#so just gimme a few more chapters and don’t worry

[airandyeah]

Gimme Gimme Gimme (God!Sukuna X Reader) Pt.13

My Masterlist Series Masterlist Makes me overjoyed that the taglist keeps growing, I love you all and appreciate the support! Remember there is a poll at the bottom of pt.12 about smut for probably the next chapter, be sure to vote!

You and Sukuna had just returned home after the hustle and bustle of the market, the sounds of the town still lingering in your mind, and his presence beside you offering an unusual sense of tranquility. But as the door creaked open, you couldn’t help but notice the change in the atmosphere. The weight of Sukuna’s mood had shifted again; his usual calm was gone, replaced by an almost palpable irritation.

Sukuna had been fuming the entire walk back, his gaze dark and unfocused as he ruminated over what had happened with Naoya in the market. His jaw clenched as though he couldn’t shake the image of the man’s presumptuous behavior, the way he'd so boldly invaded your space, trying to touch you as if you were an object for him to claim.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but feel a giddy flutter in your chest. It wasn’t that you enjoyed the confrontation—it was the way Sukuna had reacted. The fire in his eyes, the intensity with which he had defended you, and the sheer possessiveness in his tone—it was all too much to ignore. In a way, it was… almost attractive.

The moment you stepped inside, Sukuna stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms, his entire body brimming with that familiar, brooding energy. "I should’ve crushed him on the spot,” he muttered under his breath, his tone thick with frustration. “No one touches you like that. No one.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound more of a chuckle than anything serious. “I’m pretty sure he got the message, Sukuna,” you teased, walking over to him with an easy grin. “Though, I have to admit, your protectiveness? Kind of hot.”

His eyes snapped to you, and you caught the smallest flicker of surprise—was he blushing? It was subtle, but you swore you saw the shift in his gaze before the corners of his mouth curled into a self-assured smirk.

“You think so, huh?” he asked, his voice low and playful now, though the edge of irritation remained. “You enjoy seeing me like that?”

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning against the table, arms crossed as you gazed at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Something about the way you just tossed him around—I have to say, it was a little... captivating.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, and his lips twisted in that familiar smirk of his. “So you liked watching me get rough with him, huh?” he asked, stepping closer, his tone lowering as if daring you to confirm it.

You shot him a playful look, crossing your arms even tighter. “Maybe. I’m not sure if it was the intimidation factor or the fact that you looked like you were ready to incinerate him on the spot, but either way… I was definitely impressed.”

His gaze softened, just a little, as his hands dropped to his sides. “I don’t like seeing anyone get near you like that. I’m supposed to be the one in your space, got it?” he muttered, almost as if he was telling himself as much as you.

You took a few steps closer to him, a smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head. “Well, you certainly don’t have to worry about that, Sukuna,” you said, your voice teasing. “I’m not exactly... interested in the kind of attention Naoya thinks he deserves.”

Sukuna’s gaze darkened, but this time, there was a different kind of intensity in his eyes—something simmering just below the surface, a spark of something more than just anger. “You better not be,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous, yet strangely possessive. “No one else gets to have that kind of attention from you. It’s mine.”

His declaration hung in the air, thick with tension. You couldn’t help but smile at the depth of his protectiveness, how his anger toward Naoya felt like a personal affront against you, as though no one else had the right to even look at you the way he had.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, stepping closer until you were nearly chest-to-chest with him. “I think I’ve figured that out by now, Sukuna. And honestly? I don’t mind it. I think I kinda like it,” you added, the words slipping out before you even thought them.

Sukuna stared down at you, his smirk fading into something more intimate, more genuine. He leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek, the intensity of his presence sending a shiver down your spine. "You like it when I get possessive?" he whispered, voice hushed but laden with both challenge and curiosity.

You met his gaze, fighting to hold back a smile. "Oh, definitely. There's something about the way you want to make sure no one else even thinks about getting close to me. It's kind of... hot," you admitted with a soft laugh.

He chuckled darkly, his hand brushing your arm as he leaned back, an amused gleam in his eyes. “You're lucky I’m letting you get away with saying that.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice light, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “Because you’re afraid I’ll start thinking you’re actually a softie underneath it all?”

His expression faltered for a brief moment, his usual air of arrogance slipping before he regained his usual composure. “Don’t get too cocky, brat,” he muttered, though the edge of his voice was softened by something... more affectionate. “I’m not soft for anyone.”

“Oh, I know,” you replied, your voice playful, your eyes flicking to his lips for just a moment before meeting his gaze again. “But, you’re kind of soft for me, aren’t you?”

Sukuna’s smirk returned, more wicked than ever. “You’re lucky I’m letting you get away with that, too,” he growled softly before stepping even closer, his hand coming to rest against your waist, fingers lightly brushing your skin.

Your heart skipped a beat at the touch, and the room seemed to grow hotter with each passing second, the playful banter quickly transforming into something more charged, more intimate.

“You’re something else,” he murmured, voice low, the playful teasing now gone, replaced with a deeper, more possessive tone. “But don’t think I won’t make you regret pushing me too far.”

You laughed, looking up at him with a challenge in your eyes. “I’m not scared of you, Sukuna. I kind of like how intense you can be. Makes things more interesting.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with tension, but there was no fear—just the quiet understanding that your relationship had shifted. And maybe, just maybe, you were beginning to see a side of Sukuna you never would’ve expected.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, almost tender kiss that left you breathless, before he pulled away, his eyes full of both amusement and something far deeper.

"You're impossible," he muttered under his breath, his smirk back in full force.

"Only for you," you replied with a wink.

And just like that, the playful romantic banter between the two of you seemed to settle into something more—something that could only be defined as yours.

Sukuna’s smile deepened, and for a fleeting moment, the intensity of his protectiveness, the fierceness of his love, felt like the most comforting thing in the world. ~~~ A few days had passed since the incident at the market, and things had slowly returned to their usual rhythm. The world seemed a bit quieter now, your days filled with the soothing cadence of the kitchen and the occasional teasing words from Sukuna, which had become as much a part of your routine as anything else.

Today, however, you had decided to take charge in the kitchen, an idea that was met with mixed emotions from Sukuna. He loitered in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as if he were silently judging your every move. It was his favorite thing to do—observe and critique, whether he was asked to or not.

You chopped vegetables with a rhythm that was almost meditative, the knife slicing through them with ease. The sizzling of the pan and the smells wafting from the stove filled the room, but Sukuna, true to form, couldn't stay quiet for long.

"You know," he began, his voice dripping with something between disinterest and outright annoyance, "this whole cooking thing really doesn't suit you."

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t pause in your work. “Oh? And why is that?”

He leaned a bit closer, eyeing the onions you were dicing with exaggerated intensity. "It’s simple. You can't even make a proper stew without half the ingredients ending up on the floor."

You laughed, a playful glint in your eye. "I think the floor adds... character," you quipped, tossing a carrot into the pan. "I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad."

Sukuna scoffed, clearly not buying it. "Character? Hah. More like you’re trying to sabotage the stew. That's the only explanation for your... questionable technique."

You shot him a grin as you stirred the pot, knowing full well how much he loved to push your buttons. "I think you’re just jealous because I have more talent in this kitchen than you could ever handle."

He took a step forward, his smirk twisting into something mischievous. "Jealous? Of what? That you can burn toast without even trying?"

You narrowed your eyes, an idea forming. "Okay, okay. If you're so good at this, how about you make the next dish? Prove me wrong."

Sukuna’s eyes flickered in amusement, but he was never one to back down from a challenge. “Fine,” he muttered, rolling up his sleeves dramatically. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him getting worked up over something as mundane as cooking. For someone who could obliterate entire armies without breaking a sweat, he certainly had a lot of opinions on what went into a stew.

As he took over the stove, you stepped back, arms folded, enjoying the show. Sukuna, with his usual overconfidence, began to toss ingredients into the pot, all while muttering to himself about how everything was far too simple for someone of his caliber.

"Clearly, this requires the touch of a true expert," he said, a ridiculous amount of pride in his voice. "Unlike your... amateur hour."

You couldn't resist teasing. "Oh, so now you’re a chef too? Should I be impressed?"

"Of course you should," he replied, not missing a beat. “What, you think I’d lower myself to a mere cook?” He gave you a dramatic glance. "No, no. I am an artist when it comes to food."

You snorted at that. "An artist? Please, you’ll burn the kitchen down before you finish."

He scoffed and waved you off, pretending not to hear you. "Hah. You underestimate me, as always."

The two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—Sukuna cooking with far too much pride, and you keeping an eye on him, making sure he didn’t turn the kitchen into a battlefield. But you couldn’t help but find his attempts strangely endearing. His arrogance was familiar, but beneath it, you could see a different side of him—a side that was almost... normal.

You continued preparing the meal with ease, listening to Sukuna ramble on as he worked. His words came in a disjointed flow, as if he couldn’t stop himself from talking even if he tried.

“Seriously, though. This kitchen is too small for someone of my stature. I need more space to work my magic.”

You rolled your eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Am I?" he said, glancing over his shoulder. “I’d make the perfect royal chef, you know. Every kingdom would kneel before my culinary genius.”

You laughed aloud. "Right, because nothing says 'royalty' like burnt garlic bread." You paused, your grin widening. "I bet you wouldn’t know how to make a salad without turning it into a warzone."

He glared at you, though you could see the small flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You just wait. You’re going to beg me for my expertise in the future."

"Yeah, okay," you teased, eyes twinkling with amusement. "And I’m sure the world will stop turning when you finally perfect the art of making toast."

His face hardened in mock offense. “You think you’re funny?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly scheming. "I’ll have you know, I am funny, and you’ll see it when I whip up a feast fit for a king."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I give up! You’re the king of everything, Sukuna."

His gaze softened for just a second, though it was quick enough to be missed if you weren’t paying attention. “That’s right,” he muttered, turning his attention back to the pot. “You’d do well to remember that.”

The simmering pot filled the air with a fragrant mix of herbs and spices. The warmth of the kitchen, combined with the easy back-and-forth between you and Sukuna, felt oddly comfortable. It wasn’t just the food—it was the time spent together, the playful teasing, the way Sukuna’s usual arrogance had softened in small but significant ways.

As Sukuna added the final touches to the dish, he turned to you with a smug grin. "Now, let’s see if you can keep up with my masterpiece."

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your laughter. "I’ve seen your ‘masterpieces’ before," you said. "But hey, I’ll bite. Let’s see what you’ve got."

Sukuna's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he served you a bowl of his creation. You hesitated for just a moment, then took a bite.

And to your surprise, it wasn’t half bad.

You swallowed, then gave him a look of exaggerated amazement. “Wow. I’m shocked. It’s... actually good. Who knew you could pull this off?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head, as if he’d just conquered the world. “Told you. Don’t doubt me again.”

You rolled your eyes, the warmth of his presence mixing with a fond smile. “Fine, fine. I’ll admit it. You’re not completely hopeless.”

He shot you a smug look, his usual arrogance back in full force. "I knew you’d come around eventually."

The kitchen, the food, the easy banter—it was all a reminder of how far things had come between you. And despite all his grumbling and ridiculous antics, you couldn’t help but feel grateful.

Not just for the food, but for the moments like these—when Sukuna was more than just the powerful, intimidating figure everyone else saw. When he was just… Sukuna.

Your Sukuna. The silence in the kitchen was only broken by the clinking of dishes as you both finished your meal, Sukuna's smug grin never leaving his face. He was clearly proud of his cooking, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his overconfidence.

“So,” you said, looking up at him, “does this mean you’re going to be cooking all our meals from now on?”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with amusement, clearly relishing the idea. “I should. You clearly need my skills in the kitchen.”

You shot him a glare, not taking his bait. “I don’t need your skills, thank you very much. I was perfectly fine cooking on my own.”

He smirked, taking a casual step closer. “Are you sure about that? Because from what I remember, your last attempt at cooking almost started a fire.”

You narrowed your eyes, standing up, now face to face with him. “I told you, it was one time, and I didn’t even burn anything! It wasn’t my fault the stove was faulty.”

“Faulty? Sure. Whatever you say,” Sukuna teased, crossing his arms and leaning in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “But I still saved your ass. You’re welcome.”

You felt the familiar irritation building, but for some reason, the way he stood so close, so confident, made your heart race, too. You jabbed a finger into his chest. “You don’t have to remind me, okay? I get it. You’re the big hero who saved me from burning down the kitchen.”

Sukuna’s smirk only grew wider as he leaned down slightly, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. “Sounds to me like you’re still a little grateful for my help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you shot back, your voice now a little sharper. “I never needed it.”

His smirk faded for a split second, and his eyes darkened with something that wasn’t just playfulness anymore. He took a step forward, trapping you against the counter, his hands resting on either side of you.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally admitting it,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your face. “Because you do need me, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, despite the tension mounting between you. “Is that so?” You tilted your head, not backing down, even though your pulse was quickening. “You’re starting to sound really full of yourself, Sukuna.”

He shrugged, unphased by your challenge. “I’m just stating the obvious.” His gaze lingered on your lips for a moment before returning to your eyes. “You’re always looking for a reason to fight me, aren’t you? But we both know you don’t really mean it.”

You bristled at his words, but it only made the situation feel even more charged. “Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?”

He took another step forward, his chest nearly touching yours now. “It means you like this. You like pushing me. You like the way it feels when we’re this close.” His voice was lower now, with that familiar arrogance tinged with something else. “Admit it.”

Your breath hitched. For a second, everything in the room felt too intense, his proximity almost overwhelming. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his gaze seemed to pull you in, making it hard to think clearly.

“I—” you started to say, but before you could finish, Sukuna’s lips crashed onto yours, cutting off your words. The kiss was hungry, urgent, and full of an intensity that left no room for anything else.

You were taken aback at first, but the force of it soon had you responding, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. The coolness of his shirt was a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and you could feel his heart pounding beneath your fingertips.

Sukuna's hand slipped into your hair, tugging you closer, his lips parting slightly to deepen the kiss. You met him with equal fervor, the tension between you finally snapping as everything else seemed to fade away. The kitchen, the arguments, the teasing—it all melted into the background as your bodies responded to each other.

For a moment, the only thing that mattered was the heat between you, the way your lips moved together, the way your bodies pressed against each other, as if you were both starved for this moment.

When you finally broke away, gasping for air, your foreheads rested together. Both of you were breathing heavily, the space between you now filled with something new, something unspoken.

Anddddddd I'm leaving you all to stew over that *laughs in evil author* Taglist: @rinkomei , @sleepycrybbylaiah , @queenmimis , @maellem , @after-laughter-come-tears , @damdido Taglist is always open for anyone!

[zepskies]

Being Human – Part 2

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Thank you for your lovely responses on Part 1!! I'm very excited to bring you the next chapter of Being Human.

Chapter Summary: You know that Alec is hiding something, and it’s more than the fact that he’s been dating another girl behind your back. [Set during 2.11]

Song Inspo: “Sailing” by Avant

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, two-timing (don’t worry), mentions of Manticore’s training (torture), hurt/comfort, mega feels, smuttishness.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: The Only Place

Alec showing up at your door unannounced isn’t anything new.

This time, however, he comes bearing a raw chicken in a plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. Your eyes go wide as you let him into your apartment.

“Where the hell did you find that,” you gesture at the chicken. In this economy, it might as well have been a five-pound lobster with a side of caviar.

Alec waggles his brows at you and flashes his familiar grin.

“Farmer’s market,” he says. “I fought some rich lady and her Pomeranian for this.”

You extend “gimme gimme” fingers at the bag as you lick your lips. You two are going to eat good tonight. You can even use the bones to make soup for the rest of the week.

Still, something niggles at the back of your mind.

“But this must’ve been so expensive. You didn’t have to do this,” you say, looking up from the bag of goods to your boyfriend’s face. He gives you an easy smile as his arm hooks around your waist.

“Don’t worry about it. I won a few pool game bets off Sketchy. Not to mention a couple of his paychecks,” Alec says.

His smirk makes you shake your head, but you wonder if he’s telling you the truth. He always seems to have cash to spare, despite the fact that he’s only been working at Jam Pony for a few months—barely making minimum wage.

Regardless, you start to prepare the chicken with what seasonings you have in your pantry while Alec peels the potatoes for you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Not for the first time, you wonder how he really lives. You’ve never been to his apartment before. Despite being friends with Max (there seems to be history there), he just got to Seattle a few months ago. And as for family, he claimed he had to leave home.

“It was what you’d call…an unstable environment,” he’d said. 

That, you could understand. Your own father had died when you were fairly young. After the Pulse, a virus had swept through and ravaged your hometown in rural Massachusetts.

Unfortunately, a shortage of antibiotics at the local hospitals left your mom without much help to fight off what ailed her body. You’d spread her ashes in the Charles River, where she used to love to paddleboat with you when you were a kid.

Then, you’d packed up what little you had and left the East Coast to make a life for yourself out here, alone. The city had been a challenge for you at first, being a smalltown girl at heart, but the hustle and bustle distracted you in a way you’d needed.

Now, Seattle has become your home, for better or worse. 

Alec knows all of this about you. He knows about your guilty pleasure of fried eggs, rice, and Vienna sausages: one of the ultimate struggle meals. He knows you love ice cream so much, you’d eat it for breakfast if you could.

He also knows you wanted to be a veterinarian, of all things, before the pulse. Now you have no hope or prayer of ever affording college, even if you tried.

But Alec…he still largely remains a mystery to you, no matter how deep he’s wedged himself under your skin.

“You’re really concentrating on that chicken,” Alec says, but his voice startles you, as it’s suddenly very close to your ear. You jump slightly as his arms wrap around your frame from behind.

You giggle a little, but you tilt your head to allow him access when his lips find your neck.

“Have I thanked you for this yet?” you ask. “I can’t remember the last time I had honest to God poultry…that also didn’thave a 50% chance of being radioactive.”

You feel the shape of Alec’s smile against your skin.

“No, as a matter of fact, but feel free to express your gratitude sexually,” he rejoins.

You have to laugh in earnest at that. You wash your hands in the sink before you turn in his arms and take his face gently in your hands. You bring him down to you for a sweeter kiss than he expected.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “It’s nice, having someone who thinks about me.”

His brows furrow a bit at that. He didn’t think bringing you an unexpected meal would be all that impressive, but…he also knows how long you’ve been alone.

For reasons he can’t tell you, it makes a twinge of guilt hit him behind the ribs.

All throughout dinner, and afterwards, Alec is hooked on the familiar soap opera playing on the TV in the living room. You both are sitting on the couch, but you’re half watching him, amused by his reactions. He’s absolutely glued to an episode you’ve already seen.

“You’re even more obsessed than I am,” you tease.

Alec spares you a wan look. “I just wanna know whose baby it is.”

A teasing smile forms across your face as you shift onto your knees and lean over to him, as if whispering a secret in his ear.

“And it’s actually twins,” you tease.

His expression of enrapture shifts with a wry edge. 

“Twins, huh?”

That seems to take him out of his enjoyment, somehow.

You frown a little. “You okay?”

“Always,” he responds, glancing at you. He visibly lightens up, pulling you into his lap with a muttered, Come ‘ere.

You giggle at his manhandling and oblige him with a few stolen kisses.

You feel bold enough to push him back to lie on the couch, and he actually lets you. His hands find your hips while you move to straddle his. Your fingertips drift down his chest as you consider him with a tilt of your head.

“Why haven’t I ever been to your place?” you ask. You draw an imaginary pattern across his chest, grazing him with your nails. His skin prickles under his clothes, but he stares up at you and shrugs without giving into your distraction.

“What, do you live above a strip club or something?” you add, smirking.

Alec’s expression matches yours as he squeezes your hips. “I like coming to you.”

Letting out a breath through your nose, you lean down and try plying him with slow, nipping kisses down his jawline, then his neck.

“Hmm, I still think you’re evading,” you say between kisses. “Tell me. Why haven’t you invited me back to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you getting demanding,” he teases back, even though his breath hitches when you nip a bit harder, just under his ear. Your deft hands run over his chest, toying with his senses. Already the scent of the soap you use has invaded his nose, like it always does. Jasmine.

“You knew this about me,” you say against his skin. He feels the movements of your lips like an added tease.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. His smirk deepens. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

You smile. “So answer the question. Or do I have to punish you?”

Fuck, sweetheart, be my guest, Alec thinks. But he forces himself to focus on your words, reading between the lines of what you’re really fishing for.

“My place isn’t all that safe,” he says.

You snort. “Safe is relative in this city. Besides, I thought you said my apartment was questionable at best.”

“I said you needed better security.”

“You’re my security.”

Alec’s smirk returns at that. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Better than a doorman,” you joke, leaning down to him again. “You deliver right to my door.”

“You think you’re so clever,” Alec says. Your lips find his in a kiss, and they lure him back into the pull of you. How easy it would be, just to let you “catch” him. Every night. Every day. 

Your arms cage his head as you finally lay down on top of him, slowly rolling your hips against his. Both of you feel his hardness twitch against your thigh. You smirk against his lips. 

“And right on time,” you quip. 

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.  

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore. 

You lower down and kiss him with meaning. With tenderness. 

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you mutter.

Your exasperation has reached an all-time high.

You’re really trying not to clock this bitch in the throat. When she grabs you by the hair, however, you have no choice.

Your punch lands squarely up the bridge of Marina’s nose with a crack that makes even Original Cindy wince.

You feel sick to your stomach.

Not just because your coworker and former friend Marina has stumbled to the floor, looking up at you with ire and a bloody nose. But because you just found out that you and Marina have somehow been dating the same man.

Alec had been standing off to the side with a semblance of concern behind his eyes (but mostly shock). You turn to him next, and he freezes. All the nearby Jam Pony employees watch the scene as you grasp Alec’s arm and warn him with only your eyes—it’s in his best interest to follow you to the lockers.

He acquiesces, even though his shifty eyes say he wants to bolt. Cindy’s shaking her head with a flat expression. Max is outright glaring at him. Sketchy is grinning, shoots him a thumbs up as the two of you pass by.

Alec heeds your unspoken demand, but he crosses his arms once you let go of him.

“Apparently, Marina claims you’re her boyfriend,” you accuse. You press two fingers into his chest. “Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for what, two weeks tops? A relief to me, since I thought we’d been dating for almost two months.”

Alec laughs nervously and rubs the back of his head. “Well, you know, we never did say that we were exclusive—”

“Did you sleep with her?” you ask.

He falters at the look on your face. So incredibly hurt, but still holding out a sliver of hope.

The longer he stays quiet, the more that too starts to dim.

You can’t help yourself. You slap him across the face.

Alec takes the hit, making it look like it actually hurt him in the way he snaps his face to the side. He’s more shocked than anything, though he knows he doesn’t have a right to be.

Your lower lip trembles, but you also gasp with a wince and hold your hand, because somehow his face felt like a slab of iron. Shit! Does he have a metal plate in his head or something?

Alec sighs. “You okay there?”

He reaches for your hand, but you back away from him.

“Don’t touch me. Never touch me again,” you say shakily, through tears.

You don’t want to admit that your heart is breaking. You fucking idiot. You should’ve known your instincts would be right about Alec McDowell.

You grab your clipboard and your forgotten backpack from the floor by your locker, and you walk away from him before your tears start to fall.

In the aftermath of the fight, Normal raises hell about the fact that Marina’s quitting. You can’t really give a shit, but you’re not about to follow suit. You’ve never, and will never let a man get between you and your money.

You take your deliveries for the morning and start on your route.

And if you have to park your bike in an alleyway to cry without the prying eyes of your coworkers, then that’s your right as a woman.

Alec hides it well, but inside, his chest aches the way his face should. He doesn’t altogether know or want to think about why.

So he worms his way into a delivery run with Max to distract himself (and to escape Jam Pony HQ). Max gives him hell, as expected, but he tries to ignore her and get this job over with so he can drink himself into a stupor at Crash tonight.

…Or try to. Getting drunk is a difficult feat with his genetics, not to mention a very expensive pastime.

Right now, he and Max are riding their bikes through the richey rich side of town, so at least it’s cleaner. Manicured hedges and tall gates surround every house here. It’s almost kind of familiar, though he’s too focused on following Max to care much.

“I mean, it’s not like I intended to date ‘em both at the same time,” he defends himself. “And then when it turned out I was dating them both at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t intend to tell both girls about the other one. …You know, eventually.”

It’s like the universe itself calls himself out on his lie when the front tire of his bike skids. He pulls to a sharp stop in front of an iron gate and falls over onto the asphalt, but his reflexes are quick, and he picks himself up with a forced spring in his step.

“But let’s be real for a moment, shall we?” he says. “I mean, suppose I did tell them. What would happen, huh? Same thing. Big fight. Lots of anger and resentment and recriminations, and then who wins? Nobody.”

Max continues to watch him with a deadpan frown. “Well, at least in this case, you won.”

“Exactly,” Alec smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression falls anyway. “Well, no. Seeing as though neither of them will be likely to speak to me, which makes any kind of sex a virtual impossibility…at least for a couple of days.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Clearly both of them lost their damn minds to even give you the time of day.”

Alec has a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s waylaid by a memory that used to make him smile. It now just settles heavily in his chest.

Two Months Ago...

Just then, the bartender slides you a beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you answer.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. You tense up and blush at his proximity, making his grin deepen.

Damn, she smells good, he thinks.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

He knows he’s making you nervous in a good way. He can sense it, though you eye him wryly. He means to go in for the kill, but he’s thwarted when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink, the way women do when they have their own unspoken language.

You then smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

He’s still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

He means it. Every time you turn him down, he’s genuinely disappointed.

But if you ever change your mind, he’ll be right here waiting.

That memory falters as Alec stares up at the familiar mansion. He just doesn’t remember that he’s been here before—not until he rings the doorbell. That sound dislodges a fragment in his mind.

One that makes him hide from the surveillance cameras on instinct. It has him throwing the package over the gate and grabbing Max to guide her away from the house before they’ve been able to get a signature.

And a name rings through all the clutter. A name that was once seared into his mind is wrenched open like a badly sewn wound.

Rachel.

You don’t see Alec for a few days. Which is good, because you’ve been avoiding him. 

Until he finally shows up for work, and somehow, he looks off. He lacks the jovial, devil-may-care attitude he wears like a second skin. 

He glances at you down the line at your locker, catching your gaze.  

You still can’t bear it. You turn your head away, feeling like a coward. You hear his locker door slam loudly and he leaves without even getting his schedule from Normal. 

You rest your head against the cool metal of your locker.

“Where the hell’re you going, mister!” Normal calls after his former favorite employee.

Despite your better judgment, you sigh and push away from your locker to face your boss.

“He’s got a stomach bug. Real nasty,” you call out.

Normal’s frown deepens, but his expression softens from his hardened edge.

“Oh. Well…that’s all he needed to say,” he sniffs. He hands what would’ve been Alec’s load of packages onto Sketchy, who gives him a flat look.

“Go, get to work. Bip, bip!” Normal points a finger at him, then dismissively at the door.

Sketchy rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to send you a “thankful” look before he heads out. You give him a sardonic smile. Serves him right for taking Alec’s side in this whole messy situation, like the man children they both are.

Original Cindy comes to your side and lightly bumps your hip. She’s a strong support as always, and you give her a small smile.

“Come on, boo. I’m buyin’ your drinks at Crash tonight,” she says. You loop your arm through hers.

“Thank God for you, OC,” you breathe, though with a smile that feels a little more like yourself.

“Ladies night, it is,” she snaps playfully.  

And if that’s what tonight is, then you’re going to look good. No ratty jeans and boots meant for walking. After work, you dive into the depths of your closet and find an old favorite of yours: a black leather skirt and a lacey top, open-backed and a sweetheart neckline. You complete the look with a pair of heeled ankle boots and the only shade of red lipstick you own.

You just don’t count on Alec wanting a night out too.

He hangs out at Crash all the time. You can’t be surprised, you remind yourself, when you spot him at the bar. Except he doesn’t wear his usual suave confidence. No, he’s hunched over a glass of whiskey as he sits alone in front of the bartender. He doesn’t even notice you, Max, and Cindy as you guys claim your usual table in the back.

You can’t help it though. Your eyes keep drifting back to him.

Both Max and Cindy catch you, with something like sympathy on the latter’s face.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Cindy remarks. “Anguished, and all Heathcliff-like.”

She’s right, you think. He’s been like this for days.

Max seems to know him better than anyone. You turn to her in askance.

“This isn’t just because of…what happened, is it?” you say.

Max sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

But she’s either unable, or unwilling to give you any more to go on.

…Goddamn it, you think, as you contemplate doing something stupid, like going over there to talk to him. You know you shouldn’t give him the time of day, but God help you, you still care about this asshole.

You heave a sigh. “I’ll be back in a few. And if not, I give you full permission to haul my ass out of this bar.”

“Don’t do it,” Cindy advises, with the tone of someone who knows you’re not going to listen.

You get up from the table and give your friends a placating hand. You roll your shoulders and force your feet to move—towards the bar.

The seat to Alec’s left is empty, and you take it. His gaze slides toward you, and he’s forced to do a double take. His familiar once-over has you almost smirking, but even that is missing something. It’s like something sucked the life right out of him.

He gives you a haphazard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he says.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” you ask, gesturing at the third glass of whiskey in his hand. He glances down at it, then at nothing as his gaze travels away from you.

“Until I can’t feel the burn anymore,” he replies. Even his voice isn’t like him, dull and wry.

You hesitate, but you surprise even yourself by offering an olive branch.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened…or anything else—” you try, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking at you again. “I should’ve made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Your heart plummets. Your mouth works past shock and fresh hurt. You fight the sting in your eyes as your mouth flattens.

“So, you and I were just casual,” you confirm. “None of it meant anything to you?”

He looks over at you and pins you there. There’s a glimmer of something behind the cool green of his eyes. Like maybe part of him wants to rebel and give you hope. 

He stays quiet. 

So with tears in your eyes, you close out your tab, and you leave the bar to go home. You can’t even bring yourself to look over at your friends. You’re too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Alec focuses on the contents of his glass, even though he knows nothing will ever be enough to numb him. 

Now that Manticore’s psychological reprogramming has crumbled, now that he remembers what happened two years ago—and what he did—nothing will make his fractured, bloody insides feel like nothing ever again.

Max and Original Cindy see the entire scene play out from across the bar. Cindy shakes her head with a hum of disappointment that black women have perfected.

Max’s answer is to get up, with much the same reluctance as you had, albeit for different reasons.

“I know I’m gonna regret this,” she sighs.

“Take your time,” Cindy says. She already has her flirtatious eye on another woman by the pool table.

Max smiles in amusement and leaves her friend to her business. She goes to her fellow transgenic and slips into the same seat you occupied moments before. Alec barely looks up at her.

“Call me crazy but I get the feeling you’re in some kind of jam,” she says. “More than just about your messy ex situation, though that was a nice cold shoulder you gave her.”

“Okay, you’re crazy,” he replies, raising his glass back to his lips.

Max presses her luck, asking about the locket Alec has always kept. At Manticore, he’d kept it in his shoe. He’d pull it out at night and try to remember why it was important, but he never could. All he knew was that it made him feel better, and he’d go to sleep easier.

Max saw it on him days ago. And now they both know it had belonged to Rachel Barrister, daughter of Robert Barrister. The man Alec was once sent to kill.

He’d both failed and succeeded.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Max,” Alec says snidely. “Stay out of my business.”

“Fine,” she says, but part of her still worries about him. And she worries about you. “Look, I know we don’t always get along—”

“Nicely understated,” he cuts, and sets down his glass a bit too hard on the counter. The bottom of it fractures. “Barkeep!”

“But if you’re in some kind of trouble and you need my help, then you should ask now, and not when it’s too late and everything’s all messed up, like you usually do,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, Max. I really do,” he says dryly, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You know, I would, see, but…you wouldn’t understand,” Alec says. He points out that Max and the rest of her little X5 friends left Manticore (escaped) when they were kids. The truth is, she has no idea what he’s endured ever since.

Manticore cracked down on the next series of X5s like him, and every series afterwards—they all paid the price for what Manticore saw as the failure of Max’s unit. Lax training. Traitors. Deserters. 

Alec didn’t see it at the time, not completely. He now knows just how deeply fucked up he was.

And is.

There’s no fixing it, like there’s no use trying to fix a broken toy.

So Max eventually walks away from him, just like you did. Just like he should have done for Rachel.

He knows he hurt you, but he also thinks it’s working out better this way. Better that you walk away from him, before he gets you hurt even worse.

It happens in stages, the way Alec’s memory unlocks. 

It sorts through the psychological methods of torture and erasure Manticore used to try and scrape the Barrister assignment from his mind. Not only did it not work, but Manticore still won. No matter what he does, he can’t block out the pain or the rush of memories. He can’t not feel. 

It’s a frustrating state of being for a soldier. 

Alec’s laissez faire way of coasting through life after Manticore burned down was his version of stoicism, of surviving. 

But if this is living, then he doesn’t want it. 

That’s why he loses focus. He runs headlong into the trap his rational mind is warning him of—into that mansion, where Robert Barrister has led him with the torturous siren song of Rachel’s favorite piano sonata. The very same one he taught her, just two years ago.

Alec wants to rip the notes out of his head, but he still goes to the house.

Somehow, a fifty-five-year-old man gets the drop on Alec, a soldier. A transgenic. 

Barrister knows who and what he is. He’s been in the game long enough against Manticore to know who he used to sell his products to, but he can’t quite pull the trigger on that gun, even though Alec goads him on. Shouting at him to do it. End his misery. 

Rachel. 

Max saves his ass again. It’s a frankly embarrassing number she’s racked up on that count, as she stuns Barrister and knocks him out before he can deliver the kill shot directly into Alec’s temporal lobe. 

Alec doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care, until Robert tells him where she is, upstairs in her room. Alec travels down the familiar corridor, and he sees her again. 

Rachel. Oh God…

She’s wrapped up in wires because of him; in a coma, slowly dying for the past two years. She pulled her father from the car that was meant to explode and end his life. Rachel fell. 

Alec sinks down into a chair beside her bed. For a moment all he can do is stare at her pale face.

Because of him. His job. His mission, that he couldn’t complete, because he tried to save her. It was too late, she paid the price, and it was all because of him.

Because he couldn’t fight the training drilled deep into his mind. He couldn’t fight his captors, not hard enough.

She paid the price. 

Alec sits at her bedside for as long as he can. He slips her locket back into her cold hand. He holds her as close as he dares, and begs for forgiveness through near-silent tears. 

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t understand…how much I loved you.”

Alec attends Rachel’s funeral, a few weeks later. He stands almost a quarter of a mile away, but he can still hear the service. He goes to her grave, and he accepts the caustic words from her father. 

“Never come back here,” Robert hisses. “I wanted to kill you. I hated you that much. But I’m still her father. I want her to be proud of me…and I don’t want to be like you.”

Alec silently accepts this. He knows what he is. Now, he knows what he’s done is unforgivable. 

He also knows it’s time to let her go. 

So he says a silent goodbye before he walks away from the grave and the cemetery. He intends to go home… 

He doesn’t quite make it there.

Alec is forced to walk through a torrent of rain. He barely feels it beating down on his head, back, and shoulders. 

Somehow, he ends up dripping wet at your apartment. His tall frame takes up your doorway when you open it to him. 

This feels familiar, you think, as you take him in. Once again, you’re dressed in just your pajamas of choice: a loose shirt over a pair of shorts. Your hair is tossed into a bun. 

You aren’t sure if it’s rain or tears dripping down his wet cheeks. His eyes are red enough to convince you of the latter. 

“What’re you—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is a hint unsteady.

Your mouth falls open the slightest bit, but eventually, you sigh.

“Alec,” is all you can say. Go away, are words you can’t force past your lips, even if you have every right to say them.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I uh…I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, your eyes widening incredulously. 

He shakes his head, but he aims to leave. This was a mistake, he thinks.

You don’t know what to make of him right now. Hasn’t he hurt you enough?

He seems different though. He looks like he’s one step shy of falling apart, and you’ve never seen such rawness in his eyes.

Something inside you breaks, and you grab his wet hand before he can escape down the hall. You’re persistent in leading him inside your apartment, where it’s warm. You offer him some dry clothes he left behind last month.

After he gets changed, he sits on your couch with you. His silence is so confusing, you’re not sure what to do. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Me,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “I’m what’s wrong. I uh…I should go.”

He gets to his feet, all twitching nervous energy, and again he tries to leave. You feel compelled to stand with him and follow him to the door.

“Wait,” you say, holding the door closed. Your hand lands on his arm, imploring with everything you have. “Alec, just tell me what the hell is going on. You’re scaring me.”

His eyes drag up your body, and slowly meet yours.

I didn’t understand…

Alec can’t help it; he raises a gentle hand to touch your cheek. You don’t deserve someone like him wrecking your life. He can’t be fixed, and he doesn’t want to break you too. 

You hold his hand to your face. “Alec. Talk to me, please.”

In your face, he finds concern and the threat of tears, and his heart continues to hemorrhage. 

There’s still room for you there. You’ve carved out a place in what’s left of it, without him realizing. He’s getting better at seeing the warning signs. 

You let out a shaky breath. “Just tell me the truth. Are you in trouble? Are you here because you have nowhere else to go, or—”

“Honestly, yeah,” he finally admits.

You deflate in response. What the hell?! 

Now you’re just about ready to push him out of your apartment and warn him that he better not come back. His grip on your arms stops you.

“This is the only place…” he continues, his jaw working. “Can’t seem to move my feet anywhere else.”

He means what he says, even if it’s not coming out right. After seeing Rachel’s prone body in her bed, coming back to face you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And yet, there's nowhere else he could go that felt right. He meets your eyes and notices the way you’re holding your breath.

“Uh, I kinda lied to you before,” he confesses. Your brows raise at that. 

“When?” you challenge.

He licks his dry lips. “At the bar. Last time we met.”

“So when you said,” you struggle to articulate it, because just the thought of it still hurts. “What you and I had…that it didn’t mean anything…”

His hands slide down from your arms, to hold your hands in his.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know what it meant,” Alec says. “I do now.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let go of a heavy breath. Alec releases your hands to hold your face with shaking hands. In turn, you hold his wrists steady. 

"You really hurt me, you know," you say. Your voice is a near whisper, but your words cut into him all the same.

"I know," he replies, as his thumbs caress your skin. "I'm sorry about that. About everything...which is why we probably shouldn't do this."

He really says that, even as his hands drift down to your neck, where he can feel your pulse beating and picking up speed. Alive.

“What?” you ask, with genuine confusion. You pull away from him a little, frowning up at him. "Then what are we doing right now? Either you want to be with me, or you don't, Alec."

His eyes meet yours.

You’re so real, so honest. Alec starts to think, to understand that this is what lured him in. It had him coming back to you every time you turned him down. It kept him coming back to you when you were his. 

She can still be yours, he thinks. It’s a selfish thought, but here he is.   

So he draws you in and kisses you deeply.

He doesn’t know how this can still feel right, even though his chest pulses with pain. But maybe, being with you is a different kind of pain. Maybe it’s not pain at all. 

You asked him for the truth though. He can’t give you everything, but he can give you one piece of the puzzle; perhaps the only one that matters. He parts from you, opening his eyes to find your face. Your eyes are still closed, and when you open them, you start to blush. 

It almost makes him smile, but his brain is still warring with his heart.

“I’ve only ever cared about one person in my life…and I lost her,” he says. “I’m not good at this.”

“How,” you ask, a bit hesitantly. “How did you lose her?”

His throat is tight. It’s all so fresh, he doesn’t even know how he gets out the words.

“She died,” he admits.

Your expression falls, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, holding onto his shirt. “I’ve lost people too.”

He thumbs at your cheek. He sees your sympathy so clearly across your face, though he doesn’t know how you can still give that to him. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught, and everything he’s learned in order to survive. 

He can’t help but let you back in, just like you’re about to do for him.  

“It’s really this simple. If you want me to forgive you, if you really want to be here, with me, exclusively…then all you have to do is stay,” you say at last. Your lips press together for a moment. “But if you play me again, Alec, I swear to God—”

“No. No swearing’s necessary,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s surprised he’s able to smile, just a little, and he does so against your lips. 

You break from him to grip his shirt and glare up at him. “You understand me?”

Alec’s smile deepens a fraction. He brushes your hair away from your face. 

“Indeed, I do, Miss Ma’am.”

It takes you a beat, but you roll your eyes, despite a lingering blush.

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he starts to tease. “You seem to like giving out orders, I just thought you’d like a title change to go with it.”

You slap his chest half-heartedly. “Shut up.” 

“See? More demands,” he quips. “I don’t know if I can work in this environment—”

You pull him down for a kiss to shut him up indefinitely. 

And like it so often has, it leads into your room with the two of you falling haphazardly into your bed. He situates himself between your legs and traps you underneath him as he kisses a wet path up your neck. You arch against him and your hands dive under his shirt to help him wrench it off. 

It’s all very fast, and a bit frantic until he has you naked underneath him. 

His hand finds your cheek, touching softly, like he’s afraid to break you. There’s pain in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your brows furrow, though you caress a hand up the back his neck. He shudders when you unintentionally brush his barcode. 

“Alec, what happened?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He wishes he could tell you. He wants to tell you…everything. It scares him, because he also wants to run out of here, putting as much distance between himself and you as possible. 

But again, he’s selfish. This time, he understands why his heart is pulsing with both pain and longing when he stares into your eyes for too long.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not tonight… Can we just focus on the good part here?”

Despite yourself, you smile with a small huff. You take his face in your hands and bring him down to meet your searing kiss. 

The good part, indeed.

AN: And here's an angsty Part 2! lol Let me know what you think! 💜

You might want to buckle up for where we're going next...

Next Time:

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your face.

He smiles, taking down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease. He laughs against your skin.

“You’re about to find out.”

Keep Reading: Part 3

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Alec M. Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989

@waters-2567 @iwishiwas-sleeping @jessjad @pieandmonsters @akshi8278 @honeybabycherry @deans-spinster-witch @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @nancymcl @idiotdyslexic @heartlessdelusions

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter five: try to walk away

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 8.6k (long but lots to cover)

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced/virgin reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, etc.), polite southern manners (use of sir), feeling familial and self-pressure, oral sex (f), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, likely poor spanish grammar, ANGST

a/n: here it is -- the end of summer #1 with joel </3 more to come from these two. and a HUGE thank you to lovely sweet el @northernwindd for the beta read!!! appreciate you v much bb

Sunday morning air filters through the cracked window, the warmth from the sunlight radiating over your exposed skin. Goosebumps rise every few moments from a combination of the oscillating fan in Joel’s room and the way he’s been looking at you since the two of you woke up together this morning. Navy blue sheets drape over your nude body, head resting on the pillow while you lay on your side facing him. Birds chirp loudly to each other outside, melodic background noise to the slow-rise conversations you and Joel keep pulling each other into.

From how you take your coffee to where you saw yourself in five or ten years, there weren’t many topics off-limits in the vulnerable morning after. Joel learned that you take your coffee with enough milk to change the drink to caramelly color, and you learned that Joel takes his black. As for future plans, you both conveniently skate around relationships, focusing more on what you see for your careers. Joel confidently tells you that he wants to build his contracting business to be able to take on a more managerial role and be able to spend more time at home with Sarah, which stretches a smile across your face.

“So you’re telling me I’m out of a summer job in the next five to ten years?”

“‘Fraid so, darlin’. But you won’t need me by then, you’ll be off livin’ lavishly in Boston and making ads that we’ll be seeing on billboards down here.”

The look you’re sharing with Joel tightens your chest, your vision glazing over to fuzz Joel out barely out of focus. You can’t really tell if it’s from the emotion that’s filling your ribcage and squeezing your lungs or if it’s from attempting to keep your eyes open on him to not miss any minute signal of body language from him.

“Maybe so, but that will just gimme an excuse to come down and visit. To see all my billboards.”

He comes back into focus when you blink the moisture away, a crisp image of the crinkles next to his eyes and dimple on display.

“Oh, yeah? That’s the only reason you’d visit? Nothing else bringin’ you back?”

A hum rolls out of your chest as you pretend to think, index finger tapping against your chin. Joel huffs out an exaggerated sigh, cocking a brow as he looks at you expectantly.

“Guess my parents, and my brother if he’s still here. And I would love to see Sarah as a teenager, she’s gonna be so fun.” A smirk coats your words, teasing laced in the words.

Large hands ghost over your bare sides, fingertips moving quick and featherlight in a tickle that draws a loud giggle out of you.

“Quit ticklin’ me!”

“I’ll quit when you stop lyin’ through your teeth.”

“Okay, okay! Ask again, I’ll be honest.” You catch your breath when his hands stop, arms wrapping around your back to pull you closer,  inches away from his chest.

“Okay, I know my kid’s the best, but she’s the only reason you’d stop by?”

“I’d come to see you in a heartbeat. Might even be the first stop on any visit I make, but I think you knew that this whole time.”

The shoulder raised toward the ceiling shrugs up and down, a quip of a smirk raising one side of his mouth.

“I had a feelin’, but I like hearing you say it.”

“Mm, anything else you like hearing me say?”

“Think you know the answer to that, darlin’.” A wink follows his answer, his elbow moving under him to prop him up as he leans over you moving onto your back.

“Yes, I do, sir.”

Joel looks away to the side, a chuckle exhaling shortly out of his mouth before he turns back to you and shakes his head.

“Mi diablita, eres demasiado (My little devil, you are too much).”

Joel’s hand lays on your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth while he steers his truck with the other hand. The cab is silent besides the soft trill of the radio and the wisping wind that whips in through the cracked windows as you head to pick up your car in the mall parking lot.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, to recognize that you have to drive four miles away to go home when you live forty feet from Joel’s. Something swirls in your stomach, a similarly sinking feeling that guilt brings you but you don’t feel guilty about being with Joel. It’s not an ideal situation, and you would never want him to be subjected to neighborhood ostracization or gossip — but is avoiding that worth the dull burn you feel when you have to slink home after kissing him behind closed doors or staying the night? Not being able to go see him when you want to unless you sneak around to do it? Is it all worth it to him?

The pickup coming to a slow stop interrupts your spiraling thoughts, Joel’s hand patting your thigh to grab your attention. When you look over at him, brows creased with soft concern and brown eyes churning with sympathy. A tight smile presses your lips into a thin line, your hand laying over his.

“Before you go, um, I wanted to ask you somethin’,” his opposite hand stills on the steering wheel, curling his fingers around the frame tightly, “Sarah’s birthday party is coming up this Saturday. We’re havin’ it at the house, but I was wonderin’ if maybe you would come? Sarah told me about a million times that she wanted to invite you.”

Taut cheeks from your narrow smile relax, teeth showing when your top lip curls up. Your hand squeezes his under it, turning on the bench seat to face him more head-on.

“I’d love to come if Sarah wants me to,” his eyes dart to yours from their position looking out the windshield, eyes wide with hope, “But, do you want me to be invited? I mean, I know you said when you were planning the date that Tommy would be there and her friends’ parents — and her mom — so if it’s going to be too much, I can celebrate with Sarah bef—”

“My sweet girl, you’re fixin’ to work yourself up into a tizzy about nothin’,” Joel interrupts himself to lean over and catch your lips in a pacifying kiss, continuing when he pulls away, “I want you there. Probably will need you there, ‘cause I need help throwing the perfect “Little Mermaid, Lilo & Stitch, and Finding Nemo” party.”

A bellowing laugh rolls out of your chest, shaking your head as you reach out to pat his thigh, “Joel, honey, all of those movies are set in or around the ocean. Just make it sea-themed and Sarah will be extremely happy. I can help get things together this week.”

A long sigh exhales and deflates his chest, a sheepish grin on his face, “See? Need you there, sweetheart, ‘cause I clearly need the help.”

A few more kisses are exchanged, Joel escorting you the five feet over to your car and standing in the open door while you slide into the driver’s seat. His frame leans into your car, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Really liked havin’ you at home this weekend, darlin’. And being able to take you out on a date.”

“Me too, Joel.”

The look on his face is unreadable before his smile replaces it, a metallic thump sounding above you as he hits his palm against the roof of your car.

“Drive safe, sweet girl.”

The sound of children’s screams and laughter slowly muffled as you slid the porch door shut and stepped into Joel’s kitchen. The last of the snacks you’d come early to put together need to be brought outside for the kids, and Tommy’s been out on cooler duty — keeping it stocked with drinks for the parents in attendance. Your parents were out of town dropping your brother off at his new apartment for his sophomore year, so it was only you, the Millers, and some kids and parents from Sarah’s class and camp.

Standing at the island, you pour some more tortilla chips from the bag to fill up the bowl in front of you more, getting lost in fluttering around the kitchen to get everything perfect before you bring it all out. You don’t notice the sound of the door to the garage shutting or Joel’s footsteps coming through the living room to the wide entry to the kitchen. What does pull your attention away from your task is his voice, a smile playing at his lips as he watches you.

“Think you know this kitchen better than I do at this point, sweetheart.” He crosses the room and comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist in the private moment. 

“I just know where all the stuff for the party was cause it was Sarah and I that went to the store to grab everything yesterday. And I put it away,” you shake your head with a grin, “You wanna grab some of this to bring it outside?”

His chin rests on your shoulder as he watches your hands move, his hands bunching up the fabric of your dress at your hips.

“Mhmm, can do, darlin’. In a minute.” He presses his lips to your exposed skin next to the strap of your dress, dropping the fabric from his hands and gripping you to turn you around to face him. A gentle kiss is placed on your lips, you pull away after a moment and him chasing you to pepper pecks on your lips and cheek. Your laugh pulls him away from your face, a boyish grin showing his dimple.

“Thank you for your help today, sweetheart. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. You made Sarah’s birthday real special.”

“You don’t have to thank me, I would have helped even if I didn’t get an invite,” Joel chuckles and squeezes your waist as you continue, “You’re the one who planned the day and invited everyone and got all the games and everything outside. You’re the hero of the birthday. And you’re a really good dad.”

Sincere gratitude fills his brown eyes as you get lost in them, a comfortable silence falling over the room as you take each other in. It’s only interrupted at the sound of the screen door, you flipping around quickly to busy yourself and cover up the intimate moment with Joel.

Tommy strides in, oblivious to how close you two are standing as he crosses over to the fridge to grab another six-pack of beer to put in the cooler outside.

“Either these parents are drinkin’ like fish, or we’re gonna have some drunk eight-year-olds on our hands.” Tommy turns to face Joel next to you when the sound of the doorbell echoes rings throughout the house. After the first ring, it keeps going incessantly and the two brothers share a knowing look.

Joel sighs, rolling his eyes and brushing his fingers against your lower back subtly when he moves to go answer the door.

“Y’all know who that is just from the bell?” you ask Tommy, a bracing expression on his face when he hears the door open.

“Yeah, it’s something that Ti—” he’s cut off when an unfamiliar voice speaks quickly at Joel in the other room, annoyance slick in her words. 

“Why’d you have to move across all of Austin, Joel? Makes the drive over here impossible. And made me late for my daughter’s birthday, so thanks for that.”

“Tiff, you’ve known my address since we moved and have known the time for the party for two weeks,” Joel’s voice gets louder as he follows Tiffany, Sarah’s mom, into the kitchen where you and Tommy are standing still. She looks over at Tommy, dropping her gift bag on the counter.

“Nice to see you, Tommy,” Tiff’s voice is laced with tension as she looks at the younger Miller.

“Always a pleasure, Tiff,” Tommy counters, a sarcastic smile on his face.

You’re watching it all from the far end of the kitchen, twiddling your thumbs out of nerves at the shift in energy. Tiff’s attention drags from Tommy, across the party food laid out on the island and up to you, her eyebrows raising.

“And you are?” 

Her head bobbles as she asks, Joel stepping forward and giving you a quick apologetic look before he makes introductions, giving Tiffany your name before saying, “She’s Sarah’s nanny for this summer. And our next-door neighbor. And this is Tiff — Tiffany — Sarah’s mom.”

He makes a vague gesture between you and her, his shoulders tense under his white t-shirt. He slips his hands in his back pockets, eyes avoiding you as Tiff locks hers on you like prey.

“Nanny, huh?” Her lips press together into a thin line, nodding slowly as she surveys you head to toe. Right before she speaks again, the door opens, and Sarah bounds in with her curls bouncing.

“Hi, Mommy!” She runs over and gives her mom a hug, pulling away and looking around with a big smile at all of the adults closest to her in a room altogether.

“Everyone come outside! I wanna show you my cartwheel, I think I got it perfect now!”

“Uncle Tommy’s gonna come out and watch you, and we’ll be out in a minute, Bug.” Joel smiles sweetly at her, his eyes turning to Tommy as he jerks his head outside.

Tommy puts a wide smile on his face, chasing Sarah back out the door to go play. Joel huffs out a sigh as Tiff fills the silence again.

“So, can we just address the fact that you two are definitely fucking?” She points between you two with a cold laugh and you try your hardest to keep a poker face.

Joel rolls his eyes, turning to face Tiffany head-on.

“Tiff, it’s Sarah’s birthday party. We’re not talkin’ about my personal life right now, and even if we were, there’d be nothin’ to talk about.”

“Oh, bullshit. But whatever, you keep your secrets to maintain the spark of sleeping with someone that much younger than you. And it isn’t personal if it’s someone who’s takin’ care of Sarah. That affects me, and her too. Better not be doin’ anything in front of Sarah.”

“Quit bein’ ugly, Tiff. I’d never do anything that would negatively affect Sarah and you know that. Now let’s just drop it, ‘cause there’s nothing even going on, and enjoy celebrating our daughter’s birthday.”

It’s like watching a tennis match, the two of them going back and forth across the room from you. You feel like slinking out of the door if you could without drawing attention to yourself, but you definitely can’t do that so you’re as still as a statute. The people-pleasing tendencies in you are screaming at you to say something to diffuse the tension.

“Joel’s right, there’s really nothing. He’s just my boss, and I wanted to come today 'cause Sarah invited me.”

Both of their heads snap to you in the corner of the kitchen, Joel’s stare softening as he sees the manifestation of your anxiety in the way your fingers can’t stop fiddling. Tiff scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest.

Joel speaks much more relaxed to you, “You do not have to defend yourself, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? Well aren’t you just a precious thing, huh?” Tiff’s got a Cheshire smile on her face, shooting Joel a smug glare that makes your blood boil. She has the audacity to come over and blame all of her mistakes today on him, and to top it all off, accuse him of sleeping with you? And to call you ‘precious’? That’s a slap in the face in the South.

He is, obviously, but she absolutely doesn’t need to have the satisfaction of being right.

You watch her cross the room to head to the door to the backyard, sending a smirk to you. You muster one of your most polite smiles, catching her arm.

“Lovely to meet you, Tiffany, you’re so…self-willed. I can see where Sarah gets it,” you let go of her arm and hold your hand up to your chest to give her a “Bless your heart, hon.”

Which is Southern for “Fuck you.”

The door shuts hard behind her, shaking in its frame. You look at Joel, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose and eyes closed. You walk over to him and rest a hand on his shoulder. He jumps at your touch, his hand dropping from his face and his eyes opening to look at you to his right.

He immediately averts his gaze towards the floor, his downcast expression and furrowed brows telling you what he was going to say before he even speaks. You pull your hand away and swallow, giving him a tight smile.

“I’m gonna head home. I don’t want to be the subject of anything else between you two during Sarah’s birthday.”

“Darlin’, I’m sorry about all that. She’s quick to temper and insults. And with her talkin’ like that, I just don’t think we should—”

“I get it. There are a lot of people here, and she’s Sarah’s mom. Kinda pulls rank over her nanny,” you laugh to attempt to break the tension, biting harshly on the inside of your cheek, “I’ll see you Monday.”

“I really am sorry, sweetheart…Thank you for all your help,” he caresses your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Let me walk you out.”

You shake your head, patting his chest, “No, no you go spend time with Sarah. I’ll call you later to hear about her reaction to my gift.”

Joel nods back to you, watching you from the kitchen as you leave him with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, gathering the things you’d brought for party preparation and stepping out their front door. The echoes of giggles and screams carry all the way to your house, only stifled by the door closing behind you as tears sting your eyes.

The streaks on your face were long dried, your sundress exchanged for an oversized t-shirt and shorts to sleep in, and place taken laying out on the couch as your third episode of Friends reruns starts. You curl into the throw blanket laid over you, pulling it up to tuck it under your chin. Rachel and Ross are yelling back and forth about if they were on a break or not, the sound tinny from the loud volume you’re playing it at. The couple on the TV is drowned out by a loud and steady knock on your front door, your head snapping in the direction of the entryway. You slowly climb off of the couch, tiptoeing over to attempt to hide yourself from any possible danger. Looking through the peephole, you see Joel’s back, all wide shoulders and messy hair as he kicks his feet against the pavement of your porch.

There’s a tightening in your chest as you debate whether or not to open the door or let him think you’ve gone to sleep already, but it is only 9pm and he knows you can be a bit of a night owl.

The deadbolt clicks undone and you twist the knob, gingerly pulling the door toward you. Joel turns around at the noise, half of his mouth quirking up in a nervous, closed smile. There’s nothing said for a few beats, the two of you only staring at each other.

You break first, huffing out a quiet exhale and leaning against the doorframe.

“You need something, Joel?”

A flash of hurt travels through his eyes at your aloof tone, pressing his lips together before he speaks.

“Wanted to come by and bring you a slice of cake,” he admits sheepishly, holding up an ocean-themed paper plate with a piece of the funfetti cake you’d baked for the event on top of it.

You extend your hand out to take the treat from him with your eyes dropping from his to follow the movement. His fingers brushed yours and his other hand gently closed around your wrist to keep you there for a moment.

“Can I come in? And maybe we can talk, or just hang out, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flick back up at his face, brown eyes pleading with you.

“You don’t have to get back to Sarah?”

He shakes his head, “Her present from her Uncle Tommy was a ‘sleepover at his house with loads of candy and doing what your dad says you can’t do’. She took him up on that offer tonight.”

You can’t help the chuckle that slips from your mouth, a faint smile on your face as you nod.

“Can’t say I blame her,” you take a step back and jerk your head to the side to gesture inside, “C’mon in.”

Joel kicks off his shoes in the entry, following you back to the living room and taking a seat next to you on the couch. You curl your legs up underneath you and face him, leaning your side against the backrest after lowering the volume on the TV further.

“So, what’d you wanna talk about?”

Joel lets out a deep sigh, leaning back and swiping a hand over his face before he looks at you.

“Today. All of that shit. You leavin’ early wasn’t fair to you and I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for everything Tiff said, and you ending up being in the middle of us arguing like we always do.”

“Yeah, there was certainly a lot…passion there.” You bite your lip and he shoots you a warning stare.

“Easy there, darlin’. Ship’s long sailed there.”

You laugh and nod slowly, silence falling between the two of you again.

“I meant what I said. It wasn’t fair to ask you to leave early or imply that you should. I just, I didn’t want anything to kick up dust or have anybody pick up on…” he trails off, not wanting to say what he thought out loud.

“Yeah.” It comes out as more of a sigh than a word, turning towards the nearly mute show playing on the TV.

Joel shifts closer on the couch, one of his hands coming up to hold your jaw and turn your head back to him.

“I care about you — so much, sweetheart, I do. I need you to know that. I just, I don’t want you to get hurt from what everyone says or have this affect your family or somethin’.” His thumb brushes your cheek, eyes locked on yours.

“I get it, Joel. I do. It was just, I don’t know, it was just hard to see you so easily say I was nothing but Sarah’s nanny today. That’s what upset me the most, how smooth of a lie it was — if it was even a lie.”

He cringes at the last part, a sting to his heart as his eyes linger closed for a moment.

“It wasn’t a lie, my sweet girl. You’re—you’re mine. In every way you’ll let me have you. You’re not nothing to me. You’re, you’re something incredible.”

There’s a candor in his eyes and in his words that mollifies the heartache burning your throat and your chest, your body melting into his touch and falling closer to him, chasing the warm puffs of air that blow from his lips.

You kiss him, his plush bottom lip puzzling in between yours in a tender touch. Both of you are still there for a breath before you pull back just inches, eyes looking at his through your lashes.

“I want you to have me in every way. I want you to be mine.”

“I’m yours, darlin’. You tell me what you want, I’ll give you anything.”

He searches your expression, waiting with bated breath for you to respond.

Instead, you stand from the couch and smile softly as Joel’s clearly confused, his hand grabbing yours to tether himself to you. You squeeze his fingers, tugging on his arm to get him to stand.

“I told you, I want you to have me in every way. I want it to be you, the first time. All the time.”

Joel smiles tenderly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you against him.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Ahead of him, you guide Joel up the stairs and to your bedroom. He shuts the door behind him despite it only being you two in the house, enclosing you in the bask of the warm, yellow lamplight from your nightstands.

Joel observes the space that he’d peaked into so many nights this summer, a smirk playing on his lips as he reminisces. Your touch pulls him back to you, his smirk turning into a grin as his eyes filled with affection. His fingertips graze your cheekbones, one holding your jaw as he murmurs to you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Que hermosa.”

His lips capture yours in a wistful caress, the exchange heating up as his hands move from your face to dance along your curves, giving soft squeezes to your supple skin. Little, faint sounds that you’re making encourage him further, his large frame walking you backward as he tugs your t-shirt over your head — discarding it to the floor haphazardly.

There’s nothing more covering your chest, and Joel eagerly arcs down, one arm around your waist as his mouth encapsulates one of the peaks of your breasts, sucking and prodding his tongue over the perked-up nub. His name comes from you breathlessly, his lips removing with a faint pop.

“Lay down on your bed, sweetheart. ‘M gonna take care of you,” he pulls his own shirt over his head, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them off his legs before he moves to kneel on your bed in his boxer briefs. You do as he said, climbing onto your mattress and propping yourself against your pillows. Joel asks with a tug to remove your shorts, you give him a yes and lift your hips for him to pull off your shorts and panties, leaving you completely bare.

His hands skate back up your calves, hooking in the creases of your knees to spread your legs for him. They continue their journey up your thighs, one moving to skim over the softer skin at the inside near your throbbing core.

“Eres divina, mi dulzura. Una visión absoluta. (You are divine, my sweetness. An absolute vision).” His gaze pours over every inch of you, his touch exploring every spot his eyes linger. The attention he’s paying to you simmers inside of you, a quiet beg slipping out.

“Please, Joel…”

“What, baby? What can I do for you?”

His fingers are rubbing circles down your torso, stopping to brush against the curls at your mound while he waits for your command.

“Touch me please, like you did before.”

He hums contently at your request, licking his lips and swiping a finger through your arousal. His thumb presses languid circles on your clit. He bows his head down to yours, lips pressing against yours in unhurried kisses, swallowing the delicate whimpers that seep from your throat. Your sounds get louder and more persistent when he glides one of his fingers into you, a slow rhythm building before he adds a second.

“Taking it so well, darlin’. Feels good, yeah?” He speaks against your skin as his mouth dawdles along your neck to your collarbone, teeth grazing and lips sucking a mark onto your chest.

“Mhm fuck, Joel, I love your fingers inside me.”

“Gotta get you ready for me, sweet girl. Think you can take another?”

At your nod, he thrusts in a third, the stretch of his thick fingers reeling you to toe against the edge, your mind clear of anything other than the feeling of him filling you up. Your head pushes back into the pillows, his name repeated in a prayer each time he hooks against the spongy spot on your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, my pretty girl. Show me how beautiful you look filled up with my fingers, squeezin’ around me,” his jaw dropping ajar to mirror your own as your release barrels into you, hands gripping Joel’s shoulders and digging you nails in. He works you through your euphoric descent, humid kisses pressed into your breasts.

Your fingers card through his hair, pulling his head up to yours and kissing him deeply. Joel hums a moan into your mouth, tongue melding with yours and grinding his tented boxers against your drenched heat, a dark wet spot forming on the light grey fabric. He pulls back, lips swollen red and puffy as he rasps out.

“Will you let me taste you, darlin’? Wanna feel you come on my mouth,” his nose nudges against yours as his words add to the humidity between the two of you, a whimper from you in protest.

“I want you inside me, please.”

“I will, sweet girl, promise. Gonna make it easier to take me. And I wanna have you on my lips for the rest of the night. Pretty please, sweetheart. I’m beggin’, even just a little taste.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh lightly, “‘M all yours.”

“Debes ser de mis sueños, cariño (You must be from my dreams, darling.) Don’t know how I found you.” A path down to your thighs was carved by his mouth, kisses, bites, and licks left on your skin. Joel settles on his tummy between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs to leverage your hips up to his mouth.

Joel purses his lips and exhales, sending cool air onto your wet folds. You hiss, one hand finding his hair as he chuckles darkly, his hooked nose nestling into the curls at the top of your center, inhaling deeply before his mouth finds your clit.

His tongue flicks your bud, flattening against it and moving in slow, teasing circles. He pulls his tongue back and puckers his lips around the button, sucking with a lewd noise as he takes some of your arousal in, exchanging for his own saliva.

“So sweet, pretty girl. Fuck, can’t get enough of you.”

The strong muscle of his mouth licks up from your tighter hole to your clit, a few figure eights flicked against it and driving your hips to jerk up involuntarily.

His thumb replaces his tongue, freeing it to dip down along your folds and lick into your tight cunt, a quick rhythm found that has you drenching his chin, high-pitched moans hyperventilating from your chest.

“Oh my god, Joel…”

A chuckle rumbles from him, vibrating against your skin and adding to his treatment of your cunt. Your fingers tug in his curls, eyes screwing shut tightly.

Right near the peak of your pleasure, he switches up his positioning and brings his lips back to nurse on your clit and two of his fingers replace his tongue inside of you.

The nearly pornographic noises he’s creating between your legs mix with your wanton moans, quick huffs of air giving you enough breath to shout his name as you come hard. Your hips push against his face to ride out the high, Joel moaning as you take control to fuck his face to keep it all going for yourself. Twinkles of light sparkle in your vision when you open your eyes again, colors kaleidoscoping at the edges of your gaze. You sit up to look down at Joel still on his stomach, a drunken smirk on his face when he looks up at you.

He groans as he lifts himself to rest his weight on his hands, climbing over you to bring his face even to yours. Your come glistens on his skin and coats his mustache and beard, a giggle slipping out as you shake your head.

“You’re a mess,” you say as you reach to wipe him clean, his head jerking back and eyes widening incredulously.

“Don’t get rid of it. Told you I wanna be tasting you for the rest of the night. You’re gonna taste yourself, too.” He smirks smugly, tracing the tip of his nose along the side of yours, his lips ghosting yours before catching you in a sloppy kiss.

“You taste good, don’t you think?” He winks as he studies you from above, a smirk still evident on his face. Your hand coasts down his soft torso, wrapping around his hard length after you slip your hand beyond the waistband, stroking him slowly as you watch his cockiness fall. His eyes flutter close, mouth ajar as tiny whimpers escape from his throat.

“I need your cock.”

With a shudder, he opens his eyes, the shade of them nearly black as his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip.

“Care to ask nicely, sweetheart?”

His low timbre sends a tingle that flutters your walls around nothing, huffing out before correcting your manners.

“May I please have your cock?”

Joel tsks from over you, his head slowly shaking left to right.

“Not quite. Again.”

“May I please have your cock, sir?”

He hums satisfied, kissing you tenderly and smirking against your lips.

“That’s my good girl,” another smack of your lips connects you two before he pulls away, looking at you adoringly, “You sure you wanna do this, my sweet girl?”

“Absolutely. Nobody else I’d want it with.”

“Ay Dios mío, ¿Cómo podría renunciar a ti? (Oh my god, how could I ever give you up?)” Disbelief floods his eyes, taking one last kiss from you, slow and sweet. Joel pushes himself up to stand on his knees, making quick work to strip himself of his boxers. Your mouth waters as you look at his cock sprung against his stomach, pre-cum dripping from his head and a twitch jerking it before his hand wraps around and gives it a few lazy strokes.

He spreads your legs wider, making sure the position is comfortable as his hips crowd against you.

“Alright, sweetheart, it might be a little uncomfortable at first, but the beginning's gonna be the worst part. Once you feel good about that, rest will make you feel even better.”

You nod in understanding, feeling heat prickling around your whole body as nerves bubble in your stomach. Joel smiles tenderly at you, guiding his hard cock to line up at your entrance.

“You ready, cariño?”

“Yes, ‘m ready. Please, Joel…”

He takes the moment of your relaxed exhale to push the tip of him inside your walls, the stretch of his girth burning you in a different way than his fingers. It’s not an overly painful burn, feeling like the stretch of a muscle. His hand finds your cheek, thumb brushing your skin and speaking quietly.

“You alright, darlin’? ‘M not hurtin’ you, right?”

Your head shakes quickly, breathing out a breath you were holding and feeling your body relax around him and adjusting with the lack of tension.

“Not hurtin’. Just feels…different.”

“Different’s alright, sweetheart. ‘S just something new.”

Joel’s chest is taut as he breathes through his own pleasure, willing his hips still until you give him the go ahead to push a few more inches of himself inside of you. You feel fuller than ever before, even without all of his length inside. He pulls his hips back slowly, the drag of him inside squeezing a moan from you. He starts at a slow pace with only a few inches of himself, encouraged to give you more with the louder, repeated sounds you're making under him.

“Fucking hell, pretty girl. So tight, god…”

“In a good way?”

“Yes, baby, course it’s good — everything about you is good, no, great. You’re makin’ me feel so unreal right now. You’re perfect.”

After a few more slow thrusts, he slips himself inside of you completely, his head rolling back with a moan of your name as you gasp loudly at the feeling of him against every part of your cunt. He loses his composure, lack of self-control seeping through as Joel starts to really fuck you, quick snaps of his hips burying him to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling, mouth opening with silence choking any words from your mind. One of his hands grips your waist to hold you in place on the mattress as he drives into you, the other cupping your breast and squeezing while his index and thumb pinch your nipple.

The attention all over your body ripples pleasure throughout every one of your nerve endings, his name falling from your mouth over and over in breathy whines. He folds over you, lips finding the shell of your ear and whispering to you as he pushes you to toe the edge of Cloud Nine.

“Te adoro, hermosa. Cada toque tuyo se siente como la luz de una estrella tocando mi piel. Cada beso me respira nueva vida. (I adore you, beautiful. Every touch from you feels like the light from a star touching my skin. Every kiss breathes new life into me.)”

He doesn’t translate for you, leaving his words a mystery to your love-drunk brain. With his next thrust, he pushes you over that edge, a fall from the heavens as you plummet back down from euphoria into your body.

“Fuck, baby, you’re made for me. Gonna make me come, god damn.” His hips move back to leave you, your instant reaction to hook your legs around, digging your heels into the flesh of his ass to keep him inside.

“Please, please inside of me. I’m on the pill, take it religiously,” you whine out a beg, desperation slick in your tone. 

“Who am I to deny you, my sweet girl?” He shakes his head, hips thrusting into you a few more times before he spills his come, coating your walls and rolling his head back with a throaty groan. Both of you are still as you catch your breaths, his cock softening inside of you before he pulls it out slowly and lays next to you.

“You alright?”

A laugh first before answering, “‘M feelin’ amazing right now.”

Joel chuckles himself, a kiss to your cheek before he climbs out of your bed and traipses down the hall. You hear the swish of water from the tap turn on and off, bare footsteps slapping quietly against the wood floors as Jole comes back in through your doorway.

He cleans you up with a wet, warm cloth, exhaustion weighing your eyelids. Fluttering around your room, he moves smoothly as he gets the covers out from under you, tucking you in before discarding the cloth in your hamper and climbing under your comforter on the opposite side. He wraps you up as the little spoon, nose buried in your hair to smell your shampoo. 

Half awake, you reach to shut off your lamp. A confession floods your mind in the dark, faint voice whispering to him behind you, “I love you.”

It’s been a week.

A week since you revealed your heart and yourself fully to Joel.

A week of him not acknowledging either event.

A really weird fucking week.

Your return to school looms over your head, this lull coming at the most inopportune time.

Every day you see Joel, it’s awkward and disjointed in your embraces and kisses when Sarah’s off playing or he’s walking you to the door. Nothing feels as smooth as it was before last week, and there’s a nagging feeling in your chest that Joel taking your virginity ruined everything. That your friends were right, that guys never wanted to be that for someone because “women get too attached.” It sounded like bullshit to you before, and you don’t feel like you’re any more clingy than you’d acted before, the most attention you ask for is a kiss goodnight when you leave his house. He was always the one initiating more.

One night, you’d had a horrible thought that now he’s had you, he didn’t want any more. That it was about the chase, the finish line at the end of the summer that he’d crossed early.

But Joel wasn’t like that. He couldn’t be that type of guy.

He was a father. And a good one at that. An honest man. Someone who looks out for his family, even for strangers.

How could Joel become so lackadaisical with someone he said he cared about?

Today had been another stuttered dance of a goodbye, a chaste peck against your lips and a mumbled “see you tomorrow” before he sent you on your way, the door already closed when you glanced over your shoulder.

It had been eating away at you, carving out a part of your heart as you mulled over it all night. Your parents were asleep at this point, and looking out your window quickly, you saw his living room light still on.

You padded silently downstairs and slipped on shoes, quietly leaving out of your front door and crossing over to Joel’s porch. You knock instead of ringing the bell, not wanting to wake Sarah. The minute it takes Joel to answer the door feels like an hour, the courage you had about this confrontation fading with each passing second.

The entrance cracks open, half of Joel’s revealed as he takes you in. The rest of the door swings open, concern washing over his face with a furrowed brow and downturned mouth.

“It’s late, sweetheart. What are you doin’ out over here? Did something happen? Do you need help with something?”

With your arms crossed over your chest, you shake your head, glancing back at your house over your shoulder and debating if you should just forget this whole thing. Maybe he’s been having an off week — maybe it’s not worth bringing up if it could make things worse before you’re going to be three hours away at school for nine months.

The smallest part of you still urges you to push, to make him say what he’s feeling, even if it’s as simple as ‘I had a bad week at work’. If he can’t talk to you about what’s wrong now, what could happen if something starts bothering him when you’re going to have phone calls and limited visits?

It’s easier to justify a breakup when the person isn’t around for you. 

“Nothing’s happened, I—well, I wanted to come talk to you about this week. Just, things’ve been off. With us.”

Joel’s eyes hit the floor as you say that, his shoulders tensing along with the forearm that’s gripping the door. Anxiety pools in your stomach, the taut silence adding to your nerves. Is he angry?

“Think you should come in and sit down, sweetheart.”

That can’t be good.

You trail behind Joel after he shuts the door, following him into the living room and sitting at the end of the couch he gestures to. He sits near the middle, not quite the complete opposite end but not the spot he would have chosen before this week. Quickly grabbing the remote off the coffee table, he shuts off the TV and leaves the two of you in near darkness save for the soft light of the lamp behind you.

“Guess I should explain myself for this week.”

You can’t bear to look at him right now, your eyes turned down to your lap where you're picking at nails and a hangnail around your thumb.

“I’ve been thinkin’ a lot this week. About us. About the summer,” Joel sighs, his own eyes watching your nervous hands, “It has been a great summer. One of the best for me, I really do mean that. You’re so incredible, darlin’ b—”

“But what?”

Your gaze has risen to Joel, bile burning your throat when you see the look on his face — no hint of a smile when he said those words, no joy in his eyes. His mouth is in a downturned pout, his eyes rounded with sadness. The placement of his hands on his thighs is rigid, back straight as he cheats himself to face you more.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep goin’. For us to continue…this.”

Tears blur your vision until you blink them back, a few stray ones falling down your cheeks. You sniffle as Joel brings a hand up to wipe the drops from your cheeks — you let him, thinking it might be one of the last times, if not the last, he ever does anything soft like that for you.

“Why?”

Water wells the corners of your eyes again, lips pressed into a hard, flat line to hold in your sobs. Joel’s hand lingers against your skin, a flash of regret in his eyes that makes you think he’ll take it all back and you can forget about this ever happening.

But that look fades, replaced with the sadness from a minute before.

“You’re gonna be away at school, sweetheart. Three hours away. Busy as all get out for your last year. And I’m gonna be here. Bein’ a dad. And a mom too, most of the time. Plus with working full time on top of all that, I just, I couldn’t even promise a phone call to you, sweetheart.”

“But you could come visit on the weekends that Sarah’s at her mom’s…or-or I can come down. I would drive down every weekend to see you.”

“How'd you explain coming home every weekend to your parents? And you'd miss all the fun of your senior year for me? I couldn’t let you do that, darlin’. I wouldn’t want you to ever resent me for taking something like that away from you,” he shakes his head, definitiveness laced in his words, “I didn’t get to have all those experiences with Sarah being born, I didn’t even go to college. You have so much ahead of you, I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“How come you’re the one that gets to decide what I should do with my senior year? You’re not even giving me a choice. You’re not even giving me a chance if you do this, Joel.”

Tears fall freely at this point, not bothering to hold them in. Anger burns white hot in your chest, jaw clenched as you think about how he’s gone and decided what your life was going to be from now on.

“Sweetheart, you know it’s not like that—”

“It is. My whole life I’ve been making decisions to please people, if you can even call what I did making decisions. I listened to my parents, did the extracurriculars they told me to, never partied or got in trouble. I went to the college that they thought would be the best for me, even chose my fucking major — my career path — based on one thing my dad said to me years ago; he said ‘Y’know, you’ve got a smile that could sell ice to a penguin.’ I was twelve when he said that. And immediately I thought — if I could sell things like he said, he’d be proud of me, so I went into advertising,” you sit up on the couch further, shaking your head in disbelief, “I thought this summer was the first time I was choosing for myself. That nobody knew about how much I felt for you, that I was the one who was deciding that I wanted you. And when I decided that, when I told you I loved you, I wanted you to know that I was always gonna choose you. That this was the one path I could fully control.”

“Now I think I realize that I wouldn’t have done anything about it had you not kissed me first. I would have never made that decision without you deciding first. I’ve been following blindly my whole life. I wanted you to be the first thing I really chose. But I never really had a choice when it came to us. You were always gonna call the shots for what happened to us.”

“I didn’t go into all this knowing it was gonna come down to this at the end of the summer,” Joel’s voice is low and raspy, “I would never hurt you on purpose or string you along, sweetheart. I was in the moment with you. It was easy to forget about anything else when I was with you. You know I'm not going anywhere, I’ll always be here if you come back. But I think we both know you're destined for great things after you graduate.”

“I need you to do this for me, darlin’, please. Go have fun, be selfish this year. Spread your wings, mi mariposa. My butterfly.”

You stand from the couch, a sob escaping your lips as you turn to walk out the door. Joel follows you closely, grabbing your arm and turning you to face him.

“Joel, I don’t want to do this back and forth anymore. We’re done. It’s fine, it’s what you want and I am clearly not going to change your mind.”

“I just—I want you to know that I’m always going to care about you, sweetheart. I'll always be here for you.”

A sharp pain crackles in your chest as your heart crumbles, shards of it nestling to prick your lungs and steal the air from them, scrape against your ribs, spread everywhere in your body until it all hurts. Without another word, you take your arm from his grasp and leave out the front door. No looking back this time, no seeing if he’s watching you walk away from his life.

The trunk of your car slams shut with a push, all the belongings you’d brought home packed up again to make the drive back to school. You’re moving in earlier than you thought you would, heading back at the same time as your roommates instead of at the last second like every summer before. 

It’s been a dull last few weeks.

You didn’t have your job anymore to fill your days. Joel had messaged you that you were off the hook the morning after, and you spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet tears about not being able to say goodbye to say goodbye to Sarah. You had barely gotten glimpses of Joel, mostly seeing his truck parked in the driveway or coasting down the street in the mornings, but not much of him.

You’re not entirely sure if that’s helped or not.

But it doesn’t matter much now anyways, decisions were made and now you were finally leaving home.

On your driveway, your parents hugged you goodbye, your brother has already left for his school year to start baseball season training. With one last kiss on the cheek from your mom and a pat on the shoulder from your dad, you climbed in behind the wheel and backed out of the driveway. As you face towards the exit of your street, you take one look at the Miller house.

Joel’s standing on the porch with Sarah standing in front of him, a beaming smile on her face as she waves wildly at you. You roll your window down and wave back at her, laughing as she yells out a goodbye and good luck to you.

Flicking your eyes up to her dad standing behind her, hands on her shoulders and a closed, faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He lifts his hand in a short wave to you, and all you manage is a nod of acknowledgment back to him. You start driving away, watching both houses next to each other shrink in the rearview mirror. You blast the AC after rolling your window back up, turning on the radio to fill the silence and distract your mind.

The station host finishes up an ad read and immediately goes into the next song, trills of piano and slow, bright vocals.

American Pie.

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Seventeen | Where It All Started…

Dom brought me straight the WWE medical team, standing by my side with his arms folded up against his chest. The news stayed the same, I had lost the baby and the numbness I felt was overwhelming.

Maybe it was the pills they gave me helping to ease the pain but either way I felt far away.

Once the doctor confirmed, wrote some more prescriptions for more meds, Dom showed me to the Judgement Day bus. He had promos and damage control for being out.

“WWE scrapped the idea with Randy. Now I gotta find out what I’m doing. Doc said to take it easy so stay here, in bed. I’ll be back to check on you.” He said that before kissing my forehead and leaving me there.

Brushing off the clear worry across his face I got underdressed, crawling under the covers, and clamping my eyes down closed as the cramps kept pounding through me. The voices bullied me until I fell asleep finally.

Reaching for the bottle of pills before even reaching for my phone I swallowed two whole without any water.

Unlocking my phone I saw the texts from Dominik clouding my notifications when I read each one carefully.

Dom: Don’t watch RAW until I can talk to you.

Dom: Please just listen to me. I’ll explain later.

Dom: Text me when you wake up.

Dom: It’s too much to text. They want to do a storyline with Liv now that Rhea is out on injury. I’ll explain more later, I promise.

Dropping my phone down on the bed, searching for the remote, and flicking on the TV to RAW just like Dom advised me to not watch. It was just starting when I watched Liv in the middle of the ring with her title belt.

My phone buzzed and I saw his name come across the screen again.

Dom: I’m about to go out. It’s just a storyline. I’ll explain. Call me when you’re up.

I ignored his message and let all of my attention focus on the TV when Dom rushed out towards the stage trying to get a word in edgewise but couldn’t. The crowd was too loud shouting “you suck” for him to even defend himself.

Climbing the ring, toe-to-toe with Liv, she backed him into a corner. Caressing his face and hair I sat up straighter. It’s just a storyline echoed in my head but none of that mattered when you’re forced to watch it.

“I want everything Rhea has,” she almost had melody to her voice before Finn interrupted them.

I was glued to RAW, not daring to take my eyes off it and ignoring every call of Dom’s. He was ring side for another match when he slipped out of the ring only to be attacked by Liv’s mouth.

My boyfriend, the father of our child I lost, was kissing Liv for a storyline. The same girl who wanted him before.

Dom had exited the screen and almost a few moments later I got another call. Answering it I put it on speaker phone, letting it sit on the bed, while I debated the silence.

“It’s just a storyline. I have no control over the storyline. I didn’t even kiss her back.” He pleaded for some kind of mercy.

In a shaky whisper I responded, “I just lost our baby. That’s the last thing I need to happen, Dom.”

“Fuck,” was all I heard before the line went silent again.

“I shouldn’t be here, Dom. I thought being close to you would help but it’s not.” I tried not to cry but I couldn’t help it. The small sobs wrecked through my voice.

Hanging up I didn’t wait to exchange goodbyes when I locked the door to the back bedroom on the bus. Hiding next to the bed I sat on the floor crying knowing I had lost our baby.

The knock at the door was loud, forcing my shoulders to jump up to my ears. “Baby, please open the door. Let me explain their plan.”

I ignored him when my phone buzzed. An old WWE friend, not mutual but just someone I clicked with.

CM Punk: Feel like escaping? I heard you’re hiding on some bus.

Me: Dom is trying to break the bedroom door down. Kind of busy.

CM Punk: I can creat a distraction. Gimme me five.

I laughed for the first time in over 24 hours. It felt familiar and comforting.

Yanking the door open I forced myself to look at him. “It’s just a storyline. You know we have to act, not just wrestle. I’m sorry you saw that, I tried to warn you, mi amore. I didn’t want you to see.”

“So it’s okay as long as I don’t see it? Dom. We aren’t just some new couple dating where my feelings are wildly invalidated. We’ve known each other forever, we were starting a family, and that shit is what we would do to hurt each other. Why don’t you get that? I finally gave in and we’re still playing old games.” I said it before grabbing my bag I brought with me and pushing past him.

“Where are you going?” Dom shouted after me but I kept walking. With his long legs it wasn’t hard to catch up to me, grabbing my arm and forcing me back until I collided with him. “Don’t fucking do this. Fans are right there, watching.”

“Watching you, not me. I’m gonna go book a hotel room. I just need some space.” I didn’t know what I needed but space sounded good. The wave of cramps shot through me like an actual bullet when my knees buckles and I grabbed onto Dom.

He held onto me, lowering down and shouting for security to get medical when everything seemed to blur out of focus. It was honestly a relief from trying so hard to fix everything and to give into him the way he wanted.

It felt deserved to just close my eyes and bow down to the pain tearing through me.

I woke up in a hospital hooked up to wires and machines chirping routinely. “Dom?”

I felt his hand before I heard his voice, “I’m right here. There was an infection, they did a procedure but you’re okay now.”

“I can’t have kids again?” I whispered my biggest fear out-loud since the first time we got pregnant.

His chair screamed against the tile floor, getting as close as he could. “They didn’t say that. We won’t know that. You just need to rest.”

“So going back home?” I knew the second the pain brought me to my knees I was going home. My body had freaked out, rejected the happiness and forced me to get all the space I threatened us with.

“For now. You need to rest. You can come back out for Mania babe. My mom is gonna stay with you.”

“I have friends…” We grew up adjunct to WWE, all my friends were mutual friends of Dom, other wrestlers.

“Finn is off before Mania. He can stay with you a few days.” Dom offered and I looked at him like he was kidding. “I have the rotation set up already.”

“Don’t joke. I don’t need babysitters.” I quipped before sitting up and feeling every sore spot come alive.

The nurse interrupted us when she swiftly got to my side and took my vitals. “We’ll discharge you tomorrow with everything you need. Cramping and bleeding are normal. Make sure you take your pain medication and call us if it exceeds the dosage.”

I took in every word. “When can we try again? When is it safe?”

The nurse’s face dropped and I wanted to crawl inside myself. “Sweetie, let your body heal first.”

Dom handed me my bag after she left and I rummaged through it for the pain pills. Swallowing them whole I pushed my earbuds in and drowned out the world. Everything felt broken inside of just me and I didn’t know how to handle that.

[skylarmoon71]

Miguel O' Hara (Across the Spiderverse) - AU: Chapter 13

“He’s so scary, I swear he never smiles.”

“He probably doesn’t even know what a smile is.”

“That’s actually kind of sad.”

“Maybe that’s just his face.”

These are all statements you’ve heard about your boss.

Miguel O’Hara.

You have to admit, if you didn't know him well, you probably would have thought the same. But you’ve seen all the sides of him. Protective, supportive, clingy, confident. Miguel is more than just the face of a company, or some superior, and you have to admit you’re happy that you’re probably one of the few that know him so well.

The soft buzzing of your phone diverts your attention, and you smile.

“Can you meet me in my office, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.”

He’d told you about the meeting prior, so you’re prepared. Apparently these people were some of his closest friends. You’re a bit nervous, because you really do want them to like you. The minute you get to the door, you’re ready. You lift your hand to knock.

“Come on big guy, just gimme a smile, you can do it.”

There’s a female voice on the other side followed by a groan.

“One smile!” She insists.

“LYLA!!”

He sounds kind of agitated, and all you hear are giggles in response. You’re sort of wondering if you came at the wrong time. There’s a part of you that intends to maybe come back, but the door opens and you jump.

There’s three other people in the room aside from Miguel, all wearing curious looks.

“O-Oh! H-Hi.”

You give an awkward wave.

The woman with the red hair is the one holding the door open, and she grins, pulling you inside as she shuts the door.

“So you’re the one Miguel’s in love with, Hi I’m Lyla. You’re pretty cute, what’s your name, where do you live? Do you have any pets? Miguel’s like a big cat so I guess you do now.” She laughs and Miguel glares in her direction, standing as he walks around the desk.

“Ignore her (Y/N).”

He folds his arms.

“This is Lyla, Peter Parker and Jessica Drew.”

Each of them sends a smile, and Lyla is still at your side, almost inspecting you.

“It’s nice to meet all of you. I’m (Y/N).”

“Likewise, so tell us, how did you manage to tame the big guy? Yesterday I saw him smiling at his phone, it was creepy.” Peter comments. Miguel doesn’t look impressed and you just rub your arm shyly.

Apparently all of his friends like taking jabs at him. Jessica moves to you with a warm smile.

“All jokes aside, we appreciate you looking out for him. He told us what you did that night. You saved his life.”

Your eyes widen.

“Y-You guys know!”

Peter nods proudly and Lyla smiles.

“Sure do, I help with the suit. Miguel’s good at sewing, but his color coordinating skills need help.”

He growls and she just cowers behind you playfully.

It’s obvious they have a good relationship, and it makes you happy. They banter like siblings. Somehow knowing that he has this group looking out for him brings relief.

“Jessica and I grew up in the orphanage together, and I met Peter and Lyla in college. They all helped me start the company. They have different specializations and they manage different parts all across the country.”

Miguel informs.

You’re honestly impressed.

“I’m good with tech, Jessica’s specialty is mechanics and Peter’s pretty much a scientist. “

Lyla lists each skill.

“Wow..”

You’re in awe.

“You guys are like the ultimate superhero team.”

Lyla laughs, lifting her head proudly. Miguel just groans.

“Please don’t make her head any bigger.”

You smile, walking over to Miguel.

“I’m really happy you have such amazing friends. I feel like I can worry a little less now when you’re out fighting crime.”

His expression softens, and for a moment you both seem to forget that you have an audience. You’re just looking into each other’s eyes.

“Soooo, do you guys need a room or…” Peter trails off.

You flush, looking back at them.

“O-Oh no, s-sorry.”

That was a bit embarrassing.

“No need to apologize, it’s cute. I knew he had the hots for you the second he came back gushing about your cooking. He was like OH MY GOODNESS I COULD MARRY THIS WOMAN HER FOOD IS LIKE-”

Miguel covers Lyla’s mouth with the most venomous look and your cheeks are completely flushed. Lyla is waving her hands around and Peter laughs, moving over and parting both of them.

“We’ll take our leave. It was nice meeting you (Y/N), take care of the big guy.”

Jessica and Lyla give a little wave and the door closes behind them. Miguel looks annoyed, maybe a bit bashful.

“Sorry about her. She’s always been like that.” He says.

You just shake your head with a smile.

“It’s okay. I like this side of you. I’ve never really seen you all grumpy and glaring. It’s kind of hot.”

It’s true he’s often stoic, but until recently you didn’t really see his face.

He’s looking away.

“You really need to stop teasing me.”

You smirk.

“Who says I’m teasing? You’re hot, that’s just a fact.”

You’re actually impressed when his cheeks turn a bit red. He still won’t look at you.

This man is literally the cutest.

“Are you coming over again tonight?”

He nods, glancing at you.

“Can we cuddle again?” You ask.

You peer at him, moving closer, and this time he does look at you.

“You don’t mind?”

He asks.

“No, why would I?”

“I’m a bit bigger than most guys, I thought it might be uncomfortable.”

You shake your head, taking his hand.

“You’re perfect.”

His expression becomes warm, and he lifts a hand, cupping your cheek. You smile.

“We can cuddle whenever you want.”

You beam at him, leaning on your toes as you give him a peck. When you pull away, he licks his lips. Just from his expression you can tell that he wants more. He really is like a big cat. You giggle at the thought, pulling him down for another kiss. 

[quietlyblooms]

plots & dynamics

ft. the graveyard shift & bad moon rising

the following plots and dynamics are set in chiyo’s connected modern fantasy verses; if any catch your interest, please like this post! i’ll message you as soon as i can so we can talk about it 💜

since chiyo returns home to her small town after years of being away, gimme old friends who lost touch! we love reconnecting and seeing how people are still the same yet very different :’ )

coming from a family favored by a deity, chiyo does have visions and struggled with them growing up and into adulthood. they’ve always manifested in her art and dreams, but chiyo doesn’t realize she’s seeing the future until after she’s a vampire; i would love to play with this detail! whether before or after her “ death, ” maybe she sees your muse in her vision. maybe they’re in danger, or they are the danger. maybe they notice her paintings ( she sells them in her family’s shop ) depicting familiar scenes from their past, and maybe that makes them suspicious. maybe they notice a pattern in the art she doesn’t display — the stuff that definitely feels dark and ominous.

i also would love to write someone helping chiyo handle her visions after she’s changed into a vampire bc they only get worse. they start to become like night terrors that sometimes just : ) happen in the middle of the day : ) when she’s awake : ) her visions are no longer centered on her own death but the violence she’s capable of as a vampire and any major danger lurking ahead. that can vary upon what we discuss bc i’m flexible with it, but otherwise that’ll be a dead god trying to come back. fun stuff : ) ASDGF

to get back to more lighthearted ideas, chiyo’s family is a pillar of the supernatural community, known for assisting with charms and glamours that make life easier for unordinary folk. they sell their services, but they’ve helped people plenty of times for free — maybe your muse is one of them! or maybe they’re currently in a bad spot and show up during chiyo’s shift. let chiyo help!! whatever troubles them, rest assured miss hisakawa and her family will do what they can 💜

alternatively, we always love the mundane getting caught up in supernatural business! maybe your muse knows chiyo but like the rest of the normal humans of the town, they think the witch stuff is a myth. but then they get caught up either in their own trouble or dragged into helping her cousin bring her back as a vampire. whatever the circumstances, bring the drama B)

all of you who said you’d let chiyo bite you — would you really?? vampires can survive off of animal’s blood in this universe, but it’s admittedly not as filling/tasty or easy to obtain in her small town. do you wanna be chiyo’s personal juice box?? she’ll fight you on it if you offer, but a girl’s gotta eat! a girl will also feel terribly guilty after biting you asdg unless you’re into that

would absolutely love to write chiyo being encouraged to embrace her new “ nature ” as a vampire. she’s a predator now, and predators don’t cry over their prey. it is what it is. how far the other person goes with this — whether they encourage her to still value life but let go of her guilt or to not worry about a few deaths — will definitely be fun to explore bc chiyo’s moral compass is pretty steady. normally.

i would also enjoy another vampire kind of taking chiyo under their wing! i’ve mentioned she does have cyrillo to help her out, but she’s gonna need a whole support system since she has little contact with her own family for a hot minute.

all this chaos happens during chiyo’s hiatus from her manga — her agent and coworkers are getting worried!! why does she keep postponing the next chapter? maybe they’ll just check on her in person : )

aaaand maybe there’s more, but this is all i have for now! pls feel free to like this post even if you have an idea that isn’t listed 💜

[nightghoul381]

Silvio 3rd Anniversary Event

A Beast's Dream Realized by Beauty

Chapter 2

I woke up too early to actually get up.

(I’m like a kid excited for a field trip)

(No, it’s true, but… I didn’t realize how much I was actually looking forward to this.)

Gently, I roll over and look at Prince Silvio.

Even though he’s a tyrant, his sleeping face is so beautiful, I can’t help but admire it.

(I should go back to sleep.)

(Otherwise, Prince Silvio will wake up and tease me, saying “You’re acting like an excited little kid”.)

I can easily imagine it and close my eyes in a hurry.

Silvio: “…hn..”

But when I open my eyes again to the faint movement of the bed, I see Prince Silvio’s shoulders trembling.

(He was already awake!)

Silvio: “You’re acting lite an excited little kid.”

(I knew you’d say that!)

Embarrassed, I try to pinch Silvio’s nose, but he hugs me, preventing me from doing so.

When I buried my face in his broad chest in frustration, my body was lifted and my stomach dropped.

Silvio: “You’ve got to get revenge, don’t you?”

Emma: “I don’t want to be told that by some one who pretended to be asleep and laughed at me.”

Emma: “…Did I wake you up?”

Silvio: “…Nah, I just happened to wake up.”

Silvio: “Forget about it, get some sleep.”

Silvio: “The boat will take your energy just by being on it. I don’t want you to be sound asleep before we get to the island.”

Emma: “Right, I want my first voyage to be memorable.”

(In a few hours, I’ll be out at sea with Prince Silvio…)

Emma: “I’m looking forward to it.”

Emma: “Goodnight, Prince Silvio.”

Silvio: “…Ahh.”

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

A short time later, quiet sleeping sounds could be heard from Emma.

Silvio smiled softly at the sight of her in his arms.

Silvio: “I know you’re looking looking forward to it, kid…”

Silvio: “…I can’t speak for others.”

There is nothing tyrannical about his embarrassed murmur that melted into the quiet room

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

Silvio: “…….”

Silvio: “You’re no better than that fuckin’ mutt.”

Emma: “Ah…Rio too, on his first voyage…He got seasick?”

Silvio: “Ah, hey, are you sure you’re okay? You’re so pale you look like you’ve lost your life to the sea.”

Emma: “Fufu… Maybe it’s feeding that fish now.”

Silvio: “You must be feeling better now, that fish…”

A few hours after happily leaving the harbor, I got seasick like an inexperienced person.

If I take my hand off the boat, I feel like I’m going to collapse from the rocking and the motion sickness.

(The ships I’ve been on so far have been passenger ships, so it’s only natural that there was almost no rocking.)

(I underestimated it. I never thought I’d get this sick.)

(Ugh… If I even think about seasickness, I feel even more sick…)

Silvio: “Fuck… Emma, gimme your hand.”

With a sigh of exasperation, I obediently placed my hand in his outstretched palm.

Emma: “Eh…Whoa!?”

Without question, Silvio picked me up and started walking.

When he reached the place with the least shaking, he laid me down and put my head on his lap.

(Knee pillow… He’s letting me use him as a knee pillow?)

Silvio: “Look at me and I’ll drop your head off my knees.”

(Ah, you’re embarrassed. Even though it’s embarrassing, you did it.)

I don’t have many opportunities to use Silvio’s lap as a pillow, so I kept quiet.

(I thought you would tease me for being seasick, but you were worried enough to give me a knee pillow.)

My chest tightened with joy, swallowing any feeling of guilt.

Emma: “Thank you very much, I feel less sick than before.”

Silvio: “Hurry up and get better. You’re going to be roaming around the island lookin’ for treasure.”

Silvio: “Unless you wanted me to carry you on my back the whole time?”

(I’m sure the only reason he didn’t cancel is because I was looking forward to today.)

(… I have a weakness for your indirect and inscrutable kindness.)

Emma: “Prince Silvio, have you ever experienced seasickness?”

Silvio: “All I wanted to do was get out to sea. I didn’t have time to get seasick.”

Emma: “If I remember right, you went out to sea as one of your achievements.”

Silvio: “…”

Silvio: “…that’s most of it.’

Silvio: “The rest was just being a kid, wanting to see the other side of the sea.”

Emma: “You were a surprisingly curious child.”

Silvio: “Surprises are worthless.”

The slight silence is awfully deafening.

(If mostly for merit, then what are the other reasons?)

I wanted to ask, but Prince Silvio’s past came to mind, and my open mouth snapped shut before I knew it.

My seasickness had all but vanished thanks to Prince Silvio’s lap pillow,

We land on a green island, untouched by man.

And so, with a map in hand, we spend a few hours going this way and that way on our long-awaited treasure hunt—

Emma: “Wow… the sea is beautiful. You can even see the ships.”

Silvio: “That’s the ship we came in on.”

(We were supposed to be heading for a cave, but all that’s in front of us is the sea.)

(I shouldn’t have been going through this on instinct just because there were no obvious landmarks.)

(…I’m so sorry.)

Emma: “What the…?”

As if to lift my depressed heart, I felt a light poke in the back.

When I looked up, my eyes met those of Prince Silvio who had a stupid smile on his face.

Silvio: “You’re gonna have a hard time getting to your destination with this mess of a map.”

Silvio: “Getting lost is part of the fun. Throw away your depressing thoughts and just enjoy the treasure hunt.”

Silvio: “But if you’ve had enough of being lost, you can always ask me politely to give you the answer.”

(Right, Prince Silvio has been to this island before.)

(Even if your memory is hazy from when you were a child, you should still be able to reach your destination in no time, even with a messy map.)

(And yet, even though I was pushing down the wrong path, you were still following me.)

Since it’s my first treasure hunt, it must be worth it to find it.

Emma: “Prince Silvio, you’re being gentler than usual today.”

Silvio: “I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to be told I can’t sail or treasure hunt again.”

(Does that mean you want to continue sailing and treasure hunting with me in the future…?)

Long fingers pinch at my cheeks.

Prince Silvio’s face, with looked flushed with embarrassment, was the answer.

Silvio: “Get that smirk off your face.”

Emma: “Please wait five minutes.”

Silvio: “Come on.”

Emma: “Fufu, I’m sorry.”

(But I welcome this kind of unreasonableness.)

When my smile doesn’t relax, Prince Silvio clicks his tongue.

Silvio: “However, at this rate, we won’t get to the treasure by nightfall, so I’ll give you a hint.”

Emma: “By all means, tell me.”

Silvio: “If you can’t get there even with the hints, you’ll be punished.”

(…I’ll have to die trying.)

While the words he spoke were threatening, the hints Prince Silvio gave were too kind.

Thanks to this, within ten minutes our destination, the cave, was in sight…

Emma: “Waahh…!”

Silvio: “It’s just a bunch of hanging ivy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma: “Why is there a pitfall in a place like this…!!”

Silvio: “The hole’s only big enough for one kid, relax.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma: “Bu… Ouch, something hit me in the face…”

Silvio: “It’s just a cushion. It’s worth a lot of money though.”

Silvio: “Turn around. I’ll make sure you’re not hurt, just in case.” 2217

Emma: “Uh… okay”

Prince Silvio tilted my face left and right, checking me carefully for injuries.

What awaited us in the cave was a trap fest, and our strength was being drained.

(But… it’s strange.)

(All of the traps are so rough and weak; they seem like they were made by a child.)

(I wonder if I’m just jaded because I’ve experienced Prince Clavis’s traps so many times.)

And I’m also feeling another kind of discomfort…

Silvio: “……”

(Ah, this face again.)

Since entering the cave, the wrinkles between Prince Silvio’s eyebrows have gradually deepened.

Seeing that the conversation is also decreasing, I know it’s not just my imagination.

(Should I ask?)

Silvio: “….ah.”

Emma: “! Is something wrong?

Perhaps remembering something, Silvio clicked his tongue with a face that looked like he’d chewed up a bitter bug.

Silvio: “Damn it… why’d I take so long to remember?”

Emma: “Um, Prince Silvio…?”

Silvio: “Let’s go home.”

Emma: “What!?”

The hand that was holding my face grabbed my hand and without question he started back the way we came, dragging me along behind.

Emma: “Wait a minute, why did you suddenly decide to leave? Is that a rule of thumb?”

Silvio: “……yes.”

(What the hell happened just now…)

Emma: “Can I at least look at the treasure chest from a distance…?”

Silvio: “There’re plenty of treasure chests in the castle. Look at those.”

(It’s my first treasure hunt, I wanted to work hard until I found the treasure chest with Prince Silvio…)

(But you’re saying it with such a serious look on your face, you must have sensed some danger.)

I endure the feeling of regret.

Emma: “Okay, I understand. When we get back to the castle, let’s plan our next voyage!”

Silvio: “Oh, I’ll give you a more thrilling treasure hunt than here.”

The moment I moved my legs to follow—

Emma: “Oops…”

Silvio: “Ah…”

In the dimly lit cave, my foot had caught on a hollow and I immediately put my hand on the wall beside me.

Silvio: “Don’t push there, you idiot!”

Emma: “Eh?

Emma: “Whaaaa…!!”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Premium End | Epilogue

[elisysd]

59. I don't ask for much, gimme love

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Gimme Love - Sia

Julia would have loved to stay with Ethan a little more but he had a few meetings to intend to and didn’t know exactly when he would be back. She had come back to her room and changed before texting Romy to know if she wanted to come for a movie after her duties. The blonde had yet to reply but it didn’t worry Julia, she knew she was busy. She took a well needed shower before preparing everything. She even had the time for a quick chat with her brother. She realized it was starting to get late and she had no news from Romy, worry settled in her. She was about to text her once again to know if she was still up for the movie when she heard a loud bang on her door and her best friend storming in the room when she opened her door. She didn’t straight away notice the tears streaming down on Romy’s face but when she did, she didn’t ask questions and took her in her arms. It was the last straw for the German driver who broke down in Julia’s embrace.

“I… I think Kyle and I are over.”

“What? What do you mean, you are over? What happened?”

“Kyle asked me to marry him and I said no.”

Julia felt the need to sit, forcing her best friend to do the same.

“Okay, tell me what happened exactly.”

“I broke his heart, Julia, there is nothing more to explain.”

“But… I don’t understand… you love him? You told me you wanted a family with him… I assumed that marrying him was on your list. Fine, maybe not that soon, but one day…”

“Because it doesn’t come from love! Do you know how he proposed? If I can even call that proposing… I came back from Audi's meeting and I was getting ready to meet you when he knocked. He was fidgety and it didn’t really come as a surprise, he fucked up his quali. You know that a P8 for him is like finishing last. I tried to calm him down, to say that it wasn’t the worst, that he could come out on top, Vegas is made for that. He looked me dead in the eye and said that he wasn’t racing tomorrow. That he didn’t say to the doctor before quali that his migraines came back and that it was getting worse. That he was terrified of losing his eyesight. And that he wanted to marry me tonight because at least he would be able to see me. Not even an I love you, just I want to see you in white before losing everything. That’s…..selfish!”

Romy took her head between her hands and cried some more. Julia felt powerless. She threw an arm around her best friend’s shoulders to pull her against her.

“He loves you Romy. He loves you so much. He is scared to lose you more than anything.”

“I love him too. It’s just… I want to marry him. One day. Not today. I’m not ready and I don’t want to do it out of fear. We will regret it.”

“Did you tell him?” Julia asked.

“No… I just told him that I couldn’t and I left.” Romy admitted sheepishly.

“Romy! If there is one thing that I learned from Ethan’s and I breakup it’s to not run away without explanation! It will make them freak out!”

“I know! I messed up, I panicked, okay? Gosh… what did I do?”

“Call him. Or at least text him, to let him know that you’re okay.”

She felt the blonde nodding before standing up, taking her phone out of her pocket to text Kyle. Meanwhile, Julia took the opportunity to boil some water for tea. Once done and once Romy finally managed to calm down, they sat down on the bed with their hot tea.

“Can I stay with you tonight? I don’t want to be alone…” Romy asked.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

But as soon as Romy hit her pillow, sleep and emotional exhaustion from the day caught up to her. Julia put the cover on her best friend and slowly and without making any noise left her. Her first instinct was to go to Ethan. If someone might have heard about the situation it might have been him. She hoped he wasn’t sleeping. She would feel bad to disturb him. When she arrived in front of his door, she knocked and she backed down when the door opened immediately and closed soon after.

“Sorry…” he apologized, noticing her surprised expression. “Kyle’s in there.” he added.

“In the same emotional state as Romy, I guess.”

“If by emotional state, you mean a mess, then yeah. I swear I could fill up a bottle with only his tears.”

“He screwed up. In a very cute way.”

“I know. It was a stupid idea. I know it’s Vegas and it might have been fitting in other circumstances but telling him to marry him just because he wants to see her when he’ll say ‘I do’ was not the best way to propose. I tried to tell him that maybe he is overreacting with his eyesight. That maybe, just like the doctor said, it will stabilize at some point and he won’t turn entirely blind but he is obsessed with the idea that he could. No matter how low the chances might get.” Ethan sighed.

“Romy is sure he will want to break up, now…”

“No way in hell. Kyle made his choice a long time ago. He chose Romy. And Kye is probably the most loyal guy I’ve come across. That’s not for no reason Ludwig and I call him the golden retriever. Once he has decided that you were his friend, he doesn’t change his mind. It’s for life. If Romy didn’t give up on him when he told her about his eyes, then nothing will make him break up with her unless she decides otherwise. She is the one who is in control. How is she?”

“She is sleeping but yeah… she is no better than him. But it also has been a tough few weeks for her, for Kyle too I’m not saying it was not. It’s just… she lost a baby. Apparently it didn’t go well with Kyle’s parents and…” she was interrupted by Ethan’s laughs. “What?”

“Of course it couldn’t go well. Kyle is from Kentucky and his parents were clearly not the richest. He grew up in a farm. It’s everything Romy hates.”

“Hey, she grew up on a farm too!”

“Not the same kind, Joolsie.”

She shrugged. He leaned against the wall before sitting on the floor, as she did the same. He let his head slightly bang against the beige surface, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before finally looking at her.

“That’s not nice, though… kicking you out of your own bed when you start on pole tomorrow. Are you sure it’s not his strategy?”

“That would be a mean one. And he didn’t kick me out. I could totally sleep in the bed if I wanted, even if he is there. I’ve done it in the past. Plenty of times. With Ludwig too. Sometimes it was us three in the same bed. Good times.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Oh no, you don’t.” he winked at her, trying to make her blush on purpose.

They kept on talking for a while until Julai noticed that Ethan was starting to get really tired and her as well.

“You should go to sleep, you have a race to win tomorrow.”

“True. One that is not the race to your heart.” he joked, trying to repress a yawn.

“You won that one a long time ago, dummy.” she playfully punched his shoulder as he embraced her in a hug.

As she was about to leave him, not without a kiss on the cheek, he shyly asked.

“You’ll watch the whole race, right?”

“Until the very end.”

Las Vegas had always been a race that Julia loved to hate. The sparkles, the events, the VIPs were replacing the interest of the race when the track was a very good one. Somehow, she was glad to spend the race in Audi’s hospitality, it wasn’t as crowded as other hospitalities. She knew Ferrari and Lamborghini were getting the most prestigious VIPs and she was glad to at least have a little somewhere where cameras wouldn’t film her. Unfortunately for her, as she was about to enter the Audi’s facility, she was stopped by a Sky Sport journalist shoving his microphone and the camera to her face.

“And we are here with Miss Julia Leclerc. After being laid off by Ferrari, did you decide to give Audi a try?”

“Well… first off, I’m not being laid off, we reached a mutual agreement saying that for personal reasons it would be better for me to start working for Ferrari in two years. Second, I’m here to support my best friend.”

“Romy Schumacher starts right behind Ethan Verstappen, your ex-boyfriend. We saw you watching qualifying yesterday from his garage, did you rekindle an old flame? For whom your heart is beating tonight?”

“For the best driver. Thank you.”

She hated the implicit judgment in those questions, it was so unprofessional from them. She had always hated journalists and they didn’t even bother to try to show her that she could change her mind. She smiled at the staff present there and sat in a corner of the room, taking out her sketchbook to draw. For some reason, the Eiffel Tower was what popped into her mind. She smiled at the memory. It was dear to her. It was so special. She took her necklace between her thumb and pointer fingers and looked at the replica of her dad’s trophy. She had never taken it off. Not even when she had been with Martin, which should have been a clear indicator that her feelings for Ethan were way stronger than what she wanted to admit to herself.

“What are you thinking about?” Romy’s voice startled her.

“How stupid I’ve been about Ethan.”

“I’m not going to tell you otherwise.”

“Have you been able to see Kyle?” Julia carefully asked.

“Yeah… we made up. Kinda. I mean… he didn’t really let me talk. If you know what I mean.”

“I have an idea, yeah.”

“We will have to talk, though. We have many things to discuss. Like… I’m thinking of something. It’s a big step but I want him to move in with me. I have a big house, easy to rearrange for it to be more convenient for him. It’s quiet, peaceful. It has an amazing view of the mountains… What do you think?” The blond shyly asked her friend.

“Romy! That’s amazing! That’s a huge step, for sure. But you are meant to be, it’s only logical.”

“I guess I’m just scared because it means that next year we will truly be together twenty-four on seven.”

“You will have a break on race weekends.”

“Well, no… gosh, you don’t know!” Romy exclaimed.

“I don’t know what?”

“Kyle wants to do one last year in F1 before retiring. He doesn’t feel confident in a car anymore and he decided to race for Audi. He doesn’t want the pressure of the championship. He wants to race for fun and he wants to have me as his teammate…. I thought Ethan would have told you.”

“Kyle is going to retire…. that's news I’ve never thought I would hear this soon. I mean, I understand it’s just a shock. He is going to leave with three world championships under his belt, it’s nice. Does he know what he wants to do after?”

“Support me. He said he would turn to my personal handyman.” she smiled at the thought.

“Who is going to replace him in Lambo, then?”

Romy shrugged.

“It’s not my problem and to be honest I don’t care. I would love to keep on chatting with you but I have a win to snatch from your ex-boyfriend. Or is it boyfriend now? Soon-to-be boyfriend? I can’t keep up with you guys, you have to make a choice.”

Julia laughed, shaking slightly her head as she saw her best friend leaving her. Soon, the race was about to start and she decided to go to the garage. It was stupid to stay hidden there when everyone knew she was an Audi’s guest. As soon as the lights went out, Julia understood it would be a close race. Romy was determined to overtake Ethan, even if she had to play dirty and Ethan didn’t want to let her. Julia could only hope they wouldn’t be stupid enough to ruin their chances. It was close until, sadly, Ludwig sent his car in the barriers, and the safety car arrived on track. She heard Audi frustrated sighs in the garage as they had pitted her right before the yellow flag. Julia felt a little bad for her friend, especially after hearing the torrent of insults coming out of her mouth on the radio. But she couldn’t help but smile when she saw Maserati’s brilliantly executed double pit-stop. Chloe was leading the race, followed by Ethan.

They were racing amazingly together, helping each other out when they could in an attempt to increase the gap between them and Romy who had managed to get back in third place. The more the laps went by the more Julia could dream of a Maserati double podium, the first one in their history. Words of encouragement were screamed in the garage for Romy but hers were for the car number thirty-two that had just managed to take back the first place, five laps before the checkered flag. When there were two laps to go and it was clear for everyone that it would be a Maserati’s win, she slowly made her way out of the garage to approach the team. They were preparing to rush to wait for their drivers. She was about to stay in a corner, when Ethan’s physiotherapist noticed her and told her to come to the front.

Finally, she saw the cars entering the last straight line. A quick look to the giant screens indicated to her that it was Ethan who was still leading and her heartbeat increased to the point she thought it was going to leap out of her chest. The fresh air hit her nose but her cheeks were burning. She felt happy and she could get used to that feeling. When they waved the checkered flag the whole team started to hug and scream in her ears. She was pulled into warm embraces from left to right but didn’t mind it.

When Ethan finally parked his car and jumped out of it to run to his team she saw a slight shift in his attitude and she knew he had noticed her. Her thought was soon confirmed when she was the first one he took in his arms, almost crushing her against the barriers. She heard his voice but was unable to understand what he was saying. She knew the cameras were on them but she didn’t care, all that mattered was him. She raised his visor to see his glossy blue eyes.

“You stayed. You’re here.” he said.

“Of course. I promised you.”

She saw him hesitating to leave, looking lost. When he finally was rushed to go to the cool down room, he quickly kissed her knuckles and winked at her. The podium celebrations went on in a blur, she quickly snapped a picture, thinking a mostly feminine podium had a nice look. When champagne arrived she quickly escaped to make her way to Ethan’s driver room.

It was the best scenario she had imagined, Ethan winning, on cloud nine and her giving him a gift she had spent countless hours perfecting. Her hands were sweaty. She hoped he would like it, she hoped he wouldn’t find it stupid, she hoped it would convey everything she was feeling for him and more. She sat on the couch and retrieved it from her bag before putting it down on the coffee table. Now she just had to wait.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t have to wait for long as soon the door opened, revealing Ethan, his head down and out of breath. And when he saw her, his smile intensified as he rushed to her, trying to make her spin but failing as the room was not made for that. Instead, he kept her close to him, savoring the instant.

“For a moment, I thought you had left. I ran as fast as I could to change so I could see you.”

“I promised you I would stay.”

“I know, it’s just… It’s still hard for me to fully believe you, I think.” he confessed.

“Well, I have something for you that maybe will help you believe it.”

She led him to the couch, showing him the present. He gave her a weird look before unwrapping it to find a huge book that looked like a photo album.

“It’s a scrapbook. I made it myself. It’s filled with a lot of personal things.”

Shyly he started to open it. He recognised pieces of a vision board he knew well to have made one, years ago, when they were in the same class. The bright red dream to work with her dad was surrounded by little doodles of what he noticed were related to him. His first helmet, his first kart, his first trophy. Under each of the little doodles was written the age she had drawn them. Eighth, twelve years old, thirteen and so on. He kept on discovering the pages, smiling at pictures of  what seemed to be memories of her life when she was younger. Happy ones. He looked at her, eyes full of questions.

“Keep reading. I’ll explain later.”

He thought his heart was going to stop when he saw the next pictures. Julia and Louis. The karting day. The frame he had thrown against a wall and the picture he had to cut in half. With a shaking hand he brushed it, trying to memorize the lines of their faces. He thought he would never see it again. He had deleted the original picture on his phone. And then were pictures of each track they had gone to and pictures of them, more and more present as they had grown closer. They were  still surrounded with sketches, but the captions were not the same. It was his eyes at first, then his lips, his nose, and his eyes and nose, his nose and lips until a full portrait. That’s when she made him look at her.

“Before you discover the last page, I wanted to tell you what it meant exactly. You’ve always been a part of me, for longer than I’ve thought. You’ve always been there, wandering in the corner of my mind. Taking a lot of space. You’re a part of me. This scrapbook encompasses all that I am. All that I ever was and all that I long to be. It’s a small zoom on my life. A life I want to share with you. It felt right to give that to you. Keep your time to look at everything. I've been writing little stupid anecdotes here and there. There are many things to find out and when you’ll have seen everything, I hope you’ll understand that I’m serious when it comes to us. I want to make another scrapbook in a few years but this time filled with what we are. Because I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And I want to share everything with you. If only you let me. Now, here comes the last page.”

The last page was a copy of her bucket list but right next to it was glued a little package. He carefully opened it to take a red bracelet he knew very well.

“It’s yours.”

“Julia…. It's a family heirloom… I can’t accept it. It holds such a special place in your family history…”

“You’re family. You’re the family I’m choosing. You’re the family I will always choose. I’m not going anywhere, not now and not ever. I’m done running away. I’m done self sabotaging, I’m done pretending, I’m done playing. It’s you and me. And I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I broke your heart, I’m sorry I thought I wasn’t enough for you, I’m sorry about a lot of things. But I’m not sorry to love you with everything that I am and will be. So, please, take it.”

He put it around his wrist before locking his gaze with hers. She was calmly smiling, her breathing was even and if her eyes were glossy, she was still serene. Confident. Happy. She was metaphorically giving herself to him in a way he had never thought she would. He took her hands in his, at a loss of words and only shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Julia… I ….”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He caressed her cheek, moving away a few strands of hair before looking at her lips.

“If I don’t have to say something, maybe I can still show you what I’m feeling right now.” he said, leaning it, dying to feel her lips on his but was quickly stopped by her firm hand on his chest.

“Nope. The next time you’ll kiss me, I want it to be special. Like really special and for that I need you to be a little bit more patient.”

“You’re trying to kill me. Tell me, what have you planned?”

“As if I was going to tell you. You’ll see. Soon.”

She kissed his cheek, lingering a little more than necessary, making him even more flustered. But when she left, Ethan knew. Their right time had arrived. They were ready. She was ready. And a part of him was curious to see what else she had planned to do.

Author's note: And here you have the penultimate chapter.... Friday will be the climax of Gold Rush. =(

What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

[cowboybrunch]

I have been combing through your archive for any botrd content, so I beg you: Please, please please gimme a infodump on botrd🥺🥺

Your favourite snippets, anything you deleted but still liked, fun facts, anything really 🙏🙏 I will be grateful for any crumbs you provide

leah hi!!! waking up to ur notifications made me happy dance <3 <3 :-)

*rubs hands together* oh you have NO IDEA what you just unlocked

let's start with some fun facts:

when I first started writing BOTRD, it was entirely in Rosalie's pov and it was intended to be a straightforward romance (i refer to this as draft zero). i got about 80% of the way in and then realized 1) it's not really romantic at all and girlie needs to get out of this situation and 2) there was another story hidden in Theodore's pov that i wanted to explore

the first completed draft is sitting at 95,267 words and is organized into acts and scenes, not chapters. here are the names of the first scenes from each act (only used for outlining purposes):

act 1: "sunrise" act 2A: "old flame" act 2B: "ten seconds" act 3: "mouse thunder storm"

after finishing the first draft, i jumped straight into writing the prequel, Judas Wept. and im so glad i did! it really influenced how i'm approaching future drafts (and it gave us Elias! i love Elias!)

my favorite character to write dialogue for is Emily. my favorite character to write period is Marcella

some rapid fire lore!

at the beginning of botrd, Theodore has consumed 2 souls: the soul of the person that killed him, and Andrew's. at the end, he's got around 6,000 (most from Mortae voluntarily sacrificing themselves to make him OP)

Marcella only targets men due to her past trauma and a desire to protect young women. she thinks it's funny when they beg. she has no qualms with murder or lawlessness. if she had Theodore's abilities, we wouldn't have a story. she would've dealt with this mess a century ago

Rosalie is very subdued and passive in act 1. she thinks more than she speaks or acts in her first few POV chapters. stuck with one foot in the past kinda thing. once she starts processing her grief, she becomes more of an active participant (which is not necessarily a good thing! but! she's healing!)

Azmaveth has a whole secret backstory (Uriel, too! i dont know if we ever unlock that one on page) but basically: he lost a child, so now he's ultra protective of his wards (Theodore and Marcella) BUT he has to balance that with his loyalty towards Morrigan so she doesn't come by and just slaughter all of them

i affectionately refer to Rosalie's friends as "the humans" and they're a bunch of goobs. Mike is a golden retriever. James is a chihuahua. Henry is a dachshund. Emily isn't a dog, she's a mountain lion

and now, a favorite snippet:

(context: Theodore is at dinner with Rosalie's friends. they're having a potluck!)

I start silently amending my statements without her having to ask. I lived in California for a few years and recently moved back. Truth. I work at my foster father’s restaurant. Lie. I don’t follow any sports, but baseball is my favorite. Truth. She coughs to hide her chuckle, but I don’t think anyone is fooled. Baseball? It’s the great American pastime, is it not? Aren’t you French? Her eyes dance with laughter. I’ll give her all of my secrets if she just keeps looking at me like that.

something i deleted!

"little life" (Rosalie POV):

I work. I eat. I sleep. I go to family dinners once a week and participate in conversations and drinking games and try my best to quell the worry in their eyes. It’s easy, or it should be. I don’t tell them about Theodore, and they don’t ask. Not directly anyway, but I see the questions in Emily’s eyes when she catches me twisting my wrist in the lamplight, studying smaller scars that linger above the others, the promise I’d made, the debt owed. I try not to think about it and succeed, mostly.

and i'll wrap up with a picrew dump!

Rosalie / Emily / Andrew

Theodore / Marcella / Azmaveth

Gemma / Elias

this story has been my brain worm for two years and will probably pester me for two thousand more so thank you so much for asking about it!! <3

[greensagephase]

Hi!!! First, how are youu??! I hope you are doing find. Second, I LOVE NON VIOLENT COMMUNICATION SO FREAKING MUCH!! I mean honestly, majestic piece of work. I would frame it or printed out to have it in a really cute book in my shelf. You are amazing.

Also, I find it adorable when you apologise for the word count, because it is like: non sense, I want moorre, gimme all the words your brain creates into this beautiful poetry. Really, it is amazing.

Lastly, I hope I am not overstepping, but, do you have any advice on how to start writing? Because I've had this idea for months, and I feel like it is really good. But I sometimes can't find the way to translate the things I picture in my brain to paper, you know? So, I just wanted to ask you, because your story really made me want to write mine.

Anyway, love yaaa. You don't have to answer if you don't want to ❤️. Apologies for my English, it isn't my first language

Hiii, V!!! I’m doing great today, thank you!! I hope you’re having a fantastic day/night!! (Also, sorry for taking a moment to reply to your ask but I wanted to sit down and make sure what I'm saying makes sense regarding the writing!)

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 🥹 You’re so sweet, truly!!! I’m screaming about the framing or printing out the story into a book 😭 (lowkey, I might do that once the fic is done as it’s my best writing so far and I’m proud of it, so thank you for the idea)!! You’re too kind!!!🥺

And aww, thank you!! The word count always makes me feel guilty! I feel like in a way, I’m forcing readers to read long chapters, even though I know I’m not forcing anyone physically. I have a few readers who always reassure me it’s okay, so I’m slowly learning to accept that some of my chapters are and might continue to be longer than the average length of fanfic chapters lol!

As to the last bit, you’re not overstepping at all!! I’m so happy you’re writing your own fic, and I’m so, so touched that NC made you want to write it!!!! Seriously, this alone made my day!! Thank you!!

On how to start writing (I apologize for how long my response is but hopefully I can be somewhat helpful), I have some advice and I’m also sharing my own process for writing a NC chapter specifically since the process is more concrete than it is for my other short and standalone pieces.

One, I recommend simply starting!! I was reluctant to write my first ATSV work because I hadn’t written fanfic in many years and all I had been writing was either academic or for my original novels (not published but I hope one day they are). From experience, I also know posting fanfic online is or can be a commitment. I never want to be a writer that leaves a fic halfway done because as a fanfic reader, I’ve experienced that pain too many times 😭, so I knew if I posted anything that was longer than one part, I was going to stick with it no matter the ups and downs of my life. Ultimately, I decided to push past everything, even though I had nothing beyond the first chapter of this initial idea. I had an itch and needed to scratch it, so I gave in and literally wrote it on a car ride in my notes app lol not caring if I even posted it. That work is not published, it never was (it’s still on my notes app and it’ll probably stay there forever lol), but it helped me immensely with finding my voice and getting comfortable writing fanfic again. A few days after writing that, I was working on the first NC chapter! So, just start writing and don’t think about it. Brain dump everything on a page that you have so far without worrying about how well it’s written yet!

Two, I recommend doing a writing exercise. It doesn’t have to be about your fanfic, just write about something and get your writing juices going. Sometimes we overthink and it’s the one thing holding us back! You can easily find some short writing prompts on here, so if you’re interested in that, just search some up! This helps warm you up and once again, get more comfortable with writing.

My process:

Consider using outlines. I use these especially with NC because it’s a multiple parts work and has a clear story line. These are the best thing ever! I've also seen other people use mind maps, but I prefer outlines because they're more organized in my opinion.

I start the outline with the “bones” or foundation of the work. These are the main points/events of the writing piece. This is anything from a big event like an action moment with a villain to a character chilling alone on a rooftop, but they can also be pieces of dialogue that are essential to the chapter. I usually have some snippets already planned out in my head, so I go ahead and include those in this part. So I start by doing this, writing each point in chronological order, at least the way it starts out. Sometimes it changes with new main points being added or some omitted during the process and later on in editing. That’s okay! But either way, writing the events in chronological order helps keep everything organized and allows me to physically see the layout/flow of the chapter so far, and make changes to it.

I then go back and add the “meat.” This is all the details surrounding the main point that I have in mind already. This part becomes bigger once I've laid out the first layer of details.

Here’s an example from one of my old outlines, please excuse the handwriting and how messy it may seem. Usually I’m planning and writing all my thoughts in a rush because my brain is thinking faster than my hand is moving lol (I’m like “write that down, write that down!”)

The main point is that Miguel wakes up. Everything else is the meat of that scene and you can see I even have that one snippet of dialogue that I had stuck in my brain.

When I get to the writing on my laptop, I follow my outline and by the end of a writing session, I have a scene that I’m happy with. I do go back and edit, and usually this is when I do my best ✨magic.✨ I think the reason for that is that the idea/scene is not stuck in my head anymore and I can focus entirely on the other details that truly capture the mood of the scene perfectly to how I see it play out in my head, down to how the characters are sitting and looking at each other to the weather outside. This is why I highly suggest that you just write what you have so far and allow your brain to do its magic, it'll help you capture your story from brain to paper!

I hope this helps a bit! And of course, don’t stress too much on it! Writing should be fun and not stressful! Be kind to your writing and have fun creating!

Once you post your fanfic, pls tag me! 😊 I'm trying to read more fanfic these days, so I'd love to read yours! And if you have other questions that I can help you with, send them my way! I’m not an expert but sometimes just talking with someone helps a lot! Also, no need to apologize about your English!! It’s great!!! 🥰 I hope you have a great weekend, V!! 💞💞

[hlvrfreakyfriday]

HLVRFF: Chapter 11

Gordon was honestly a little worried he’d fucked up when Benry started sobbing again. Thankfully, though, the entity was able to speak through his tears just enough to assure Gordon he was crying in relief.

Benry really didn’t want to leave. The fact that he was going to anyway, just to try and help Gordon feel better, just further cemented that Benry really does care about him. Gordon’s kicking himself for never taking the time to really notice until now.

(He’s kicking himself for a lot of things regarding Benry, really.)

When Benry’s sobs finally calmed down to just a few quiet sniffles, the two of them got to talking.

About Gordon’s nightmares…

“Just because I have nightmares about the fight on Xen doesn’t mean I’m actually still afraid of you. I still have nightmares sometimes about that army of Coomer clones too, but I still willingly go hang out with Dr. Coomer. And like, hell, when I was a kid I had this recurring nightmare about a giant Agumon trying to eat me, even though he was one of my favorite Digimon. Dreams are just weird, y’know?”

“huh. yeah, i guess so. wait... if you had nightmares about your favorite digimon, does that mean i’m your favorite roommate~?”

“Pretty sure you’re my only roommate, Benry.”

“pretty sure you’re dodging the question, gordon.”

About Benry’s life in Black Mesa’s labs…

“i never talked about it ‘cause like, it’s all in the past. can’t do anything about it. and i’m not in the labs anymore now, so. it’s not important.”

“I, uh, kind of think it IS important? I had one of your nightmares, the one about being cut up on the exam table, so obviously that shit still affects you. Do you at least talk to Tommy about this when it’s bothering you?”

“uhhhhhhhh......”

“Dude.”

“please don’t tell tommy.”

“Oh, I’m gonna tell him if you don’t tell him yourself.”

“okay fine geeeeeez.”

About… feelings…

“Hah, you know, I’m a little surprised that you don’t actually hate me.”

“huh? why?”

“I mean... I was really shitty to you? Even before the betrayal thing, when the worst thing you did was just be annoying. I may have been stressed out of my fucking mind during all that, but I never lashed out at the other guys nearly as much as I did at you. Or, y’know. Told any of the others that I wished they were dead. Can’t... really say I blame you for getting so pissed at me, after all that...”

“uh. yeah.”

“Yyyeah. So... why don’t you hate me?”

“...i just don’t. never hated you. not even when i was big mad at you. like, anger and hatred are two different things. you’ve made me feel angry, but never actual, straight-up hate. i know i’ve said i hated you a couple times, but that was a big fat lie. even though you didn’t remember me and kept yelling at me, i was still just... happy to see you again. hear you laugh again. see your light again. i really really missed you. i didn’t wanna lose you again, especially not so soon after finally finding you."

“Benrey, I...”

“-which kinda makes all the messed up stuff i did even more messed up. which is uh, why i really wasn’t expecting you to ever forgive me. um... you do forgive me, right? i, i didn’t misunderstand that?”

“I do, yeah.”

“...even though you don’t have to?”

“I want to. The main reason I was still holding any grudges against you is because I thought you didn’t care; that you weren’t sorry about the things you did, and that it was all just... a fucking game to you or something. Knowing that you DO care, that you actually care a whole lot... It helps. Helps me feel better. Even if just a little bit. So I forgive you, because I genuinely want to.”

“.....”

“And like I said, I may not remember when we were friends as kids, but I really want to be friends again.”

“.......”

“...Oh shit are you crying again? Fuck, dude, don’t-”

“shhut th’ fuck upppppppp and just gimme hug.”

They talked for a good long while, on into the night. They had to stop eventually though, especially for Benry’s sake. All that crying and heart-pouring clearly took a lot out of the guy. When the time for sleep came, Benry hesitantly asked if Gordon would… maybe stay? Share the bed, keep the cuddles going?

And maybe Gordon was just feeling overly soft and fond after all that just happened, because he did stay.

Or, well. They actually moved from Benry’s room to Gordon’s, with his much bigger, actually-made-for-two-people bed. Gordon had forgotten just how nice it was to share a bed with someone. The warmth and presence of another body lying next to his had always been soothing for him, and he never realized just how much he missed it. It made it hard for him to actually get up when morning finally came.

It was also hard to get up due to the fact that Benry was holding onto him like he was an oversized teddybear. Which was not only restricting, but also very comfy.

Shit, no wonder Anna was always wanting to use Gordon as a pillow. His body makes a pretty great one.

From then on, if there was any remaining tension in the house, it’s definitely gone now. Gordon’s already finding himself way more patient and way less annoyed with Benry and his antics. Like, yeah, he already was before, but if his attitude about the entity these past weeks was a long way away from how it was in Black Mesa, now it’s practically light-years away.

Benry’s attitude seems to have shifted, too. He’s gotten… more genuine, if Gordon had to describe it. Letting his usual aloofness falter way more than before. He seems to be less intent on pressing all of Gordon’s buttons, too (or at least, no longer to the point that Gordon gets actually upset). They still have their back-and-forth banter, but it's got Gordon mostly laughing rather than groaning. He’s emoting more with his face, and whether that’s Benry adapting to not having his Sweet Voice, or it’s a result of their honest talk that night, Gordon’s not sure.

But it’s really nice to see.

*****

In the morning, a few days later, they get a knock on the door. Gordon's a little apprehensive about answering at first, not wanting a repeat of when Anna came by- but then again, the only other people who don’t know about all the weird alien shit in his life are Gordon’s mom and brother, and they both always call or text before visiting. So it’s probably just one of the team or a mail guy or something. Gordon goes to open the door and-

“Dr. Freemannn...”

-once again, it is neither of those.

Now, except for the few times the guy actually threatened him, Gordon’s never been that freaked out by Tommy’s weird eldritch dad. When he’s not trying to ‘convince’ Gordon of something, he just looks like your standard suit-wearing government employee.

To Gordon’s regular human eyes, anyway.

Through Benry’s eyes, Gordon can see that Mr. Coolatta lacks any of the glowing 'life energy’ patterns on his body. Benry’s body lacks those, too, but he at least has the glow in his eyes that every living creature seems to have. Mr. Coolatta’s eyes meanwhile, are just... black. Void. Nothing. In fact, it’s like there’s a whole... aura of nothingness about the not-a-man. It’s giving Gordon this horrible feeling of wrongness the longer he looks at him, but he can’t STOP looking at him, it’s like being sucked into a black hole or something, and it’s got him so on edge he feels like he-

Mr. Coolatta clears his throat. Gordon releases the death grip he didn’t know he had on the door frame.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Coolatta. I take it you’re here to help with, um, this?” Gordon says as he steps aside, allowing the older entity into the house.

“Yes. Tommy, informed me of your... predicament. That neither you, nor. Ben-rey. Know how to, fix,” Mr. Coolatta says in that weird, almost forced-sounding way he does, as he and Gordon step into the living room.

Just then, Benry pokes his borrowed head in from the hallway. His eyes light up (both figuratively, and to Gordon’s current eyes, literally) when he spies their house guest. “yooooo, thought i heard g-dad in here,” he says, strolling up to stand next to Gordon by the couch. “you gonna get our brains back in the right cases, yeah?”

There’s a very subtle look of... something distinctly negative on Mr. Coolatta’s face as Benry speaks, but Benry either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

Gordon however is suddenly feeling some slowly mounting concern for whether or not Benry will continue to live under his roof.

“UH,” Gordon speaks up, “if you can just, get us back in our own bodies, that’d be great. All we need you to do, really. We’re both totally fine, other than this!”

Benry gives Gordon a small confused look. Mr. Coolatta also gives him a look, but he’s not sure what exactly it’s conveying.

“Well, if we are. To do this,” Mr. Coolatta starts,” then I suggest that you. Should both, sit down for, it.”

The two younger men do so, taking seats on the couch behind them. Gordon’s about to ask what exactly Mr. Coolatta’s going to do, when a strange pulling feeling hits the back of his head.

Or, no, it’s more like in his actual brain. And it’s going very quickly from just being in the back, to all over, and from a gentle pulling feeling to a painful one. Christ, he’s never even had a migraine or concussion this bad. He wrenches his eyes shut, and throws his borrowed hands up to press against his head...

…And feels the unmistakable texture of a knit beanie that he definitely wasn’t wearing before.

Gordon opens his eyes, and the room looks so... washed out. The colours are all dull, and there aren’t as many of them, and he can’t feel them- holy shit he can’t feel them. He can’t feel colours anymore. What he does feel though is glasses on his face, and pain in his back, and long hair against his neck. He looks to his right- and there’s no one there. So he looks to his left, and there’s Benry- who ACTUALLY LOOKS like Benry.

Which of course means that he looks like himself.

Which means that they’re in their own bodies again!

Benry seems to realize this at about the same time, as his eyes widen before he suddenly bursts into cosmic song. A flurry of happy yellow, excited orange, and positive purple Sweet Voice float out through his teeth as he grins bigger than Gordon’s ever recalled seeing him.

Gordon grins too, and laughs, both at Benry’s happy display, and from his own immense relief. He yanks the beanie off his head and hands it to Benry, who puts it back in its proper place on his own head, still singing all the while. The singing only hiccups for the briefest of moments when Gordon leans over to hug his eldritch roommate, followed by an even bigger burst of colour and song as Benry hugs back.

The pair's attention is brought back to their helpful houseguest when Mr. Coolatta clears his throat again. Gordon releases Benry from the hug and turns to the older entity.

“Thank you, SO much, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I- how much we both appreciate this, man,” Gordon says. Benry’s stopped singing, but is still latched onto Gordon, burying his face in the human’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything to Mr. Coolatta, instead just giving the guy a thumbs up.

There’s another slight facial twitch before Mr. Coolatta replies, “Yes, you’re. Very welcome. I trust that... this, won’t happen again, hmm?” he then asks, looking at Benry.

Despite not looking up, Benry seems to realize the question is directed at him. “uh, yeah. i don’t- ‘m not gonna do that again. like, ever. wasn’t fun, was really bad actually. no more botched brain hangouts. promise.”

Mr. Coolatta seems satisfied with that answer (or as much as he can be regarding Benry), as he thankfully makes no threats or insinuations about Benry’s continued status as Gordon’s roommate.

He also doesn’t make any comments about Gordon owing him anything before he leaves. Gordon wagers a guess that he can probably thank Tommy for that. Bless that man.

*****

It’s a little after lunch time when Gordon makes his way to the front door, car keys in hand. Before he gets to the door, though, he stops and turns to Benry, who’s sitting on the couch, playing a game.

“Hey, I’m going to the hardware store to pick out paint chips and figure out what colour I should repaint my room. You wanna come with?” he asks.

Pausing his game, Benry peeks over the back of the couch, spitting out a surprised little ‘huh?’ at the man. “you want me to come with?” he asks back after a moment.

Gordon nods. “Yeah. Figured you could help me pick a colour. Find one that’ll not only look good in my room, but feel good, too.”

“thought you can’t feel colours anymore?”

“Yeah, but YOU can feel them again. And I wanna make sure I don’t end up with another shitty wet sandpaper colour. Honestly, I can’t believe you never brought that up before.”

Benry remains still and silent for a bit, seemingly processing what all Gordon just said. Then, tentatively, he asks, “can we get new paint for my room, too?”

Gordon’s mouth quirks up in a slight smile. “Sure thing, bud. Get whatever colours you want.”

“helllllll yeah!” Benry whoops, punctuating it with Sweet Voice. Gordon’s small smile turns into a full-on one.

This whole fiasco may have started out incredibly shitty… but Gordon has to admit, he really likes the way things have turned out as a result of it all.

THE END

[youngerdrgrey]

all the pieces aren't even in the box // the morning show, bradley/laura, chapter six

about: Bradley and Laura's last few months in Montana and how the world reacts along the way (and maybe how they find their way back to each other) ~ read earlier chapters on AO3 chapter six summary: Bradley’s surprise visitor turns out to be the least of her worries. Laura gets a surprise of her own. (read chapter five on AO3)

chapter notes: well, that s3 finale was an episode of television. (Ricky. When I catch you, Ricky—) This chapter’s a doozy, so buckle up for grief in the first two sections. If you missed having Bradley at the ranch last chapter, she’ll be home sooner than you think. Also, I understand if Covid talk and things of that nature make you uncomfortable, so if you want a spoiler, let me know, and I'll tell you. Fun fact: In s1, when Bradley’s dad calls, her dad’s got a (773) area code, which is a Chicago one. Shout out.

~

“Fuck me.”

Laura was right. Bradley never should’ve left Montana. She should’ve stayed in their cozy queer bubble with the pomegranate trees and simmering discontent, and she never should’ve brought herself into the same fucking state as Peter Jackson.

The last time Bradley saw her dad was at a gas station in Chicago. He’d been living out there after his release. She was in town on a shoot. It wasn’t even on purpose. The story was about ex-cons struggling to find jobs and housing in major cities. Her dad went to the same group as some of the people she interviewed. So she went to get a drink from a gas station down the street from the meeting spot, and there he was. 

And just like now, it was like every thought he’d ever had just scrunched up into his cheeks. Every regret and accusation and apology — all of it hoisted up his cheekbones while his eyes got further and further away.

Fifteen years ago, Bradley told him off. She was an angry twenty-something with a need to be heard. But today?

She stumbles back from the mic. Her weight shifts too quickly onto her heels, and she has to turn to keep herself from falling.

Hal jumps up from the front pew. His eyes wider than they’ve been all day. Bloodshot and protective and confused. Normally, Bradley would go to him. She would tell him that they’ll be okay and to ignore anything their dad says because they’re not the problem; he is. But the thought of propping up Hal sucks the energy right out of her.

Bradley is tired of helping her brother. Tired of holding onto her dad’s shit for nearly thirty years. Tired of feeling like she has to say something to these people who don’t give a fuck about any of them.

She steps away from the podium towards the side door. The church choir uses it all the time to go in and out for performance.

“Bradley!” Hal calls out.

She shakes her head. “Not now. I’m not—“ She glances at him long enough to remember her purse is beside him. He spots where she’s looking and grabs it first. 

“Brad—“

She holds her hand out as she walks to him. “Gimme my bag, Hal.”

“Bradley—“

“Give me my bag!”

It’s so fucking quiet in the room. Her dad hasn’t moved, but everyone else seems to have their cameras and phones at the ready. Bradley cannot become another trending topic. She has seen that clip of herself screaming, “I am exhausted,” more than enough times.

“Hal. Please.”

Her brother doesn’t budge. Cheryl does though. She tugs the bag from Hal’s grip and hands it to Bradley with her hand over the open part. Bradley should say thank you, but all she can do is meet Cheryl’s understanding eyes and book it out of the side door as quickly as possible.

.

.

The door slams shut behind her.

The hallway’s a different kind of quiet. Not as tense. Bradley gasps for air like she’s suffocating. She throws her bag onto her shoulder and rips her mask down from her face to breathe. She’s gotta get out of here.

“This still counts as inside,” Peter says. Bradley all but jumps out of her skin at the sound of his voice. He’s all the way down at the other end of the hall. Slipped right back out the door he’d slithered through. But sound carries in a church better than anywhere Bradley’s ever known.

She whirls around to snap at him. “I know more about masks than you do!”

He shrugs without moving any closer. “Well, you talk about ‘em enough on your show.”

“I told you not to contact me again.”

“I’m here for your mom. I knew her a lot longer than either of you did.”

“And where were you the last fifteen years, huh? Or any of the ones before that?” She shakes her head before he can even answer. Turns back around to scan for the closest exit. The main entrance is too close to him. She’s not walking back over there. “I’m leaving.”

He nods. “You look happy. With your girlfriend.” That makes her stumble all over again. Panic and heat rise to her cheeks. Some half-planned defense is on her tongue. But her dad just does that same half-raised grin she does and says, “I don’t do all that social media stuff. But I got the Google alert about some article. A picture of the two of you on her ranch. Smiling.” Their last day together. “I’m happy you’re happy, kiddo.”

Everything inside her just stops.

He’s happy that she’s happy?

What in the fuck does he know about her happiness?

Her lips part as her frustration rises. She has been responsible for her happiness for a hell of a lot longer than she should have been. She rounds on him.

“You know I was a kid,” she yells. “I should not have been pickin’ up Hal, or cleaning up Mom, or—“

“Turning me in for what I did to that boy,” he finishes for her. “And to you. You’re right. You took care of everybody in that house. You were so good at it that I forgot it wasn’t your job. Your job was to be a kid. My kid.”

Her jaw aches, so she clenches it tighter. Somehow her whole body shakes instead.

Her dad has her eyes, and Hal’s chin, and the right words after nearly thirty years of being an absolute shit stain of a man. He had her whole life to get his shit together. It’s not fair that he wants to come back now. He waits until she gets something good with TMS, and something great with Laura, and something awful with her mom’s death, and now he’s the fucking Ghost of Christmas Past.

He’s so old now. Small like he was when he was drinking, but he looks more sturdy. His hair’s not sandy blonde like hers used to be. It’s got more gray in it. Well, where it still exists. He’s balding in a way that Hal would hate to see. 

She hates to see him. 

She hates her dad.

Right?

This scream inside of her feels like the same way it always did. Since she saw him drunk for the first time. This is rage and disappointment and — and she hates this man more than anything. He ruined them long before Bradley got a chance to.

But she can’t move, and he doesn’t say anything else. He lets the first real apology for what he did fill the hallway between them.

She was just a kid. She did what was right. She always does what’s right, and she has been made to feel wrong about that every single day since. With him, with network censors, with Mitch, with Hannah, with fucking Cory and the fucking mask that’s still around her neck, choking her.

He blinks their eyes, and he says, “Your girl looks at you like you’re the belle of the ball.”

“I am,” Bradley spits out. 

It’s the first thing she’s been able to say since his apology. It’s fucking pathetic that it’s all she can say. She never wanted to be the belle of the ball, or the stars in the sky. She just wanted to be held. To have somebody help her with her homework and come to her track meets on time and stone cold sober and to drive her all the way home after it.

Maybe if her parents had done their job, she wouldn’t have gone looking for home in the first guy who smiled at her crooked. She wouldn’t have gotten knocked up at fifteen and snuck off to get her own abortion. She wouldn’t be in her first real loving relationship in her forties.

“I gotta get out of here.” 

She spins back around. Even though he doesn’t follow her, his next words do. They stick to her heels and burrow into her skin. 

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. It could be different now. If you let me.”

Bradley does the only thing she can think to do. She uses the keys Cheryl slipped into her purse to take Hal’s car. She drives home, and she locks herself in the bathroom like she’s fifteen again. 

She grabs one of her mom’s decorative towels and drops it onto the ground. Then she lays on the cold floor with her face on that towel until the world stops crushing down on top of her.

She hasn’t done this in months. Not since she accidentally told the whole world about her abortion on her first day at TMS. It’s only lying here now that it hits her — she never looked in the casket. She never saw her mom. 

Did Hal pick the right look? Did he make sure her makeup was okay? If they weren’t cremating her, then she had to look alright. She would hate if they buried her looking a mess.

Doesn’t matter what she hates anymore. She’s dead. Gone. And she is never coming back.

Bradley sobs without warning. The force of it splits her in half. She curls up to hold herself together, her arms wrapping around her stomach as her whole body quakes with each new cry. 

What is she doing here? She hated this house. She hated growing up here. She hated living here as an adult because so much kept going wrong that she could never stay away. She hated these fucking decorative towels.

She pushes herself off the floor to get away from it. She did always love this bathroom though. It has a little ledge outside the tall window. The window is meant to help air out the room, so it’s up high and too small for a person to fit through. But it’s where teen Bradley used to hide things she didn’t want her mom to find. A pack of cigarettes, a phone number from the butch mechanic that Bradley had already memorized. Cigarettes don’t expire, do they?

She takes the trash bag out the trash can and flips over the bin so she can reach up to the window. Slides it open and reaches her hand around for the pack she’d left there before she went to UBA. But she finds a wad of toilet paper instead.

Her brows furrow as her fingers wrap around it and pull it back through. “What the fuck?”

There’s something inside the paper. She unravels it to see a Covid test, with a faint positive line.

Bradley stares down at it. It’s gotta be a trick of the light, right? It’s gotta be because if it’s not—

The front door opens, and Bradley is out of the bathroom in a blink. Hal can’t even fully step into the house before Bradley jams the Covid test into his flushed face.

“What the fuck is this, Hal!?”

He has to lean back to see it, but his eyes double in size the moment he does. “Don’t freak out.”

“Tell me this is Mom’s. Tell me you’re not positive right now.”

“It’s barely there, Brad,” he says, and her rage blocks out every word he says after.

She has spent every moment with Hal since she got to Grantsville. Why would he do this? He could’ve infected her. He could’ve infected everyone.

He’s still talking when the blood stops rushing in her ears. “And I couldn’t take another one ‘cause if I knew—“

“You already knew, jackass,” she hisses. “You knew, and you still let me come in here. What the fuck, Hal!? I can’t go home like this!”

He steps closer. “You are home. If you can host from Laura’s, you can do it from here.”

“I DON’T WANT TO DO IT FROM HERE!” She screams. “I want to go home with my girlfriend. I just told her that everything would be fine.”

“It is fine!”

“It is not fine!”

He pleads, “I don’t have any symptoms. I can’t spread it without symptoms.”

“You fucking asshole! You’re just asymptomatic. You can still spread the virus. To me, to Cheryl, to every single person you come in contact with.” She starts pacing away from him. “I never should’ve come here. I’m gonna die in West Virginia.”

“You’re not gonna die.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t get to talk to me right now. I-I’m leaving.” Bradley drops what’s left of Hal’s trash onto the ground. Hal rushes after her before she gets more than a few steps, but she throws his hand off her arm. “I can’t be around you. Where’s my mask?”

“At the door, but Brad—“

She shoves past him to get it off the shelf by the front door. She’d worn it the whole service. She helped mitigate the spread. But she had to get a test for herself now. She had to know. She hasn’t been here long enough for it to incubate. By the time she has, it’ll be time to drive home.

Shit. She has to tell Laura. Shit. “FUCK!”

She fumbles in her pocket for her phone. RJ first. RJ can help her figure everything else out.

“What are you doing?” Hal asks.

Bradley stomps past him again to head for her old room. Her stuff’s still mostly in the suitcase. It won’t take long to zip it back up. Her phone rings in her ear while she unplugs her charger from the bedside and grabs her laptop from on top of the bed.

RJ sounds concerned as he answers. “Hey, is everything okay? I didn’t think you’d call today.”

“Neither did I,” Bradley huffs. “I need a hotel. ASAP. Anything will do, just—“

Hal cuts her off from the doorway. “Bradley, stop.”

She talks over him. “As soon as possible, RJ. Please.”

“O-okay. Are you…. Are you physically safe?”

Bradley cringes as the memory of Hal throwing mugs at TMS flashes in her mind.

“It’s not like that. Don’t start a panic. I can’t have people fussing at me. Not today.”

“Okay, let me see what I can find.”

“Alright, call me back.” Bradley hangs up on her assistant and zips her bag shut.

Hal hasn’t moved from the doorway. He didn’t do this on purpose, did he? Her brother wouldn’t try to trap her into staying. That’s… that’s cruel. He wouldn’t be cruel to Bradley, would he?

She glances up at him as she pulls her bag off the bed. 

“Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Just take another test, and text me a picture of it once the timer’s up.”

“You can’t go back,” he tells her. “You’ll kill her if you have it. Symptomatic or not.”

She gulps around the fear that flares up. “Well, I’m not staying here. Tell Cheryl to get a test too.”

Bradley gets around him and out the house to her car. It’s not until she sits down and locks her doors that she really looks at her phone again. She hadn’t read her texts earlier, not even Laura’s.

Laura — 11:34 AM: Hal’s scrambling now that you’ve left. Someone’s standing in front of the computer, so the Zoom is blocked. Did you really leave?

Laura — 11:50 AM: Twitter tells me that you did. Bold move, Jackson. Where are you hiding out?

Laura — 12:15 PM: I promise not to say I told you so. I just want to know how you’re holding up. Let me know once you’ve caught your breath.

Shit. Laura really did watch. Laura woke up early on a Saturday to watch the funeral that she didn’t even want Bradley to go to. And now Bradley’s supposed to, what, tell Laura that she can’t go home? That Hal’s a reckless, ignorant asshole who ruined everything? That Bradley let him do it, just like she always does, because she can’t actually leave him alone?

She can’t say that. Not over text.

Bradley — 1:36 PM: Still catching. You can say I told you so. I won’t be mad, I promise.

She hesitates, then adds.

Bradley — 1:36 PM: I’ll see you, okay?

She watches as her messages send. Waits the minute it takes for Laura to read them and heart-react to her second one.

Laura — 1:37 PM: I’ll see you too, Bradley.

Bradley flips her phone over. She turns the car on and reverses out of her family’s driveway. It’ll take RJ some time to find the right hotel. Like Laura said, drive until she can breathe again.

.

.

For Laura’s talk of silence over anger, she doesn’t do well when Bradley goes quiet. It makes her restless. Which is unheard of for someone who’s spent this long perfectly content on her own.

It’s honestly embarrassing how many times she checks her phone the next few days. She even has her volume up in case a call comes in when she leaves the room. She gets so many unnecessary notifications. If Amazon sends her one more discount coupon message, she’s cancelling her Prime Membership.

She’s not. She won’t. She just needs an outlet until Bradley reaches out. This, of course, leads her to the most embarrassing possible way to spend her time. She starts preparing the guest house for Bradley.

First, it’s just dusting. Freshening up the sheets and the towels. Then it’s logging into the streaming services on the TV. She brings over a few books that Bradley had been meaning to read. She stocks the bathroom with Covid tests and the cabinets with whiskey and mixers. She nearly bakes cookies before some semblance of self-respect clicks back into her body. She does gather some laundry though.

Monday morning, before the sun’s even had a chance to rise, she pads out of the house with the laundry basket to drop the clothes off. It doesn’t take as long to get ready when there’s only one of them getting dressed in the morning.

She presses in the code on the lock. It’s simpler than having a key, especially since she can send it to friends and family who need a break from the world. She has to balance the laundry basket on her hip to get the door and screen door open. She probably could have done with just one door. Notes for the remodel. 

As she steps in, her brows furrow at the shoes inside the door.

“Bradley?” No, that wouldn’t make sense. When would Bradley even —

“Stop!” Bradley shrieks from the bedroom. Laura jumps to face the bedroom door. It’s pulled up, but Laura can hear Bradley scramble on the other side of it. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Bradley, what—“

“I’m serious, Laura.” Bradley’s voice shakes. She’s pleading, and Laura’s still processing the fact that Bradley is here. Bradley is home, and she didn’t say anything. “Get back outside. Now!”

Laura stumbles back with the laundry basket. The door knob jams into her hip. She curses as she turns to get back onto the short porch of her own property. She shuts the screen door behind her, but she doesn’t move any farther. She stares through, waiting for some kind of explanation.

“Bradley, talk to me,” Laura says.

“I— fuck.” 

Bradley opens the bedroom door. She steps out with a mask on and the shirt she wore to the funeral. She hasn’t changed in days? Laura’s heart pounds. This isn’t just being cautious. This — something’s wrong.

“Honey, please.”

Bradley gulps. Her eyes frantically take Laura in. She must see how tired Laura is. How tightly Laura worries the basket in her hands. 

Laura would’ve at least brushed her hair if she knew Bradley was here. Her hair’s all over in a way that makes her feel like she’s hiding.

Bradley blurts out her explanation. “I got exposed to Covid. They were asymptomatic. I'm still negative, but….” 

But she can’t come any closer. She can’t leave the guest house. If she really does get sick, then she’d be on her own. Laura can’t save her from this. Laura can’t even save herself.

Bradley’s eyes well up above her mask. Laura tries to think of something to say. Anything, but all she has are questions. Who exposed Bradley? When did it happen? Why hasn’t she said anything? Why did she slink in unannounced like a shameful ghost?

But the questions won’t change anything. They won’t help this growing pain in Laura’s chest. They won’t stop the tears in Bradley’s eyes.

So Laura says the only other thing she can think of.

"I was still making up the room.”

Bradley breaks their eye contact to look around the guest house. She must have gotten in late. That’s why Laura didn’t know. Her car’s not in the driveway, so she probably parked and walked the rest of the way. She didn’t want to wake Laura.

The guest house is mostly a one bedroom with a small living room/kitchenette. Basic studio equipment’s on the narrow dining table. Bradley’s favorite throw blanket is on the couch. A few of her mugs are on the counters. Most telling, there's a framed picture of their ranch selfie from before she left.

Bradley sniffles. “What else could I need?”

Laura gently sets down the laundry basket on the porch. “There’s just a few more things.” She steps back so Bradley can pick it up. 

Bradley props the basket between herself and the wall to go through it. She reaches past her own sweaters and T-shirts to grab the pair of Laura’s sweats that she’d put back on Laura’s side of the closet before leaving. Her hands shake as she holds them.

“They look better on you,” Laura says.

Bradley fractures at that. She turns her face back to Laura, and it is so hard to only see the top of her face. To know without looking that Bradley’s jaw trembles and her nose must be red.

"I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I really, really fucked up."

Laura’s not there yet. Not ready for an apology. Not ready for what comes next. She needs a moment, and Bradley needs some kind of reassurance that Laura doesn’t know if she has.

She tries anyway. Speaks level and calm, “You'll keep testing, and it'll be negative. It will.” Bradley shakes her head, and Laura’s voice firms. “Say it, Bradley.”

“It will be negative,” Bradley repeats.

Say it, believe it, will it into existence. If Laura let Bradley go, and it took Bradley away from her —

Matching alarms pierce the air. Both women jolt. They have a show to do. They have to get ready.

Bradley glances down at herself as if she’s seeing herself for the first time in days.

“I need to change. I—“ She looks back to Laura, and her eyes hold the apology she can’t say again.

Laura doesn’t know what to do with her hands without the basket. She pulls them together in front of her. Squeezes tight as she nods to Bradley.

“It’s fine. Go. I should change too. I haven’t brought the, um, food over. I….” She should’ve made the cookies. “I thought I had more time.”

Bradley kneads the sweatpants in her hands.

“Me too.”

Laura turns to head for the house. 

Bradley’s voice cracks as she calls after her. “We’ll talk after the show. Right?”

Maybe by then Laura will have something to say. The shock will be gone, and she’ll be able to feel something other than… numb. Unprepared. Adrift.

Bradley’s return was supposed to be triumphant. Joyful and exciting as they reconnected and found new ways to tease each other for two weeks. The guest house was meant to be a technicality. Now it’s a threat.

“Have a good show, Bradley.”

She doesn’t wait for Bradley to say it back. She heads for the house and shuts the door behind her. Sinks into it as the weight of what could be knocks the wind out of her. For once, she wishes she could scream. Yell. Smash vases and slam doors and let out this tempest inside of her. But all she has is tension that locks her bones and clamps her lungs. She gasps ragged. Shudders as the snoozed alarm comes back to life.

She was wrong with Gordon. The silence is a lot worse than anger.

.

.

Author's Notes:

let me know how you're feeling. how was this chapter for you?

[written-mishaps]

Ok, here’s a lil paragraph about Chapter 2 of Robin Buckley guide. Warning, I ramble a lot:

I’m first going to talk about the deleted scene, because the actual pain of it was literally agonising. Anyway, this chapter was initially meant to start with Steve having a conversation with El about having revealed his powers to Eddie for *future plot point reasons I can’t reveal yet*

For some reason, this was completely impossible to write holy shit. Like, i could not find a way to make it work, so in the end I just tweaked some future plot points and scraped the entire thing. (Although, when it comes to writing I tend to hoard discarded scenes like a raccoon so if anyone wants to see the deleted scene, I might be amenable to showing it off)

Now we’re going to talk about the actual chapter. So, as I’ve mentioned befire, the chapter was split in half, and while I think it was a good decision considering how much I’d written, I do mourn the like, flow of the story. There isn’t as much like, action of pivotal moment that happened and it’s mainly build up, so I tried my best to make it entertaining but yeah guys, it’s mainly buildup and i feel like thats something you can tell ;-; or maybe tahts just me being overly crtitical (tm) as i usually am. I think I managed pretty well though, and I’m ngl, the Hayley scene was pretty fun to write

Speaking of the Hayley scene, holy shit, balancing the idea of making Steve an actual Bitch while not making him too mean was a STRUGGLE. I’m honestly not sure if I managed it, but there WAS a comment left that had me going ‘you know what, he IS a litle bitch, he IS a classic mean girl, and what about it <3′ so im feeling better lmao. Eitherway, the scene was kind of a spur of the moment decision in the first place. It was literally only there cause I needed something to happen in between arriving at the party and going upstairs.

That scene was also to show off that like, Steve has never had people he could trust around him. Not in his parents who’d leave him home alone, not in his friends who exploit his insecurities for clout. This man is Deeply repressed lmao and it was for good reason. I also want to show off how easy it is for Steve to fall back into bad habits, and that changing himself in the way he has has required constant effort on his part. Steve is a reformed mean girl, does NOT mean that he doesnt have the mean girl spirit still within him. The Hayley scene will also stick in Robins brain, and I’ll probably stir up some internal conflict about *thing that will happen next chapter* through it 😈

Now, the overall thing that I wanted to adress in this chapter was to set in the groundwork that Steve and Robin are undeniably best friends. That’s why I’m kind of bummed I had to split the chapter because it’s in the second half we see how close they are. But like, I need to make it very very clear that these two are *close* so that when I come to *thing I can’t say for spoiler reasons* it’ll actually make sense why the certain character is hurt/upset by a certain thing happening. This entire story is predominantly about the relationship Robin and Steve have with eachother, that’s the thing ive been keeping in mind as I write.

This chapter is also meant to be the ‘fun Shenanigans chapter’, which I like to put before all emotional development occurs lmao.

Uhhhhh what else do I have to say. Yeah I’m sorry I really nuked Eddie here T-T sorry bestie, you’ll get your time in chapter 4 don’t worry lmaooooo. But yeah, I made up a convenient excuse to get rid of Eddie because i needed Robin and Steve to be alone together.

Next chapter will pick up directly where we left off, and we’ll finally get to a scene I have been ITCHING to write holy shit. If i were to say a spoiler without saying a spoiler, then like, idk, ive been foreshadowing pretty heavily, so my key word would be ‘pools’ >:)

if you actually read this, wow, hats off to you, i respect it. ALSO feel free to send me asks like, as you can tell i very much love to ramble about this story, any questions you have will be answered gleefully lmao.

[fablesofkitkat]

I just finished rereading all sero povs for the 10000000th time and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA plz do U have more in store? Can’t help being greedy you povs are REALLY good

Intermission A: with Sero (one-word prompts)

alt title: I (don’t) remember you pt.11

CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE

genre: fluff

I get a feeling every time I go to bed. Are you thinking about me or is it all just in my head?

-mxmtoon

Tags: @vtte @blushycontent @charlie-xo @happilyheavenproductions @bl--ankhaeji @mattesatoruuu @that-fic-girl @comehome2myheart @rabbitholeforanymediailike @hanta-fr-fr @fancyjellyfishcake @bolinbxby @shijjii @aki47-hayakawa @eijis-stuff @marv2222 @ectoplasmictoast @duchess-l @sana-li @ranrandomesss

Lock

You are stuck in a stare down with your boyfriend Hanta for Kami-sama knows how many minutes it has been. Probably just a minute, really. Yet, it feels so much longer. You bite your lip subconsciously, it’s a habit you do to keep yourself from smiling, and the feeling of your teeth and the focus of not using too much pressure is enough distraction to keep your lips from curling upward—

Hanta’s almond shaped eyes flicked down.

Note to self: stare downs with Hanta leads to lip locking.

2. Paper

He throws a crumpled paper at you.

“Hanta.” You give him a warning look.

“What?”

You raised an eyebrow in exasperation. “Stop throwing papers at me.”

The silence resumed, save for your ballpoint pen noises streaking across your notebook. Finals is approaching fast and you procrastinated for months that before you knew it, there’s only a week before the exams. You don’t really care about getting high marks but you sure didn’t want to enter the classroom with a blank head on the exam day.

You hear a rising and falling tone (in local irregularities) of a peeling sound. Sure enough when you raise your head, you see Hanta pulling the tape from his elbows for the heck of it. He feels your stare and gives you a grin.

“Seriously?”

“I was bored.”

You know it was a miniscule thing but now you’re annoyed, “Hanta, you’re being annoying.”

“What?”

“I’m trying to study and you’re not helping. Stop it.”

He gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, just…” The feeling of being annoyed is gone. Hanta doesn’t even know how much power he holds over you. You feel guilty for snapping at him and you understand why he’s here at the library with you even though he has zero plans to study. “Sit beside me. Quiz me right after I finish this chapter.” You watch him go around the table and sit beside you. You laced your fingers with his, “Gimme two hours, then we can go somewhere else, okay?”

He squeezed your hand. “Okay.”

3. Sunset

Rare is the view of sunset sky for you these past months. You watch Hanta sleep beside you. You realize that dating in high school involves a lot of nap times together. Earlier, he shared childhood stories like naps in the afternoon is a tradition called siesta. He used to hate it. The orange glow of the sunset washes over Hanta’s dorm room. He looks really handsome and the rush of affection hits as you watch him breathe. Almost like a physical thing. Like a heartburn. Your chest hurts. It overwhelms. You can’t help but bury yourself deeper in his arms and hug him tight.

4. Dream

“I don’t know how. I haven’t…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Just relax and breathe.” Lip bite. Groans.

“Am I doing it, right?”

“Just a sec—kinda intense with you staring, cariño.” Muffled curses and moan.

Hums. “Hmm~”

You sit up wide awake, blinked a few times, and then lied back, face down on your pillow, and groaned. Lewd.

5. Twilight

Hanta laid back on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm when his phone rang which he answered in a heartbeat. “Hey.” He waited for you to turn on your camera but you were quiet.

“Can we just not have our cameras on?”

“Why?” He listened to your breathe.

“I don’t know. Please?”

He turned the camera off and pressed the phone to his ear. “So, what’s up?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

“I wish you were here. Or that I was there.”

“You’d be here if you didn’t mind meeting my parents.”

You laughed and he realized you’re crying.

“Cariño. . .”

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

He was quiet until, “I’ll be there soon.”

You sat up and wiped your nose on your sleeve. “But it’s 1 in the morning.”

“I’m there, just stay still. Tell me everything when I get there.”

6. Dawn

You tip toe away from the bed when a tape wraps around your waist which pulls you back into Hanta’s arms. He asks sleepily, “…where you going?”

“Just getting you breakfast.”

“… no, I hate it.”

“You’re not gonna remember this, are you?”

“..no, I remember you. Stay.”

So much for waking up early.

7. Knowledge

He rests his head on your shoulder as you and Hanta watch the movie on your phone.

“I’m sorry,” you say out of nowhere.

A few beats before he raises his hand, tapping his forefinger on your phone pausing the movie. “Why do you keep saying—why are you so negative about us? Is it so hard to see a future with me?”

“No. More like, it’s the opposite. It’s easy to see a future with you.”

“Then why the pessimistic comments?”

“I have this sort of belief that life gives me the opposite of what I expect, so if I act like I don’t expect us to last, then the opposite might come true.”

“Yeah, but when I said that we’re going as a couple on Aizawa-sensei’s wedding in the far future, and you snide with ‘maybe’ just made it seem like our whole relationship’s one sided.” He holds your hand over his knee. “And you come off as a jerk.”

“I don’t care.”

He squeezed your hand once. “But I care. You’re not a jerk. I don’t want others to think you’re a jerk.”

“I only care about your opinion.”

“Yeah, but you care about me. What if they say we’re a mismatch and you’ll start caring about their opinions and it’s gonna come back and bite our asses?”

“Oh.”

“What if my ma heard about it, and went and met you behind my back, and you’re left psychologically scarred?”

“…”

“And although I get where you’re coming from, when you say pessimistic things about our relationship, it hurts me.”

“I’m really sorry for being insensitive, and for being an idiot... are we gonna be okay?”

“Not until you recreate the Spiderman kiss with me.”

---

AN: To ranrandomesss, I still owe you that comfort Sero pov. Don't worry, I didn't forget. I just haven't figured how to execute it.

To vanilacaramel, (deeply inhales) the things I do for you and your Sero needs. Oh, wait- it's not just you. You and all who give a damn with this series: I fed y'all today. Say your grace. Make me proud by not letting anyone ruin the rest of your day. Do me a favor and be extra cheerful and kind to yourself and everyone else who are good to you. Thanks for being brave enough to shoot this ask.

---

<- previous next ->

[mariamariquinha]

Big Nick - ‘Bossa Nova’ Prequel

Summary: You and Nick met. 

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Slight mention of strip clubs, bad words and Big Nick. 

Author’s Note: This is an idea for Bossa Nova, I hope you guys like it. I’m still working on the new chapter, don’t have idea when it will come out, but until then I think we should take a look at it, yeah?

I think certain details could be explored further if explained outside the context of the main story, and as you know I have a particular fondness for Bossa Nova, so maybe more of these will come up here so the story can progress. It's not a rule to read everything I'm going to do, some material can be pretty shallow in interactions between the reader and Benny (like this one), and none will have direct interference in the events of what I already do there, BUT it can be cool, like, look at what I thought the dynamic between these people would be like.

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

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

It certainly wasn't the best of your days; maybe not even the best year of your life.

You didn't usually verbalize the problems you had with Theodore with your mother, nor with your friends and even less with your brother - things could escalate very quickly if he got involved like that. This all led you to complicated moments, boring work days and constant headaches. Your doctor must have mentioned something about nervous gastritis, but honestly you stopped going to his clinic when the meds started wanting to pile up on your bedside table.

Maybe that was the reason why you didn’t notice the face everyone made in the meeting room when Emma said you would attend a Major Crimes’s scene. It took you too long to notice, between grabbing your things at the lab and heading to Compton, so just when you saw O’Brien there, standing a few feet away from an old crime scene, that the realization washed over you.

Dammit.

Listen, all in all, you didn’t have opinions about them. Emma rarely put you to work with them, leaving all the headache to more experienced agents, but it wouldn’t be your first time dealing with assholes. She could just be trying to teach Nick a lesson, pairing you, her most hot-headed agent, with one of his cases.

He watched you leave the car, then walk in their direction - the badge was hurting your hip bone, the vest was open because even this was suffocating and the LASD cap prevented your hair from annoying you more while working. You tried to keep up appearances, pretending you were indifferent because, in fact, you didn't even care what that guy's reputation was.

“I thought they were going to gimme a forensic agent,” Charming as fuck.

“You can look at my badge while your friends keep destroying more of the crime scene. I have all the time in the world.”

Nick looked you up and down, then turned to the other detectives walking around the scene nonchalantly - Borracho and Henderson, you remembered the names. The boss called them, just a single ‘aye’ and a head tilt, so both walked in your direction, passing below the do-not-cross tape with confused expressions.

“I still want to see your badge.”

You rolled your eyes at it, taking the thing out of your belt with a single pull. He inspected the whole thing, analyzed your qualifications like the idiot he made no bones about.

“Emma didn’t say anything about you being CSI too.”

“No one tells which instrument of torture they are going to use until they use it,” Nick was extending the badge back to you, but raised his eyebrows at your bold answer. “Although she used clear words about this. What does that make me?”

“I think we need to wait and see.”

“And I think you already have the exact answer,” You walked past the tape, turning to him with a bitter smile. “Don’t worry, Big Nick. We probably have the same opinion about each other.”

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

You thought that would be the first and last time O'Brien made it clear he didn't want to work with you anymore. But that was the thing with Nick, he was kind of sadistic, unorthodox and aware from life or work experience about who would be of use to him in any way.

The tricky part is that you saw yourself a little like that, with quick responses and a sharp tongue for speeches you didn't like.

He showed up at his lab with a ticket to a fancy downtown bar. You didn't stop your work while you saw the name on the invitation, nor did you look at his face.

“You know I'm married, don't you?”

“What?”

“I don’t go to strip clubs.”

You could hear his groan, a mutter of ‘dammit’ and in a second the ticket was gone, being replaced by that terrible smell of aftershave and a lot of cologne. He leaned in, invaded the space where you were.

“And I can hear you from afar as well,” Which didn’t help at all, because even if you leaned away a touch, O’Brien didn’t move.

“Why are you like that?”

“With a sense of personal space?”

“Harsh,” Just then he gave you a well-deserved distance, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t know me.”

“I’d never seen you being polite or gentle with anyone here, O’Brien. Always on the top, nose up to the sky, walking like you have the balls, like no one here is smart like you or efficient like you,” There wasn’t a reason why to go straight to the point, which he probably admired from the way his face relaxed. “And let’s be honest: Big Nick? You really need to take yourself so seriously to have a nickname like that, because I know it didn’t come because you’re tall.”

“This remains a value judgment and an unfounded reason not to like me.”

“Alright, I'll ask you another question that maybe can solve your doubt,” You turned to him, one elbow propped on the table and a sly smile on your face. “Do you know you’re a jerk?”

“I do. What about you?”

“Oh, I’m aware. The difference is that I don’t use this to offer strip club’s tickets to other people; I offer an apology.”

“So I should apologize.”

“You can try.”

Later Nick would say that was what he liked best about you, your acumen at reducing egos to dust with pointed words. When you commented that this was coming from your mother, he said he would love to meet her, only to have his dreams shattered right away:

“She would mention how you try to look like Thomas Magnum.”

“So she has good opinions on Tom Selleck?”

“He has an avocado farm. She loves avocados. And she's one of the only humans who liked his character on Friends, so it's not a compliment.”

That day, however, when he went to offer the first sign of peace for something you assumed was of personal interest, there was a hesitation. Of all the people there, you were the most unknown, stern, not marveling at their achievements even after the Merrimen case.

In these attempts, while staring at your immobile face in a false smile, Borracho appeared at the door but did not enter; he tapped twice on the glass wall and waited to be answered.

“We got a guy in Long Beach,” Was all the guy said, limited by his lack of interest in whatever was happening there.

“Go with Connors and keep me posted.”

“Got it.”

You watched the scene with raised eyebrows, concluding how easy it was for him to give orders but how difficult it seemed to recognize he was an asshole. It got even more interesting, though, when Borracho hesitated before leaving to wave discreetly in your direction.

“Hey.”

“Hi, detective.”

Just then he left, a polite nod and a turn back. You extended both hands at O’Brien, gesturing openly at the extension of his body.

“And there’s you.”

“Fine, Borracho said ‘hi’, what’s the big deal with that?”

“I’m not your mother.”

“If we’re working together, I should know your manners.”

“If?” The question came automatically and he sighed. “What’s the plan here, O’Brien?”

“I need a good CSI for a long term situation. There’s a case coming our way, a collaborative job with the DEA, and they want a laboratory professional to follow the procedures.”

“And this professional would be me,” You concluded.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not with your head on your ass. I want instinctive people, not bureaucratic ones.”

You've been wanting to take a federal case for a while, not for the pomp but for the experience. Nick wasn't the best of company and judging by his smart nature, he had done his own research on you after the initial experience a while back. That was his last move to have you in his plans, convince you for something you wanted.

“I don’t want strip clubs,” He smiled at your direct answer.

“Half strip clubs?”

“It doesn’t even exist.”

“Depends. You can ask nicely at some places and-”

“Ugh, God, you’re already making me regret it all,” You made a face, officially not ready for that amount of information.

“I’ll send the request to Emma this afternoon. We'll probably get started soon, so… I don't know, you can hang out with me and the guys tonight and get to know each other better.”

“Looks like you didn't hear me when I said that no one tells which instrument of torture they are going to use, until they use it.”

“You seemed to get along with Benny really well.”

“Don’t be pushy, O’Brien,” You warned with a firm gaze, already back to your work and ready to call it a day.

“Fine, fine!” He raised both hands in surrender, that stupid smile still on his face while he took steps back. “Welcome to the team, sweetheart.”

That made you roll your eyes again, but he didn't see it as he walked out of your lab with his usual confident stride. The invitation was still there on your desk, right next to where you used the mouse, and that almost made you regret the decision.

Well, you thought, at least Borracho had manners.

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

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[tryskomys]

PSYCHO KILLER

Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 8 - Gimme Shelter

Summary: The gang discovers Eddie’s hideout, but after hearing what he has to say, their relief turns to horror. Maia volunteers to watch over him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Notes: this is uh, kinda angsty. shit gets real.

tw: sharp objects pressed to necks situation, general despair

Masterlist

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Eddie.

He stared her with a pained expression, his blown out pupils made his brown eyes almost black, like two deep wells full of despair. His gaze flickered between her and Steve, a bead of sweat dripping down his nose. Maia had her pocket knife almost pressed into his neck when she finally snapped out of the horror and realized it’s him. He’s here. He’s alive.

“Eddie, it’s Dustin…Eddie, hey…this is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you.” Dustin said carefuly, his hands raised in defense. He approached Eddie like he was a scared wounded animal. Eddie looked at him for a second and then quickly turned his gaze back to Maia, still holding the bottle to her neck. Tears were slowly rolling out of her eyes, but her expression was very cautious, eyes wide open, knuckles still flexed around the knife handle. Steve gasped for air a bit, nodding franatically.

“Steve, why don’t you drop the oar.” Dustin said in a calm voice, making Eddie twitch his eyes and Steve slowly let go of it, dropping it to the floor with a loud thump.

Eddie winced at the noise and pushed the bottle a bit harder against Maia’s neck, turning his gaze back to her. A tear started forming in the corner of his eye as he scanned her pained expression. It was like he was trying to figure out if she’s some demonic creature taunting him with her image. Like he couldn’t believe she’s with him. Eddie’s gaze darted at Steve, who was barely able to breathe. Dustin tried to reason.

“They’re cool, Steve’s cool.”

“Yep, I’m cool man, I’m cool!” Steve wheezed.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie muttered through gritted teeth, looking Maia dead in the eye, his bottom lip shivering.

“We’re here to help.” Robin whispered nervously and Dustin introduced them to made sure Eddie was more comfortable.

“We’re on your side. I swear on my mother.” Dustin exclaimed, the others mumbling their promises.

Eddie stared at Maia, her face red and full of tears, the veins on her neck pronounced as she was struggling to breathe against the shards. She slowly pulled the knife away, showing him that she closed it and put it back into her pocket. He started trembling and finally let go of Steve, who fell on his knees and held onto his throat, coughing.

He held the bottle for a few more seconds and then slowly lowered his arm and pressed his limp body onto Maia. He rested his sweaty forehead on her shoulder, snaked his hands around her waist with the bottle still firmly held in his hand and broke down crying. She finally exhaled, cautiously wrapping her arms around his shaking shoulders and caressed his hair. He slowly started to slide down the wall, so she crouched with him. Then he backed away and sat on the ground, looking into the distance with a defeated face. Maia sat next to him and lightly massaged her throat. Dustin slowly approached him and extending his hand so everyone would back away. Steve was still wheezing on the floor.

“We just want to talk.” Dustin said softly, slowly reaching for the broken bottle. Eddie twitched at the motion, wrapping his fingers around the handle even tighter. Robin carefully sat next to them.

“We want to know what happened.”

Eddie’s face filled with worry. He looked over at Maia. When he flickered his stare between her face and her slightly scratched neck, he squeezed his eyes shut, shivering at the sight.

“You won’t believe me.” he let out a shaky breath, shaking his head in despair.

“Try us.” Max silently encouraged him.

He fluttered his eyes closed again.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

When Eddie described what happened to Chrissy, the whole shed was drenched in uncomfortable silence. Maia just sat there, carefully listening, her face twisted in a desperate grimace from seeing Eddie in this state. Her brain couldn’t even fathom what could’ve happened in the trailer, but his whimpers felt like daggers in her ears, his fear nothing like she’d ever seen before.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” he scoffed and threw the bottle away, scooting away from the group a bit. Dustin slumped his shoulders and sighed, sad to see his older friend like this.

“No, we don’t think you’re crazy.”

“Stop bullshitting me, man, I know how this sounds!” Eddie groaned and rubbed his eyes roughly. He exhaled and his dark eyes started welling up with tears again.

“We’re not bullshitting you.” Max softly reassured him.

“We believe you.” Robin nodded.

He looked at Mairi, who wiped her hot tears and slowly reached out to him, pushing a strand of curls away from his flustered face. He sighed at the soothing gesture, closing his eyes for a second, letting the tears fall on the dirty concete floor.

“Look, what I’m about to tell you two might be a little…difficult to take in…” Dustin exhaled, softly motioning towards the two seniors. They both raised their eyebrows at Dustin.

“Okay…” Eddie muttered.

“You know how people say Hawkins is…cursed?”

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

“No, man, there was nothing you could see…or touch…” Eddie’s pale confused face matched Maia’s. He whimpered slightly, seeing Chrissy’s twisted corpse right in front of his eyes.

Another world? Monsters? Demons?

“You know, I tried to wake her, man…but she couldn’t move. It was like she was in a trance or something…”

“Under a spell.” Dustin breathed out silently.

“A curse.” Maia finally spoke for the first time since they’ve arrived. Eddie turned at her with furrowed brows, nodding.

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin added, voice full of realisation.

“Who’s Vecna?” Steve asked with folded arms.

“An undead creature of great power.”

“A spellcaster…” Eddie whispered, eyes wide open in terror. Maia swallowed hard.

“A dark wizard…” she added, looking around the disturbed faces around the dusty room.

“Does that mean we have a full on sorcerer on our hands?” Robin hesitantly turned to Dustin, and he slowly nodded.

“Could be possible.”

“Fucking hell.” Maia whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose as Eddie rubbed his eyes, his breath unsteady.

・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・● ●・○・●・

“Okay, we gotta go, but I swear we’ll be back here as soon as possible…” Dustin softly reassured and hugged Eddie, who still flinched a bit at the contact, his whole body one exposed nerve.

“I wish I could stay here with you.” he patted his back and sighed, making his way towards the door where the rest of the group waited.

Maia stood in the doorframe and looked at Eddie.

“I can’t leave you, you can’t just stay here on your own.” she whispered, walking back inside the room after ruffling Dustin’s hair. Eddie started furiously shaking his head.

“No fucking way, Anderson. You’re not staying with me.” he scoffed.

Maia frowned. He walked up to her and started to push her out of the door.

“Watch your fucking mouth, you don’t decide for me.” she pushed him back. He grunted and threw her a furious glare.

“If they come for me, you go down with me, I’m not allowing that, halfling.” he put a bit more force to it now, making Maia bump into Robin, who just observed them like two fighting children.

“I’m not leaving you to rot alone in this shithole while there’s a fucking necromancer on the loose.”

He tried to force her wrists behind her back so she couldn’t push him, but she swiftly reached into her pocket and flicked her pocket knife open, holding it in front of her. Eddie raised his hands in self defense, slowly backing away.

“Put that needle away from me and get fucking lost.” he growled at her.

“Or what, you’ll handcuff me to a chair again?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with fear and anger.

The group went silent, Robin silently snorted with laughter while Steve raised his eyebrows with a disgusted expression. Eddie’s eyes flickered between them and Maia’s angry gaze. He then put his hands down and turned around with an angry scoff, punching a can of paint off the table. He sat inside the boat with his back to her, clearly done with the conversation.

Maia heavily exhaled and closed the knife, putting it back to the pocket of her ragged black denim jacket. When she turned around, she was met with questioning faces.

“Long story.”

Dustin nodded awkwardly and patted her shoulder, motioning everyone to go out.

“Bye Eddie, hold on!” Robin called after him, waving on her way. The rest followed. Maia stopped outside the door.

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry, guys.” she weakly smiled and Max nodded.

“We know.” she whispered and suddenly hugged her.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but we’ve been through this before.”

Maia was kind of surprised at the gesture, with Max being usually so distant. She just nodded and silently thanked her.

“If we stick together, we can beat that son of a bitch. You can bet on that.” Dustin smiled and reassuringly nodded.

“We’ll be ok, don’t worry.”

When she got back to the shed, he was still sitting in the boat, as if he hadn’t moved. She softly knocked on a wooden table next to her, alerting him of her presence. She didn’t want to sneak up on him after…everything.

She slowly approached him. The reflection of the moonlit lake was dancing around his face. He scanned the water around the boat, tears streaming down his face, his nose red and drenched. He didn’t even try to wipe them away anymore. Maia cautiously stepped inside the boat and sat next to him, listening to his quiet sobs. She almost jumped when she heard him speak after such long silence.

“She just wanted drugs, Mai, I swear she just wanted…I didn’t want to…she wasn’t there to…” he whispered through his whimpers.

She furrowed her eyebrows, making a few tears fall out of her own eyes.

“Shh, don’t talk about it, it’s okay…”

“No, you don’t understand…I just…I swear I didn’t want to fu-…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. He just crumbled in her arms like a house of cards and slowly put his head in her lap, shaking with sobs. She looked up at the ceiling, attempting to compose herself. Her bottom lip wobbled, so she bit it hard, accidentally forcing a drop of blood out of it. She buried her fingers in his hair, softly weaving through the curls dampened with his sweat and her tears.

“I promise you, I promise…I promise she was just there to…” he whispered, too exhausted to say anything else. He turned his head to look up at her, his face puffy and wet from crying. He raised his hand to her neck, ghosting over the few scratches he made with the bottle.

“I’m so sorry, halfling, I’m so fucking sorry…” he whimpered, shutting his eyes closed. Maia wiped some of his tears away with her thumb.

“It’s ok, I held a knife to your throat.” she whispered and the slightest twitch of the corners of his mouth filled her with bliss. It only lasted a few seconds before his gaze shifted away again, his eyes blurry, as if he was staring right through her.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” he whispered, barely getting out any noise. Maia let out a long shaky sigh.

“We’ll figure it out…you should rest now…” she caressed his hair and his devastated eyes focused on her again. He sobbed a little.

“How can I?”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

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