realized they could affect humans too

The mere thought sends a surge of arousal—hot, sickly sweet, potent arousal rushing through him, and he has to take another breath to steady himself

But all he can smell is your arousal again, and it takes just about every ounce of his willpower to resist pinning you down and fucking you senseless

A low growl reverberates through his chest before he can hold it back

If touching the mark turns you on, he wonders what would happen if he licked it, if he bit it

With tense fingers, he grabs two fistfuls of your ass and distracts himself by kneading at the supple flesh

He shouldn't use the mark to his advantage—it'd be wrong of him to do so

But fuck if it isn't the most tempting thing ever

You make another sound again, like a sigh and a whine, and he uses his leverage on you to guide your hips over his bulge in impatient circles

You're soaked

He can feel it, even through his pants

He rolls his hips up in tandem with yours again, and he's obsessed with the way your face contorts with need and pleasure as his cock twitches between your thighs

You breathe out a curse, head falling back as you bring your hands up to your tits to toy with your own nipples

“Jack~“ you moan his name like a plea, sounding so needy that all he can do is groan at the sound, at the sight, at the scent of you

His mate

You're his mate—all for him

He wants to brand another mark into you

It's just about the only thing on his mind right now

As if one didn't cause enough trouble as is

But he can't help it; you'd just look so fucking gorgeous covered in his brand

The thought has shivers racing through his body

You yelp, and he realizes it’s because he’s digging his bulge right against your clit while simultaneously thrusting up

Fuck, he wants to ruin you

He wants your clothes off, wants you folded beneath him, wants you gushing around his cock while he abuses your tight little cunt

Long gone are his fears and worries over what happened

He just wants you—he needs you

You squirm on top of him, whining and whimpering as you're guided into riding him

With one particularly sharp thrust, you yelp, jerking forward, and you end up bracing your hands against his chest for balance

Which, in turn, grants him the perfect opportunity to lean up and press his mouth to yours in a heated, messy kiss

God, you taste so fucking sweet

He needs more

It’s all he can think about as his hands busy themselves with the rest of your clothes

And then before he knows it, you’re both naked and he’s on top of you and he’s aching to be inside of you

He barely takes the time to admire your flushed, naked body before throwing your legs over his shoulders, manhandling you without even meaning to, and bringing his length to the sensitive spot between your legs

His cock haphazardly smacks against your wet folds as he pushes his hips forward, and the filthy plea that falls from your lips has him groaning

He can’t wait any longer

Inch by inch, he pushes into you—until he’s almost completely stuffed inside your slick, velvety walls

His breathing’s ragged, his muscles flexed, his cock throbbing incessantly as he waits for you to adjust to his size

The wait, of which, is nothing short of agony

He's almost shaking by the time you relax around him

And as soon as you do, he pushes the few final inches in, and he groans as his tip brushes right up against your cervix

Control himself, control himself, he needs to learn to control himself

He swallows thickly, and then slowly, painfully slowly, he rocks back and forth into you

In and out, the wet sounds you make around him are nothing short of obscene

Your hands reach up to rake your nails down his back, and his grunts of pleasure mix in with your cute little moans and whimpers in a filthy symphony

In and out, in and out

He settles into a rhythm that could almost be described as lovingly fucking into you

But no matter how hard he tries to take things slow and soft, he knows his patience can't last forever

"Jack—n-need more~ Fuck, please!~"

He groans out a curse at the desperation in your voice

How could he possibly resist such a request?

The bed creaks loudly at his change of pace, accompanying the sound of his skin smacking against yours and your sweet, precious little sounds of bliss

He buries his face into your neck, and with the temptation of your flesh right next to his teeth, it suddenly becomes very hard to focus on going easy on you

He can't help it

Pinned beneath his larger, stronger form, you've no choice but to take everything he fucks into you

Your back arches, walls clenching frantically around him like you're trying to suck him in deeper with every thrust

And you're so fucking wet—he can't even tell if you squirted or if you're just that turned on

His thighs are coated in your slick

The pressure keeps building within him until his whole body's tense and all he can think about is filling you with his cum

He realizes he’s murmuring something under his breath, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying—he doesn’t care

All he cares about is the sheer bliss of fucking you like an animal depraved

“Jack—!“

When you cry his name out again, he takes the opportunity to cram his tongue down your throat

Your eyes widen in surprise, but there's no mistaking the way you clamp so deliciously tightly around his cock when his tongue starts stroking yours haphazardly

If he wasn't in the midst of screwing your brains out, if the whole thing wasn't so fucking depraved, it'd almost be sweet

Your walls flutter, hips buckling weakly beneath his strong thighs like you’re getting overwhelmed, like kissing him while he’s so deep inside of you is too much for you to handle

With every ravenous stroke, every inch of his throbbing cock lovingly fucking into you, he feels you tightening, feels the muffled vibrations of your whimpers growing closer

He's just on the precipice of letting go when you suddenly grip onto him—hard

And he almost thinks fuck, he did something wrong

But then he realizes how loud you’re being, how your eyes are squeezed shut and your face is contorted in ecstasy

And he realizes you’re already cuming around him

He buries his face into your neck, grunting out filthy praises into your skin while you ride out your high

And he’s almost proud of how he’s able to control himself—how he can still manage to offer long, hard steady strokes despite your shaking and squirming and shamelessly loud moaning

But then you moan that you're his—you're all his—and just like that, his precious control finally snaps

He doesn’t realize just how hard and fast he’s fucking into you

He hears the bed creaking, hears the frame slamming against the wall, but it all feels distant—like it’s all just secondary to the way your body feels

You feel so, so incredibly fucking good

He snarls your name, lost in the pleasure, and only then does he realize that you’re shaking beneath him and cuming all over again already

Those sounds—those fucking sounds you make as you're pushed into overstimulation—they're fucking bliss

He knows you’re on the verge of reaching your limit, but he doesn’t want to stop—he can’t

He needs this

Even through the haze of his pleasure, he realizes he’s being selfish, but he’s too far gone to care

His tongue traces over your mark, and he’s seconds away from biting down into it—when your cunt clamps around him so fucking tightly that it immediately overwhelms him

You make the sweetest, filthiest sound he’s ever heard, and all of it combined is too much for him to handle

His hips jerk all the way into you, cock twitching uncontrollably, and harder than he ever has before, he cums

He spills himself as deep inside of you as he possibly can, until it feels like he’s fucking into your cervix and filling you to the absolute brim with his seed

He doesn’t realize he’s holding you there—pinning you down and forcing you to accept every ounce of his cum until you’re squirming and shuddering beneath him

Fuck

He pulls out, flinching at how tight you still feel around him, like your body doesn’t want to release him

And yet, as soon as he’s completely out, you immediately snap your legs shut like you're beyond overstimulated

He ignores the aftershocks of adrenaline and endorphins pumping through his system to make sure that you’re ok, he didn’t hurt you, you're ok

You’re panting, dazed and shaking after getting thoroughly fucked out of your mind, but you still find the strength to laugh as you reassure him that you're fine

Even then, it isn’t until you press a chaste, breathless kiss to his neck that he’s finally comfortable enough to lie down next to you and pull you into his arms to cuddle

The two of you bask in the afterglow of your love-making as you catch your breaths

He can hear your heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of your body against his chest as he hugs you into him

You, in return, nuzzle into Jack, your hair tickling his neck, and his stomach does a few backflips into his chest at the simple gesture

He tries to relax, tries to clear his mind and stop overthinking—if only to enjoy the moment while it lasts, but he just can't

As soon as the high of his climax fades away, he’s right back to worrying

Except this time, he finally bites the bullet and asks the question out loud

“Are you sure you want this?”

You stir in his arms, surprised by his sudden question

“What do you mean?”

His nerves kick up to a ten, and he almost considers backing out of the conversation

But he knows he shouldn’t—he can’t—not again

“Like… you know…" he hesitates, "this. Us. Are you sure you want this?”

It dawns on him that you might not fully understand the implications of the mark yet

Surely, at the very least, Slender explained the basis of it, and everything it entails, right?

“…I do,” you answer with a hum

Still somehow not convinced, as though this is too good to be true, he pushes it further

"And, I… the mark… you know it… it’s permanent, right?”

Another hum of confirmation, this time accompanied by feather-light traces over his ashen skin, the contact absent-minded

“Like… Slender told you the conditions, right? We can try to figure a way out of it, but we might be bound together for—“

He doesn’t finish his sentence before you tug his face into yours in another sudden kiss

Your lips are as addictive as ever, and he finds himself already wanting more—always wanting more—even as you pull away

“I thought about it—for a while,” you admit, “and..."

It's your turn to hesitate this time, and the brief pause in your words has Jack’s stress levels skyrocketing

"And I wasn't sure about it at first"

You stop tracing invisible patterns on his skin, and he immediately misses the contact

He’s hanging off your every word by this point

The anticipation’s just about killing him

"It’s kind of a scary thought,” you eventually continue, “and... I've never been good at this sort of thing, but... I-I want this, Jack. I want you"

Even hearing you say it, hearing the words come out of your mouth, it still doesn't feel real

"And I... I know the mark might be affecting me somehow," you reach up, acting on instinct, to brush near the skin of your neck as you speak, "but I don't think it is. I think I’ve known for some time now, but… but I was too scared to admit it”

You swallow thickly

“I... I want to be with you, Jack”

You take a deep breath

“I… I think I’m in love with you”

Jack's heart seizes

It feels like it stops beating right then and there

A moment passes, and then another

It’s like his brain’s trying to decipher what you just said, like surely that doesn't actually mean what he wishes it means... right?

He realizes that he’s not saying anything, and you're growing nervous at the lack of response

But there’s a lump lodged in his throat and he doesn’t think he’d be able to form a cohesive sentence even if he tried

After what happened that night of his transformation, he never thought anyone would be able to love him again

He never thought he’d be worthy of someone’s love

But here you are

You're in his arms, in his bed, and you trust him enough to be this vulnerable around him

He doesn’t know what to say

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just cups your face and kisses you—hard

He forgets everything else around him

The world melts away until it’s just the two of you

Your scent, your taste, your everything—it's electrifying

When he pulls away, you’re dazed and panting once more, and the euphoria of it all is dizzying

He presses his forehead to yours, and you close your eyes, enjoying the closeness

“I love you,” he finally answers

It feels like a dream

He can’t believe he’s able to say the words out loud

You press your lips to his once more, and he realizes things are going to be ok—and he’s not just thinking that to reassure himself

He has you in his arms, and you’re safe, and you're all his, and everything is going to be ok

[deadlymistletoe]

Fears and Bandages

Pairing: Thranduil x F!reader

Request: @frustrated-kitten asked: I thought maybe I could request a Thranduil x FemReader where she returns with several injuries after fighting a bunch of spiders with Legolas and some other elves? Some small wounds, some more serious, but in the end she survives and everything goes well?

A/N: I hope it’s what you wanted - I was going to make it more angsty but this is what came out and it stuck.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort

Description: Thranduil’s composure cracks as he waits for you to come home from battling the spiders. He’s only able to put his fears to rest once he’s bandaged you up himself.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries. Stitches.

Word count: 1582

Thranduil’s foot tapped against the ground, fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest of his throne. Besides the two guards posted at the entrance to the room, the rest of his subjects were steering clear of him.

He didn’t blame them for avoiding him while he was like this - after all, had it been someone else fidgeting he would have been annoyed himself.

It was rare for the composed elvenking to fidget as he was, to betray any hint of apprehension, but today was the exception.

It was well known that there were two people on this earth that Thranduil would do absolutely anything to keep safe, and it just so happened that both of them had gone headfirst into a dangerous situation.

The first, his only son, Legolas. Since the elf had first looked up at him from his mother’s with those wide blue eyes Thranduil had known that he would do anything for him.

After his wife had died that feeling had only strengthened, as the meaning in his life centered around the elfling who was quickly becoming one of the realm's best archers.

For a long time, nothing had changed, until he met the second person he would come to care about more than he would have thought possible. You.

Thranduil had never even considered that he might love again after his wife passed, but then you’d come into his life and he’d found himself falling faster than should have. And he just knew that he couldn’t lose you too. History couldn’t repeat itself. He wouldn’t let it.

Of course, that was easier said than done since you, much like Legolas, continuously risked your safety to fight the spiders that continued to invade the Greenwood.

Thankfully for him, you’d stepped back from the danger once the two of you fell in love and you took to the role of Thranduil’s consort - soon-to-be-queen, but the latest nest was bigger than usual and the spiders began to get more bold so you’d insisted on joining Legolas for the raid.

So now Thranduil sat, fidgeting like an impatient elfling, waiting for news. 

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time - helpless.

Yes, Legolas had promised to make sure you both came back in one piece, but Legolas was also known for saying he was ‘fine’ when he had a gaping wound - Valar forbid he find out what his son’s definition of ‘one piece’ was.

Thranduil let out a frustrated sigh. He knew better than to doubt the abilities of you and his son, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but worry. After all, the last time his son had left the palace with a mother-figure, only one of them had come back - granted, that was when Legolas was a child with none of the skills he had now. But still.

He immediately straightened up, movements freezing when Galion ran up the steps leading into the room. “They’re back, my lord.”

Thranduil wasted no time making his way down the steps, Galion rushing to keep up with him as they made their way to the front gates. “Is everyone okay?” Are they okay?

“Everyone’s alive.” Those words were less reassuring than they should be. The mirkwood elves had a habit of using the term ‘alive’ rather loosely.

When he reached the entrance, those gathered around instantly parted for him to make his way towards the glimpse of pale hair he’d noticed through the crowd.

None of the patrol had been completely spared, that was certain, as scratches adorned each of their complexions, the darker blood of the spiders splattered over their uniforms.

Healers had already dispersed amongst the warriors, vials of antidote in hand just in case, and he was relieved to see that Legolas had no obvious signs of injury as he drew closer.

Legolas saw him coming and turned to meet him, voice low as he spoke. “There were more than we expected. We weren’t prepared, a second lot ambushed us after the fight had already started.”

Thranduil placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze - a show of affection that still kept a semblance of formality. “You did well.”

He hesitated, not wanting to brush his son off but at the same time needing to see you. Legolas saved him from asking, nodding towards where a healer was bent over a figure on a bench. You, he realized.

“She’s okay.” Legolas murmured. “Just a bit more cut up than the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been on guard to make sure she didn’t injure herself more running off to find you before the healers got to her.”

Thranduil’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he made his way towards you, Legolas following behind.

It didn’t take long for you to look up at the familiar footsteps, a smile spreading across your lips despite the sting as the healer cleaned up a deep wound across your shoulder.

When the healer took her hands from you to rummage through her supplies you immediately took the chance to push yourself to your feet, moving around her and meeting Thranduil half way, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist as you stumbled slightly.

He smirked slightly looking over your shoulder. “I do believe Lothael is about to scold you for using her distraction to your advantage.”

Your healer, Lothael, had followed you, rolling her eyes. She gave Thranduil a wry look. “Yes, well, I can’t imagine that the king wants his queen-to-be to bleed out on the floor.”

Thranduil’s eyes quickly ran over your wounds, double-checking that you weren’t in imminent danger of bleeding out, and lingering on the deeper ones before looking back at Lothael. “I can take it from here, thank you.”

He knew that technically the healer had more better skills than him in the art, but at the same time, he also knew that the only way to completely reassure himself that you weren’t about to bleed out was if he did it himself - he needed to know that he’d checked and taken care of your wounds with his own hands.

It was only when the two of you had left the view of the other elves, leaving Legolas in charge, that you let yourself lean against the wall with a groan, the pain that had been throbbing in your leg since the adrenaline had worn off on the walk home forcing you to give it a break.

Thranduil, whose hand had been resting on your back, ready to steady you at any moment should you need it, gave you a worried look as you pulled away from him to use the wall as support.

“I’ll be fine,” You muttered, grimacing. “It’s just demanding a rest.”

Thranduil gave you a calculated look, and before you could say anything or even begin to wonder what he was thinking, he swept you off your feet, your arms automatically going around his neck as he carried you bridal-style down the hall.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, a smile crossing his own face at the sound. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down at you, a small smile dancing across his lips. “Why, I’m carrying to your chamber’s, my lady. Valar knows you’d collapse halfway there if I didn’t.”

You laughed before quieting down and leaning your head against his chest. “I’m tired, Thranduil.” You murmured, the toll today had taken on your body catching up to you.

He looked at you with a soft look reserved only for you. “I know, Meleth. You can rest soon.”

You sighed, staying silent as he reached your shared chambers and laid you on the bed, letting you sink into the silks and furs that covered the mattress.

You had started to drift off when you suddenly felt something cold seep into one of the deeper wounds, pressure keeping it there. You jerked away from the cold sting, but a hand held you in place, and you felt Thranduil’s silky hair brush against your skin as he lent over you to brush his lips against your forehead.

“I’m just cleaning them.” He murmured. “Relax.”

You let out a shuddering breath as he moved the cloth, a few tears slipping down the side of your face as he continued on to stitch the wound closed.

Your strong facade you’d kept up in the entrance and on the journey home hope had dissipated, as had your energy now that you were with the one you didn’t have to act strong for.

Thranduil whispered apologies and reassurances as he cleaned and bandaged the rest of your wounds with a gentleness that could only come from a lover’s hands, occasionally wiping the tears from your face and running his fingers through your hair at a particularly harsh sting.

It felt like hours later when the last wound was taken care of and you heard the quiet clink as Thranduil set the glass bottle of ointment aside.

He remained seated at your size, gentle fingers brushing over your face and hair as he gazed down at you, his own fears put aside now that he’d tended to you.

You held his gaze, relishing the cool touches until you felt your eyes begin to droop, and the last thing you were aware of was the feather-light lips that brushed against yours and the whispered, “Sleep, Meleth.” as you drifted off, Thranduil’s fingers soothingly carding through your hair.

Everything Taglist:

@fizzyxcustard @bookworm-with-coffee

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[putschki1969]

Hi Puts! YK just announced that Keiko will be not participated in YK Live #21 this year 😢 I'm kinda sad about this.

Okay, I didn't expect to have to use this gif so soon...

All jokes aside, this announcement is indeed very saddening and disappointing but I would be lying if I said I was super surprised.

Just a few days ago I addressed some possibilities for the future in THIS POST here and I was trying my best to remain optimistic despite knowing very well that Yuki had pretty much cemented her stance on the whole thing by releasing that initial statement. The way she positioned herself as the victim and everyone else as perpetrator was a clear message. By explicitly name-calling the members, it was made to look like Hikaru and Keiko were “aligning themselves with the enemy”. The Asia Tour probably couldn't be cancelled or re-arranged due to existing agreements/contracts but we didn't know how the Kalafina debacle would affect anything after that. Seems like we have our answer now. The girls have all officially fallen out of favour and are being considered as “Space Craft adjacent”. They are now in the same position as Wakana, nothing more than pariahs. Which means of course that everyone is now following the usual M.O. of ignoring each other’s presence. I'm not saying this is all coming from Yuki's side, there's a very high chance of the girls themselves being restricted in their activities due to contractual obligations (Space Craft most definitely made them sign something to make that Kalafina Live possible).

As discussed previously, we got our first glimpses of the shunning process when Yuki decided to distance herself on social media by unfollowing Hikaru and Keiko.

Then just a few days ago, a photo was posted from the recording studio and a certain someone was notably absent.

I guess Keiko's exclusion from the YKL is just a natural progression although I will honestly say that I didn't think Yuki would go that far, jeopardising the quality of her performances like that. Considering that her craft has always been her main priority, letting go of the literal backbone of 90% of her live music seems like a very stupid decision but I guess pettiness knows no boundaries in this ever-lasting feud between Team Yuki and Team Space Craft.

Oh well, needless to say, I won't be attending YK events any time soon. I don't hate her and I still appreciate her work but there's no longer any incentive for me personally. The girls have always come first and nothing will ever change about that. I am not Team YK or Team Space Craft, I am Team Kalafina and always will be! This just means I will have to support their solo activities even more and hopefully they will all increase their activities to give me lots of opportunities to show my appreciation.

As I mentioned in my post from a few days ago, nothing in life happens without a price having to be paid. Sacrifices need to be made, time has to pass. I am sure the girls were aware of most of these consequences when they decided to commit themselves to the Kalafina Anniversary Live project. Just like all these years ago, Wakana was aware what would happen if she stayed with Space Craft. The Japanese entertainment industry is not for the weak, shitty things happen all the time, you win some, you lose some. Hikaru actually shared some very good advice during her live broadcast from the other day. Life has a way of balancing itself out, for every bad thing that happens, a good thing will follow. And every rough experience might one day turn into an opportunity so I guess we can try to look at the whole thing with a more positive mindset. We don't know if this is permanent or not and we also have no idea what's in store for Kalafina so I refuse to despair because of it.

Speaking of Hikaru, she also mentioned that throughout her career, the main priority have always been the fans. I think this sentiment is shared by Keiko and Wakana which is why they ultimately decided to hold the Kalafina live, knowing very well that they'd have to pay dearly for their decision.

Of course they didn't think there would be such a harsh backlash in the initial phase but that was mostly fueled by Yuk's unfortunate phrasing in the statement. If she had refrained from mentioning the members, I don't think that there would have been such an outrage and immediate condemnation of the girls. Fans would have been upset but most of them would have simply blamed Space Craft and not the girls themselves.

Nonetheless, all that bitching and moaning from "some" fans didn't stop thousands of people from getting their ticket and showing up for the live. As far as I am concerned, the concert was a huge success and everyone there was filled with happiness. The girls must have surely interpreted it like this as well so hopefully, they felt like it was worth their sacrifice.

[moonsaver]

I READ YOUR POST (and also anon!) ABOUT REBELLIOUS! VERITAS/RATIO, GOOD LORD..

Your writing is very good! And I like it! I'm having it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, everytime

BUT LIKE, LISTEN TO ME, WHAT IF S/O WAS REBELLIOUS LIKE HIM TOO. But not like actually him, just typical rebellious student back then. Like, breaking the rules, pissing off the teachers, etc

AND, HIS S/O IS LIKE NOW, NORMAL. A PROFESIONAL, and probably embarrassed of their phase back then. I do see them being Friendly and chilled with Ratio?? Or like "Oh crap, it's the old rebellious dude that tries to teach me random smart stuffs"

But in my opinion, I do see S/O just being like "Oh, what's up Ratio" and just being neutral. Greeting him whenever they passed by or see each other again, while also slightly joking about the things Ratio tried to teach them back then. As they told him that they actually listened to his teaching.. Even though it's.. Well, it's used by unsuccessful methods

BUT ALSO, YOU KNOW HOW XINYAN WOULD TELL EMBARRASSING STORIES ABOUT SHEHNE AND GANYU?

S/O WOULD DO THAT, telling Ratio old rebellious phase embarrassing stories to his students whenever they feel afraid of him. Like

"Oh, did you know that your professor (Veritas Ratio), used to talk so much about our teacher that just give the slightest wrong formula, to the point he keeps getting send to the office? Hah! I was there!"

As Ratio stood there with hidden embarrassed look, as he tries to hold the urge to not shut S/O up.

I'M SORRY IF I'M BOTHERING YOU, THE VOICES ARE COMMANDING ME... THE VOICES OF MY SIMPING FOR RATIO.

QNON ANON QNON!!!!YOU ARE FEEDING ME TOO I PROMISE YOU CAN BOTHER ME (its not even bothering me i love these asks),,, THE TENSION THAT IUST DISSIPATWS HAHAHA WAIT WAIT

Under the cut,might be long!

Soso, you're the rebellious kid who's butting heads with the other jerkwad, the only difference between you two is that he's just a nerd on top of being a rebellious kid. He's the "worst" of both worlds.

It's a very cliche enemies to strangers to acquaintances who respect each other to tension between possible lovers. Its kind of funny.

In your student days, I imagine the moment both of you see each other in the hall, you scowl at each other. Or make fun of something the other has. Maybe he's lugging a bulky art project and you make fun of him saying he looks like a turtle dragging his own shell. Maybe you left your bag's zip open and Veritas comments on how "devoid of knowledge" it is, "like your head" (you forgot all your books somewhere, your bag is completely empty). God forbid either of you tried something experimental and the other catches a glimpse of it. If they're not within talking distance, they'll shout on the top of their lungs. To both of you, the louder it is the more humiliation is involved. You'll find this method is often used by Veritas, as he openly quizzes you and chides LOUDLY that you're a BUFFOON and an IDIOT for not knowing a SIMPLE FORMULA. You decide to retaliate by stealing more than half his stationary, so now he has to scramble to gather extras and literally no one helps him cause he's a jerk lol.

Everyone on campus absolutely either hates it or loves it. Theres fanpages of you two with cringe edits,or those really well-made shitpost ones. Sometimes your classmates just bait the other to go a certain place just so you two cross paths and stir up a lot of trouble. The teachers are all done with both of you.

Cut to the future (or present?), reader's a professor too now. Let's assume either of them is unaware when they join the job (as implied by the request).

I imagine professor reader, if they manage to stay calm and just.. talk normally, it does give Dr. Ratio some whiplash. His pride demands he straightens himself out though, so it's not too soon before he himself drones on about some or the other tedious topic. You mention the past and how often you used to butt heads, and Veritas' first instinct is to immediately retaliate the way his past self would have done; but he stops himself in time, and sighs at it. You've painstakingly ingrained that response into him. But he's still slightly embarrassed nonetheless. It's not too soon before the conversation becomes more relaxed (I mean.. considering Veritas,as relaxed as he lets it be), and as a form of "nostalgia" he brings up all the questions he used to ask you back then, only to be pleasantly surprised when you give him detailed but professional answers. It's not too soon before he learns that you've become a professor aswell. Dr. Ratio congratulates you – with reservations of course, which is completely thrown out the window when you tell him you knew all of this because.. you listened to him.

Ugh. Don't make him feel so sappy. A part of him detests it; warming up and being all chummy with a hopeless classmate of all people. But a part of him is.. kind of happy about it.

Which is promptly changed the moment you also realize he's a professor now.

And that his students aren't spared from the nostalgia either.

He's bursting through the door, jaw dropped, angry and shocked face as you prattle on about how much of an asshole he was back in the day to his students. For a moment, he contemplates whether he should just throw chalk at you and make an example of you to his students, or drag you out. After a few seconds of paralyzed contemplation, he immediately grabs you by the back of your collar and drags you out before something else comes out of your mouth.

It's almost the same all over again – both of you bickering back and forth as he's all pissy about you spilling everything to his students! You've positively tarnished his reputation! Perhaps he shall tell your students how you used to walk around wearing a lanyard and a shirt with the institution name written on it in big, bold letters on the first day? Or that time you tripped and faceplanted right into the trashcan while you complained about his (axe bodyspray) deodorant?

Ugh.. he'll just deal with you later. Although he won't admit this even to himself.. it's nice seeing you again. He didn't think of that, it must be the headache you gave him that's making him think all weird.

--

[otomes-and-tears]

it’s meeeeeeeee i’m shiloh enjoyer #3!!!! revolving him around in my brain every day like it’s a microwave 😭😭 i know you’re busy with a lot of other asks at the moment but i’m eagerly awaiting the lizzie post!! and all of your other writing ofc <33 you brighten my day :D

HELLO TO THE MYSTERIOUS SHILOH ENJOYER #3! I think we're all here now haha I'm glad you enjoy my analysis posts! NOW BUCKLE UP, BUCKAROOS! THIS ONE IS GOING TO BE LOWKEY SAD: Elizabeth is perhaps the most complex and defining relationship in Shiloh's life.

First of all, it's one of the few we see glimpses of throughout several steps in his life-- we see how he idolises her as a child, how he acts towards her when they reconnect in his teenage years and glimpses of how the different versions of him act with her in adulthood. It's likely the oldest relationship he maintains that isn't familial, and I think that's incredibly significant when we take into consideration what I believe to be one of the paradoxical cores of Shiloh's character: Connections and relationships are disposable to him, but Shiloh is only Shiloh as long as there’s someone there. He still feels lonely.

I talked a little before about Shiloh's childhood. How the social dynamics he established as a kid ended up influencing his behaviour as a teenager: He sees Lizzie as the obvious leader, since she's older and more assertive than him and MC, and follows her around and obeys her every whim because of it. Whether he genuinely likes her or not is up for debate, but I don’t think it matters to Shiloh. What she means to him is something that can far supersede any simple likes or dislikes that he might feel at that age:

She provides stability and purpose. She’s his anchor against the mean kids, the teasing, the isolation. All he has to do is stay in her favour. Lizzie is his first encounter with a power dynamic he can rely on and emulate as he grows, and therefore she becomes someone he idolises.

Shiloh doesn’t need to be honest, or even be himself, as long as he’s useful and needed. He understands social hierarchies all too well, knowing what happens to people at the bottom. It’s why he insists he isn’t “different” and loses it when Cove calls him “weird.”

He was probably one of the kids who got picked on, so he’s always scrambling to stay just above water and not sink to the bottom with the rest of the “outcasts.” MC doesn’t mean much to him, but in Lizzie’s absence, he sticks to them just as obediently, as they’re the next best thing. Cove, on the other hand, is mostly just a mild annoyance but does give Shiloh a bit of relief because, for once, he’s not the one at the bottom. And it’s not like Cove was ever going to be Lizzie’s favourite anyway.

Whenever Shiloh gets ignored, he panics and tries to wedge himself back into the conversation however he can. And as soon as Lizzie shows up again, he immediately runs back to the safety of their old dynamic.

I think that while most of him admires her at that age, there's a little part of him that resents not being like her. Not being able to be a leader and being relegated to a follower, feeling aimless when she isn't around. As a kid, he's more prone to lashing out when angered, unlike older Shiloh who acts with fake cheeriness and this strange, eery coldness when annoyed. And that's why he pulls her down with him into the water in Step 1.

If he isn't willing to voice these things because he doesn't want to rock the boat and cause issues, he expresses it more subtly.

Shiloh’s just scared—a scared little kid who figured out a way to fit in. And because that method kept working for him, through moving out of state and getting through life without Lizzie, he never really had a reason to change, even if it did a number on his very sense of self.

He got better at these tactics over time, making sure he’d always have a way to fit in, but it cost him a real personality and genuine social skills beyond the manipulation tactics he fine-tuned throughout the years. Eventually, he started taking control in small but crucial ways: He’s the one who walks away from relationships, now. Removing himself from them becomes a choice. It’s not only about leaving when people cease being useful to him but about imposing a sense of control that he felt like he lacked in childhood since he moved schools and states a few times and was likely used to being the “new kid” in different places.

He learned to hide his feelings better, so he wouldn’t blow up the way he did when he was seven. That’s why his relationship with Elizabeth—and the times he had to start fresh somewhere new—were so essential to shaping who he is: Lizzie set the standard for the kinds of relationships he’d chase, and moving around gave him fresh slates and new people to practice on.

That brings us to the serendipity moment in Our life and what we know from him in Xoxo droplets. Now, I know a lot of people haven’t actually played XOD and only have a cursory knowledge of it and the fact that a few characters from it cameo in the Our Life series! But did you know that Liz is mentioned by name in Shiloh’s route?!?

Yes! Back in 2017 we actually had Shiloh mention the events of Serendipity, which I think is a crucial scene to understand Shiloh’s character.

But before we talk about that, Let's talk Serendipity!

After Jeremy brings up “Shiloh’s famous memory” and Liz realizes he lied about not remembering her in the Step 3 prologue, Shiloh actually goes ahead and explains why he is the way he is. His explanation lines up with what we know about him from XOXO Droplets and how he acts in Step 1.

I don’t think he’s lying. Not about all of it, at least. Some of the only concrete information we have on Shiloh’s character and how he functions comes from his childhood, and I think that what he’s saying is a natural progression of that information. He only does things for his own benefit, he’s afraid of being left out and he asserts his sense of control through his relationships with others. But it’s really important to remember that Shiloh doesn’t do things without it benefiting him. While I believe in the core of what he’s saying, the fact that he’s divulging this information at all (how he’s going about it, by putting Liz and her feelings on the matter first, and framing his choices as being mistakes he made out of care for an old friend and by reiterating that they’re too good and putting himself down for pity points) instead of trying to dodge the conversation again, he’s employing a few of his known manipulation tactics: the real me strategy.

Shiloh knows that this new information is hurtful to Liz, and like in Step 1, her opinion is really the one that matters to him. He knows that there’s a limit to how much he can play dumb before they snap, and by Jeremy revealing part of his MO, there isn’t a lot he can do to smooth things over, so the least destructive path is to do exactly what Shiloh does to JB during his route in Xoxo droplets: He feeds Liz little bits of truth because he knows he’ll damage their relationship if he doesn’t. He gives her enough so she feels like she knows him better, like she’s got some new, special insight into the “real” Shiloh that nobody else has, which keeps her around. He pretends to drop his manipulative schtick because by telling her this, she has “figured him out” and there isn’t a point in trying anymore. That itself is a manipulation tactic.

But why bother? He’d be gone again by the end of the afternoon regardless of her forgiveness or not.

It comes back to what I mentioned earlier: Shiloh is the one who exerts control over his relationships. He is the one who decides when they start, and when they end, and by Liz being upset and deciding she doesn’t want to be around him, not only does he lose the control he craves, but Shiloh loses it with the person he based all of his subsequent relationships on.

In the few hours that he spent in Sunset Bird, they all fell back into their old dynamics even though it had been so long since Shiloh stepped foot in that town. He still remembers that she prefers popsicles over ice-cream sandwiches, and even though he’s better at including MC and Cove, Shiloh in a lot of ways fell back into their old routine, looking back to Liz as his leader and following into step as her sidekick. It doesn’t matter if Liz isn’t an active part of his life any longer, what would it mean to him to have those memories tainted? For that perfect template to be ruined?

But Liz stays. 

And because of that choice, we get to see the ultimate consequences of it. Shiloh isn’t a good person. As pitiful and as tragic as he might be, he simply isn’t one. And I think that can be encapsulated perfectly in how he frames his interaction with Liz to his girlfriend in Xoxo Droplets.

He glosses over what he did wrong, he casually exploits that event to garner points with his girlfriend. He ultimately doesn’t care if she takes his and Liz’s relationship the wrong way and frames it as being romantic, even if that’s far from the truth. Even with Elizabeth being miles away and already hurt by him, he still finds ways to use people and spin narratives to his advantage. 

I do believe he holds Liz in higher esteem than most (and arguments can be made that JB, the main character in XOXO droplets and his love interest, and Elizabeth share similarities in both appearance and their strong-willed, confident personalities), since she was his “idol” by his own admittance, but this is a tiny way in which he asserts his control over the situation. It doesn’t matter if Liz believes she holds the reins. If she’s older, admirable and if he still follows her around like an obedient puppy when she’s around.

By choosing to stay, she tipped the scales in his favour. He is the one in control once again, and he's able to continue his interminable cycle of holding people at arm's length while playing the part of a devoted companion.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 19 🍒

"Hungry Heart"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 6,022

Summary: Going to Jackson for a wedding seems like just a friend doing a favor for a friend, but old acquaintances and new attitudes don't always make for a great combination.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place June - December 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of divorce, language, No Smut, mention of infidelity, post-divorce strife, Ellie is kind of a delinquent (will be discussed in next chapter), brief glimpse of lumberjack!Joel, forced proximity, mutual pining (mostly on Joel's side), Joel tries to be an authority figure and Ellie ain't having it

Author's Note: thank you to everyone who's stuck around to read this and been very patient with me! my birthday was last week so there was a lot going on, otherwise I would have had this out earlier. So.. we've got these two together again, but the reunion isn't exactly a happy one..

Series Masterlist

June 2023 San Francisco, CA

It's not until you're seated in a booth at the trendy new sushi bar downtown that you begin to doubt your agreement to meet Sarah while she's in town for a work conference. You'd said yes initially, then waffled about it in the coming weeks, and now you're drinking sake to fortify yourself. Your therapist told you it's a bad idea to mix alcohol with reacquaintances, but you're already refilling the ochoko when you look up for a moment and spy Sarah approaching you through the crowded restaurant.

You've never thought about what she might look like. A part of you imagined that you'd be sitting down to dinner with the same kid from twenty years ago. But Sarah has grown up, in her thirties, a successful attorney. And, from what you gathered by spying on Joel's Facebook account years ago, she's also a mother.

"Thank you for meeting me," she says, embracing you the way women always embrace each other, something you never got used to because of you lack of female friends. She smells like expensive perfume, the kind you spray on yourself at Sephora just for fun, and is dressed in a white maxi dress with blue floral print. She looks amazing, and you silently berate yourself for wearing black distressed jeans, a Rolling Stones tee and your lucky red Converse.

"You're all grown up," you remark, a hint of sadness in your tone.

"You look beautiful," she says in return. "You don't even look like twenty years have passed."

Little does she know you spent forty dollars on a concealer to hide your undereye circles, and were talked into spending another twenty on something called a lip oil that makes your lips sticky and tastes like cheap pineapple, which you wiped away on the restaurant napkin as soon as you sat down.

Settling down to small talk, you neglect to look at your menus, annoying the waitress who stops by to take your order three times and ultimately just comes by to refill your drinks.

Sarah lives out east in Boulder, Colorado, practicing law alongside her fiance Theo. They have a son together, ten year old Finn.

"Theo proposed when I got pregnant," Sarah says. "But I wanted us to build a foundation first, construct our little family. And when the time was right, I proposed to him."

She shows off pictures of Finn, sharing the funny and cute anecdotes that parents do, and when she asks about Ellie you do the same: Ellie in the hospital, just hours old, wearing a tiny knitted pink and blue hat as she glowered at the camera; Ellie at four, playing T-ball, one of just two girls on an all-boys team; Ellie at ten winning the school spelling bee.

Being an Army wife gave you the opportunity to see the world, experience things you otherwise wouldn't. Japan, Germany, Italy.. you were happy that Ellie got to experience them too.

But even that couldn't save your marriage to Justin.

There were infidelities on both sides, and when you found out about his, it was almost a relief to discover he was not Nice Justin, just a man who had affairs. In the midst of your own liaisons, you felt vindicated, though the fun wore off easier than it had in your youth.

Filing for divorce was only difficult considering Ellie. Justin didn't fight it, handing over full custody. It was the only part of the process that broke your heart. Now you were just repeating a history of broken families. Once the divorce was finalized it was like throwing up after being nauseous for so long, just good to get it out of your system.

("I kept my married name, just to piss off the new wife," you tell Sarah, who snickers in response. "That's understandable.")

Settling in San Francisco where you like the neighborhood and the schools, life seems easier.

"Ninth grade history," you answer when Sarah asks what you teach. "I introduce Romeo & Juliet to kids who are the same age as those characters."

And now, with the niceties out of the way, there's nothing left to talk about but the past.

You've been dreading it.

"I never apologized for what I did," she says.

You nod, inviting her to continue.

"You probably know this by now, but I was the one who called your mom."

Of course you knew it all along, but hearing it is a different thing.

She got her number from your phone when you weren't around. And, unable to get the picture of you and her dad out of her mind, she dialed it one day and explained to your mom what she saw.

"Why?" you ask.

She averts her eyes a brief moment. "Deep down I always knew there was something going on with you and my dad.. the day of my party when I walked in on you, it was a rude awakening. It's one thing to know something is going on, and another thing to witness it. And later, when you left, I realized I'd taken it too far."

Sarah goes quiet and so do you, despite the chatter in the busy restaurant.

You ask, "Did Joel ever find out it was you?"

She nods. "I told him later.. after he started seeing that awful girl you were friends with."

That part of your life, the bubble of jealousy and despair in which you made your home, seems so long ago. "Hailey," you remind her.

"Yeah.. she didn't last very long. Dad broke things off when he caught her stealing from him.. and when that happened I realized he was just better off with you. But.. by then it was too late."

By then you were already apart. The damage had been done.

"Was he angry at you for what you did?"

Sarah shrugs. "It was a silent kind of angry. You know how he is. We avoided each other for weeks until it became impossible. And by then.. you were gone."

You take a moment to reflect on your memories of Joel. "How is he?"

She smiles, as if she knew or even hoped you'd ask about him. "He's good. He's in Jackson now. Wyoming. Tommy's there with his new wife.."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "And, uh.. your stepmom?"

She looks blank for a moment. "You mean Tess? No, they divorced a few years ago. She was nice, it just didn't work out."

You don't know whether to feel sorrow or relief at this fact, but for once you decide to be petty and let the relief take over, hoping he went through a fraction of the pain you endured.

Sarah toys with her salmon roll. "I'm sorry," she says, nodding to herself as if giving herself strength to do it. She looks you in the eye and you catch a glimpse of the girl she used to be. "I'm sorry. For starting everything."

So many times you've imagined what it would be like if you hadn't been found out by anyone else. Would you still have stayed in Austin? Would you and Joel have had more time together?

"It's in the past, right?" You manage a smile, happy that this is out in the open. A part of you feels like a weight is lifted. Things may not have happened the way you wanted, but now you can reconcile the things you can't control anymore.

"This is probably the wrong time to say this," Sarah continues, "but I'd like to invite you and Ellie to my wedding this December, in Jackson. You won't have to worry about airfare or hotels. Theo and I will cover your ticket and.. well, everyone's staying at my dad's. He has a huge house in town, enough for close family. I'd really love it if you would come."

"Justin, you're really fucking me over, do you know that?" you try to speak as quietly as you can into the phone while laying out outfits for the Jackson trip. "Ellie's going to be brokenhearted. You told her you'd have her the entire two weeks."

On the other line Justin sighs, the new, younger Mrs. Williams can be heard in the background. "I promised Svetlana first. We really need this time together," he whispers as well, likely not trying to instigate another argument with his wife.

You have some choice words for Svetlana, but are interrupted when Ellie quietly walks into the room, well aware that the discussion is about her. "I'll call you back."

"Let me guess.." Ellie sits on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going with Dad for Christmas.."

There's no point in lying to her. She's a sharp kid. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, kiddo. He and your stepmother are taking an extended honeymoon in Malta," you tell her gently.

"You mean Slutlana?"

"What? Ellie, that's rude. Don't say that." You pause. "Don't say that to her face, at least."

She's quiet, and at times like this you regret that she's essentially living the life you lived at fourteen, always wondering when Dad would come back, if he even wanted to spend time with his own child.

"So.. I'm going with you?"

You nod. "Thank god your probation is over. It'd be nice if you paid Marlene a visit, or at least called her," I said, speaking of the parole officer assigned to Ellie after a particular incident. "We should send her some Tiff's Treats or something, she deserves a gift after putting up with your delinquent self." You playfully toss a tee shirt at her.

"Can I say bye to Riley?" she asks, hope evident in her eyes.

"No," you're adamant on this one thing, as lax as you were before the trespassing situation.

"Mom, my probation's over. I'm not gonna get in trouble just for talking to her."

"I don't care. I'm not going by the judge's rules, I'm going by mine." You pause. "You'll just have to come with me to Wyoming."

Sarah had gone to the trouble of sending a beautifully embossed wedding invitation, done in traditional cream and gold, with photos of the two of them as children, as teens, and one gorgeously done couples photo. Theo's cute, and Sarah seems happy with him.

"Boring," Ellie says in response to the wedding festivities. "Why would anyone want to get married?"

You decide not to give her a response. At her age you didn't understand the fuss about weddings either.

Forgoing Sarah's offer of paying for your flight, you rent a Chevrolet Suburban for the drive over.

"You do realize we'll be driving for over fourteen hours, right?" Ellie says, helping you put the suitcases and bags in the roomy luggage hold.

"Yep. I checked it out on Google Maps."

"What happens if you get tired?"

"We'll drive during the day and find a rest stop or a motel at night," you shrug.

"You know.. I could take over the drive sometimes," she offers.

"Okay, kiddo. Why not?"

She brightens. "Really?"

"Absolutely fucking not." With a smile you open the passenger door and she hops in, grumbling,

Only so much music can suffice a long ride, and somewhere outside of Reno, Ellie busts out a dog-eared copy of a book Justin had given her as a gag won the spelling bee.

"Oh no, Ellie, for god's sake, not the puns," you whine dramatically.

"Yes, the puns," she grins. "How else am I supposed to spend my time on this boring-ass road trip?"

"Brace yourself. We've only been on the road less than four hours."

She groans, slumping forward in her seat, revived shortly when she decides to recite every single pun in that damn book, and when you give her that Mom look, she simply grins and tells you, "That's what you get for turning down a plane ticket."

Three days later you arrive. Jackson Hole is picturesque, especially in winter, as it it was just made to be the snowy backdrop on a postcard or a highlight on Instagram.

You turn down the main thoroughfare of the town, a light dusting of snow already falling from the heavens as you peer out the window, frowning in concentration as you try to familiarize yourself with the location. Ellie's buzzing in your ear like a mosquito, singing along to something on the radio. You turn the volume down. "Quiet down, I can't see."

She nearly bursts at the seam with withheld laughter. "You want me to quiet down... because you can't see?" she teases.

"Ellie!" you groan. "We're already late for lunch with the family."

Promising yourself you'll settle in a hotel after what you hope will be a painless reunification with Sarah and the rest of the Millers, you find your destination and drive up a perfectly paved driveway. Joel's house, a craftsman-style facade done in red brick and accented with carved gable peaks, looks exactly like a house Joel would own.

Parking close enough on the curved driveway without blocking in any other cars, you take a moment to rest, stretching your neck and shoulders.

"Should've let me drive," Ellie says from her seat as you both start to disembark.

There's a smart remark on your lips but when you turn to her you're distracted by a figure at the side of the house.

Someone's chopping wood, splitting logs with precision, though not necessarily speed. He's wearing just a white tee shirt, jeans, boots. You let your eyes linger on his physique. Who is that? you wonder.

As if he can hear your thoughts or sense your presence, the figure turns and wipes the sweat off his brow.

You know him in an instant.

Joel.

Your heart feels like it's going into arrhythmia.

"Come on, Ellie," you hurry her up the walk and to the front steps.

"The bags--"

"Fuck the bags." You press the doorbell nervously, willing Sarah or anyone to open quickly.

"You made it!" Sarah practically mauls you as she greets you, giving both you and Ellie a hug.

You're swept inside where it's nice and cozy, the air scented with pine and gingerbread. Christmas garlands are strung over every doorway, along the staircase railing, the windows, and the fireplace.

"Was my dad out there? I told him he needs to start getting ready. I don't want him coming to the luncheon all sweaty," Sarah says.

"What? No. I didn't see anything.. anyone," you stutter.

"I'm happy you're here, because we're actually going to have lunch at the Tipsy Bison instead. It's Tommy's bar, you probably passed it on the way up here."

"Oh, uh.." you're distracted by Ellie precariously sloshing a winter themed snow globe, the thought of Joel is still spinning around in your sleep-deprived brain, and Sarah is still talking to you like you don't look completely zoned out and anxious.

To make things worse, Joel comes in, carrying most of yours and Ellie's luggage. His white tee sticks to his sweaty skin, his face pink with exertion and dewy with sweat, his hair dark with more gray now than ever, and on his beard too. His eyes, those dark depths you've lost yourself in so many times, peer into yours, and for a moment you forget to breathe.

"You left the trunk open," he murmurs, as if it's a quiet admonition, a secret he doesn't want to tell.

"Oh.. thank you. You didn't have to do that." Your nervous glance at him gives your blushing away because you see his face redden as well.

"Dad, can you believe she has a kid now?" Sarah says excitedly.

There's a jolt of fear when you realize father and daughter are going to be in the same room, and neither of them knows it.

"Uh, Ellie, this is Joel Miller. He's, uh, Sarah's dad, and I used to babysit Sarah.. a long time ago.." Being put on the spot, you falter your words.

"Put 'er there, Joel," Ellie says, holding out her hand for him to shake, which Joel does, the start of a tiny smirk on his lips.

"We all lived in Austin together, with your Aunt Sofia. I mean, we didn't live together but we were neighbors," you babble, feeling even more blush creep up your neck. "Way before you were born, kiddo."

Meanwhile Sarah's eyes dart from Ellie to Joel to you, and back again, slower each time, as if she's piecing the puzzle together. Her eyes linger on Ellie, her expression unreadable before settling on you. You quickly glance away.

"Let me take that from you," you motion to the luggage Joel's carrying.

"Nah, I got it. I'll show ya to y'all's rooms." He hefts the suitcases and bags like they're nothing and heads upstairs. You have no choice but to follow him, sneaking a little glance at how his great his ass looks in his jeans.

"Nice place you got here, Joel," Ellie remarks, eyes skyward, surveying the landing at the top of the stairs.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "Do you always address your elders by their given names?"

"Ellie," you whisper harshly. "Mind your manners."

"Damn, sorry," she mutters back.

"Sorry, Joel. She's--"

"Hey, why do you get to call him Joel?"

"Because I'm an adult," you say under your breath.

"He's older than you. Like, a lot. Like, Grandpa Bob's age."

"Stop it," you say through clenched teeth as Joel clears his throat.

"I can put y'all next door to each other--"

"I call this one!" Ellie claims the first door on the left, grabbing her bags and leaving Joel to lead you a little further down the hall.

"'M afraid this one is right across the hall from mine," he mumbles, leading you inside the comfortably decorated bedroom to set your things down.

"Thank you," you murmur, heart thrumming in your chest. This is the first time you've been alone with him in fifteen years. "You.. have a really beautiful home here, Joel."

He looks around, eyes darting anywhere but yours. "Thank you, that means a lot. Built it myself-- well, with Tommy's help."

"Really?" It's hard to pretend you're not impressed. "Must've been a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, it was. But she's sturdy." Joel gives a sturdy pat to the wall, and you can't help looking at his hand, the way his thick fingers splay out against the dark green wallpaper. Those are fingers that used to find their way inside you, curving just so in order for you to come quickly while his lips and tongue worked in tandem to--

Ellie's voice comes from the other room. "Wow! You guys have cable? Do you have HBO?"

"No Euphoria!" you shout back, scoffing when she quiets again.

There are too many questions on the tip of your tongue, too many things you want to say but not when you're so nervous that your hands are shaking. Staying quiet is easier. More awkward, but easier.

The room fills with unspoken words and missed chances as the two of you shift uneasily, not knowing where to start, not knowing if you should start.

"Didn't know ya had a daughter," he grumbles. "Not 'til Sarah told me."

"Yeah. Ellie's.. precocious."

A ghost of a smile graces Joel's lips as he looks at you and for a moment in time you feel eighteen again.

"How old is she?" he asks.

"She turned fourteen this past spring." God, please don't let him do the math, please don't let him do the math.

Instead he gives a low whistle, wears a teasing smile. "You look good for bein' the mom of a teenager. You still look beauti-- still look the same," he finishes.

You're thirty nine now and in possession of all the complexities that come with your age. There's more gray in your hair than you care to admit (which Ellie tells you not to dye because it "looks cool"), and there are a few more pounds on your person and a few more lines on your face than you're happy with, but his compliment warms you nonetheless.

"You look.. good.. too." Jesus, how did this man age like fine wine? If anything, the past two decades only served to make him hotter. It's unfair.

He takes a step forward, his face determined, lips pursed like he's still calculating his decision. "I.. I wanted to say--"

This time Sarah comes up, dressed for the cold, putting on her gray gloves. "Dad, get in the shower already," she scolds him. "I'm taking her and Ellie to the Tipsy Bison. We'll see you there."

Joel's eyes set on you. "I don't mind takin' them."

You open your mouth to speak, even though you have no idea how to respond. "Honestly, I'll drive me and my daughter. And we can get a room in town."

"No way, Jose." Sarah loops your arm through hers. "You're staying with us and that's final. So, will you let me drive you, or do you want to wait for my dad?"

Waiting for Joel.. it seems you've spent the majority of your youth waiting for him.

"Can we go with Sarah?" Ellie asks, solving the problem for you.

In truth you would have liked a moment to rest, to sleep, to puzzle over the strangeness of the day so far. You're almost a thousand miles from the home you've made after your divorce, under the same roof as the man who changed your life in ways good and bad, harboring a secret from him and his family. Not to mention Ellie's ignorance of her origins.

Sarah herds you and Ellie into the Tipsy Bison, a spacious bar establishment on Main Street, part of the scenery you must have driven by without noticing upon driving into town. Inside is the typical decor you'd expect: neon lights advertising every brand of beer and alcohol you can imagine, taxidermy mounts of bears, bucks, and elk. Pool tables are at the far left, dartboards to the right, a couple of foosball tables as well. There's a stage beyond the pool tables, ready for a band or DJ, a makeshift dance floor in front of it, and colored lights remain still overhead, their brightness dulled and stilled by the daytime.

There's a homey, cozy feeling as you glance around. The bar spreads along the far side beyond a range of tables and booths, boasting a wide variety of booze. Working behind the bar is a face you haven't seen in awhile: Tommy.

He comes out to greet you, his smile and bright and joyful as you've always known him to be, and part of you feels guilty that the last time you were together you'd been drunk, making out next to his truck, after meeting in a bar just like this one.

"Hey you!" He envelops you in a tight hug, and you start to feel better. Bygones are certainly bygones in his case.

"Tommy, it's good to see you again," you smile, pulling away to get a good look at him. "You've hardly aged. What's with you Millers, are you all vampires or something?" You cast a playful look at Sarah, who's bringing her fiance and her son to meet you.

Tommy shrugs, a playful grin on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join our Legion of the Undead," he jokes.

You're introduced to Theo, Sarah's husband-to-be, who's on the quiet side, a contradiction to Sarah who's chattering away about him, and Finn, who's an exact replica of his dad, eyeing you and Ellie with a shy smile.

Ellie manages to find a friend in him as you and the others get to catching up. You're introduced to Maria, Tommy's wife, the roundness of her baby bump just barely showing. She oversees the caterers as they start setting up for lunch. Tommy and Sarah talk about you like you're a part of the family instead of someone who knew them for a summer and changed things forever, even in some small way.

"Sarah tells me this is your place now," you speak to Tommy, who's behind the bar and pouring you a drink.

"Sure is," he says, sliding the drink across the bar to you. "Don't know anyone who orders a gin and tonic in the middle of winter," he says, teasing you.

"I'm eccentric," you smirk, taking a sip of the crisp, slightly bitter drink.

"Should be you behind this bar, Cherry," he winks.

"Oh god, no one's called me that in forever," you groan, doing a quick check on Ellie to find her attempting to play pool with Finn.

"How's business?" you ask him.

"Good, good," he nods. "Just glad to be settin' down some roots, buildin' somethin' for when the baby comes."

"Congratulations," you smile. "You and Maria seem like a good fit."

"Well.. y'know.. can't fuck around forever," he chuckles, then he spots someone at the entrance.

"Hey, brother!" Tommy raises his hand in greeting and you stay still, wishing you could sink down into the ground or better yet, become invisible completely.

The old-fashioned jukebox ends a Fleetwood Mac song and drifts into "Hungry Heart" by Bruce Springsteen starts, the catchy, melancholic combo of piano, drums, bass, guitar and saxophone wafting throughout the bar. You keep your eyes on your drink, willing for all of this to be just a dream, some intrusive thought you've put incredible detail into, prolonging your grief over lost love.

But there he is, a barstool between you, giving you your space while ready to jump up at a moment's notice if you want him closer. Your casual glance gives you away when you stare too long at him, clad in a green flannel shirt, his gray tee peeking beneath. You could swear it's the same flannel shirt you wore at the cabin, in the days when you were younger and carefree, before bad things happened to separate you.

Joel catches your look, lips twitching into a smile as his hands wrap around a glass of whiskey.

"So, what took you away from Boston?" you ask, putting your lips to your drink so you're not tempted to ask too much. It's an attempt to break the awkward silence.

"Lot of things," he mutters, staring into the amber liquid. "But mostly I followed Tommy out here."

"I was in Boston with him for awhile." Tommy shakes his head. "Hated it. I'll never set foot on the East Coast again if I can help it. I came out here, met Maria, started a family."

"And Sarah was already out here, buildin' a life. Just made sense for us all to be together again."

You look at both of them, glad the conversation isn't just between you and Joel. "The house is amazing. Joel told me you both built it."

The look of pride on their faces is endearing.

"We did, and mine too, across the street from his," Tommy adds.

"What happened to the contracting business?"

"We expanded it," Joel answers, a twinkle in his eye though his expression remains serious. "Made a nice chunk of change. Got branches in Oklahoma, Arkansas, even as far as Georgia."

That would explain the six-bedroom house, the fancy week-long wedding rituals that Sarah has joyfully swept you up in, and the catered lunches. The Millers have become quite financially well-off.

You listen to the brothers talk about some of the adventures they've been on, the good and the bad that has passed and ultimately brought them here, with you, once again.

The lunch spread is impressive: Texas style barbecue of ribs, brisket, and chicken; side dishes of beans, potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, and mouthwatering desserts of pumpkin and pecan pies, cheesecake, banana pudding, and peach cobbler.

You haven't realized how hungry you are until you realize you have to remember to force yourself to eat slower, accidentally spilling a little barbecue sauce on your shirt. Embarrassed, you wipe it away, glancing at Ellie and finding her doing the same thing, just shoveling forkfuls of food in her mouth.

"Easy there," Joel's voice booms from across the table. "No one's gonna take it from ya," he playfully chides.

You were so absorbed in your lunch that you didn't realize he was right across from you. "Ellie," you scold her quietly. "Slow down."

"This is slow for me," she answers.

"Mind your mama," Joel says gruffly, his tone is authoritative.

She looks up at him, in annoyance and surprise. "You don't tell me what to do."

"And you don't talk back like that." Joel's voice gets a little more strict.

"Joel, stop," you intercede, your voice just as terse. The chatter around the table has dimmed but it's obvious everyone has their focus on you three.

"The kid obviously needs some fuckin' manners."

You scoff. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

His eyes lock with yours, dark and cold. "I see where she gets it from. I guess that's what happens when a dad ain't around to teach some respect."

"Fuck this," Ellie mutters, pushing back from the table and throwing down her napkin, quick to get up and leave.

Your face is flaming red with both anger and embarrassment as your gaze burns through Joel's. "There's something wrong with you. Seriously," you mutter before getting up to go after her.

Joel goes after you. Sarah goes after Joel.

"Ellie!" you call out, watching her walk off in the direction of the house.

"I'll get her," Sarah volunteers, gently touching your arm. And then you hear her speak to Joel under her breath, something like "You're ruining it," before she hurries up to catch Ellie.

It's you and Joel now.

"Babygirl," he starts, his voice low.

"Babygirl?? Fuck you!"

Joel goes pale, obviously not expecting that. "I deserve that. I deserve for you to hate me."

"Hate you? No, you deserve worse than for me to hate you! How dare you yell at Ellie like that? I never once saw you treat Sarah that way."

"She never acted like that," he huffs.

"Do us both a favor and just stay away from us for the rest of the week. I'll see about getting a motel tonight, just.. fucking leave us alone."

He mutters Christ, and reaches for you, pulls you to the side of the building. "I'm sorry, all right?"

"Yeah? Tell her that." You could easily leave. He's not restraining you, but you stay. "Is that all you have to apologize for?"

He looks guilty. "No, of course not. I've been trying to talk to you since you got here--"

"Fifteen goddamn years and I don't hear anything from you? And now you.. what, you expect me to fall into your arms like I'm a stupid fucking teenager again? Go to hell! Nothing is that simple anymore!"

You hadn't meant for all your rage to come spilling out, it was just supposed to be about Ellie, but now that you're face to face with him, you can't help wanting to rage at him. Joel backs away from you, his eyes on the ground, hands on his hips, jaw set.

"Longer than that, actually," you softly correct yourself. "San Antonio.. you fucking left me. On my birthday."

He steps forward, not ready to back down. "I went to jail for you. On my birthday."

"I didn't ask you to do that! I didn't ask for anything but for you to love me! And you stopped!"

"No, I didn't," he whispers, arms hanging at his side even though they itch to reach out for you, hold you, make it better again.

"Don't say that," you warn him, backing away. "Don't insult my intelligence, Joel. You don't know what I went through after you left me. My heart was broken for years!"

"You were just a kid. I.. I thought I was doin' right by lettin' you go."

"I wasn't better because of you breaking up with me. I got worse! So much worse!" You don't dwell a lot on the past, specifically the college years that are now mostly a blur of hookups and hangovers, but now it all comes rushing back. Joel was your safety net and he took all that away from you once you started to freefall.

"Bullshit. You got married," he says bitterly.

"I did that so I could feel normal again. I tried to save myself. But it didn't matter in the end because he didn't love me either. Though I have to say, my divorce hurt a hell of a lot less than your abandonment."

Joel starts to look his age. The lines in his face deepen with worry and regret as he absorbs your words, mulling over everything that has happened. "I'm sorry--"

"Besides, you got married too! So please don't play like you're such a saint. You hardly look the part." Your anger has warmed you, given some spice to your blood so that you don't even feel the cold anymore. You roll your sleeves to your elbows, fists curled, adrenaline pumping as you finally tell him everything that's been locked away inside your heart.

"I don't accept your apology," you grunt, adding, "And don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again!" You storm off, wishing you'd brought your jacket but it would mean having to walk past Joel, back into the restaurant and out again, and you're already walking away. It seems one of you is always walking away from the other.

It's snowing again when you find Sarah and Ellie, further down in front of a storefront, steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands. Both are smiling, chatting, seemingly getting along. You know you should reprimand Ellie, tell her to apologize to Joel, but how can you be a hypocrite that way when you won't even talk to him yourself? All you can think about is leaving, going straight to the motel and picking up your things at Joel's later.

Sarah talks you into staying, warning of bad weather coming in soon. She apologizes for Joel, and you apologize for airing your grievances so publicly.

"Just don't do it at the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," she smirks. "Then I'll have to leave your ass out in the snow."

That evening you and Ellie keep to your rooms. You use your phone for distraction when your attention span keeps drifting from your novel, but even technology isn't the answer. There's only so much Merge Mansion you can play, and not even True Detective can hold your attention for long. You decide to rewatch Narcos (for the plot, you tell yourself) when Ellie knocks on your door.

"What's up, kiddo?" You press pause and scoot over on the bed, offering her to get comfy next to you.

"Have you seen the news?"

You're on Do Not Disturb and haven't gotten any of your usual notifications.

"There's a blizzard coming tonight. Sarah says sometimes the main roads get snowed in and we won't be able to get out."

Oh Sarah Miller, the purveyor of bad news. "She told me something like that. How long do they expect conditions to last?" You're already checking your phone.

"Could be days, maybe even up to a week," Ellie shrugs.

"Great," you mutter. "So we're stuck here even after the wedding?" It's the day after tomorrow.

"Please don't make us go to the motel. Sarah's really cool and really nice. And I even like Theo and Finn.. even Joel isn't so bad so long as he stops talking to me like a dad."

That night, as the blizzard blows in, turning everything outside completely white, Joel tosses in his sleep in his room across the hall from yours. It's not the howling winds keeping him awake; he's lived here long enough to get used to such natural disasters.

There's something you said to him, earlier outside the bar. It was an explosive moment, with words exchanged like bullets. But in the midst of it all he took away that one sentence: don't ever yell at our daughter like that ever again.

Our daughter?

dividers by @saradika 👑

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[starryeyedcas]

Every Destiel Fic I’ve Ever Read [WIP]

Let’s do it! I took this list directly from my twitter

I’m not really going to post my ratings and stuff and I’m not going to copy what I said verbatim because as I grow older my opinions always change and every fic deserves love regardless of what some stranger on the internet thinks! Check these out if you need something new to read :)

Also, side note: A lot of the fics I tend to read are either non-canon or pre S10. If your looking for canon type, recent fics this will not be a list for you and I apologize :(

Also pt. 2: Some of the fics that I have listed on my twitter are no longer available so I have decided to not list them here. It’s very sad because there were some really good ones! Regardless, I’m still trying to keep this list as up to date as I possibly can when it comes to my reading ventures. Either way, I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I do <3

1. NINETY ONE WHISKEY

By komodobits, 401,193 words (not counting other fics in the series)

Please, please, please! Read this if you haven’t yet!! It’s a slow burn, World War II based fic and it’s my absolute favorite fic of all time. In fact I think it may be my favorite story of all time!! I come back to this fic always. If I’m sad, I read it. If I’m happy, I read it. I’ve read it probably 4 or 5 times at this point and it always holds up. I will say though, IT WILL MAKE YOU CRY. Dean and Cas are written VERY well, in fact every character in this fic are written to perfection. You find yourself growing attachments to side characters that you may have even forgotten existed in the show. I seriously cannot recommend this one enough. You will not regret it.

2. A BRIEF GLIMPSE

By cloudyjenn, 12,356 words

I’ll be honest, this one is special for me. This was the very first Destiel fic I ever read back in 2014. That being said, I may be a little biased towards it but I do genuinely think that it’s very cute. It’s a Slice-of-Life esque story with light supernatural happenings; where Castiel is in high school and has a very big crush on his best friend, Sam Winchester. Things start to go awry when Sam invites Cas to a carnival. I won’t spoil too much though! If you want a quick read with some fluff, definitely read this one.

3. SMELLS LIKE ROSES

By unknown :(, 53,828 words

Uhoh! A Djinn fic! I remember this one just hurting me so much. Dean is living his dream life. Everything around him is perfect and he’s mysteriously very happy. When you get to the end of this fic, holy cow the heartbreak. It’s written very well, you obviously can’t go wrong with a fic that slightly follows canon. I really like this one and I might reread it again soon but I cannot stress enough how much it hurts! Stay safe out there.

4. NOT ALL THE WAY THROUGH

By Tracy, around 4,700 words

Shorter fic based around s5 episodes 3 and 4. This one is good but it’s also very painful. I think I like fics that hurt me lol. There are some warnings I want to state! This fic features substance abuse, non con, mentions of torture and A CHARACTER DEATH so please be careful! This is told through Castiel’s perspective and all the summary says is “Castiel’s new life begins and ends with Dean.” So I will leave it at that. (Also as a side note whenever I think of this fic I think of the song ‘And So it Goes’ by Billy Joel. Listen to that while reading and you are sure to shed some tears. Stay safe friends xx)

5. PAINTED ANGELS

By WinnJennster, 105,637 words

This one used to be really popular, so it’s likely many of you have already read it. Either way I will still recommend it. It’s a nice little “reunited” type fic in which Cas is an author and Dean is a painter. I will say, however, that the angst in this fic is HEAVY. Personally, I’m not huge into giant angsty fics like this, or maybe the type of angst portrayed in this one. I just remember feeling a little frustrated by it. YET, this fic has a lot of good memorable moments with some fluff sprinkled throughout. If you love angst, this is the fic for you. WARNING though, you need an AO3 account to read this fic. If you’re not already logged in, you’re out of luck.

6. TWIST AND SHOUT

By Gabriel and standbyme, 97,556 words

Who are we kidding?? Everyone on this website KNOWS this fic. You all could probably recount it backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down. Who knows. All we know is that this fic is a capital S-A-D. When I was in high school, I LOVED this fic. I adored it, no matter how much it made me cry. Because YES there is a MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. And NO it’s not FUN. Can I be honest? After rereading it, I feel as if Cas and Dean are out of character! Doesn’t mean it’s a bad story, absolutely not. It’s beautiful! I think it’s wonderful and obviously I recommend it. But you could change the names of the boys and you wouldn’t even know its based off two characters from Supernatural. This is my hill and I will gladly die on it. Read it if you dare, but remember to beware OOooOOoooOo (another side note: I had to go to the fic to get the link for this post and I swear to God my eyes watered when I read that first sentence. I HATE and I LOVE this fic all at the same time.)

7. SMOKE IN THE MIRROR

By letters_of_stars, 52,327 words

Oh shoot! Dean is an artist and he needs a nude model!! Who do you think is gonna take the bait?!?! In all seriousness though, I really adore this one. YES Castiel is nude and YES Dean is painting him but if you’re expecting smut right from the get go you are mistaken! I wanna say this is another slow burn?? But it has also been a while since I’ve read it. I just remember liking this one a lot. In my original rating, I gave it a 5/5 so that’s gotta mean something. Another little slice of life with a lot of good moments. Check it out!

8. A HOME BENEATH THE STARS

By CheshireMoon, 71,240 words

Hi, it’s me again. The girl who likes fics that rip her heart to SHREDS. I’m gonna be about as vague as can about this one because boy did that ending catch me off guard when I first read it. So Dean is homeless, right? And Cas is a kind hearted, Good Samaritan, astronomer. When the two meet Dean’s life changes… for the better… I’m gonna leave it at that. You could be ignorant like me and skip over the warnings to this fic and just leave it to good will and faith that this fic will leave you happy and giggly. Or you could do yourself a favor and know what’s coming but not know when it happens. Either way, I still recommend this one. I really like it, just make sure you have a fluff fest fic waiting for you on the other side.

9. THE FACE OF HEAVEN

By orange_crushed, 9,772 words

This one is short and so so sweet. Another type of slice-of-life where Dean is just a gay bartender living his best gay bartending life when he suddenly comes across a fallen star whose name is Castiel. It’s very unique and I love it so much. In my original opinion of this fic I said I didn’t like the formatting? And I think what I meant to say is, I don’t like reading long paragraphs but the formatting to this fic is perfectly fine lol. Still a fun little read and it’s pretty fluffy!

10. SO MUCH TANGLED THREAD

By imogenbynight, 37,428 words

Holy crap! Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES. It’s like, Ninety One Whiskey almost, except there’s time travel, and supernatural happenings, and OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS FIC. It’s ends pretty quick but it’s still so so so good. Please read it, show it some love. I think about this one from time to time and I still smile. Much like with Painted Angels, you need an account to read this one. So make sure you’re logged in! If you don’t have an account you best get that invitation fr.

11. DIAMOND STAR HALO

By had, 4,924 words

Just pure fluff told from Sam Winchester’s perspective. I kind of have a soft spot for fics told from a third party perspective because it’s like they’re seeing Dean and Cas how WE see Dean and Cas and it makes me all giddy, I dunno. This is a good short read and you should definitely read it after reading something really sad and heart wrenching!

12. CINDERWINGS

By bendingsignpost, 181,619 words

STOP!! I love this fic!! It’s a Cinderella type story, there’s a masquerade ball, Dean is a PRINCE. Very fantasy with supernatural elements. It’s WONDERFUL. The way the author writes about the world through Castiel’s perspective is super entertaining and funny and I love the misunderstandings that happen within the story. If you love fantasy and monarchy and magic and parties, this is definitely a fic for you.

13. ONE WHITE LIE

By komodobits, 11.179 words

I can’t lie, komodobits is my favorite fic author and so I am a little biased towards their stories. This one is no exception. It’s hilarious, lighthearted, and fluffy. The range that this author has with their fics amazes and horrifies me. How can one person have that much talent? I have no idea. This is just a komodobits appreciation post, you got me. Anywho, Castiel tells a small lie to the Winchester brothers and they mess with him. Not based in canon, a very slice-of-life fic. I love it, please check it out.

14. FORGET-ME-NOT BLUES

By noangelsinthegarrison, 68,689 words

Ahhh I remember this one. Another slice-of-life, have you noticed a pattern? Sam and Jess are getting married! Woohoo! Of course Dean is in the wedding but so is Castiel, someone Dean has history with……….. Basically there’s misunderstandings and mutual pining and it’s fun. It’s got all sorts of romcom elements with just a dash of angst!

15. MUSCLE MEMORY

By komodobits, 18,961 words

Give me a story that’s loosely based off of 50 First Dates and written by my favorite fic author and suddenly I’m in Heaven. I’m a really big fan of movie AU’s, especially well written and this one is no exception. It’s kind of sad though, but if you’ve seen 50 First Dates then you should expect that. Even if you aren’t a fan of movie AU’s, I would still suggest giving this one a read.

16. KIND OF A FOREVER DEAL

By komodobits, 111,460 words

STOP LOOKING AT ME. YOU THINK IM PUTTING TOO MANY FICS BY THE SAME AUTHOR HERE? WELL YOU LISTEN TO ME PAL, THIS WON’T BE THE LAST ONE EITHER!! Ahem, this fic is awesome and sort of a fan favorite already!! Slice-of-life, teenaged angst, summer camp, LoVe, it’s amazing! The way that the author wrote the friendship between Dean, Cas, Jo, and Victor has me in tears. Very wholesome and heart wrenching, highly recommend!

17. IMPERFECT PROPOSALS

By Fallen_Angel_Meg, 111,082 words

Another movie AU! This is loosely based off The Proposal and filled with fluff! You really don’t see a whole lot of crossover fics that are long like this one, but it’s fun to read and you’ll probably fly through it just like I did. Do you like The Proposal? No? Read it anyways xx

18. CHECKED OUT

By whelvenwinge, 27,127 words

Okay this one, is really good. Like really good. It comes complete with original artwork and fantastic storytelling. Castiel is a librarian and he really despises Dean Winchester, an acclaimed author. It’s sooooo good, I cannot stress enough how much I think you should read this. And you’ll get really pretty pictures to look at! The ending is great, the beginning is great, it’s just wonderful. So what are you waiting for? Run along now and read it!

19. SPECIAL INSTRUCTIONS

By habitatfordeanwinchester, 2,593

This one is just cute. It’s short and fluffy. Imagine Castiel working at a Chipotle and getting special instructions on a mobile order. Can you guess who they’re from? If you’re sad and need a pick me up, just read this one. It’s so cute!

20. C-S-T-L

By komodobits, 90,377

It has been a really long time since I read this one. But I know that I loved every second of it and I was crying during the majority of it. Either because I had just got done reading 91w or because the story itself made me emotional. Either way it’s a fantastic read! Castiel is an android and Dean is tasked with adding him to their army for the WAR. This fic has wonderful world building, really in-depth character exploration, and the ANGST. I’m probably going to read this one again sometime soon~ JOIN MEEEEE

[kawaiiblossoms04]

🌸Story Title: A Rose in a Gilded Cage | Sukuna x Black/Brown Reader

🌸A/N : As always, here’s a little glimpse of what’s to come, my darlings.

Thanks to my day off and pulling an all-nighter or two, I’ve been able to make some good progress on the story. Hopefully, I’ll be able to post later this week after editing!

Reminder of the AU - I may or may not have been inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender and...90 Day Fiancé when creating this story. Yes, it's a strange combo, but hey, inspiration works in mysterious ways. Judge me if you must, but it's my guilty pleasure, and I have no regrets. It’s coming along pretty nicely if I do say so myself.

🌸Now, onto the reason your beautiful eyeballs are still lingering here—

Your hand came up to slap, but his own larger palm intercepted it, clutching with a strong grip around your wrist and tightening until it felt like he might crush the bone, a menacing frown replacing the smirk he wore seconds before.

"Don't hit me again," he hissed dangerously low as his other hand pressed harder against your throat. "This is the second time. One more strike, disrespectful whore, and I promise there'll be no wedding...but a funeral."

"Just kill me already. Fuck at least I'll die standing up to you." you responded with no hesitation, narrowing your eyes at him.

His eyes flashed with an odd fascination, surprised with your sudden attitude. He tsked, shaking his head side to side with disbelief before breaking his silence "you know I like you more and more. And the more I look at you...the more think I might have actually lucked out. You have a pair and would've made a great soldier." his thumb stroked your lips and dragged to the side slowly.

It caught you off guard, the words, the sudden compliments.

"What...What are you doing. Let go." you struggle and tugged.

"Huh." his eyes lazed and pupils dilated, an allure taking over him as a chuckle released, his brows raising with a devious grin. "I think that pretty, fiery spirit has some definite merit to it and as a bonus, it has some secret kinks too" His smile curled at the corners and his hold on your wrist weakened. "A fighter but I saw a small part of submission too."

His hand trailed lower, gently running over your ass. He applied pressure before easing with a firm hold and your thighs quivered and squeezed, tight and closing on impulse. Then he guided your hands over his broad chest. "Feel that? That's raw power, something no one else can give you. A woman like you deserves a man strong enough to protect her, even if she doesn't want it... You don't realize how pretty—soft, vulnerable, and far too innocent-looking you are." He confessed.

"Well," you faked a small cough and took a small inhale through your nose "That's exactly why I told myself a filthy man like yourself will never have me. And, yes I do know I am pretty," the air that left you carried a hint of attitude. "Very pretty actually, thank you and I can take care of myself." You reminded. "And unfortunately, everyday I will be forced to see that ugly, cocky smirk."

He grinned at your choice of insult, laughing under his breath. He had to admit he liked your confidence. The arrogant and brazen exterior was attractive in its own, unexpected way.

"What an interesting thing you are." He hmmed appreciatively, as the look on his face was calm but you knew he didn't give up on trying, continuing the game. His palm slipped under your shirt and trailed the flesh along your lower back, the gentle caresses turning your skin to a fiery hot blaze, prickling every sense, aware of how dangerous of a man you were dancing with.

"Hey." You squealed, not letting your facade fade and pulled at the hem, trying removing his hand with haste.

"Relax."

"Don't touch me...you already do it enough. We aren't getting intimate anytime soon, bastard." you snapped.

"We aren't?" his grin didn't disappear. His hold and palm slid up and around your torso to your rear, brushing over and squeezing roughly and feeling, savoring the tenderness. He trailed the outer creases and grasped firmly before another few taps to feel it jiggle under his fingertips.

"Knock it off, or I'll beat the living spirits out of you."

His playful behavior changed to one of interest and focused his attention on you. "The question is. Do you'd like it rough? Or do want me to be gentle?" He mused and chuckled as the seriousness fell.

You clicked your tongue with displeasure. You pushed away his arm and distance yourself quickly and backing up to the corner with a scowl. "Men like you disgust me, you make women feel dirty. And...as my future 'husband' or whatever. I will keep things as they are until we get married, then...we have to do our duties."

He looked as if you said something humorous.

"You mean until you spread your legs for me... or until you're begging to bounce on my cock... right?" his expression held amusement at how bothered and shocked you appeared.

You huffed, annoyed.

The whole subject was irritating.

The Fire Nation Prince would never admit aloud that he did long to bed you. It was true, A woman never told him no, ever, and yet, you did, over and over, and all he could do is stare back at his soon to be wife and the silent stare battle continued. The deep blue hues in your eyes pierced his fiery amber red hues, matching in intensity as the staring battle continued.

His eyes traced you over and over again and his mind was flooded with possibilities and vivid fantasy. He closed his eyes and saw it, you moved against him with the same enthusiasm, your curls whipping wildly in a frenzy as he'd slam you hard in a rapid tempo from underneath him with your ass in the air with your beautiful breast bouncing in view.

You'd toss your head back as a low moan left your parted lips. You fucked yourself on him eagerly, your ass would jiggled every time the tip of his cock prodded in and out as if it had a mind of its own. He press your small body into the mattress, a hand holding a fistful of those gorgeous curls and another firm smack to that perky rear for being such a disobedient girl as your greedy pussy clenched, fluttering around him tightly ready to milk him for everything he had...

He swore under his breath.

'That. That would feel magnificent.' He concluded as he sighed with content.

His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of an inpatient huff.

The view had not changed, still your annoying pretty face that infuriated him beyond anything. But he'd be lying if he said a stubborn girl like you didn't excite him. He wondered how you tasted, but he had no doubt you'd look amazing sitting on his face. Perhaps you'd be the first woman to be given that honor.

"Come back over here." He ordered with a deep tone, his dominating voice returning.

You stuck your nose into the air, pouting with a sneer, folding arms with a 'Hmph!'

His mouth set in a tight line. A muscle jumped in his cheek, irritation rising.

His body held a sense of command and forcefulness as he cocked his head toward his lap, making clear he wanted your ass on it.

He stared, unblinking. "C'mere."

You stood silently, meeting his crimson gaze head on and shook your head, "Hell. No."

There it was, again. The stubbornness. The defiance. Sukuna drew in a sharp breath, annoyed. "Hmmm. Okay..."

🌸—Sorry Sukuna’s harassing y’all—but let’s be honest, I think we’d all let him.

A Rose in A Gilded Cage

All rights reserved © 2025 KawaiiBlossoms. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

[luveline]

could we get a glimpse into asf birthdays post-hogwarts? maybe r is having a bad time and isn’t feeling good and she worries that her sadness is ruining fred’s birthday but actually fred would rather spend his birthday in bed with ghost than at any sort of party. no pressure though lovely girl <3

love u!! fem!reader

cw mental health issues

Fred didn’t plan a party for his birthday. He works it out like this; it’s his birthday, and he loves you, and you don’t like parties, so he doesn’t really want one. He wants to spend an important day with his most important girl. He wants to see his family for breakfast, and so you go, and that’s enough of anybody else for a whole day. 

“What did you want to do for dinner?” you ask. 

“We just had breakfast.” 

“I know.” You frown at him in a faux of annoyance. “I’m just asking, so we can prepare.” 

“We’re gonna order something. No preparing. A feast. George might come over.” 

“If he doesn’t, he should be ashamed of himself.” 

“I’ll tell him you said that.” 

“Tell him!” You wrap your hand around his wrist for a few seconds. “Don’t tell him.” 

You seem a little out of sorts today. Making your very best effort to not let him in on the secret. Too bad for you, Fred knows you now. He knows when you’re depressed, when you’re freaking out, when you’re about to tip into overstimulation. He reckons he has a thirty percent chance of rescuing you, but he can see the guilt already taking shape on you. You’re unhappy, and you’ve never felt as ashamed of it as you do now. 

You’re squirming. 

“You know what I want for my birthday, lovely girl? You’ll never guess.” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want to spend the next couple of hours in bed with you.” 

You manage a smile, though you’re not in the mood for the innuendo you’d misheard. “I don’t know if…” You list off as he takes your waist into his hands, as he pulls you stomach to stomach and leans back. His hands twine over the small of your back. 

“I wanna sleep with your hands in my shirt,” he says. “That’s all, Ghost. Not seducing you.” 

“You can seduce me.” 

“Maybe I’ll try again later,” he says offhandedly. “Will you come and lie down with me?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” you say, letting him pull you as he begins to steer you from the kitchen doorway to the hallway into his room. Your room, just as soon as he asks you to move in. Most of your stuff spots the room, and there have long been drawers emptied for your perusal. 

The birthday card you got for him lays open on the nightstand. He guesses every penny you’ve been paid in the last month was spent on his gifts. He doesn’t understand when you’d managed to buy all this stuff, ‘cos you’re always together, but presents and wrapping paper still lay at the end of the bed as proof of your secrecy. It’s impressive and worrying. He likes it better when you have no secrets.

“I’m gonna need a wheelbarrow,” he says. 

“Surprised you know what that is.” 

“Oh!” he says, pulling the duvet back, and encouraging you down into the mattress with a gentleness that contrasts his snarky tone. “Oh, oh, oh. You’re being mean. That’s cool, I can be mean too. I’ll be so mean.” 

He takes his presents from the bed to the dresser and shakes the blanket out, little shards of papers and tape falling onto the floor for later cleaning. You’re watching him silently. You hold out your hands. 

“Aw, babe,” he says with a sigh, climbing into bed and on top of you, his face slotting in the space over your shoulder. He closes his eyes to breathe you in. Blind, the smell of your perfume is stronger, sweeter. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I love the way you smell.” 

“Freddie.” 

“Sweetheart, I’ve never been better in my life.” 

You curl your arm behind his back. He has to stress how it feels, the perfect weight on him, the perfect size, everything about you is what he wants and he shouldn’t be surprised at how much he loves you, but it catches him off guard anyways. He really, genuinely, just wants you to be as happy as he is —he wishes he could take your unhappiness and put you on better footing. It must be quite disconcerting to feel sad all the time. 

Fred worries it’s scarier than you can handle. The last thing he wants is for it to overwhelm you. 

“You smell like heaven,” he mumbles, pressing his nose to your neck. 

“Sorry.” 

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” 

“It’s your birthday.” 

“I know,” he murmurs, “you got me all those presents. You gave the cutest wake up kiss anyone’s ever gotten.” 

Good morning, you’d said quickly, pressing a soft peck to his lips, your hand on his cheek. Happy Birthday. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you say, nearly breathless. 

“Nothing has to be wrong, Ghost. It’s okay if you don’t feel very well.” 

“It’s your birthday,” you repeat quietly. 

Fred gives you a smattering of soft kisses. “I know, but it doesn’t matter,” he promises, “don’t feel bad. Let’s just have some quiet time. Maybe you’ll feel better tonight.” 

“What if I don’t?” you ask. 

“I won’t mind.” 

You slip your hand up behind his shirt, fingertip trailing over the ridges of his stretch marks. You’re obsessed with them, and you always say the same thing when you feel them, a whisper he can barely hear. “You got too tall too fast,” you say, fingertip higher, hand flattening as you reach the space between his shoulders. “Do you think you’re done growing now?” 

Fred has no idea. He tells you as much, the afternoon spent whispering conversation until you turn quiet. For a while you cwtch in quiet, and he gives you a couple of minutes to yourself to make lunch, which he eats and you thank him for but don’t touch. By dinner time, you’re feeling well enough again to sit up. You hold his hands and ask if he wants to watch TV. 

It’s a great birthday. 

[venus-haze]

I’ll Keep a Light in My Window (Starlight x Reader)

Summary: After her Believe Expo speech, it feels like everyone’s eyes are on Annie. Among the messages flooding her Instagram DMs is an encouraging one from you, an old friend from her Capes for Christ days. The two of you reconnect, and Annie finds more than friendship with you this time around.

Note: Woman reader, but no other descriptors are used. This is my first Starlight fic! I hope I did her justice since this is mostly from her perspective. Inspired by the song from The Get Down because it’s so Annie. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: This is pretty much fluff with some angst, related to canon events and mentions of homophobia in the context of American Christianity. Obviously playing with the plot of S1 for this fic. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Despite the crowd’s chaos in response to her speech, Annie felt her smile falter when she got backstage and was met with varying degrees of rage and disgust. Her own mother looked like she’d spent the past five minutes sucking on sour candy. 

‘Hello!’ Annie wanted to shout. ‘Did you see what I did out there? Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?’

Hughie had disappeared after meeting Ezekiel. She tried to pretend that him not even saying goodbye didn’t bother her. If she could get up on stage and bare her soul to thousands of people in person and millions at home, at the very least she could admit to herself that she was hurt. 

The drive back to the tower was tense. Everyone seemed to avoid making eye contact with her. As if she’d done something wrong. The longer she sat with what she said and did, the more she was convinced she made the right choice. Between what The Deep had done to her and how she was treated after saving a girl from suffering the same fate, they were just mad she called them on her complacency. 

As soon as she made it back to her suite, she pulled out her phone to find her Instagram had blown up even more than when she first joined The Seven. Her phone nearly crashed from the amount of notifications she had. Thousands of comments and messages, either rants or support. She scrolled through her clogged DMs, her stomach churning at the glimpses of abuse that piled on from irate strangers. One DM caught her attention, addressing her by her real name rather than Starlight. 

Hesitantly, she tapped the message to see the full contents.

‘Holy shit Annie!! You’re so badass🤩 Our Capes for Christ counselors must be shitting themselves right now lmao way to go!’

There were a lot of people from her Capes for Christ days, a constant rotation of hopeful young superheroes ready to use their powers for the glory of the Lord. Looking back, it was just a self-righteous vanity project for their parents and whatever religious sycophants hovered around. She tapped your photo, bringing her to your profile. Your brief bio gave your first name and that you were living in the city, but your supe name was nowhere to be found. 

She tapped your most recent photo. In a brightly lit hospital hallway, you posed in black scrubs with a handful of balloons. You’d posted it just a week earlier, the caption celebrating working as a nurse for three years. Most of the comments were congratulating you, but one comment finally jogged her memory.

‘might be thinking of someone else but were you red heart?’ someone commented.

You replied with, ‘Yeah I was a million years ago! Lamest name ever😂😂’

Right. Red Heart. Healing powers. Red Cross spokesgirl. White top with a red skirt and sparkly red shoes that reminded her of the Wizard of Oz. You were on the Capes for Christ circuit with her. At one point she considered you a close friend, close enough to invite you to the roller skating party she begged her mom for when she was ten, only allowed to invite three girls because that’s all they could afford. Memories of skating to Britney Spears songs and balancing a paper plate with room temperature pizza on her lap came back to her. You’d bought her one of the special edition birthday Barbies. Her mom never let her take it out of the box, claiming it’d be worth a lot of money some day. It was probably still collecting dust in their attic.

She could remember you going off to college after high school, dropping your superhero identity not long after. With healing powers, it made sense you’d go into nursing. Her mom had expressed a judgemental disbelief at your decision. Annie wished she at least had a choice like you. 

She scrolled through more of your photos. You seemed to be doing well since you got out. Got out. Like it was a cult. Maybe in a way, it was. 

Annie hit the follow button on your profile and messaged you back.

‘Thanks Y/N! I made a lot of people mad, but I’m glad I did it 😊’ she hesitated a moment before typing, ‘We should catch up sometime! You're still in New York right? I’m pretty new to the city.’

Before she could get too in her own head about whether asking you to hang out was weird when the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, you responded with the names of a few coffee shops on the Upper East Side and that you were off work the following day. 

Her mood had tanked before meeting up with you, getting chewed out by Stilwell and feeling some guilt for Ashley losing her job. She had to remind herself it wasn’t her fault. If they hadn’t enabled a sex pest for years, she wouldn’t have had to make her speech. 

Following the directions on her phone and getting a bit turned around in the subway, she walked up to the coffee shop a few minutes after eleven, when the two of you had agreed to meet. She rushed inside when she noticed you were already sitting at a table with your drink. 

Annie sat down across from you with her coffee, playing with the cup sleeve. “I’m so glad you had time to hang out. I still don’t really know anyone here, and it’s nice to see a familiar face.”

“Yeah! I'm not really in touch with a lot of people from back then, but I can totally introduce you to my friends. It’s an adjustment, but the city has a lot to offer if you know where to look.”

“Way more to do than Des Moines at least.”

“I can’t believe I nearly forgot,” you said, lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “congrats on getting into The Seven! Out of everyone in our weird ass group growing up, I always had a feeling it was gonna be you.”

“Thanks.” She gave you a strained smile. “It’s not exactly what I expected, but I’m making the best of it.”

“Sometimes that’s the most you can do,” you said.

“How about you? What part of the hospital do you work in?”

“With my powers, they have me all over the place, but it’s good. I can see I’m really making a difference.”

“That’s what I want. Sometimes I feel like they just parade me around to look nice, but they won’t let me do anything,” she said. “Like that stupid new costume. It’s like they make me wear it just to humiliate me for helping that girl because I didn’t do it their way. I feel like a joke.”

“Not after the Believe Expo. Anyone would be an idiot not to take you seriously now,” you said. “I mean, you said what so many people were thinking but were too afraid to say. It’s bullshit they’re treating you like this.”

“No, it’s—I’ll deal. We’re supposed to be catching up, and I’m like dumping all my problems on you. How have you been? Are you seeing anyone?” she asked. 

She wasn’t sure how she’d answer the question if you’d been the one to ask. Hughie could be so hot and cold, like he was hiding something. 

You were silent for a few moments before answering. “Not really. My girlfriend and I broke up a few weeks ago.”

“That’s great! I mean—not great that you broke up, I’m so sorry,” Annie said frantically. “Just you being—dating women. I’m happy for you.”

“That means a lot, Annie. I kind of parted ways with Vought because of it. I mean, they have this progressive face, but then they let Ezekiel spout his bullshit and put their name on that too?” you ranted. “That’s just me. It’s pretty much impossible to have a career as a supe without Vought, so I don’t judge.”

“Do you think I’m crazy for trying to change things from the inside?”

“It can’t hurt to try. Then at least you know you did what you could.”

She smiled. At least she could vent to someone who understood and actually gave a damn. Hughie was nice, but he didn’t quite get it. There was always some kind of disconnect. Maeve wasn’t nearly the mentor she was hoping for. She got it a little better now. Maeve had been in The Seven for years, Annie could only imagine how much it’d wear her down. 

On her way back from getting coffee, Annie stopped in front of a bookstore with a huge Vought display in the window. Her comics were front and center, a cardboard cut-out of her next to one of Homelander. The Deep’s comics were barely visible with clearance stickers slapped on the covers. Serves him right. She couldn’t believe he’d been her favorite at one point.

Sleepovers with the other Capes for Christ girls almost always led to a “who’s your favorite member of The Seven” discussion. The answers were always a lot of Homelander, some Lamplighter or Marathon Man, but you always answered Queen Maeve. Back then, she thought it was because you admired her strength, her trailblazing as the first woman in The Seven. Maybe it wasn’t that simple.

“That’s her! I swear to god it is!” Annie overheard someone whisper-yell.

“Who?”

“Starlight, over there!”

Annie kept her head down, speed-walking up the street. She ducked into the nearest subway, getting on the first train that stopped even though it was going further uptown. Pulling her hoodie up to obscure her face, she sighed. She had everything she ever dreamed of, but it seemed more and more like it was turning into a nightmare.

The following weeks were busy between her obligations with The Seven and helping Hughie with whatever cryptic stuff he was up to. She still found time to see you. Hanging out with you was the only thing that made her feel normal anymore. You were so confident in who you were, she felt comfortable finding out who she was outside of Starlight. With you, she could just be Annie. 

All of a sudden her association with Hughie had Homelander nearly turning on her. Maeve took up for her in nothing less than a Hail Mary moment. Then, to make matters worse, her entire world came crashing down when she agreed to meet up with Hughie despite his fugitive status. She wasn’t born with her powers, no supe was. Instead her mom signed her life away to Vought and allowed them to basically experiment on her. The cherry on top of the melting ice cream sundae that’d become her life was definitely getting shot immediately after finding out the news.

When she came to in the hospital, she saw you in your scrubs, slouched in the chair next to her bed. She reached out, taking your hand in hers. 

“Y/N?” she croaked out.

“Annie!” you exclaimed, jumping up from the chair. “Holy shit, how are you feeling? I did what I could when you got here. You heal fast, so you should be—“

“It’s all a lie! Our whole lives, Y/N! They fucking lied about everything!” she raged, her vision blurred by tears. “At least you got out. I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, don’t call my best friend stupid.”

She laughed weakly, sniffling a bit. “Thanks Y/N, for everything. All this time I was thinking I was doing what I wanted, but it was what everyone else wanted for me. It always has been.”

“Then start living for you, whatever that looks like. It’s never too late,” you said.

Her hand still intertwined with yours, she pulled you closer to her, your faces inches apart. Taking in your features, she admired how pretty you were. She’d always thought so, but didn’t know how to place it before. Since you’d reconnected, however, it was different. Butterflies in her stomach when you'd smile at her. Texts from you brightening her day. Hanging out with you being the highlight of her week. She didn’t have to try when it came to you. 

“I think I’ll start now,” she whispered.

In a moment of nerve-wracking bravery, Annie pressed her lips to yours. Relief swept over her when you kissed her back, smiling against her lips. Whatever happened next, she knew she could get through it with you by her side.

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲.

──────────── 𝐰𝐜 — 1k 𝐜𝐰 — fanon!rafe on a one-way flight to simp city, some spice but nothing graphic or excessive, mention of drugs/being high (it's rafe, what did you expect?), 'kid' as a pet name bc he is that guy + cliffhanger? 𝐚/𝐧 — this was originally posted on @holy-pucks for my nov 23 slumber party, but i've decided to upload it here because it never showed in the tags. if you've already read this, i would very much appreciate you showing it some love here as well :) thx a mil in advance, besties! ────────────

main masterlist | MDNI

RAFE CAMERON knew the risk. He just couldn't be bothered to give a shit. 

if one of the loud-mouthed busybodies took issue with his behavior, that's their prerogative. they've been at it so long, drunk and overzealous, their flippant chatter is mere static in the background of his life. 

it isn't his fault their stale lives and expired marriages pale in comparison to the pocket of paradise he carved out of figure eight. rafe didn't ask for their attention, nor did he solicit their opinions — and he certainly didn't invite an audience; his girlfriend writhing in his lap will never be a spectator sport.  

it would be too generous to call it sympathy, but rafe can understand how they might get confused. once you catch a glimpse, you're as good as gone. a lost cause, irrevocable, and clear as day. beauty that effortlessly captivating is impossible to tear your eyes away from, and the original kook princess is bathed in excess. 

of all people, he knows the breadth of her magnetism and is just as weak for it, if not more. egotism drains along with reason when they're simply in the same room, his carnal preoccupation more than happy to fill the vacuum of power. 

rafe commands the island and its inhabitants — with one paramount exception. he wields power because she allows for it. she, who is his indisputable sovereign and to whom he pledges his undying allegiance with innate reverence. 

it was his wandering hands, after all, which led the pair to an empty veranda overlooking the bustling midsummer festivities. 

a laurel of fresh blooms became collateral damage soon after, having been unceremoniously knocked to his feet by her fervent desperation to feel his sun-kissed skin against her lips. 

rafe certainly had no objections. 

with a heap of silky fabric rucked up around her waist and her wrists pinned taut to the small of her back, rafe's girlfriend works him over with both teeth and tongue, the affection carefully choreographed to sync up with the sway of her hips. each nip, suck, or kiss accompanies her precise labors, and any marbled evidence left behind he'll wear with pride, much to the island's chagrin and his sisters' disgust. 

rafe previewed the evening's fireworks display as she bore down on his aching bulge, never once ceasing the light nibbling of his earlobe; it's the tell-tale, strained whimper diced by gritted teeth that incited action.

his hips jerk up in search of sweet relief, inadvertently finding her bare heat well beyond wet and wanting. 

rafe commends his past self for confiscating the lace as they neared the valet podium; the garment fares better as a pocket square. 

close proximity amplifies all those delicious, needy sounds, robbed of their potential prematurely; she is not yet immune to gossip.

it doesn't matter, rafe would know if his girl was close donning earplugs and a blindfold. her pathetic attempt at modesty is hardly an issue. much like how there isn't an inch of skin he hasn't traversed; there isn't a bluff of her's he can't immediately see through. no matter how soft or sudden, rafe can feel his girl teetering on the brink. 

the faint wobble of her bottom lip might as well be a formal declaration; she's trying and failing to keep herself from falling over the edge — the polite little thing knows the price of gluttony.

as he reclines in the stately patio chair, he pulls her down with him. in anticipation, rafe tips his mouth and angles his hips while relishing in the spoiled musings of a person who's never wanted for anything.

rafe relents, mercifully rutting into her as his thumb rubs a certain finger. 

"sooner or later, i'm putting a ring on this hand." 

giggling despite herself, she abruptly leans back to inspect his pupils.

"how high are you?" 

the friction of shifting pressure reluctantly betrays a soft spot in his chainmail cloak. the levity of the moment envelops them in warmth. a brilliant rarity peeks through between the velvety curtain of annoyance: contentment. 

even so, rafe doesn't allow the foreign state of mind or the white-hot burn of pleasure to distract him from his prior ambition. 

"kid, if i was high right now, we'd be halfway to the courthouse." 

she simply shakes her head and buries her face back into the crook of his neck.

rafe has an affinity for grandstanding. she hardly, if ever, took him at his word, simultaneously too smart and too skeptical to make his words into something more than he meant. sometimes, he said things because he needed to know how they tasted, and others, her on-again-off-again boyfriend just wanted to hear the sound of his own voice.

he is impulsive and unreliable, and no amount of love will change that.

rafe relinquishes her wrists in favor of her neck. his palm burns the nape as it keeps her a prisoner to his greedy, electric gaze.

the dull throb mounting under his touch cannot hold a candle to the heartbeat palpitating between her thighs. major and minor, the muscles twitch in anticipation as they, too, are overwhelmed by the casual display of dominance. 

he brings her forehead to rest against his. a novel softness in his voice fans across her gently parted lips. "i know you think i'm bullshitting you, but not this time. i'm so fucking serious, kid. the proof's at home in the top right drawer of my desk."

her disbelief persists, manifesting in an uncouth snort. 

"yeah, right." 

rafe scoffs at the sarcasm-dipped quip; the unwavering effort to make his life more difficult at every turn was actually sort of endearing, he hated to admit. 

"i've had it since our graduation... just never found the right moment, i guess," he shrugs, quieter now.

rafe knows a smidge of feigned ambivalence won't detract from the heated, earnest implication beaming behind his irises. 

the claim is substantiated by her quirked-brow baiting, an act that leaves him frantically fishing for his keys.

if they’re lucky, they might make it to the driveway. 

but the stars underestimate the proprietorial hunger of the kook prince, because they get three lights from the club before rafe parks the ford by the roadside. 

────────────

💌 if you liked it, pls lmk! 💌

⬸ back to the catalog  (masterlist) 

⬸ back to the main blog 

[toastnpretzels]

Ptolemaea

relationships: albert wesker x reader

masterlist

word count: 3,963

warnings: 18+ minors dni, oral sex, smut, female reader, no happy ending (sorry), angst (im a slut for angst)

author's note: i posted this on ao3 last night while running on pure exhaustion so i didnt proofread this. i also wrote most of this while sitting in my ethics class lol. i took a long break from the star wars fandom altogether, but im not attempting to bring myself back by rewatching the bad batch (im in agony). expect some clone writing to be back very soon.

also sorry if you feel like this may be ooc for wesker, it definitely is but its how i wanted to write it. timeline is probably off as well.

thank you for any likes, comments, or reblogs. i love seeing them <3

"Albert... please."

"No. You had your chance to run. This is it for you."

He grabs you by the throat, lifting you into the air. Your last breath is going to be stolen from a man you once called a friend. A man that was once your lover.

Grasping at his wrists, tears streaming down your face, you can feel your head getting fuzzy.

For a brief moment, there's a look in his eyes that says that he might let go, a smaller glimmer of the love he has for you. You pass out believing that you are dead, believing that he did not love you anymore.

A long time had passed since the days of S.T.A.R.S. The BSAA had been set on finding Wesker and anything left of Umbrella. After all of the pain he had caused, he needed to be stopped. Chris, Jill, and yourself had been looking for him for quite some time. You tried not to get too involved, knowing it would only cause you pain.

When you had met Wesker, you thought he didn't like you. Wesker was someone that always came off as cold and uncaring, but somewhere deep down he did have a heart. He rarely showed it, knowing that people would only see it as a way to exploit him. It didn't take very long after your first day at S.T.A.R.S. for Wesker to make a move on you. Looking back on it now, you are surprised he even did. He couldn't help himself. There was something about you that made him bend his own rules. He chose not to see anyone, knowing he wouldn't have time anyway with half of his time being dedicated by Umbrella and the other half dedicated to S.T.A.R.S. Caring for someone other than himself also gave himself another weakness, which he couldn't afford. Which is exactly why he suggested to keep it casual between you both. Something mutually beneficial. You knew it was a bad idea, that things like this only go wrong, but you agreed anyway. Wesker was attractive and you were lonely. What you didn't expect is just how much you would end up feeling for him, and just how much he would end up hurting you.

Everyone had suspected something was going on between you and the captain, but no one had any proof. Wesker didn't want anyone to know. Neither did you, honestly. It was bad enough that you were fucking your boss, it would have been much worse if everyone knew as well. They caught glimpses of conversations that seemed too personal for work, or small arguments that should have never even happened in the workplace. They never saw you two touch. That was kept only for in private. Whatever the team saw had only scratched the surface.

You couldn't call whatever was going on between you and Wesker a relationship. It had never progressed passed casual sex. There was no commitment between you two, at least not vocally. Wesker knew you were fully committed to him, but he was committed to Umbrella. He couldn't let go of that. He knew that if you were in a relationship, you would inevitably find out about his involvement with Umbrella. You were smart enough to figure it out, but he didn't want to risk that. Not that soon at least. It eventually came out anyway. You were there when the Arklay Mansion incident happened. Wesker had tried to make you stay at the station, but he knew it would draw even more red flags if he had forced you to. You wished you had stayed.

For months after, you had felt like Wesker had played you. It felt like you were just some part of his bigger plan. That's why he would never commit, he didn't truly care about you. You were just a means to an end. You still felt like somewhere down the line, you and him were friends. Nonetheless, the betrayal of the entirety of S.T.A.R.S. weighed heavily on you. He had betrayed everyone, people that thought they were his friends. You went to his memorial. Even though he had betrayed everyone, you still cared about him. He was dead. Or so you thought.

After Chris went to Europe, you quit police work altogether. It felt hard to trust anyone in Racoon City anymore. You didn't trust most of the people at the police station anymore, so the only option was to leave. It was then that you decided that moving out of the country might be a good idea. Amsterdam had always been a dream of yours, so why not make it a reality now. It was good you had left when you did, you just wish some of the others had left at the same time as you. Seeing what they had done to Racoon City a month after you had left had left an even bigger hole in your heart.

It took a little while to get fully acclimated in Amsterdam. It took a lot of time to attempt to heal the mental wounds Racoon City had left on you. You had cut contact with everyone from there. You had wanted to get your life back on track instead of dwelling on the past. The destruction of Racoon City was what made Amsterdam permanent. Chris and Jill were the only ones that knew you were there. Although you had cut contact with them for the sake of your mental health, you still sent them updates once in a while and vice versa. That's how you found out that Wesker was alive. It had hit you head on when you read the email from Chris. You didn't leave your house for almost a week. The same man whose memorial you had went to was alive this entire time. You had mourned someone who wasn't even really dead.

It had been almost 10 years since you had stepped foot in Racoon City when he showed up.

It was no shock how he found you. Wesker might have been one of the most intelligent people you knew. He knew this was your dream. He knew you all too well.

It was almost 3 am when he showed up. You had just fallen asleep. It was never easy to sleep after everything that had happened. Your house alarm was what woke you up. Just as soon as it had started, it had stopped. Still groggy from sleep, you weren't even fully sure if you had actually heard it or if was just a hallucination. Nonetheless, you reached for the gun tucked under your bed frame, just in case someone did decide to break in. Even though you had quit police work, you still tried to keep up with the training you were doing before your departure, just in case. Still in sleep shorts and a shirt, you stood behind the door and listened to see if you could hear anyone rummaging around your stuff. When no noises came, you slowly opened the door, trying to make the least amount of sound possible. You slowly walked out of the bedroom, making your way to the living room, gun still at the ready. Coming around the corner, your heart sank.

There was no way he was here.

Standing at the fireplace, Wesker observed the framed pictures on the mantle. Some were of family or friends. There was one of the entirety of S.T.A.R.S. The one that caught his eye was one of you and him, one you had taken a few days prior to the mansion incident. You both looked happy. Wesker didn't want to take a photo, telling you that it was stupid and we were sure to get caught if you carried it around, but after badgering him for so long about it, he gave in. What you didn't know was that Wesker took that photo with him everywhere, even to this day. He picked up the frame and continued to look at it.

"Albert," you whispered. He didn't turn around, but you knew he heard you.

He looked different, but also the same. He looked slightly taller and more muscular, but he also still looked like the same person he was 10 years ago. The differences were so small that you're not sure Chris or Jill would even recognize them.

"You need to leave," you said when he still hadn't turned to face you.

After almost another minute of silence, he turned around. You didn't expect the pit in your stomach to grow bigger. He had to have known how much this was hurting you.

"You look good," he said with a slight smirk on his face. "You have really built a life for yourself here."

There was a pain in your heart that only he could cause. He was tearing open a wound that you had long worked to heal. All it took was a few words for it all to come crashing down again like it had so many years ago. Sadness and fear plagued your heart, but so did the love you once felt for him.

"Are you going to kill me?" you whispered.

His lip quirked up. He thought this was funny. Of course he did.

He turned back around to put the photo back on the mantle. "No."

You felt some weight lifted off of you. You walked towards him slowly, afraid that at any moment he would change his mind. You had seen what he had done to others, you weren't so sure you could even trust his word anymore. You stopped about a foot away from him.

"Albert, why are you here?"

This was all starting to feel like a dream. A nightmare really. He kept looking at the photo of you and him.

"I am not sure," he whispered. It wasn't like him to do something on a whim. You knew he had a reason to be here. But you also know he isn't good at talking about his feelings.

He touched the photo frame one last time before turning. "Why did you keep this?"

He could read you like a book. You didn't need to answer, he already knew the real reason. It was like he still knew everything about you, like it had only been a few days since you had last seen him instead of a few years. He reached towards your wrist. You knew that you shouldn't let him touch you, but your heart craved his touch. The same hands that had caused so much destruction. You couldn't find it within yourself to make him stop.

"I have found myself wanting to see you every day since our last," he said. This was new for him to be so vulnerable. "I have missed you," he whispered. You could see the fear of rejection present in his eyes. Something was wrong. This wasn't the same person you had known all those years ago. This was someone who was pleading with you to see him. He had never once admitted to missing you before, so why now?

He rubbed his thumb over your wrist. You're sure he can feel how fast your heart is beating.

"Come with me."

Those three words had shattered you. If he would have asked years ago, before his betrayal, you would've gone anywhere with him. But now, you aren't sure you know who he is. Albert was never emotionally vulnerable; he kept his deepest feelings close to him. You weren't even in an official relationship with him. Your feelings were real the whole time, he knew this. But never once did he admit to his own. Not until now. But is it too late?

You turn around, making him drop your wrist. It's getting hard to hold in your tears.

"You can't do this." Your voice is soft. You know tears are about to fall. It feels like the same heart break he had caused with his betrayal.

He puts his hand on your shoulder. He turns you around so he can see you. He brings his hands up to wipe the tears from your eyes, tugging at the strings that you thought had long ago been severed. You lean into him. Your heart is begging for him, but your brain is telling you to run. Your brain is losing this battle. Your lips touch his in what your brain deems a moment of weakness. His lips are surprisingly soft. He brings his hand to cup your head, your hands reaching towards his perfect hair. It feels like all of your pent-up emotions are being released into this singular kiss. The kiss gets more heated, both of you having waited so long to feel each other again, even when your brain is telling you it is wrong.

His hands move down to your hips, grasping hard as if to make sure you were actually there. He reaches down further past your ass to lift you. Your brain is screaming for him to put you down, that he is only going to leave you a heartbroken mess, but you don't care anymore. He lifts you with ease, carrying you towards your bedroom, his lips not leaving you once.

He sets you down softly on the bed, reaching to take off his jacket and shirt. He removes his sunglasses, knowing you can’t see his eyes in this lighting. He’s sure all of this would stop if you got one real good look at him.

He definitely was more muscular than before. He looked so different, yet still the same. He throws his clothes on the floor, then reaches for your own shirt. His fingers trail your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your body feels like it is on fire. He pulls your shirt over your head, throwing it towards his own clothes. He leans down to kiss you again, letting his hands map out your body once again. It's as if he is relearning all the curves to your body.

You wrap your legs around his waist, hands tangling in his hair once again. He breaks away to kiss at your neck, gently sucking and biting. You reach down towards his belt, attempting to loosen it, but ultimately failing when he bites down harder than you expect. You let out a soft moan at this, causing him to sit up.

"I didn't think I would ever hear that again," he says with a smirk on his face, "don't hold back on me."

He takes off his belt for you, adjusting to pull his pants off. He is immediately back on you, kissing down your stomach. His hands grasp at your exposed thighs, kneading the skin. He leaves a kiss on each thigh before hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and panties. He pulls them down slowly, watching your every reaction. You whine at how slowly he's moving. He throws them with the rest of the clothes in the room without looking away once.

He leaves a kiss on your inner thighs, spreading them slowly and lightly blowing air on your folds.

"Albert, please," you whine. Your body is begging for him to do anything. You'll take anything he is willing to give you at this point.

He chuckles slightly. "Only because you asked so nicely."

He kisses your clit before bringing his tongue out to lick slowly through your folds. It seems to possess him because after one taste he can't hold back anymore. His tongue swirls through your aching folds, getting wetter at every movement from him. You reach down to tangle your hands in his hair, messing up his pristine hair style. You grind yourself into his face, feeling yourself get closer. He grabs at your thighs hard likely leaving bruises for you to discover in the morning. He can tell you are getting close by how hard you are pulling his hair. He groans into you, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge. One of his fingers prods at your weeping hole, pushing in half way only for him to pull it back out. By now you’re a whining mess, begging him for more, but he wants to savor this for as long as possible.

He pulls away from your pussy, replacing his tongue with his fingers rubbing over your clit. He looks up at you, seeing your head snap up at the loss of his tongue. He rubs slower, making you whine a plead more, before stopping all together.

"Your first orgasm of the night is going to be on my cock," he says as he leans back down to kiss you.

You grab at his back, his neck, anywhere you can get your hands on. You are desperate to feel him after all these years. You reach for his boxers, pulling them down as far as you can in this position. You reach for his cock, rubbing your thumb over his leaking tip. He groans into the kiss, biting down onto your lip. He releases your mouth to help you get his boxers all the way off. He leans back down to suck at your neck, seeing the marks he had already left. You twist his cock slowly, trying to tease him the same way he had to you, but you aren't sure you will be able to wait.

He reaches down to your hand to stop you, grabbing his cock and sliding it against your clit. You're so wet that it glides across with ease. He repeats this a few times before letting it slip down to your aching hole. He slides the tip inside and leaves it, sitting up on his knees. It takes everything in him not to slam into you and fuck you into oblivion, but he wants to savor this. He needs to feel everything. It had been too long.

"You feel so good," he says with a strained voice. He continues to push inside, feeling you squeeze him like a vice with each inch. Once he is fully seated inside you, he leans back down to suck on one of your nipples. You let out soft moans while you adjust to his length. He switches to your other breast, letting his hand knead the other, pinching at your nipple. He feels you clamp down hard.

Deciding he had waited long enough, he moves up to kiss you again, pulling himself almost all the way out before slamming back in. You moan into his mouth. He sets a fast pace, trying to make up for lost time. Your nails grip into his back, causing him to let out a moan, only adding to the wetness that he had already created. It gets hard to kiss him, your mouths not being able to keep up with each other with the pleasure you're both feeling. He leans up slightly to look in your eyes, finding the love he had once felt from you. Your hands grab at his shoulders, holding on tight as if to not lose him. His hand comes down to rub at your clit. He knows he is close; he can feel you are too from how tight your walls are gripping him.

"Please cum for me," he begs. You've never heard him beg for anything in his life.

Your body shakes at his words, just hearing him bringing you over the edge. You squeeze him in ripples, nails digging into his shoulders. Feeling your walls squeeze him cause him to let go, pouring himself into you. You are both spent, left panting with him on top of you. He leans down to kiss you again, silencing the fight between your brain and heart. You had decided to let your heart win for the night.

He pulls himself out slowly, his cum dribbling out of you. He gets up and runs to the bathroom quickly to get something to clean you up. He comes back with water and a warm wash cloth, helping you sit up. He wipes you down softly, making sure not to cause you anymore overstimulation. He makes sure you drink enough water before taking a sip himself and setting it down on the nightstand next to your bed.

He gets into bed next to you, pulling the blankets over you both. He wraps himself around you, the feeling of his bare skin on yours bringing warmth to your heart.

"Albert," you whisper, not sure what you want to say, but knowing that a discussion needed to be had.

He pushes your hair behind your ear and kisses the side of your neck.

"Shh. Just sleep. We can talk in the morning."

He wraps his arms around you tighter. Your brain is quiet, shutting down all the questions and anxiety about what is next. It is quiet for a while before you fall asleep.

"I still love you. I never stopped."

There was no discussion in the morning. He was gone. No note, no message. You waited days to see if he would come back. He never did. A month later, you got a call from Chris explaining what had happened to Jill. You didn't believe she was dead. You wanted to find her, but more importantly you wanted to find Wesker. He had done all of that before showing up at your home. You didn't tell Chris that you had seen him, but you did tell him that you would help him in any way possible. For the next three years you looked for any kind of lead on him, most of them coming up short. It wasn't until Africa that you had found something that had actually led to him.

Chris, Sheva, and yourself had found Jill and Wesker. Wesker tried to avoid attacking you personally, but that didn't stop Jill. You were already weak from her hits when you had attacked him. He knocks you to the ground, causing the air to rush from your lungs. He drags you toward him, lifting you by the throat, crushing your windpipe.

"Albert... please."

"No. You had your chance to run. This is it for you."

Your last breath is going to be stolen from a man you once called a friend. A man that was once your lover.

Grasping at his wrists, tears streaming down your face, you can feel your head getting fuzzy.

For a brief moment, there's a look in his eyes that says that he might let go, a smaller glimmer of the love he has for you.

You pass out believing that you are dead, believing that he did not love you anymore.

You wake up on the helicopter with Jill next to you. Everyone is silent. Your head is pounding. Jill hands you water, allowing you to sit up from where you were laying on her lap. You can feel how bruised your neck is and how hard it is to breathe.

The memories of what had happened prior to you passing out come rushing back. It hurts your heart to even think of him, to think of that night. How you believed that all of those whispered promises of love might have been a lie.

He could have killed you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not when he still loved you. He never lied, but he couldn’t stay either. It takes a while for you to realize this.

"Where is he?" You attempt to force the words out, but it hurts so badly.

Chris and Jill look at each other for a moment. Neither of them spoke, but you could tell what had happened. You could see it in Chris' eyes. Wesker was gone.

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.3k

chapter summary: new dynamics, new outlooks. the story comes to an end.

warnings: cock worship, oral (male receiving), ass play, anal sex, spit as lube, dirty talking

a/n: this is the last chapter of this series but there will be an epilogue coming very very soon. thank you to everyone who joined me on this journey and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it xx

Railhead - The end of a railroad line where trains can be loaded and unloaded, often in a remote location.

You’re proud, to say the least. Looking back at the train, your chest swells with indescribable emotion. The outside might look rusty and dusty—something Javier was adamant about so no one would want to come take a closer look—but the inside was where your efforts truly shined. Through the windows, you catch a glimpse of the plants you potted in old cans you cut into two and one semi-intact clay pot. A fence surrounds the train, booby-trapped just in case someone lurks nearby.

Javier comes out and stands next to you, he’s chewing on a long-stemmed dandelion. His signature aviators nestled above his head. 

“We fucking did it. An actual living place,” his shoulders raise slightly, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. “I can’t believe we actually did it without killing each other.” 

You roll your eyes and come to stand in front of him. His eyes drop to your lips, then smoothly travel back up to meet your gaze. You smile playfully as you quickly pluck the dandelion from his lips, closing the distance, you slant your lips together. As always, he’s hungry. He cups your waist and pulls you flush against his body, slipping his tongue between your wanting lips. You groan loudly, your stomach doing somersaults as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Every part of you is humming with delight. 

But then Javier suddenly parts, and you’re left aching. 

“Hey—” 

“I got a surprise for you.”  

You blink before answering, “A surprise?” 

“Si,” he chirps quickly, brown eyes shining. He holds your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the train. “Follow me, querida. I’m sure you’re going to appreciate it.” 

“Hmmm we’ll see.” Javier sits you on the tattered couch and disappears into the makeshift bedroom—your shared bedroom. “How did you even manage to get me something?” you call out. “We literally go everywhere together.” 

“I have my ways.” then he adds. “It’s handmade.” 

Handmade? 

He appears from the narrow threshold, he’s holding a small box, “Here,” he says, placing it on your lap. “Maybe you’ll complain less thanks to this.” 

“Charming as always.” 

You carefully lift the lid, a pair of intricately crafted insoles catches your eye. Javier watches you intently, his full attention making your heart stutter. The insoles, are fashioned from what seems to be a combination of salvaged leather and repurposed fabric.

“I—Insoles?” you gasp, tears prick the corner of your eyes. You lift your gaze and your brows furrow as you meet his. “I don’t remember mentioning I had shitty insoles.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

The edges are neatly stitched with a weathered thread, showcasing the craftsmanship that went into it. You notice the tiny details, like irregular patterns and faded hues, hint at a past life.  

Javier grins, leaning in as you inspect your gift. "I found an old leather jacket and some sturdy fabric in one of the abandoned buildings. Thought it might make your life a bit comfier. And hopefully—it’ll make my ears hurt less."

“Don’t ruin the moment, Javi.” 

“I don’t want you crying. I can’t handle you crying.” 

“Aw, big scary Fedra soldier afraid of some happy tears?” 

“Didn’t say I was afraid,” his lips touch your forehead, you lean into the heat of them as he takes a seat next to you. “I just don’t enjoy being the person who put them there.” 

“You do know what happy means right?” 

He waves a hand, “Tears are tears, perla. I’d rather see you smile and laugh.” 

Looking back down, you run your fingers over the textured surface. It’s soft, resilient. The insoles seem to mold to the contours of your hands, promising a snug fit when placed inside your old boots. The scent of worn leather and a hint of dust lingers.

"Try them on," Javier urges, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. He nudges you slightly with his shoulder. 

“Alright alright. Just give me a second.” 

You slip the handmade insoles into your shoes, a surprisingly pleasant sensation envelops your feet. You sigh pleasantly and your eyelids flutter. 

“That good, huh?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Javier watches your reaction closely, "So, what do you think?"

"Handmade indeed," you muse, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You always find a way to make things special," quickly, you lean in, your kiss taking him by surprise. “Thank you, Javier.” 

He holds you by the hip, hands gradually moving lower to your backside. A shudder runs up your spine, your breathing becoming short-paced. 

“Say my name again.” 

“Javier,” you repeat, a bit more breathily this time. He stands up, the sudden movement making your head spin. He’s not touching you anymore. Instead, he’s just staring at you, his eyes like charcoal. 

“Again.” 

“Javier.” 

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, he pushes you towards him, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. You inhale sharply. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “The couch or the bed?” 

“B—Bed,” you stutter. When he clicks his tongue with disapproval, you say, “I want you to fuck me on the bed, Javier.” 

“That’s my good little troublemaker. My sweet thorn.” Before releasing you, he keeps you still, his fingers digging into your neck. “Before I fuck you,” he groans. “I want you to suck my cock, baby. I want you to get it nice and wet, want you to fucking worship it. Understood?” 

You nod in a daze. Javier smiles, a bit of softness showing in his irises. His hand dropping from your neck, he kneads the plump flesh of your ass. “Then I’m going to worship this gorgeous ass. Does that sound fair to you?” 

You swallow thickly, not sure what to say when your head is swimming in deep arousal. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “That sounds fair.” 

The way to the ‘bedroom’ is a blur of quick kisses and rapid stripping; some part of you doesn’t want to remove your boots, you want to continue to appreciate the insoles he made for you, but sadly, you end up kicking them off. 

“Lay down,” you say, taking back some of the control. While Javier pulls down his pants, you suck the skin above his collarbone, tracing the bone underneath with your tongue. A soft whimper reverberates in his throat, dragging your lips up, you kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I haven’t even begun worshipping your cock and you’re already a mess?” You palm his erection, grinning at the way it twitches in your palm. “Are you going to come as soon as I wrap my lips around you, Javier?” 

He grunts and grips your wrist, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish.” 

You know the words are meant to be a lighthearted tease, but they affect you more than you anticipate. You look down at his scar, almost ashamed at the cruel past that ended up binding you two together. 

He must’ve felt it because he lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to him, “We’re not in a battle anymore,” he reminds you. “There are no wars. And even if there were any, I have no intention of joining when I’m desperately in love with you.” 

Love. 

He’s in love? 

With you? 

“I want to witness the beauty the world still has to offer. . . with you.” 

Your eyes go wide, your pulse skyrocketing in your veins. Your chest heaves. Love. A feeling so foreign that you thought you’d never be on the receiving end. Love. An emotion so complex that sometimes it felt you were the only one capable of it. Love. The emotion Javier feels for you. 

Love. The emotion you feel for Javier. 

You don’t say it—mostly because you’ll get choked up if you do—but you do kiss him with every bit of emotion you feel towards him. You breathe him in. Inhale him. You feel his lashes on your skin as he closes his eyes, feel the thud of his heart against your own chest. 

Love. 

What an amazing thing it was. 

And a cruel thing you were only able to find after the world ended. 

“Get on the bed,” you say, softer this time. Javier complies, the bed creaking in protest at his weight. You strip down completely. Your underwear and bra left on the floor. You want to be bare. You want to be safe. And you are safe, with him you’ll always be. 

“I love this pretty cock,” you mutter, kissing the side. The muscle in Javier’s jaw tenses, his teeth coming together. You lick up to the tip and wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the ridge. Before he can get comfortable, you drag your lips back down, following the vein that throbs violently under your soft flesh, you take one of his testicles into your mouth. You suck on it slowly and release it, blowing a bit of air over the spit-slicked skin. 

“Fuck,” he growls, hips jerking. “Fuck fuck fuck—That’s it baby, that’s it. . . Shit—” 

Javier’s head falls back, his dark locks a mess above the white-ish pillowcase. You dip your tongue between the crease of them and flattening your tongue, you lick the underside of his cock. His breath comes in short, fast pants. You take him into your mouth, sucking him halfway until the tip touches the back of your throat. You feel your nipples tightening, your pussy soaked from pleasuring him. Javier cradles the back of your head for dear life, thrusting into your mouth with shallow thrusts. You let him. You’d let him ruin you, you’d let him tear you apart and stick you together again. 

A series of moans and groans drop from his lips. Saliva trickles down his length, going down his thighs. Moaning around him, you grip the meat of his legs and push yourself down. He sinks into your throat desperately, his breath hitching when your throat convulses around him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, pushing you off his cock. “I don’t want to come yet but your mouth is too damn tempting.” You look up to him with a grin, he reaches towards you, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “Next time I’ll fuck this pretty mouth so well you won’t be smiling about it.”

“I’ll hold you up to that, you know.” 

“Good.” 

Javier pulls the pillow under you while he guides you to all fours. Suddenly you’re feeling too exposed with your ass in the air. You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at the sheets. He flattens his palm above your spine, his hand moving all the way down, he stands on his knees right behind you, his cock wet and heavy above the swell of your ass. 

“Just say the word and we’ll stop.” 

“No, I. . . I want it, I’m just nervous because I’ve never actually. . .” you trail off, your cheeks flaring at the thought of speaking openly—which is hilarious when you think about it because this man has literally seen the worst of you. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Promise.”

Javier seems satisfied by your answer and playfully slaps your ass. You imagine him smiling, stoked to have you in a way that no one else has. He parts your cheeks, you hear the sound of his mouth as a string of saliva drips right onto your hole, Javier hums, and with a thumb, he smears it over. Your breath hitches. He hasn’t even done much, yet you’re already dizzy with the vicious way your heart beats in your chest. 

Javier spits again, a pleasurable shudder crawls up your spine. Your nipples tighten. Goosebumps rising across your skin. He slowly pushes in a finger, he stops shortly after, examining the way your back tenses at the pressure. With his other hand, he caresses your spine. It’s soothing and you relax into his touch. 

“Wish we had lube,” he murmurs. You hear the rustle of sheets as he moves. “But hopefully this’ll be enough to loosen you up, querida.” 

His lips are nothing short of sin. You groan at the touch of his tongue, the velvet muscle swirling around you. He groans at your taste, pulls you closer by gripping your waist. You go willingly. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes, your body jolts as he wiggles his tongue inside. 

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the swollen nub. You feel your arousal growing, your body responding to his touch. You moan and squirm, unable to control yourself. It’s too much but also not enough all at the same time. He kisses where he’s been fucking you with his tongue and presses the same finger inside. This time it slides in with ease but he stops half-knuckle deep. 

Your body tenses when he swipes over your clit again. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, mouth moving over the plump flesh of your ass. 

"Amazing," you gasp, your body tingling with pleasure. 

He moves his hand away from your clit and you whimper at the loss of his touch. But before you can protest, you feel him pulling out. Slightly turning, you see him licking his fingers, getting them wet. His hair is a mess, his beard thicker now that time has passed. Your heart swells and your lashes flutter. A beat later, your eyes meet. Javier makes a show up sucking his fingers, smiling around them. 

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asks, pressing both fingers against your hole. 

Instead of words, a choked-out sound drops from your lips. Your head falls back, your body arching as he pushes them deep. 

"Relax, mi amor," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. You wince at the stretch, but his spit makes it easier, and soon his fingers are sliding in and out of you, stretching you open. 

Javier leans over you, his body covering yours. You feel his hard length against your back, and you know that he's just as turned on as you are. His fingers begin to move faster, scissoring and curling inside of you. He moans with you, precome dripping down your back and onto the sheets. Your body begs for more and more and more—

"Please," you gasp, meeting the thrust of his fingers. "I need you inside me, Javier." 

“How can I ever say no when you beg so sweetly,” he rasps, chest heaving. “Mi dulce perla.” 

He pulls his fingers out of you and you feel a sudden emptiness. But it's quickly replaced as he lines himself up with you and slowly begins to push into you. You gasp as he stretches you wide, he stops mid-thrust, waiting for you to adjust. Slack-jawed, you feel sweat beading at your temple. Javier finds your clit again, playing with it until you’re a soaking mess over his fingers, your body squeezing him tight. A loud groan trembles within his chest and he rocks forward, his cock filling you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, voice hoarse. “I could go on like this all day long—until the day I die.” 

You want to quip back at him, maybe mention that there’s no way he can go that long, but you lack the ability to form sentences. An elongated groan slips past your lips instead and you swear he smiles, without even looking you can sense the mischievous smile curling at his pretty, plush lips. 

Javier starts thrusting into you, slowly at first and then building up speed. His hands caress your body, over your back, and down your hips. You can hear the sound of his lower abdomen slapping against your ass, along with both your moans filling the air. His cock hits all the right spots inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You grip the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he hammers into you, the wet sounds growing and growing with every move.

You feel a sudden intensity building within you, rising higher and higher with each thrust of Javier’s hips. He lets out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you harder. You can’t help but moan loudly You’re feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible. 

Javier leans down and whispers into your ear, “You look so fucking sexy like this, taking my cock in your ass. You enjoy it don’t you—my sweet filthy girl.”

His words, along with his cock pounding into your tight hole, send you over the edge and you come with a loud cry, your entire body trembling. Your clit throbs as your cunt squeezes around nothing, pulsing viciously as your orgasm is ripped away. You clench around him and Javier’s movements become erratic. Suddenly, he stills, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. You feel him release inside of you, filling you up as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging his orgasm. Your eyes roll and your lids flutter, your own release washing over you as you come undone with him. He stays buried inside, both of you panting and catching your breath, until he finally pulls out. 

Javier collapses onto your back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You both lie there for a few moments, basking in the aftermath. He eventually pulls out of you and you move to lay on your side, feeling his spent trickling down the back of your thighs, you face each other.

He strokes your cheek gently, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You were amazing, mi vida,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. 

You smile back at him, “So were you,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair. “Though sadly, I don’t think we can do that again for a while. I’m going to be feeling it for days.” 

Just as he opens his lips, a sudden chill settles over your sweat-slicked body and his eyes drop down to your naked body with worry. “Are you cold?” 

“A bit,” you admit unwillingly. You slightly stir, attempting to reach for the blanket. “Winter is finally coming, huh?” 

Javier leans in and kisses you softly, his lips moving against yours in a slow, loving dance. You feel a warmth spread through your body, then you feel it on the outside as he reaches down, grabbing the blanket for you.

“It is.” 

“Is there a reason we’re outside in the middle of the night?” you grumble, hugging yourself, you follow Javier’s footsteps. “It’s fucking freezing.” 

The crisp night clings to your skin, freezing everywhere it touches. You miss the heat of your shared bed, the heat of another body against yours. With narrowed eyes, you glare at the man who is not slowing his steps. Javier takes your hand into his own, forcing you to move faster. He’s been secretive ever since he woke you—and it was definitely not pleasurable to be waken up in the middle of the night, especially in this day and age. 

“Javierrrrr,” you whine, throwing your head back. “It’s cold. . .” 

“You’ll thank me, I promise.” 

“Fine. I trust you,” you chew on your bottom lip and smile. “But mainly because you made me new insoles.” 

He turns to you, eyes round and simply adorable, “Are they keeping you warm?” 

“They are.”

The two of you continue your journey through the night, and as you walk, Javier's hand remains firmly clasped around yours. The crunch of leaves beneath your feet echoes in the quiet darkness, a lullaby that once again makes you wish you were in bed instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Javier leads you to a small clearing. Your eyes go wide when you notice the soft silver beams cascading onto the patch of ground underneath The air is still, and the world seems to hold its breath, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves. 

Your breath catches as you step into the open space, your hand slipping away from Javier’s. A field of flowers had bloomed in various shades, their slender stems standing proud. The delicate petals reflect the silvery light. They remind you of stars, their petals pointed instead of round like you’re accustomed to.

A gasp escapes your lips, and a radiant smile spreads across your face. Your head snaps to Javier, "What are these?" you ask. 

Javier's gaze shifts from the flowers to you, and in that moment, the world fades away. 

“I have no idea what they are,” he answers, finger moving over his bottom lip. “But they only bloom at night.” 

Your heart swells, “They’re beautiful. Thank you” 

He steps closer, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "Don’t mention it,” he brushes your lips together, the warmth of his breath making your melt into the earth. “Besides, they’re pale compared to you.” 

“No need to charm me further,” you grin. “You already have me.” 

“Do I now?” 

“You do.” 

As you share a tender kiss, the first snowflake falls. Then another. The world quiets down, and as you pull away, you notice the first snowflakes gently falling around you. Breaking away you both look at each other, then up to the sky. 

It's here – winter has finally arrived.

Surprisingly, despite the cold, you've never felt warmer. In that simple kiss and under the falling snow, there's a magic that makes everything feel just right.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The grass tickled your bare ankles. You felt lucky to have found some regular shoes. If not you would have to wear your boots that made your feet feel like it was in a sauna. The lovely weather felt like a joke. It wasn’t the reality you lived in, just a mirage of the life before—though even then, it wasn’t quite perfect was it? 

Your grip tightened around the straps of your bag. If you listened close enough you could hear the clatter of all the guns you were meant to smuggle in. The FEDRA was cruel in Kansas City. It was like the boogeyman stories but real. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes scanning your surroundings one last time. It was like a spitting image of a Van Gogh painting. The world was still alive. It wasn’t infected, it didn’t know about the monsters that lurked on the surface.  

Turning around, you continued to walk uphill, your chest starting to ache from both the heat and the constant walking. 

Then you saw him. 

A FEDRA soldier. 

Your eyes momentarily went wide. He wasn’t looking at you, He was fidgeting, constantly looking around as if he was waiting for someone. Worry made a home in your gut. You didn’t think you had the strength in you to fight anyone off today. You just wanted to help the people and get rid of the weight of the guns. 

The vest he wore looked like it dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back, and pistol snug on his hip. You wondered if he would use either one on you—

Your eyes locked on one another. 

Your breath halts in your chest, your heart ramming angrily and fearfully against its boney cage. 

He raised a sole eyebrow, eyes narrowing. He was assessing you, trying to see how much of a threat you were. 

“Who are you?” he asked and pulled out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. “You’ll get hurt if you wander around much, hermosa.” 

You swallowed, “I—I’m just walking by,” you paid careful attention to make your voice sound meek and frightened. You lifted both your hands in surrender. “Please don’t shoot.” 

He lit his cigarette and made no move toward his weapons. You eyed him nervously. FEDRA was not to be trusted. 

“That wasn’t my question.” 

“I just want a place to stay for the night. I was hoping to take refuge here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.” 

The soldier looked through his lashes and he shielded the tiny flame with his hand. When the cigarette finally came to life, he took a deep breath then looked up to the sky. 

“I really want to trust you. You have a kind face,” he said, sounding tired. “But your bag is making me doubt you.” 

You froze, “Please. You can trust me.”  

“And that’s all everyone needs during the end of times isn’t it?” he asked, not really wanting an answer. “Someone they can trust.” 

He lowered his gaze, looking back at you, he sighed. His gaze lingered on you for an uncomfortable long amount. Your feet were glued to the soil, heat blossoming all over your skin. He had a kind face too. In another life, you might’ve even fallen for eyes. 

The soldier suddenly blinked as if hitten by electricity, something he saw bothered him and you worried he saw right through you. Saw that you were a firefly, that you were carrying a shit ton of weapons. But he didn’t say anything. 

“Go.” 

“Go?” 

He looked away, “Go before I change my mind. I have someone I need to meet anyway.” 

So he was waiting for someone. Briefly, you wonder but quickly shrug the thoughts away. You had a mission.

You mumbled a thanks as you walked past him, your arms brushing in the process. As you left, you tried not to think about the electricity that circulated you, about the brown eyes and the tired look in them—

You tried not to fall for the possibility of a happy ending. Tried not to look for him when the chaos ensued, when Kathleen took over. 

You tried. 

And you failed. Miserably.