#thank you for taking the time to write and share this and i wish nothing but the most beautiful and comforting moments to meet you

[yanderes-galore]

Hi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) I've noticed your requests are kinda open, so i wanted to take this chance to propose a little idea i have.

Could you write a romantic scenario for Leshy (COTL) with yandere prompts 22 and 29 from "Yandere Writing Prompts (︢⓪ ᴗ ︢⓪✿) #2" list by @/an-ambivalent?

22. "If I'm the one you love, then why do you look at them like that?"

29. "Say you love me."

I want to see jealous yandere Leshy in action hehe (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

Thank you for your hard work, Panther! And good luck with other requests, because wow, you have a lot of them :0

Thank you! I will enjoy writing Leshy again ^^ When I read it, I had a thought of the obsession loving Leshy like you would love a God or Deity in religion. However, to Leshy, he thinks you genuinely love him.

Prompts Here

Yandere! Leshy Prompts 22 + 29

"If I’m the one you love, then why do you look at them like that?"

"Say you love me."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Delusional behavior, Jealousy, Threats, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Isolation, Murder/Sacrifice mention, Forced relationship.

You've always said you loved Leshy.

The Bishop had always believed such words from your mouth. You may be just a Follower to many, like his siblings, but to him you meant so much more. Leshy, being the young and arrogant Bishop, felt you loved him.

As a result, you were often given more care than other Followers.

Leshy often enjoys it when you come to him. You two typically share conversations in a field of Camellia flowers. They're not usually deep, just Leshy asking about your time in his flock.

But he enjoys them more than any other chat.

Perhaps he was being naive... yet he felt your words meant more than anything. A God shouldn't expect romantic love from a Follower. No, Followers adore their deities... but not usually like that.

Leshy refuses to see your love in any other way.

To Leshy, you mean more to him than a Follower. Can't you tell by what he does? He praises you, gives you extra attention, showers you in flowers.

You even let him hold you! You accept his affection! You say you love him, you worship him...

Then you pay attention to another.

Leshy knows, as a Bishop, he should let you mingle with other Followers. You should be able to speak to who you wish. Normally Leshy allows such a thing to his prized Follower... however...

You look like you love them more than him.

Prideful as he is... Leshy feels himself twitch when he sees you with another Follower. You always look at them so fondly. In fact, he swears it's more intense than the way you look at him.

Why would you like them more than him?

That Follower is nothing compared to him. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be treasured, cared for, praised.

You deserve to be his.

You can sense the tension in the air when you enter Leshy's temple. There's an eerie quiet when your feet patter along the stone and marble tiles. You don't see Leshy... so you continue to an archway near the back.

The Camellia garden.

The air shifts as you enter the garden you usually do. Every day you find yourself here to speak to Leshy. He's made it an event to speak with one another each day.

You enjoy his company. He's your Bishop, the one you worship. To you, you love him like you'd love any deity...

Yet when you approach the garden and see your Bishop sitting in the flowers... You wonder if you did something wrong....

"Come here, little one."

Leshy's voice is commanding when he calls you over. There's an authoritative tone that shakes you to your core. You shiver but listen, like a child about to be scolded.

Even when you take your seat on the stone near the Bishop, you can tell he's irritated. He may be blind... but you can feel his glare. You shiver beside your Bishop, before you hear him clear his throat.

"Do you love me?"

The question is sudden and takes you off guard. You still hear his stern tone even when he asks the question. You hesitate, afraid to anger him more, before you finally answer.

"Of course I do, my Bishop. I love you more than anything. I worship you, I praise you, I—"

"If I’m the one you love, then why do you look at them like that?" Leshy growls, cutting off your sentence. This was not the love he wanted from you. He wanted more from his Follower.

You know who your Bishop is talking about. Recently you've been getting close to another Follower. To the point you've even fallen for them... You thought that was fine... Even other Followers were paired with one another!

You had no idea what type of love your Bishop wanted from you.

"Them?" You murmur, nervous.

"You love your Bishop, don't you?" Leshy repeats, "You love me?"

"Yes I do...." You nod, Leshy humming in response. You still sense his irritation.

"If you love me... Then you'd know sacrificing that Follower is for the good of the faith, yes?" Leshy murmurs, his voice barely hiding a threat.

Your silence speaks volumes. Leshy lets out a grim chuckle as he realizes a Follower is more important to you than him. That won't do, will it?

"Say you love me." Your Bishop growls. Yet again the word is a booming command. His voice shakes you to your core and you force yourself to obey.

"I love you!" You chirp, voice soft yet nervous.

"Say it like you mean it." Leshy presses, his figure towering over you. "Bow before your Bishop, worship me, show me you love me... and ONLY me."

At his command you immediately throw yourself on your knees. You bow before him, smaller body engulfed in your cultist garb. Leshy rumbles a pleased noise, reaching out to pet your head.

"You do love me, don't you?" Leshy coos. "Good... Then you really won't mind if I call for that Follower's sacrifice, hm?"

You say nothing. As much as you wanted to react, it would only dig you into a deeper hole. Leshy appears to wait for your response for a moment... but eventually he makes another pleased rumble before picking you up in his arms.

"Of course you wouldn't object, my devoted Follower..." Leshy praised, nuzzling into you. "Why would you? You never loved them... Those are false feelings... Your true feelings belong to me."

Leshy giggles, holding you against him even if you struggle or whimper.

"I knew you'd only have love for your Bishop... No one else compares...!"

[soracities]

I have been thirty for a few months. I never thought I'd make it, truly. I had no plans beyond twenty. I'm a high school drop out with various disabilities, I'm not conventionally 'attractive', I've never had many friends and my support network has failed me several times. And the idea of making plans, after a trail of failures and let-downs (both of myself and others), only filled me with dread. I have to take care of so much. I have my blessings, of course, but not without my own troubles. I have never been on a date, I've never been kissed even though I do want that. I've had to make the decision between bills and feeding myself. I've watched everyone around me fade away or leave. This, however, will pass. This time, in ten years, I'll have been forty for a few months. In twenty, I'll be fifty. And I can see myself being those ages. This year, I planted flowers for the first time and I've watched them grow. I've started reading after years of being told I am too stupid to understand things or that having joys won't make me successful. I've made new friends. I even repaired the strained relationship with my parents, something I never thought I'd be able to do. My life isn't going to be plastered on a big screen or be a bestseller but I don't need it to be. If I never marry or I die alone with no one, I don't think I'll regret it because I'll have myself. My thirties, I realize, are my gift to myself to know love and be loved by myself. Like I ... was the one who grew those flowers that made me happy because I know flowers make me happy, I chose to read the books I love because I know that they will make me happy, I choose to find my little joys instead of the joys others have expected of me. I'll get myself to forty, fifty, maybe even a hundred! I'll continue to give myself little joys because right now that is what is making me happy. That may change at forty! At fifty, a hundred, I don't know! I believe, however, I would like to find out ... and that is something I never would have said at twenty. I don't know if I will make it because as my farmer of a grandfather would say, "You have no idea what a year will bring." And you don't, there is no way to predict what the year, the month, or even tomorrow will bring, but you plant the seeds anyway. You plant them and take care of them as though you know they get to full ripeness and harvest. That process, I've learned for myself, is how I've found love. I just plant the seed today. I may or may not have flowers tomorrow but knowing that I may is enough for me to want to see.

.

[just-spacetrash]

📖

[shrimpin-aint-easy]

Good afternoon my shrimping friends

I have fallen on really really really difficult times. I lost my job on august 16th, and despite being on my way out due to an extremely toxic and emotionally abusive work environment, I was hoping to get something lined up first. I legally can’t talk go into details right now, but I can say that a coworker who had it out for me for some unknown fucking reason threw me under the bus and effectively ruined my life, as well as putting my family in debt in over $30k in attorney fees. We’ve had to take out credit cards and I am beyond thankful my dad has good credit or we’d be royally screwed. I have been nothing but nice to her in the year and a half I’ve worked there, bringing her food and random little gifts that made me think of her. I can’t wrap my mind around how someone could be so conniving and fucked up to stab me in the back the way she did, I did NOT deserve any of this. She knew I am in a bad place mentally and financially, yet still chose to do what she did. I will hopefully be able to elaborate more in the near future. I have a court date coming up on the 6th, so we will see.

I have my car insurance due at the end of the month, but my phone bill is due now and it’s already on a payment schedule pushed out as far as i could make it. I’ve been doing survey apps to make a couple of dollars, it’s better than absolutely nothing. This has been the absolute worst year, it’s progressively gotten worse with each month. I’m so deeply depressed and I have never felt more worthless and alone in my life. But I’m trying so hard to remain hopeful. I have two job interviews this Wednesday, please wish me the utmost luck. If anyone has any suggestions to make a few dollars in the meantime please let me know.

Im writing this because im pathetically requesting if anyone is able to throw some change my way, I would be so forever grateful. I am no way expecting anywhere close to my surmounting legal fees but any little bit that I can put towards food, general necessities, my medication for the month, pet food, gas, etc. I plan to find another job before the end of the month but I’m absolutely desperate now.

I have a ko-fi, shrimpinainteasy

Cshapp - $metacat4

Vnmo- @sara-parkour

If you are unable to donate anything, I completely understand, and I appreciate you taking the time to read this. If you guys could share this, I’d deeply appreciate that just as much.

I’d be happy to provide any proof of whatever, I don’t even know, im sorry, my brain is mush. I’m so overwhelmed beyond words.

Again I’m really REALLY sorry to ask. Im so unbelievably desperate and so far in this hole of depression and financial debt, I don’t even know where to begin besides trying to keep my phone from turning off and staying on the road legally so I can find another job. I really wanted to refrain from begging for money online, but I need help so bad.

[freshthoughts2020]

NARUTO series creator Masashi Kishimoto reacts to Toriyama's passing.

"I honestly don't know what to write about this sudden event.

But for now, I would like to share my thoughts and feelings that I had hoped for one day Mr. Toriyama would ask me about it.

I grew up with his manga, Dr. Slump in the lower grades of elementary school and Dragon Ball in the upper grades, and it was natural for me to have his manga as a part of my life.

Even when I was having a bad day, the weekly Dragon Ball made me forget about it. As a country boy with nothing, that was a relief to me.

I really enjoyed Dragon Ball too much!

I was a college student. Suddenly, Dragon Ball, which had been a part of my life for so many years, came to an end.

I felt a tremendous sense of loss and didn't know what to look forward to.

But at the same time, it was an opportunity for me to truly understand the greatness of the master who created Dragon Ball.

I wanted to create a work like his!

I wanted to be just like him!

And as I followed in his footsteps to become a manga artist, I began to feel less and less lost.

It was because I enjoyed making manga.

By following him, I was able to find new enjoyment.

Sensei was always my guide.

He was my admirer.

I may be annoying to him, but I am grateful to him.

For me, he was truly the God of salvation and the God of manga.

When I first met him, I was too nervous to say a single word.

But after meeting him many times at the Tezuka Award judging, I became able to talk.

I will never forget the slightly embarrassed smile on his face when he and Mr. Oda talked excitedly about how Dragon Ball was fun, as if they were children again and were engaged in a competition.

I just received the news of Sensei's passing.

I feel a tremendous sense of loss, more than when Dragon Ball ended...

I still don't know how to deal with this hole in my heart.

I can't even read Dragon Ball, which I love.

I don't even feel like I can write this message to Sensei properly.

Everyone in the world was still looking forward to your work.

If I could really have one Dragon Ball wish come true...I'm sorry...

That may be selfish of me, but I am sad, Sensei.

Akira Toriyama-sensei, thank you for 45 years of enjoyable works.

And thank you for your hard work.

I am sure that his family members are still deeply saddened by this loss.

Please take care of yourselves.

I pray that Akira Toriyama-sensei may rest in peace."

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl.

Synopsis - The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your Dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the Universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.1k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content towards the end. mild alcohol consumption. age gap. smut in next chapter(s).

Author's Note - part one is finally here!! thank you so much to everyone who asked to be tagged, and who liked and reblogged the masterlist. i am SO excited to share this with you. i've built this world in my head and trust me it is gorgeous - salty ocean breezes, sunsoaked sailboats and billowing white linen shirts. i hope you can lose yourself in my little seaside town with bucky for the time it takes you to read this, just as i did while writing it. i can't wait to write more of this series for you x

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Requests. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

next chapter (two).

Tethering /tɛð(ə)rɪŋ/

An event in which two soulmates are bound together forever. Only occurs when the Universe decides it is time. No sooner, no later.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The gentle ocean breeze gives you a moment of respite from the scorching sun that's beating down. You're half asleep, laying on the cool tile of your balcony when your phone rings.

"Babe! Babe! Babe!"

"Lacie? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I am freaking out right now, oh my god. I didn't know who to call. You'll never guess what just happened to me!"

You can guess. In fact, you already have.

Lacie's Tethering. It's finally happened.

You're taught, growing up, that your Tethering is the biggest moment of your life. It shapes who you are forever. Sets you on your eternal path. You're presented with your soulmate in a big display of love and affection and metaphorical fireworks. It's supposed to be magical.

You wish people would shut up about it.

The World seems to be split into two categories - the people that have been Tethered, and the people that haven't.

You fall into the latter.

You're repeatedly told it'll happen one day. It'll happen when the time is right. It'll happen when you least expect it.

You're not sure you ever want it to happen.

The idea that the Universe determines the person you're with forever has never sat right with you. What happened to free will? What happened to personal preference? You believe you should at least have a choice in the matter. It's your future, after all.

Not everyone shares the same sentiment.

"Babe, you still there?"

Lacie's excitement filled voice pulls you back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Are you busy? Can you meet me for coffee, like, now?"

You take a deep breath and plaster a fake smile on your face.

"Sure. I'll see you in ten."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Oh my god babe, it was just incredible! You won't even believe it. There's nothing like it, truly."

You remind yourself quickly that Lacie is your best friend, and that you owe it to her to be happy for her. Personal feelings about soulmates aside.

"Tell me all about it, Lace!" you encourage, grabbing a hold of her hand excitedly.

The blonde girl squeals before shuffling closer to you, pressing her knees against yours.

"Okay, so. Picture this. I'm at my gym, doing my usual routine. I'm wearing my super cute pink Lulu Lemon set, you know the one with the flowers?"

She waits for you to nod in affirmation before she continues.

"So, I accidentally drop a weight on the ground, and it makes the biggest noise. I'm super embarrassed, and I'm trying to pick it up, but it's so heavy. And then, the hottest guy I have ever seen appears. Like, seriously gorgeous."

As much as you despise the whole soulmate thing, you can't deny how happy Lacie seems. She's almost vibrating with it, bouncing up and down in her seat.

"He comes over and picks it up for me, sets in back on the rack. And then he introduces himself, and shakes my hand, and it happened."

"What was it like?" you smile, eager for her to carry on.

"Like fucking magic."

You've heard that before. A million times. From literally everyone. Surely it can't be that magical if billions of people have experienced it.

"Magic?" you prompt.

"It is indescribable, babe. It's like... it's like everything just falls into place. Like everything finally makes sense!"

She jumps out of her chair, hugging you tightly. She's practically sat on your lap in the coffee shop, but neither of you really care.

"So, what's his name? What's he like?"

"His name is Cameron. He's new in town, he just moved here for work. He's a personal trainer, so he's like, super fit. And gorgeous. Did I mention gorgeous?"

"Maybe once or twice," you laugh.

"I'm so happy," Lacie whispers, emotion choking her voice. "I can't believe it finally happened. This is the day I've been waiting for since I was a little girl."

You hug her tighter, and ignore the look you get from the barista.

"I love you," she declares, suddenly serious. "You know that me being Tethered now doesn't change that, right?"

"I know," you confirm. "I love you too, Lace. I'm really happy for you."

You genuinely mean it. Lacie has talked about meeting her soulmate every day since you met her in the 3rd grade. You may have never quite shared her enthusiasm, but you admire her passion. And you adore her, more than anyone.

"So, what now? Are you gonna get married tomorrow and run off into the sunset?"

"I'm choosing to ignore your sarcasm because I know you're using it as a coping mechanism," she tells you pointedly. "And I know that there's a tiny part of you that wishes you'd been Tethered already, so you don't have to deal with everyone talking to you about it."

Jackpot. She's read you like a book.

"No, we're not getting married tomorrow," she rolls her eyes before continuing, "but we are going on a real date tonight. We're gonna get dinner and get to know each other. Isn't this crazy? I'm going on a date with the guy I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with!"

"That is kinda crazy, actually," you laugh. "What are you gonna wear?"

"It doesn't matter - we're going to be together forever anyway!"

You make Lacie promise to send you a picture of her outfit as you're leaving the coffee shop, which she agrees to with glee. On your way home, you pick up some of your Mom's favourite wine, and prepare yourself for another soulmate based conversation that will inevitably happen when you tell your parents the events of the day at dinner tonight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hi, sweetheart!" your Dad beams as you step through the front door of your childhood home.

"Hey, Dad," you greet, allowing him to pull you in for a hug. "Where's Mom? I brought wine."

"Kitchen," he gestures with a nod of his head. "She's making that mango dessert you like."

Walking into your Mother's kitchen is like dipping your feet into a pool on a scorching hot day. The windows are propped open, curtains billowing softly in the wind. The ocean breeze drifts through the room, ruffling your Mom's dress and floating the hair away from her face. The evening sun beams in, illuminating the space with a golden glow. It smells like fresh fruit, mint, and salt water. It's a haven.

"Hi, Mama."

"Oh, my love! Just in time. I was about to call you to see if you were alright."

She makes her way over to you and kisses you on the head swiftly, before walking to the cabinet to grab wine glasses.

"Sorry I'm a little later than I said. I changed my outfit three times - it's warmer than I thought it was going to be."

"I know! Summer, finally. We've been waiting long enough."

She takes the bottle of wine from your hand and pours it into the glasses.

"You've poured four, Mama."

"Didn't your Dad tell you? Bucky's joining us for dinner."

"Oh. No, he didn't mention anything."

"He's back from his vacation. He promised he'd show us all of the pictures he took!"

She grabs the glasses and floats out of the room, leaving you alone in the kitchen, thoughts of Bucky Barnes swirling around like dust in the sunlight.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky.

Your Dad's best friend.

They met a few years ago, when Bucky moved to town. He said he was looking for something quieter, sick of city living. He wanted to slow down a bit, finally take a breath.

He was out for a run around town, getting his bearings, when he stopped your Dad on the driveway to ask about his car. They bonded over their love for motorcycles and vintage vehicles, and the rest is history.

Bucky's been a regular fixture in your life for so long, you can't remember a time before. All you know, is that it was probably a little more peaceful. His boyish charm is infectious, bringing out the youth in your Dad. They're like teenagers, when they're together. Long lost frat brothers, your Mom jokes.

She's got a soft spot for him. Most people do. It might have something to do with the fact he's devastatingly handsome.

It's no secret that Bucky Barnes is a ladies man. He is without even trying. He's charming, gorgeous, funny in all the right ways. He's mysterious, but not disarming. Tough, but not scary. Rebellious, but not a liability. He's a catch.

A catch, with a taste for beautiful women.

Your Dad always jokes that he's the towns most eligible bachelor. You can't count on two hands the amount of women you know that have dated him - but nothing seems to stick. He isn't Tethered, after all.

Some people choose not to date, if they haven't met their soulmate. They wait and wait, and when the time comes, they're complete. Others take pleasure in dating before it happens. Might as well make the most of the freedom, Bucky said once. You can't help but agree.

Might as well make the most of the freedom.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Hey, buddy!" you hear from the hallway. You make your way out of the kitchen to be met with the sight of Bucky, sun-kissed and practically glowing. His hair has a few light streaks from the sun, and the faint freckles on his cheeks are more prominent now. His steel blue eyes meet yours, mischief rife in them.

"Hi, honey," he greets, draping an arm around your shoulders. He kisses you on the cheek, light stubble scratching your skin. You throw an arm around his back and look up at him.

"There's no way this tan is natural," you tease, nudging him slightly.

"It makes me even more gorgeous, doesn't it?" he jokes, winking at you. He squeezes your shoulder before letting go, grabbing a bottle of wine from his bag.

"I brought your favourite, Lori."

"So did I," you echo, laughing.

"Great minds, honey. Great minds!"

"You can never have too much wine," your Mom yells out from the kitchen doorway. "Bring it in here, Buck. I'll put it in the refrigerator."

"Yes ma'am," he obliges, making his way to her with a smile on his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Guess what happened today," you begin, in between bites of your strawberry salad.

The three of them look at you intently, urging you to continue.

"Lacie got Tethered."

"How exciting!" your Mom squeals.

"That's a long time coming," Bucky chimes in. You look at him and smirk.

"Tell me about it."

"Here we go," your Dad smiles. "Our two anti soulmate protestors."

"Don't make it sound so political," Bucky laughs. "She's the only one that gets it."

"I've said it a thousand times, and I'll say it again. Just. You. Wait," your Mom lectures. "The two of you don't get it."

"Magic, fireworks, eternal love, blah blah blah. Trust me, I get it."

"She gets it," Bucky echoes. "And so do I. The Universe decides our fate, and we get no choice whatsoever. I don't believe in it, is all. I have no faith in the system. I should get to choose."

"But you feel like you are choosing," your Dad defends. "It didn't feel like it was being determined for me. It's hard to explain."

"It's just so... backwards," you justify. "I can't believe we live in a Universe where we have all the choices in the world, but don't get to choose the person we spend the rest of our lives with."

"It's worked out pretty well for us," your Mom smiles.

And it has. The first thing anyone notices when they meet your parents is that they are undeniably in love. You've never met two people more perfect for each other - which should solidify your belief in the Universe, really. But it doesn't. You can't explain where your lack of faith in it came from. It just appeared one day, and you haven't been able to shake it since. You're grateful every day to have two Tethered, happy, smitten parents. You've seen how hard it is for people with Untethered Mothers and Fathers. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. It sounds unbearable.

"Yes it did," your Dad confirms, shaking you from your thoughts. He reaches for your Mom's hand and kisses the back of it tenderly, eyes never once leaving hers. You look to Bucky next to you, who smiles at you gently. Feelings about soulmates aside, the both of you love these two people sat across the table with all your heart.

"Trust me, sweetheart," your Mom begins. "I know you're against the idea now - God knows I was the same at your age. But when it happens, you'll forget about all of your rebellion. You'll just be happy."

You nod in agreement, praying for the conversation to be over. As if he can read your mind, Bucky pipes up.

"Let me show you some pictures from Italy. I did promise I would."

You shoot him a grateful look before picking up your empty wine glass and making your way to the kitchen for a refill.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The dining room is now lit solely by candlelight, wax dripping onto the white lace tablecloth like condensation on a cold glass. The sun fell asleep hours ago, the four of you enjoying each others company with no regard for time.

"Oh, shit. It's late," your Dad says suddenly.

"You got big late night plans?" you tease.

"We have Clara and Mike's wedding at the weekend, so we're flying out tomorrow. We should probably get some sleep, so we're not exhausted."

Your Mom rises from her chair and kisses you on the head, before grabbing the dessert bowls from the table. Your Dad helps, smiling every time his hand brushes hers accidentally.

"Thanks for coming, kiddo. Your place next week?"

"Of course. I think I'll try that salmon recipe you sent me."

"Can't wait," your Dad assures you, giving you a one sided hug. He squeezes you once before letting you go to grab your shoes.

You can hear your parents saying their goodbyes to Bucky as you tie your laces, smoothing out the skirt of your dress as you stand. They all join you in the hallway, Bucky leaning over to grab his jacket from behind you. Fuck, he smells good.

"Have a great time at the wedding, you guys. Send me pictures, please!" you say as you hug your Mom goodbye.

"We will! Drive home safe, the both of you!"

They shut the door softly, leaving you and Bucky stood on the porch. The evening air chills your bare legs, salt in the breeze sticking to your lips.

"Where's your car?" he asks, looking around.

"Oh, I walked. It was a nice day, and I'm trying to be a little greener. Save the planet, and all," you chuckle.

"You want a ride, then?" he offers, leaning against the side of his truck.

"Uh - maybe," you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot. You feel antsy, for some reason. There's a buzz flowing through your veins, making you a little restless.

"Maybe?" he smirks.

"I just, I'm not sure if I wanna go home yet. It might be that I've had three glasses of wine, but I'm kinda... jittery? Think I need to burn off some energy. Maybe I'll walk home."

"Like hell you will," he grumbles.

You quirk a brow in confusion.

"It's dark, and all those college kids are in town on their break. I don't trust 'em."

You fight to keep the grin off your face. You weirdly like it when Bucky gets protective. He's always so calm, so relaxed - it takes a lot to rile him up. He looks hot with a clenched jaw.

"Why don't we go somewhere?"

"Where?" you ask tentatively.

"I don't know," he thinks for a second. "How about the beach?"

You smile, gazing at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

"I fucking love the beach."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The ocean waves break the shore steadily, the repetitive pattern calming you both. You're sat on the sand, grains slipping through your hands where you're pouring it out through your fingers. The light of the moon reflects off the surface of the sea, illuminating the abandoned cove. It's just you, Bucky, and the night sky.

The alcohol in your system has evened you out, warm buzz keeping you sheltered from the chill. Bucky's stretched out next to you, strong arms folded underneath his head. His shirt rides up slightly, exposing a slither of sun kissed skin. You pretend not to notice his Adonis belt, or the little trail of hair that leads down into his waistband.

The silence is easy, comfortable. You don't get to hang out like this often, just the two of you. It's nice.

A notification on your phone breaks through the tranquility. You both flinch.

"Sorry," you mutter, checking the screen. "It's Lacie, telling me about her perfect date."

He chuckles lowly at your tone, sitting up to look at you.

"This is hard for you, isn't it?" he asks. "You hate the whole soulmate thing, but you like seeing her happy."

Bingo. It's like he's read your mind.

"I don't know why I hate it so much" you confess quietly. "It's a part of life. I can't avoid it. I just think - what if... what if I'm like, the exception, or something? What if I never meet my soulmate - or - what if I meet them when I'm like, seventy? That happens, you know! And then I'll be fucking cursed to spend my entire life feeling like this."

"And what is this?"

"Hopeless. That's what this is. I just feel pretty fucking hopeless."

You're not sure why you're baring your soul to Bucky tonight. You could blame the wine, but you know that's not what it is. Maybe it's because he seems to be the only one that understands.

"Me too," he whispers.

You whip your head around to stare at him in shock. He laughs at the look on your face, and continues.

"You're young - you have time. I'm forty in a couple of years. Every single one of my friends is married to their soulmate - except for me."

You bite at your lip nervously, but refuse to tear your eyes away from his steel blue ones. His face is lit by the glow from the moon, and it takes your breath away for a second. He looks almost ethereal.

"You always act so... unbothered. I didn't realise... I guess I just, I didn't -" you try to gather your thoughts before continuing. "This fucking sucks, huh?"

He laughs with his whole chest, and you're convinced the sound is so special, so rare, that you should bottle it. Sell it as medicine. It'd cure anything, you're sure of it.

"Yeah, it does," he agrees with a chuckle. "It's the waiting around that's the worst part. The unknown. It could be minutes, it could be decades. I just don't know."

"At least for now, we have each other," you joke.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, huh?" he teases, nudging you with his shoulder.

You allow your weight to press into his side a little, leaning in. He's warm, and he's familiar, and in this moment, he understands you better than anyone else in the world.

"We'll be okay, honey," he murmurs. "It'll all work out the way it's supposed to."

You close your eyes, and allow his words and the breaking waves to calm your nerves. Bucky wraps an arm around you, and all the tension melts from your muscles.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're not sure if it's the honest conversation, or the brisk ocean breeze, but you've sobered up in record time. Your body registers this, and sends a shiver down your spine.

"You cold?" Bucky asks you. "You wanna go home?"

"Not yet," you whisper. "Not yet."

He shrugs off his worn brown leather jacket and slips it over your shoulders. It smells so strongly of him that it makes you dizzy. Bucky settles back down in his original place, returning his arm to where it was draped over you. His rough fingertips rub patterns into the material that now covers your arms, and you wish, for a fleeting moment, that it was your bare skin instead.

"You been working on anything new recently?" he enquires in a hushed tone, careful not to ruin the atmosphere.

"I made a damn good batch of macarons yesterday," you reply, beaming smile etched across your face. "Raspberry and lemon. I'll bring you some, next time I pass the Garage. You're gonna love them."

"You know, I think the only reason I ever get Mechanic of the Month is because you bring by all of your sweet treats."

You laugh melodiously, and the sound makes Bucky's heart stutter in his chest without warning.

"Happy to be of service," you tease. "I take requests, too, if you ever want something specific. Just let me know."

"You're the best, sugar."

You sink into Bucky's hold a little, daring to rest your head on his shoulder. When he doesn't stop you, you exhale, and relax even more.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asks.

"Nope. You?"

"Nah. I'm going sailing, finally. It's been way too fuckin' long," he grumbles. "Your Dad's usually my right hand man, but he'll be in Ohio. You wanna come?"

The idea of laying on the deck of a boat in the blazing sunshine with a shirtless Bucky Barnes sounds like heaven. Who could say no to an offer like that?

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring a picnic, if you like. It's the least I can do."

"Sounds perfect," he replies, squeezing your shoulder.

Suddenly, he rises to his feet, extending a hand out to you. You grab it, and he pulls you up, the both of you shaking sand off yourselves.

"It's late, and dark, and a little cold. You ready to go?"

You nod your head, and make your way over to his truck, ignoring the heat that blooms over your chest when he opens the passenger door for you before his own.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Thank you, for tonight," you say as he pulls up in front of your apartment building.

"Thank you," he replies, killing the engine. "It's nice to have you back, you know. Wondered if you were gonna finish college and stay out there in California. Thought we might not see you again."

He almost sounds... relieved. The idea that he might have missed you if you didn't return effects you more than it should.

"I liked it there, but... I don't know. My family's here. I'm only twenty three. I've got time to move around the country. I missed this place too much when I was away."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," he chuckles.

"I know, trust me. They do say absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Yeah, they say a lot of fuckin' things," he jokes.

Bucky swings his door open, hopping down from the drivers seat. He makes his way over to your side, holding out a hand so you can jump out.

"Careful," he warns. "It's higher than it looks."

You grab his hand, and step onto the metal sill. Your foot slips slightly, sending you tumbling down and forward, out of the truck. Luckily, Bucky catches you, one hand in yours, other on your hip.

"Woah, easy. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," you breathe.

He places his hands on your cheeks and cradles your face, searching for any signs of distress. You place your palms over his, silently reassuring him.

And then, it happens.

Warm, golden, molten electricity surges through your veins, lighting up each and every one of your nerve endings. Your surroundings explode into glorious technicolour, everything suddenly brighter and more vibrant. It feels like your heart is being ripped out of your chest, only to be replaced by one that beats in a slightly different rhythm. There's flowers blooming in your ribcage, new life happening inside of you. You catch eyes with Bucky, expecting to see his stormy blue ones looking back at you. Instead, all you see is your future.

Vivid, flashing images of Bucky Barnes fill your mind, each one of them tinted with a warm, rosy hue. You feel like you're being reinvented. Your skin is alive, hyperaware of the way Bucky's palms are still gently cupping your cheeks. Your fingertips tingle with anticipation where they rest on his, itching to touch every inch of him. You feel as if the oxygen has been stolen from your lungs, and replaced with love.

Your knees are the first to buckle, the weight of the moment taking you down. You hit the ground, and so does Bucky, his palms not once leaving your face. You're both kneeling on the warm concrete, ocean waves providing a distant soundtrack. Blood is rushing in your ears, and you wonder for a second if you're about to pass out. You squeeze Bucky's hands so hard, it's a miracle you don't break his fingers. He squeezes back, eyes locked on one another.

After what feels like an eternity, you both break out of your reverie. You lean forward, resting your forehead against Bucky's, both of you panting.

You're trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully. You move one of your hands to rest on Bucky's chest, right on his heart. You swear the steady beat of it spells out your name.

He mirrors you, and moves his own hand to rest above your frantic heart, the other still glued to your cheek. You both breathe, in and out, trying to match each other. When you finally do, it's as if time stops. It's just you and Bucky. One heartbeat. One soul.

You break away from him to look into his eyes again. They look different, you think. He looks different.

He gazes back at you, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. The moonlight dances off your faces, illuminating the moment both your lives changed forever.

"It's you," he breathes in disbelief.

A laugh escapes your chest, surprising you both. He chuckles with you, and before you know it, the both of you are in hysterics, sitting on the sidewalk at three in the morning.

"Of course it's me," you giggle. "The two people that hate soulmates, Tethered together. You couldn't write it."

Bucky grins at you, clutching at his stomach.

You both take a breath, and realise your surroundings. Bucky gets up first, heaving you up by your arms. He towers over you, suddenly close. Not close enough, you decide. Never close enough.

You lunge forward and crash your lips to his. Bucky instinctively wraps one arm around your back, moving his other hand to hold you by the back of your neck. He tastes like salt and spearmint and every kiss for the rest of your life.

Bucky presses himself into you, attempting to tangle your bodies together. He wants to feel every inch of you against his skin, willing you to come closer. He aches to climb into you, sew himself into your ribcage. He'd be content to live there, beating your heart, forever.

You whine, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You tilt your head back, and fist your hands into his shirt, plastering yourself to his front. He shoves his thigh in between your legs, the rough denim a welcome contrast to your soft skin. You buck your hips forward, and the friction is so delicious it makes you dizzy. You've never been kissed like this. It's almost feral. You're both surrendering to your fates, giving in to the animalistic urges coursing through you.

A seagull caws on a nearby street lamp, and the sound makes you both jump. You suddenly realise your scenario. Your Dad's best friend, who also happens to be your soulmate, has you pressed against his truck in the street, kissing you like he's running out of air and you're his only oxygen source. If it goes any further, you'll both get arrested for public indecency.

"Fuck, sugar," he murmurs against your mouth. "My pretty girl. My honey."

"My soulmate," you whisper.

The reality of it comes crashing down like a tsunami, drenching the both of you.

Bucky kisses you again, gentler this time. The tenderness makes you want to cry.

"What do we do now?" you mumble, fear coating your voice.

He senses your trepidation instantly. He feels it, actually, right in the front of his chest. It's like you suddenly share one body. There's no guessing, anymore. He knows exactly how you feel.

He takes a deep breath, trying to settle his building anxiety. He knows that if he stays calm, you'll stay calm. That's how Tethering works, right? He has to keep it together for the both of you, despite the panic that's rising in him, vibrating in his bones.

"How about... how about we both go to bed, get some sleep - and then we go sailing, later on today, just like we planned? And no matter what, we take everything one step at a time."

"One step at a time," you repeat, attempting to pacify you both.

"We'll figure it out," he reassures. "I know we will."

You find the will to step apart, which proves harder than you thought. It's like Bucky's an anchor - fastening you to peace, to happiness, to serenity. The more distance you put between your bodies, the more unsettled you feel. When you're not touching him, it's as if everything becomes unsteady, more difficult. You feel like you're on a rogue sailboat, battling the waves, threatened to be thrown overboard. Bucky is your lifevest, your lighthouse in the dark night. You're not sure how you're supposed to live your life any more than two feet away from him at all times.

You breathe, and smooth down your dress, running your fingers through your hair. You reach out and adjust Bucky's shirt where it's been wrinkled due to your tight grip.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he murmurs, fingers tangling around your own.

"Goodnight, Buck," you echo.

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, savouring the taste of your cherry lip balm. He wraps his arms around you, unable to resist. Bucky breathes you in deeply, smiling uncontrollably. Nudging your nose with his, he murmurs gently against your mouth.

"My honey girl."

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[eloquentlytired]

old!logan howlett x fem reader

18+ mdni

the taxi driver

pairing: old!logan howlett x fem reader word count: 3k tags: taxi driver logan - build up - eventual smut - large age gap ( reader in/over mid 20s and logan in his 50s ) - singular mention of thr0wing up and dr*gging - savior logan - some surface wounds - logan loves calling u sweet girl and sweetheart author's note: i wrote this hurriedly bc in case u havent noticed my blog has been full of old logan for a reason.. i too have become addicted w him- reblogs and likes are very welcome! ^_^

ৎৎৎ

“where to, sweetheart?” logan asks and you speak your address to him so softly that he almost misses it.

the drive is smooth and there's no real disturbance except some distant honking.

when the light is red and the cars remain static, he gazes at you through the review mirror. there’s a notebook in your lap which you seem to write in frantically. it is almost amusing how fast you're doing it too; the words probably look like childish scribbling.

“that pencil must be suffering.” his gruff voice makes you jump a little and you look up at him, feeling your skin grow warm when you realize what he means.

“it does. I gathered a whole collection of tortured pencils after getting into university.”

your reply amuses him even further and he offers a low hum as he starts the car again as soon as the light turns green. when logan finally takes you home, you hand him the money and wish him a good day.

“be good to your pencils.” is all the older driver offers before nodding at you.

the next time you see him, you're running late and there are tears in your eyes. tears that soon start falling when logan asks what happened.

you're glad it's him — you didn't want to be crying in front of a total stranger. he was a stranger but kind of familiar?

you wipe your cheeks and tell him you're in a hurry to go to university.

he drives fast but carefully — and he's sharp with it too.

“you’re absolute gold,mister.” you whisper stunned because this man has driven you five minutes early to your exam; if it was another driver he'd surely not give a fuck to be fast.

as always you hand him the money and you thoughtlessly press a kiss on his cheek while speaking so many thank yous to him.

“go. ace that exam.” logan offers a sympathetic look before you're running off to the gates.

he has no clue about the faint mark of lipstick that's tattooed on his cheek until his next customer points it out. there's some embarrassment there but also a smile that ghosts over his mouth as he wipes it away.

“third time's a charm.” you say smiling when you enter logan’s taxi. again.

he's just in time after you called; the weather will evidently grow bad and you're in no mood to be walking or waiting for some different transportation to take you home.

logan shares a faint smile with you; it's rare but it's there.

“where we going this time, sweet girl?” he asks and peers at you from the review mirror. his eyes always hold some sort of intensity that makes you shift in your seat. he notices but says nothing.

“just my home.” you reply dumbly and logan simply stares at you, unable to suppress that smile of his.

you realize how dumb your answer is because why would he remember your address? it's been a while and he has tons of customers everyday.

“gosh,I'm an idiot. my address—”

he surprises you by driving off absurdly, the motion startling you and making you grip the door. logan chuckles and shakes his head. “i know.”

oh. he does remember. you pray to reach your house before the upcoming thunderstorm but life has cursed you and the road is packed with unmoving cars. you will be stuck in there for a while for sure.

when the first thunder strikes, you yelp and cover your ears with your hands. you and logan stare at each other through the review mirror and you mumble a soft apology to him. all he wants to do is run his fingers through your hair and tell you it'll be okay.

another thunder roars and you helplessly pull your knees to your chest while resting your chin on top of them. logan deciphers the situation and before he's in the unpleasant moment of having your poor self break down, he reaches for the radio.

his favorite station is always on, he's at an age where he suffers from anything bass boosted or heavy. the jazz music that drowns the car is loud but not unpleasant. you stare at him surprised and when you realize he's done it for you, so you won't be scared, you smile so widely.

you can't talk since the music is loud but logan asks if this is okay with a nod and you nod back, still smiling. thank you, you mouth and he turns his head just a little to wink — nothing weird or bad. he just wants you to laugh again and you do.

“thank you once again,mister.” you mumble when he parks right outside of your home. logan gives his usual hum and turns to look at you again, his eyes regarding you with affection.

“see ya, sweet girl.” he says and you lean forward with purpose this time to press another kiss on his cheek. logan says nothing as he watches you go and by the time he gets another customer notifying him of the lipstick mark, he doesn't clean it up.

“what the fuck happened?” logan growls and he looks at the backseat where you're sitting, crying your eyes out. this was probably the second time he asks you something like that.

you don't reply and it worries him to his core.

“sweetheart.” you feel a calloused palm press on your knee and it momentarily distracts you from crying. you look at logan’s hand, the one he's outstretched to touch you.

your tears filled eyes stare at him for a long time before you tell him everything. “they put something in my drink. the ice in my drink..it just..and then everything began spinning so I left—" you mumbled in panic between intense sobs.

logan felt his blood boiling. “who? tell me who.”

after a few moments of convincing you reveal it to him — what the man looks like, what he's wearing and where he's sitting. logan enters the bar he's just picked you up from and you wait in the backseat of his taxi. silently and anxiously.

logan returns moments later and your heart raises to your throat. you can barely speak as you take in his bloodied sight — the blood on his shirt and knuckles, the cut he's sporting under his eye and a bruise that occupies the side of his jaw. but whatever blood is on his shirt doesn't belong to him.

“you should've seen the other guy.” logan says and he's smiling, and then you're smiling too.

you're throwing up in the middle of nowhere as logan holds your hair back with a single hand while his other hand strokes your middle. once you're done, he gives you a few tissues and reassuring words.

“it’s good you threw that shit out yar system, sweetheart. ya did good.” and the praise makes your heart throb. logan shakes his head as you stammer out a few apologies about dragging him around like this — he is glad to have helped. he is glad it was him you called and not another.

you two find a convenience store on your way back and decide to take a break. he watches with amusement as the first thing you do is buy toothpaste and a toothbrush while he takes care of some other needs — like water and something for you to snack on after everything.

he is waiting, sitting on his car hood when you return from the bathroom. you smile at him and he feels relieved to see you doing better than those few hours ago when he found you. to his surprise you sit by his side, your arms touching.

“thank you for everything. I feel like you're my guardian angel at this point.” he simply shakes his head while shoving his hands in his pockets.

“i’m no guardian. just a driver.” logan replies and his eyes find yours as you chew on the crackers he's bought you.

he stares at your wide eyes, your pouty cheeks and those lips that have occupied his cheek twice. logan shamelessly thinks he wants them a third time on him.

when the night breeze gets too much for your exposed shoulders, he's taking off his jacket without a second thought and putting it around you. you lean on him wordlessly and logan doesn't push you off. one of his arms settle around you before his calloused palm pulls you close by your shoulder.

“mister?” you call out and look up at him, your cheek squishing against his shoulder.

“spill it, sweetheart.” he says in a gruff voice.

“you never told me your name.” and logan realizes you're right — he should've introduced himself sometime ago, right? “it’s logan.” he says after sometime of simply staring at you.

“logan.” you repeat and if it was possible he'd melt right there and then because of how gentle you are with speaking his name.

he doesn't expect you to block his entrance when he's heading for the driver's seat. your eyes stare up at him, sparkling and pleading, and logan is a weak man. he curses himself.

“logan.” you moan softly as he kisses your throat while hovering over you in the backseat of his taxi. logan wants nothing more than to take you but he also wants to be slow — to be kind with you. what have you done to him?

he asks your permission for every piece of clothing he wishes to remove and you kiss his face every time for it.

when you're both bare — minus logan’s trousers which simply pool around his ankles — he worships you like no one else has done before.

logan presses passionate and possessive kisses at the center of your throat, then the space between your breasts before going further down. “o-oh.” when his beard scratches against your navel, your whimpers grow louder and he can sense how sensitive you are. he can smell the heat on you too.

“so sweet.” your thighs are on his shoulders as his face disappears between them. your entire body trembles while logan devours the weeping storm in between your legs, his tongue licking at your folds like a starved man before he's wrapping his lips around your clit.

it's a lot and you simply grip his hair while crying out. logan grunts and sucks on that sensitive bud hungrily before sliding his tongue low to your entrance. he gives it a rough lick before pulling away to create some space for his hand.

the slide of his first finger is smooth because you're dripping for him, all over, and he praises himself for holding back.

when he adds the third finger and goes knuckles deep inside you, he feels your gummy walls clenching around him so tight. logan curls his fingers and you shudder, your thighs trembling on top of his shoulders.

“please—” you whimper and he's grinning at you while thrusting his fingers in and out of your hole. the sweat that slowly forms at your nape does not bother you. the only thing bothering you is that logan isn’t fucking you yet — with something more than his fingers.

“please what, sweet girl?” he asks and you draw a sharp breath when he flicks your clit with his tongue while driving his fingers deeper into your pussy.

you flutter around him and whine. “fuck me. please fuck me.”

logan is fixated on your eyes as you straddle him and sink down his cock. you react at the same time, groaning, as the thickness penetrates you and stretches you out endlessly.

you sway your hips once experimentally then twice and you already feel so full.

“logan.” you moan and your hands grip his shoulders for support.

“come ‘ere, sweet girl.” he grumbles and slides both of his hands around your thighs, squeezing them hard.

you're confused at first until he's leaning his face forward and kissing you. there's a fondness in your heart when that beard brushes against your cheeks and you smile before returning the kiss; it's passionate but slow. patient. exactly how you'd been with each other until now.

you do most of the work raising your hips until only the head of his cock is nestled within you and then you fall back down, taking him in deeper than ever. you bounce on his lap and when logan slaps your ass with his hands, your walls tighten around his cock.

he does it again. and again. until he knows your skin has grown tender beneath his hands and aching. he can tell by the way you whimper into his shoulder as you ride him, your buttocks slamming against his hips.

"you on the pill, sweetheart?" logan has to ask for obvious reasons. you nod and his cock throbs inside you as something in him snaps. his fingers dig into the sensitive skin of your ass and he slightly raises his hips from the seat as he takes control of the situation. he slams his hips against your own, his heavy balls colliding with your skin. you moan into his shoulder as your body jolts with each thrust you receive below you. "logan!" you sob when the head of his cock assaults your sweet spot repeatedly and his grasp on your asscheeks tightens; you're sure you'll bruise by that type of hold.

logan can't remember the last time he's acted like this; his current age didn't exactly allow him to have fun like he once did. but right now he was going into a frenzy with you, burying his face between your bouncy breasts and licking the space there. his thrusts were rough and hurried, your clit brushing against his pubic hair, the sensation causing your pussy to clench even tighter around his thick girth. "won't last, sweetheart." he warns you and you place your hands on the seat behind him as you start bouncing on his cock again, moving opposite logan's thrusts.

he comes with a growl, his chest vibrating as he does, and you follow right after as your weeping pussy comes around him with a rare tremble. you feel everything; the way he empties himself inside you and slides impossibly deeper as if his solid purpose is to fill your womp with his seed. the way he grows soft inside your cunt and slowly slips his cock out. the way his cum dribbles out of your gaping entrance, probably staining him and the seat. he doesn't care.

"everything alright, sweet girl?" logan asks, one of his hands caressing your buttocks while the other settles over your cheek. you look at him, all spent and pretty, your eyes unable to stay open for long. logan faintly smiles and presses a loving kiss on your forehead while swiping his thumb across your cheek.

"sleepy." you explain in a single word and he hums. you stay still as logan drapes his jacket over you for the second time that night. the heat his body radiates and the gentle rumble of his chest lulls you to sleep. and as that soft caressing on your hair continues, logan contemplates what to buy you for breakfast.

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

pt.2

summary : Y/n’s favorite place has quickly become her and Lando’s shared hallway. They grow closer and finally make it to the fresh air.

OG SUMMARY (When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.)

listen up : no warnings!! y/n is clueless abt f1. lando is silly. i’m craving strawberries now.

word count : 1878

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I haul my five grocery bags into the elevator, struggling to keep them all off the ground. I sigh when I finally still in the metal box, i’ve carried these at least two blocks and one had broken on the way.

The doors are about to close but a hand slides in between them, making them automatically open for him.

Hello my hot mysterious neighbor.

He looks relieved he made it, “Y/n!” He says cheerfully, like we’ve known each other for ages. It’s been a couple weeks since I slammed on his door and stomped through his kitchen.

The other side of the hallway had been quiet until last night when I heard keys rattling and the door opening. I can’t help but wonder what he does that keeps him from home so often.

“Lando, Hi!” I smile back as he slides beside me and presses our floor.

“You need help?” He eyes the bags as I bite my lip, not wanting to bother him. I don’t have the time to respond because he takes three bags out of my hands like it’s nothing.

“Thank you.” I sigh, “I’ve been struggling for like two blocks.” He laughs a bit with me as the numbers get higher and higher.

“I’m happy to help.” We finally reach our floor, Lando watches me go first and walk to my door, unlocking it and walking in.

Lando follows hesitantly, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

“Thank you again! I put myself in a bit of a bind when I decided that my friends need fifteen types of salami and cheese.” I place the bags on the counter, Lando following.

I push back my hair and suddenly wish I had cleaned up a bit more. My friends are coming over tonight and I had decided to push back my cleaning. Looking around at the clothes and old popcorn bowls scattered around makes me want to slap myself.

“Really, I like to lend a hand! I never get to be neighborly.” He shrugs.

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” I start placing the cold items in the freezer.

He leans against the counter, his arms holding him up and looking alarmingly fit, “Uh�� You ever follow Formula 1?”

I nod, “Kinda? I used to love it!” My mom and I would watch every sunday but I stopped in college so I don’t know any of the current grid, “So you work in the sport! That’s cool, pretty hands on?” I ask as he laughs a bit, looking awkward.

“Yeah, I work with the cars.” He looks around my place a bit, “So, why does one need this much food? I’m judging or anything it’s just… You don’t seem like the type to need a jumbo sized pretzel bag.”

I smile and snatch the bag from him, “I could definitely eat all of this by the way! But I'm having a bit of a party tonight. If anything’s too loud just let me know! It’s just old friends from college- actually.” I look up at him, a boost of confidence appearing in me, “You could join us. If you’re not busy.”

It suddenly sounds like a ridiculously stupid idea. I turn back to the fridge, placing a bottle of lemonade in it and cringing.

“I would love to.” I let out a sigh of relief, “But I've got plans…” I frown and turn back to him, finally putting away the last of my groceries.

“Aw.”

“It’s really nice of you to invite me.” I smile, a bit sad and confused why I'm disappointed. I mean I barely know the man. “What do you do for work?”

I lean against the counter so I'm across from him, “I’m a writer. Journalism right now but I really want to take a more bookish route…”

He genuinely looks so intrigued, more interested than anyone else who I've told I write articles about neighborhood drama.

He checks his watch, which I'm now realizing is incredibly expensive, and swears, “I gotta go. Have fun with your party tonight.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I definitely do have fun. My friends and I eat, drink, and play board games just like we’re back in dorms. I’m seeing my last and closest friend off when Lando comes up the hallway, As my friend's eyes go wide when she sees him, I shake my head.

“Goodbye!” I push her out of my apartment, “Love you!”

“Yeah love you too! Text me!” She walks past Lando, nodding at him before she turns behind his back and mouths ‘he’s hot’.

I roll my eyes at her, a smile still on my face as Lando looks at me. He’s in a full suit, holding his blazer in his hand.

“Fun time then?” God he’s hot!

“Absolutely!” I giggle, a bit tipsy, “How about you then?” I eye his suit.

“As good as I could make it.”

I slap my hand over my mouth, “God you aren’t coming from a funeral then, are you?”

He laughs at this, “No! No. A work banquet thing.”

I giggle a bit as he turns to his door, “Hey!” I say without thinking, “Would you want to come in? I have wine.”

He’s sitting on my couch thirty minutes later, a glass deep and talking about where he’s traveled too.

“That’s my dream!” I say, my feet tucked under myself as I tilt my head on the couch cushions, “Traveling. I mean- You’ve been everywhere!”

He shrugs, sipping his wine, his tie undone and shoes off, “It’s amazing but I'm not there for long so I don’t usually get to sightsee much. Honestly the most interesting thing that’s happened to me recently is this pretty girl came to save my baking disaster.”

I hum to his words, blushing a bit, “Sounds like a hero if i’ve ever heard one.” We both go silent, taking pieces of my leftover charcuterie board. “Should I start watching F1?”

“No!” He says it so quick that i’m taken aback.

“No?”

He laughs a bit, shaking it off, “It’s boring. I can’t have someone else in my life talk about it.”

I spin my wine around in the glass, “So I'm someone in your life now?”

He smirks, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I pretend to contemplate this, “I’ve never had a friend who hasn’t gone to the strawberry market with me.”

He makes an odd face, “So we must go then.”

I sigh, “If you want to be my friend…”

The corner of his mouth pulls, “Tomorrow at 9?”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

He’s at my door at 9:12. Thank god he’s late because I hop over to the door, pulling on my shoe and pulling down my jean skirt.

I open the door and stand up straight, smiling breathlessly. He, of course, looks perfect in jeans and an olive green shirt, “Morning.”

“Ready to taste the best strawberries you’ve ever had?” I grab my bag and keys.

“So ready.”

We make it to the market just on time. It’s my favorite neighborhood gem. Every Sunday people gather with strawberries. There are big and small, some covered in chocolate and some in honey.

I buy a box of chocolate ones, well Lando does. He insists that he still owes me. Handing one to Lando with an extra fork, he bites into it, his eyes roll, “Fucking hell.” I nod, excited that he likes them as much as I do.

“My favorite treat! Something you can’t burn your house down with.” I eye him and he eyes me right back. Being with Lando is like a breath of fresh air. I’ve never been so confident in my social skills.

He laughs with a shop owner as he buys his pack of plain strawberries. He's so nice and just listens politely as the woman goes on and on about her childhood on a strawberry farm.

He gives her a bigger bill than necessary and as she insists it’s too much, he just shakes his head and continues walking.

We settle at a park bench nearby, tasting all the pieces we’ve bought, “This is genuinely phenomenal.” He says while eating another, “How’d you find this place?”

“Had to write about something local and had total writers block… I was walking around one day and just sort of stumbled upon it.”

He smiles, I really like this smile. “You seem like the type to just stumble upon a strawberry market.”

I laugh, covering my mouth, “What does that even mean?”

“You’re just so…” His hands make these weird gestures, his fingers moving around as he laughs and gives up, “It just fits.”

I smile, meeting his eyes. They're so nice, a mix of blue and green. His gaze washes over me and I feel the need to smile even more.

“You’ve got nice eyes.” My stomach twists as he says it so calmly, “Real pretty.” I feel a blush on my cheeks and I turn away from him, looking at the park near us and being startled by the child looking up at us.

Lando follows my gaze, mumbling softly, “Shit.”

“Hi.” The kid says awestruck, I look to Lando who’s smiling and sitting up straighter. “Um- Are you Lando Norris?”

Lando scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah I am! What's your name?”

“W-William!” He says, swallowing and pulling a pen from behind his back, “Could you sign this?” I glance to what looks like his mother, she’s watching him with a smile.

Lando simply nods and takes the cap from his head, its bright orange. He signs his name and messes up the kid's hair, “Thanks a lot! My friends’ll never believe it!” The boy squeals and runs back to his mom who waves slightly and takes the boy's hand.

I raise a brow at Lando, still confused, “I’m sorry…” He looks embarrassed but I don’t even know what for.

“I’m going to assume you didn’t tell me the whole truth in what your job is?”

His cheeks get a bit red, “I do work with the cars… Just really close. Like I’m in them. One specifically.”

I nod, “Yours?”

“Mine.” He crosses his arms, his lips in a thin line, “I drive for McLaren.” I breathe out.

“Oh.” I can’t help but think I have a type because I grew up with Jenson Button posters on my wall.

He runs a hand through his curls, “I don’t usually get recognized around here- Thought we would be okay.”

“We are okay!” I reassure him, realizing he’s actually embarrassed, “That was sweet.”

He looks up hopefully, “You think? I’m sorry for lying- I just really liked that you didn’t know who I am or what I do.”

“Well, I sort of still don't. I know your full name now, that’s about it.” He smiles at this, I bite into another strawberry.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

He is yet to say something I'm not shocked at.

“Yeah.” I nod, smiling at him as he grins, “I’d really like that. Don’t you have to race soon though…? Singapore, isn’t it?”

The smirk that pulls at his lips is just plain mischievous, “I never said the date would be here.”

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty four ⭐︎ I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden

Warnings: confrontations, angst, mentions of loss and death, confrontations, lots and lots of fluff, allusions to smut

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You introduce Steve to your family... and step out of hiding.

Word count: 10.6k

Author’s note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me proofread and writing this chapter bby<3 can you believe we’re almost done with this story?

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Sun kisses your skin with its warmth, the smell of fresh flowers and wet grass lingers all around you, the leaves that are slowly changing color are still dripping with water from the light rain that greeted you this morning. Your hand is safely embraced by your boyfriend, who is rubbing soothing circles on your skin, squeezing you and holding you close as he stares at the names engraved into the stone, where the bodies of your parents lie six feet under, the only remains left of them buried underneath the ground. The only things evident of their existence are all the pictures ever taken of them. 

He can feel your sadness as you stare at the names of your parents, he can feel your grief, even after all these years, you still feel it just as deeply as you did back then. 

But Steve doesn’t know that you no longer feel alone, that his presence comforts you in ways nothing else ever could. You squeeze his hand and lean your head on his shoulder. 

You wish he could’ve gotten to know them differently, your father would’ve loved him, your mother would’ve adored him. Steve would’ve been a part of your family. 

But this is the only way. 

You spent the morning in your bed, going through old pictures, ones he hasn’t seen yet, you shared sacred memories with him, introduced him to your favorite pictures of your family, he watched and listened with a smile on his face, a longing look in his eyes, wishing that he could’ve had a good relationship with his own parents too, wishing that he could’ve met yours. 

So when you offered to introduce him to them, even if only like this, he immediately said yes. He stopped by the store and got flowers to put on your parents' grave, the flowers that were your mom’s favorites. 

You whispered softly when you arrived, ‘hi mom, hey dad’, you touched the stone and looked down with tears in your eyes, Steve’s heart broke at that moment. But then you stepped back and took his hand again, and for the first time, you introduced him as your boyfriend, though you both wished it was under different circumstances, wishing he could shake your dad’s hand instead, that he could hand those flowers to your mom, that he could talk to them, that he could promise them that he will take good care of you, just like he would like to promise it to your best friend. 

There are fresh flowers on his grave too, ones that can’t be older than a day or two. He knows they are from you, blue tulips.

He never asked himself that question before but now he wonders how much time you spend at the cemetery. How many lonely days have led you here, to your best friend, to your parents. The thought only breaks his heart even more.

A sigh falls from your lips and he turns away from the flowers and looks at you. You are staring at Max’s letter that fused into the grass, the ink nearly washed away from all the rain that followed since that day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, no longer wanting to be here, standing before the grave of your best friend who should’ve been anywhere but here, every time you’re here, your heart breaks all over again. You tug at your boyfriend’s hand and start to pull him away, eying his burgundy car already but Steve stops you, with a squeeze of his hand and a kind smile on his beautiful face. 

“Wait, give me a moment will you?” He asks softly, fishing out his car keys from his pocket, he hands them to you and takes a step closer, pressing his lips to your temple, “I’ll be right there, darling.”

Despite the curiosity and the confusion building up in you, you close your hand around his keys and nod, looking into his soft hazel eyes, you match the look on his face, smiling at your boyfriend, you let go of his hand and grab his shoulder instead, rising up on your tippy toes, you kiss his lips before you step away and give him the privacy he asked for. 

Steve watches you walk away, a fond smile still resting on his features, you are wearing his jacket, pulling it tighter around you when the wind kisses your skin. His heart skips a beat when you pull the collars around your neck tighter as well. It will smell like you and he can’t wait to breathe in your scent once he wears it himself again. 

When you get into the passenger seat of his car, Steve turns around again, facing the grave he hasn’t seen since the day he drove Max here. 

A sudden nervousness rushes through him and settles in the pit of his stomach, a tension he hasn’t felt in a while surrounding him now, the kind he only ever felt when he was around Billy. He never liked him and Billy certainly never liked him either. 

The cold breeze blows through his hair, messing it up just the slightest bit. Steve clears his throat and looks around, restraining himself from crossing his arms.

It’s almost as though he is here. 

The awkward tension hangs heavy in the air, he can feel it but he needs to do this, he has to. 

“Hey man,” Steve breaks the silence, feeling a little ridiculous, standing here before Billy’s grave, greeting him like he was a friend. “I know I’m probably the last person you wanna… uh… hear or see?” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he stares at his name.

“But I just… I know what you mean to her, I know what she meant to you… and fuck… I hurt her… many times, so many that I’d deserve to get beaten to death by you. But I promise to make up for all of that. I will protect her… for me and for you. I promise. I’m pretty sure that if I’d ever hurt her again, Eddie would honor you, Hargrove, and just kill me.” Steve chuckles, knowing how fucked he would’ve been had Billy known everything. “But I promise, I will never hurt her again. I love her, I love her so much, there is nothing I wouldn’t do for that girl, Billy. It took me a while to open my eyes and put away my pride but I see her now, she has my heart.” He speaks with a softness in his voice. 

The wind blows again, a little softer this time but the leaves fall from the trees and onto his gravestone. The silence that follows reminds him of how ghostly the place is, how full yet empty it is, how lifeless yet… not. But everyone in here is gone, including your best friend. 

Steve looks down at his hands, he might never understand the bond you two shared, but he knows one thing for sure, he kept you safe, when he was here and when he was not. 

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, feeling sad over a man he could never stand but one that means something special to you, “for protecting her all along, in life and in death.” 

And then, Steve takes one last look at Billy’s name, at the grave you visit so often, “I got her now,” he promises before he steps away and leaves. 

You don’t question him when he gets into the driver's seat of his car, you don’t give any more curious, questioning looks, you simply smile and take his hand when he reaches for yours, a habit you had quickly gotten used to and very comfortable with. 

It’s only been a few days since you had started dating officially, it feels much longer than that… with good reason. 

You haven’t seen any of your friends since ‘the party’ at Eddie’s place, you only talked to Eddie on the phone and told him about what happened, and Robin… she only called Steve one more time before she gave him the space he asked for. 

You wanted alone time with each other, you wanted to exist with only one another. You barely left the house for three days and most of that time it was spent in your bed. You went out to get food and didn’t hide when you held each other’s hands or kissed in the parking lot of the diner, not caring that your friends who are still clueless about your relationship could see, and while you are both excited for the big reveal, you can’t help but love this little secret between you, the secret that you now live out openly, the bubble you have both created, the one that is about to burst. 

When Steve parks his car in Eddie’s driveway, you feel the calmness in you slowly transforming into dread and anxiety, knowing that you will have to face a person, a girl you considered a close friend you now see as someone unpleasant, especially after all the treatment you received from her in the past few weeks, the words she spewed at you, the words you never revealed to Steve. 

It was hurtful and offending but still, you couldn’t repeat the things she said to you, not to him. She is still his best friend, still the person who wanted to protect him from pain and heartbreak and you have no intention to break them apart but you can’t digest the words she hit you with, they were distasteful and rude and the disgust in her eyes cut you deep. 

“Hey,” your boyfriend whispers, pulling you out of your thoughts with his gentle voice. He brings your hand up towards his face and kisses your knuckles, looking at you with a reassuring smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay.”

You look into his hazel eyes and you can’t help but wonder what he would think, how he would react if you told him about the things she said to you, how he would react once she tells him what happened between you and her – you know she will, you know that despite her fear of losing him, she will tell him everything. 

“Yeah,” you smile weakly. 

You can tell that he is anxious too, with the way he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs, holds your hand tightly and looks at Eddie’s house with a hint of fear in his eyes. 

Eddie and Steve haven’t been on the best terms either, you know why, that’s why you aren’t angry at Robin for wanting to protect her best friend, you are angry at her for the way she judged you, for the way she approached this whole situation. You saw the guilt and the regret in her eyes when she realized how wrong she was about you but it did nothing to mend the anger and the hurt in you. 

Steve’s comforting hand is on the small of your back when you make your way up Eddie’s porch, you can’t even ring the bell or knock before the front door opens suddenly and your best friend’s eyes meet yours. You feel Steve tensing up beside you when he looks between you both and then down at your joined hands. A look of relief, a look of happiness for you crosses his face and then, he steps out and grabs your hand, pulling you away from Steve and into his embrace, he hugs you tightly, tighter than he ever hugged and held you before, not only because he is happy for you but also because he missed you. 

A smile tugs at your lips, warmth blooming in your chest at the love you feel for him. You lift your arms up and hug him back. 

“Hi Eds,” you whisper. 

“Hey stranger,” he whispers and squeezes your arms, “I missed you.”

Steve looks between you both with softness in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. Though the tension in him is still strong and the one in Eddie too, Steve can see it when he pulls away from you and takes a long look at him. He can see the guilt in his eyes, the awkwardness and the missing coldness that he looked at him with for the past months. 

“Steve,” Eddie mumbles, nodding at him. 

“Hey man,” Steve greets him with a hint of a smile. 

Both are tense, both are awkward. 

You clear your throat and step back, reaching for your boyfriend’s hand again who takes it happily, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Right uh,” Eddie mumbles and scratches the back of his neck, stepping back into his house and inviting you both in. “Robin is in the living room, we can uh… talk, no one’s here, Wayne went out with Susan, Max went with them.” 

Steve nods at his words, he breaks eye contact with him and looks back at you. He doesn’t know a single thing about what happened between you and his best friend, he doesn’t know what words were thrown around, what had been said, how bad it actually got. He knew it was bad, he knew it from the moment he saw the hurt look in your eyes, the disappointment towards his best friend, towards someone you thought was your friend too. You were angry, you were hurt and still, you protected her from his anger by not telling him but he needs to know now. 

“I’m gonna talk to Eddie for a second, I’ll be right there,” you tell him, growing nervous as each second passes. 

He nods, “alright, I’ll go talk to Robin.” 

You don’t want them to fight, you don’t want him to stand between you both but you can’t stop anything now. 

He gives you a smile, one that says ‘everything will be okay, no matter what happens, we’ll be okay’. He lets go of your hand and cups the side of your face, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before he steps away from you and Eddie, leaving you both in the hallway while he makes his way into the living room, where his best friend is already waiting, sitting on the couch with shaky hands and a bouncing knee, staring at the ground with nothing but anxiety and fear written all over her face. The paleness in her cheeks matched the one from the night in the upside down, when she thought that he would die of rabies. 

It hurts him to see her like this and he can’t help but want to pull her into his arms. With a sigh, he speaks her name. 

Robin’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, she freezes, staring at him like she’s seen a ghost. She doesn’t stand up, doesn’t make her way over to him, she just sits there, quietly and unmoving, like a kid caught doing something their parents have warned them not to. 

“Hey,” Steve mumbles softly, slowly walking towards her, wanting to go in for a hug but she stops him, holding her hand up, motioning for him not to come closer as her eyes well up with tears already. 

This time it’s he who freezes, furrowing his brows at her. 

“Do you know what happened?” She rushes out, her voice even shakier than her hands. 

He runs his hand through his hair, sighing as he shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t, I don’t know what happened, Robin. I don’t know what you said to her, she didn’t want to tell me.” 

Robin sighs loudly, she shuts her eyes and leans forward, burying her face in her hands as she mumbles, “t-that makes it all worse.” She tugs at her hair and sniffles, the guilt consuming her now because even after she threw all these hurtful, disgusting words at you, you still decided to protect her from her best friend’s rage, from losing him. 

How could she misjudge you so poorly? 

How could she say all these things to you? 

She nearly ruined that one thing that he wanted so badly, she nearly took it all away from him.

She feels the couch dipping lower, she smells his cologne and his hairspray as he sits down next to her. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t demand answers but he waits, he waits for her to speak up about what happened. 

She takes a deep breath and pulls back, looking around herself but not at him, she can’t look into his eyes, she can’t bear to stand the disgust in them once she tells him everything. 

Her heart is already pounding in her chest and her palms grow sweaty, she wipes them against her jeans and takes another few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down, trying to get rid of that gnawing feeling in her chest but there is no stopping it, no escaping, she knows how this will end. 

“What I told you about her…” She begins, still refusing to look at him, “wasn’t true… That she had no feelings for you, that she… that you were just a hookup to her… that wasn’t true, you were never just that, I was wrong about it, about her.” 

“Yeah, Robin.” Steve sighs, “you were wrong about her.” 

She closes her eyes again, scrunching them shut as though she is in pain.

“I’ll understand if you will hate me after this, I deserve it.”

Steve shakes his head, “Robin–”

“No! No, you don’t even– fuck… I said some hideous things to her, Steve, and I thought badly of her, really badly.” 

She opens her eyes, though she lowers her head again when she hears your footsteps, when she feels your eyes on her. She feels shame rising in her, growing bigger and bigger until it’s nothing but that inside of her. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees you taking a seat beside Steve, he sees his hand settling on your thigh, reaching for your hand, naturally, openly. She knows what this means, she knows what you are to one another now, and it only makes the feelings in her worse because she was the one who nearly made it all impossible. 

If you were still the girl that she first met when she attacked you with vile words, you and Steve wouldn’t be here now, not like this. You’d both be broken, unaware of each other’s feelings and all because of her mistake. 

The urge to put all the cards on the table prompts her to spill it all out, with no hesitation, with no stopping, she spills out every word she had said to you, confesses the ugly truth to her best friend, to the one she always just wanted to protect. 

Tears escape her eyes the moment she finally takes a look at him, he is angry, he is angry at her, for what she said to you, for how she hurt you. Robin had never seen him this way before, seething, furious and red in his face from the burning emotions in him. 

This is the first time that Steve feels anger towards his best friend. 

And as he looks at her, at the girl who knew about how he feels for you, how dear you are to him, he is in sheer disbelief, unable to understand how she could throw such comments at you, make disgusting remarks about something she never judged him for, how far was she from insulting you further? 

He gets up from the couch, turning his whole body towards her, he points an angry finger at her, “you knew what she means to me! Yet you decided that breaking her apart was still the best idea!? Even if you wanted to protect my honor!? I would have understood what you did if we were in fact in an official relationship at that time, but we weren’t Robin! We were oblivious to each other’s feelings! If she did hurt me in any way, it was unintentional! But you… you judged her without knowing anything, you judged her feelings and her, you hurt her! Did you think that it would make me feel better? Do you think that hurting her would fix my pain? What the fuck, Robin?” He throws his hands up, still staring in disbelief and confusion, unable to understand how she, Robin, could do something like this. 

And now, she won’t even look at him as tears spill down her cheeks. 

“Steve,” you whisper softly, reaching for his hand and pulling him back. 

Steve knows what you are trying to do, that you are still trying to stop him from losing a friend.

He opens his mouth to speak, though your best friend cuts him off. Eddie clears his throat and breathes in shakily, he sits down besides Robin and takes a nervous look at Steve. 

“I’m not innocent in all of this either,” he admits, “it’s not just her you should be mad at. She came to me to talk about you both, about your feelings,” he mumbles, pulling his gaze away from Steve and directing it at you instead. 

You raise your brows at him and cock your head to the side. You knew something happened, even before the argument with Robin, you knew they talked, you knew there was something.

“She wanted to know what you felt for him and I lied, I told her there was nothing.You asked me to keep it all a secret so I did, you didn’t want to lose him and I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling her the truth. You always thought that Steve would break things off if he found out about your feelings so… I didn’t want to give you away, if I knew about his feelings, I wouldn’t have lied but she told me the same thing I told her so…” He shrugs, not hiding the truth from either of you. 

Steve rubs his temples, feeling a migraine coming in as he looks between yours and his best friend, the anger continuing to build up in him. 

But you, you can’t be mad at Eddie for wanting to protect you, not a single emotion of anger rushes through you. 

“Is that why you were such an asshole to me this whole time?” Steve asks, staring at him intensely. “The moment you found out about us, you treated me like I was air.” 

“Can you blame me?” Eddie scoffs, “or did you forget about how you reacted when I thought you were a couple? And besides, with your reputation? I knew what she went through, Steve. I knew how deep her feelings were for you… was it bad to be cautious around you? And it’s not like I–” he pauses, glancing at Robin who only sighs at him when she meets his eyes. 

“It’s not like he cussed you into oblivion… He was… still civil with you. Because unlike me towards Blondie,” she mumbles quietly, looking at you for a brief second, “Eddie gave you the benefit of the doubt.” 

Eddie shakes his head, “I did swear on my mom’s grave and Hargrove’s I would punch your dick if you hurt her. Was gonna make sure that dream of yours of having six kids didn’t come true. And I still stand by this if you do hurt her in the future.” 

You look down at your hands, shaking your head as a small smile appears on your face. 

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes, runs his fingers through his hair again as he takes a look around him, at Eddie and at you before he glances at her, Robin who is still hiding her face from him and from you, not shaking anymore now that the truth it all out, but her shoulders are slumped and relaxed now, there is no fear anymore, just sadness. 

He is still angry. 

He is still disappointed. 

For a moment, it’s quiet, no words are said, no looks are shared, not until Eddie is the one to break the silence again when he stands up and steps towards Steve.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you, man. I like you, I really do, you have been a good friend to me after all the shit went down and I shouldn’t have been that way towards you but, I love her, Steve. She is my best friend, I just wanted to protect her,” Eddie says, looking down, “I know I could’ve done that without being a dick though… So, I’m sorry, I really am.” 

Steve’s brows pull together, another sigh falls from his lips. He understands it, he really does and he is glad that you have a best friend who loves you so dearly, who is loyal to you and defends you even if you don’t ask for it. 

“It’s okay, Eddie, I understand it. And I accept your apology.” 

Eddie presses his lips together, he nods, flashing you a quick smile before he looks back at the brunette. 

“So… we’re cool?” 

“Yeah, we’re cool,” Steve mumbles, still having to force a smile. “And I promise, I won’t ever hurt her again.”

Eddie’s face grows serious again, he squints his eyes and leans closer. 

“Yeah, you better don’t, Harrington.”

You look between them both, a smile appearing on your face when they shake hands and Eddie smiles at him. You still sense the tension, you can see it written all over your boyfriend’s face, he needs a moment to digest all of this, you can see it in his eyes, especially when they lock on Robin’s figure. 

The shuffling from your right pulls your attention on both men away, you glance at the girl, who gets up from the couch, wiping her tears before she looks around you all, unable to face you still. 

“I’m sorry for what I did… It was never my intention to hurt any of you, b-but I did… and I’m really fucking sorry,” she says, sadly. “I’m gonna go now.” 

You straighten your back as you watch her, watch how she is ready to walk out of here without asking for forgiveness, ready to leave without friends. Your eyes follow her, just as Steve’s and Eddie’s do too. 

You push yourself up from the couch, not wanting her to leave like this. 

But Steve, he steps away from Eddie and makes his way over to Robin before she can even come close to stepping out into the hallway, he steps in front of her, blocking her way. With a sigh, he wraps his arms around her and hugs her tightly, not allowing her to walk away from you all. 

He might be angry, he might be hurt but she still means the world to him and even after everything, he knows her intentions were good, she wanted to protect him just like Eddie wanted to protect you. 

“Thank you for loving me, Birdie.”

A sob falls from Robin’s lips, though it comes out muffled as she hides her face in his chest, “Shut up… I don’t… I don’t love you… ew.” She lies, which only makes him tighten his hold on her. 

“Keep telling yourself that, Buckley.”

Her sniffles are loud, her knuckles turn white from how tightly she holds onto him. You can practically feel her regret and her fear. She thought she lost him and she was ready to let go if that’s what he’d asked of her. 

But you would never be able to live with yourself if he lost her, and all because of you. 

You decide to give them a moment, you glance at Eddie and nod your head towards the direction of his kitchen. He gives you a nod and starts making his way out of the living room, with one last glance at the two best friends, you follow him. 

But a gentle hand stops you from leaving and you halt in your tracks when you look down to find Robin clutching your hand tightly, pulling you back. You furrow your brows and raise your head to look at her apologetic face, the tears still wet on her cheeks, her eyes puffy and filled with sadness. She pushes away from Steve and takes a step forward. 

“Can we talk?” She asks and begs with her eyes, “please…”

Steve looks between you both, giving you an encouraging nod when you look into his eyes. 

You breathe in deeply and nod slowly, “okay…”

Eddie looks between you both from the doorway, now gesturing to Steve to follow him so you two can talk because he can see that Robin wants to be alone with you. Steve pats Robin’s back and gives your temple a soft kiss before he leaves, though hesitating when he sees how uncomfortable you both still look. 

“C’mon,” Eddie murmurs to him. 

“Yeah…” Steve sighs. 

The tension returns once you and Robin are left alone in the room. She wipes her tears before she looks into your eyes again, her cheeks are red, whether from all the tears she shed or the fear in her, you don’t know. 

You wait patiently, not pushing her to talk, you wait until she is ready. 

She starts with your name, speaking softly, “I’m so sorry… I-I was so horrible to you… and you never deserved it. It was never my intention to hurt you. If I would’ve known about your feelings, I would have never done this, I would have never said such… ugly things,” she says, scrunching her face up as she thinks back to the day. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I haven’t– I haven’t treated you kindly… Maybe if I would’ve paid more attention to you–”

“You didn’t have to,” you shrug, cutting her off, “Steve comes first to you, Robin, I understand that.”

She nods her head but the guilt in her eyes remains. 

“Yeah… I just… I would do anything to keep Dingus safe, I didn’t want to see him hurt anymore, not because of others.” She sighs and looks down, finally letting go of your hand. “But I could’ve approached it all differently, I-I never meant those things I said to you, I never meant to judge… I was angry– and that doesn’t excuse shit but… I’m just… I’m sorry.”

You nod, though the hurt is still deep. 

Whether she meant it or not, she cut you deeply in that moment. 

“I would’ve done the same for Eddie, but I can’t say that I wouldn’t have looked at the other person. I wouldn’t have stepped on someone else’s feelings… not without knowing them.” 

She looks back up at you, the fear still evident in your features, it almost makes you, yourself feel guilty when you speak your next words. 

“... I don’t forgive you, Robin.”

Her shoulders slump, her blue eyes widen and well up with fresh tears, the hurt and the shock are written all over her face. She opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. She looks like she is ready to beg as her big eyes stare into yours. 

“But we can start over.”

She blinks a few times, staring at you like she is frozen in place and then, relief washes over her features and she lets out a deep sigh. 

“Really?” She asks as her eyes soften. 

“Yeah, really,” you whisper and give her a soft smile. “You hurt me but I really like you and I don’t want to lose another friend.” 

Her next move is sudden and you nearly lose your balance when she throws her arms around you and hugs you tightly, pulling you into her embrace as she begins to whisper apologies into your ear followed by promises to never hurt you again. 

You wrap your arms around her too and hug her back just as tightly. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing your arms. 

Only now as you stand here in the middle of your best friend’s living room, in her embrace, do you realize just how much you missed her friendship, her kind presence in your life, how much you despised her cold shoulder because you just missed her, how much it hurt to receive that treatment from her. 

“Vickie got mad at me because of the way I treated you and now she is not talking to me… I guess I deserve that.” 

A frown makes its way on your face, you pull back from the hug, feeling a little surprised to hear that the redhead came to your defense. You get along with Vickie but you aren’t exactly close. 

You place your hand on her shoulder and look into her guilty eyes, “she didn’t break up with you though, did she?” 

She shakes her head quickly, eyes widening at your question. 

“Then it’s gonna be okay, we’re okay,” you point between you and her, “you and her will be too. Besides, that girl is like… head over heels gone for you. It’s written all over her face, she can’t even look away from you.” 

A blush creeps up to her cheeks, her lips twitch and curl into a smile as her blue eyes light up, she looks down and breathes in shakily, staying quiet for a moment before curiosity takes over her features and she raises her head again. 

“Like you couldn’t look away from Steve all these years?” 

Now it’s your turn to blush and hide your face from her. 

“Yeah…”

“I wish I knew…” Robin whispers, in guilt and in regret. When she found out about your feelings, she was taken back to all the times Steve had hurt you with harsh words, the pained look in your eyes, the wetness in them and the hurt in your expression suddenly made sense. If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t have been touched in the slightest but it was him, Steve, the guy you had fallen in love with long before she even befriended him. The guy who disliked you to the point of throwing vile words at you, even after you risked your life and jumped into unknown waters just to save his life. The guy you watched fall for his ex-girlfriend again, the same girl that hurt him and broke his heart, the same one that broke his heart for a second time. 

Only when it was too late, when the damage was down, did she realize just how much you loved him. She was so blind to the way you looked at him because she was so focused on protecting him, if she had looked closer, just for a single second, none of this would have happened. 

“It’s okay, Robin. We can move past this now.”

She nods with a small smile, a sad one. 

“He really hurt you didn’t he?” Robin mumbles, now knowing how much you suffered, all these years, all because of your feelings for someone who didn’t reciprocate them until now. 

It doesn’t matter anymore, the past has slipped away. 

“He made up for it.” 

“Yeah,” she breathes, and looks into the hallway, you both can hear their voices coming from the kitchen, the sound of a beer bottle opening. A smile appears on her face and she looks back at you, “did you watch him run around in his stupidly short gym shorts during PE?” 

A snort escapes you and you slap her shoulder, rolling your eyes when your cheeks heat up at her question. 

You did. And you enjoyed every second of it. 

“Stop.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she pinches your side, “you so did!” 

You push her hand away with a laugh and take a step back, starting to make your way out of the living room with her hot on your heels, her teasing voice following you into the kitchen where Steve and Eddie sit around the table, with drinks in their hands and looks of surprises when you and Robin walk in giggling. 

Steve’s shoulders slump in relief when he sees your frowns replaced with smiles, the relaxed look he missed on your face back again, the heaviness gone in his best friend’s eyes. 

Eddie gets up with a smile and walks towards his fridge to get two more beers out for you and Robin. 

Steve pulls back the chair beside him, beckoning you over to him with a gentle smile. You get comfortable next to your boyfriend and lean your head on his shoulder, smiling at the kiss he greets you with. 

Robin takes the seat beside Eddie, nodding at him with a smile, letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder. 

Everything is okay again. 

Steve and Eddie can talk to each other again, with no tension, no awkwardness. They can joke around and laugh with one another again. 

And you can open up more about your feelings for Steve to Robin, about the ones she never knew of until a few days ago. 

You even show her pictures of your parents, the ones that are always tucked into the little pocket in your burgundy wallet. 

Yeah, it’s all okay again. It for sure isn’t perfect, not yet but it will be. 

-

A warm, adoring smile rests on his happy features, his hazel eyes are glowing with love, hands itching to touch your exposed skin that is kissed by the golden sun rays shining into your room. Steve is leaning against the doorframe, fixing the cuffs on his white button down as he admires the way you look in your beautiful black dress. 

Your hair falls down your exposed back in waves, glittery hair pins adorning them. The silky material clings to your curves, hugging your body perfectly, like it was made just for you. Your pink heels, the ones you have told him about weeks ago, are high, very high, he will probably have to carry you back into the house because your feet will hurt by the end of the night, but he doesn’t mind, he looks forward to it. 

Your perfume lingers in your room, your skin is glowing from the moisturizer he put on your skin after your shower together. You’re wearing pretty earrings and a bracelet, your ring finger is bare, for now. 

Steve slips his hand into his pocket, his heart skips a beat when he touches the cold item that he kept in the drawer of his bedside table for the past few weeks. 

With excitement bubbling inside of him, he makes his way over to you, the floorboards creak beneath his feet, the smile never leaving his face. Your eyes meet his through the large mirror you stand in front of, your own lips curl into a smile as well when you look at him, you tuck the lipstick you just used into the little purse you picked out for this outfit and put it down on your table. 

“Hi, handsome,” you whisper, going to turn around to face him and admire him in his getup but he stops you with the touch of his hand on your waist, he keeps you in place. 

“Hey my beautiful girl,” he murmurs and leans down to press his lips against your shoulder, kissing you softly. “You look so gorgeous, this dress was made for you, darling.” 

You fall back against him, melting into his arms and embracing all the butterflies that go crazy inside of you. 

He looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and it makes you weak in the knees. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” You whisper and take his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips, you kiss his knuckles and close your eyes when you lean back into his chest again. He presses his lips back to your shoulder. 

“You smell so good,” he murmurs against your skin, “like a goddess.” 

A giggle falls from your mouth, your stomach flutters when his hands move up your body, his minty breath ghosting against your skin. The sudden coldness around your neck makes you gasp. Your eyes widen when you open them, the warmth inside of you melting even further, your heart soars in your chest as you stare at the chain around your neck, the little pendant, the dainty, silver star with the glittery crystal in the middle catching your eye just like it did that day you saw it at the jewelry store. Your lips part the longer you stare at it, your eyes softening and shining with adoration. 

You went back for this necklace, only a few days after you had first seen it but it was gone. You envied whoever had gotten their hands on it first, you never would've guessed that it was him, he got it, he got it for you, back then. 

You bring your hand up, touching the pendant with softness in your eyes and in your touch, emotions crawl up inside your body, pushing at your eyes and turning them glassy, you look at him through the mirror, staring at the smile on his lips, at the love in his eyes. 

“You… You bought it?”

He nods sheepishly, whispering a small ‘yes’. 

His hands return to your waist when you turn around to face him. 

“You mentioned it that one night when we talked on the phone, I got it the next day.” He explains with all the giddiness in him. 

You blink. 

Feeling stunned by his words and by his actions, you can only stare into your boyfriend’s warm eyes. You remember telling him this before your feelings were known… when that spark of hope was dwindling inside your chest. 

“I knew it was this one,” he explains and glances down at the necklace, “well, I had a feeling it was, besides you love stars and shiny things, so I–”

You cup his cheeks and cut him off with your lips, kissing him deeply and softly, with all your love and all your adoration, messing up your freshly applied lipstick in the process but you couldn’t care less at this moment. Your heart is beating strongly, the hotness in your body consuming you fully. 

Steve melts into your touch, into your kiss, he slides his hand down to your lower back, touching your exposed back and pulling you tightly against him as he happily reciprocates the kiss, smiling into it, loving every second of it. 

“I love you,” you whisper, softly. “I love you so much, Steve Harrington.” 

He tilts your chin up with his fingers, pecking your rosy lips once more after he whispers your name, “I love you so much more.”

You still need time to get used to it all, to get used to his I love you’s, to the softness in his eyes. It all still feels so surreal – just like it does to him. Steve feels like he is the luckiest man in the world, in the whole universe. 

You pout at him so cutely, it makes him want to drop to his knees before you. 

“No, I–”

He cuts you off this time, pressing his lips back to yours and stealing your breath away with a strong kiss, one that makes you moan and squirm in his arms. Heat builds up in you as you grow weaker for your man. You are forced to fight the urge to grab at slicked back hair, mess up this masterpiece he had spent so much time on. You love the look of it, of him in a suit but you can’t wait to rip his clothes off and mess up his hair, later in the night. 

“S-Steve,” you whimper when he trails down kisses to your neck, breathing in your sweet perfume. 

A lazy smile appears on your lips, “w-we have to…” Another moan escapes you, cutting you off when he kisses that one spot that makes you scrunch your brows together. His strong hands bunch up the material of your dress, he breathes heavily against you, humming in delight as he praises your beauty. 

“S-Stevie… we have to… we’re gonna be late,” you whimper and grab at his biceps, not making much effort to push him away though. 

His hands roam your body, grabbing at your butt, feeling the hunger in him rising. 

“C-Come on, baby.” You whisper as your eyelashes flutter, “w-we can… we can use the backseat of your car later…”

He pulls away with a smirk on his face, squeezing your butt once again, he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “what, in the church parking lot?” 

You slap his shoulder playfully and shake your head at him, which prompts him to just pull you tighter against him. 

“They’re not even getting married there,” you chuckle. 

“No?” He asks as he leans in again, going straight back to your neck, making you hum in delight. He smacks his lips against your skin, repeatedly, not getting enough of you. 

“N-No, just at the… Steve…!” 

With a chuckle he finally pulls away but not without pecking your lips first, getting all the gloss on his own. 

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs as he squeezes your waist, “will you help me put this on?” He reaches for the bow tie on the little table you had kept all your makeup on. 

You take it from his hand right away, nodding happily. 

He leans down, giving you more access to his neck when you reach your hands behind him to place the tie under the collars of his button down. Your stomach flutters yet again when you breathe in his cologne. 

You fix the bow on the front, trying not to smile when you feel him staring at your face. A smile graced his lips. 

“Steve…” You whisper, blushing. 

“Yes, baby?” 

“You’re making me nervous.” 

He smirks at your words, adoring the look on your face, “I’m just admiring my gorgeous girl, you truly look like a goddess, especially in this dress.” 

“And you look really handsome in your suit and tie, Stevie.” You lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his ear, “really sexy too.” 

His smirk widens, his hands dip lower on your body again as your own move down his chest as your hungry eyes meet one another’s and your bodies instinctively move closer and closer. 

It’s safe to say that you don’t make it out of your house in time but with good reason and under good disguise — Lego Head picking up Blondie for a wedding? Who thought that it would’ve been a good idea? 

When Steve parks his BMW in the parking lot of the beautiful venue that Joyce had picked out, you share a look with each other when your friends catch sight of you both. They’re all standing around Eddie’s car, in their gowns and suits. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab the handle of the car door. 

“Ready for the show, Lego Head?” You smirk. 

A chuckle leaves his lips, he has to fight the urge to kiss you right here and in front of all your friends. 

“So ready.” 

You wink at him before you turn your back to him, opening the door when he stops you with his hand on your thigh. You look down and then back at him over your shoulder.

“I love you.”

Your eyes soften, you crave his soft lips on your own so badly.

“I love you too, Steve.”

Your heels barely hit the ground before Max and El come rushing over to you, excitedly, gushing over your dress and how pretty you look. 

Steve has to bite his tongue at that moment, fighting the urge to agree with them and tell them how gorgeous his girl is. 

“Took you long enough!” Dustin says, throwing his hands up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve murmurs, shrugging as he points at you, “don’t blame me, Blondie didn’t know what shoes to pick.”

Nancy furrows her brows at his words, an amused smile making its way on her face as she eyes the pink heels you have picked out weeks ago, already. 

“Hey, don’t blame me, Lego Head. You showed up too late cause you took forever with your hair.” 

Eddie and Robin share a look of confusion. 

“Funny you show up late together,” Lucas grins, wiggling his brows at the both of you. 

Will snickers beside him, shaking his head at his friend. 

You stop beside Steve and he nearly gives you away already when he lifts his arm to wrap it around you, stopping midway and playing it off by fixing the sleeves of his jacket but someone had caught him already. 

Argyle whistles at you, making Jonathan chuckle, “you look so gorgeous, chica. Save me a dance, will you?” 

Steve takes a step closer to you, something that makes both you and Eddie share an amused glance, the metalhead speaking softly to you. 

“Save me one too, sweetheart,” he winks at you and then looks at Steve smugly, who only shakes his head at him in response, at his teasing. 

Dustin smirks at Eddie and wiggles his brows, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. 

Nancy, who is standing next to Will, eyes Steve’s face, watching the way he rolls his eyes at the curly haired teenager as he takes a step closer to you. A small chuckle escapes her mouth, something that makes Will smile to himself. 

“I think Blondie and Steve should dance!” El beams at the two of you, loving to use the nickname he gave you. She looks between the two of you with a huge smile on her face. 

“Me and Lego Head?” You snort, acting like you aren’t dying for him to lead you to the dance floor and drop this act once and for all. 

“Yeah,” Steve snorts, mimicking you. He doesn’t look as serious as you do, he struggles to. “She’s probably gonna step all over my feet.”

Eddie can see the lovesick look in his eyes, the way Steve struggles to hide his smile, the way he has to restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. Oh, he is gone. He can’t understand how he hadn’t seen it before. 

“Yeah, I wore them just for you, Stevie.”

Your eyes lock and for a moment, everything around you disappears, it’s just the two of you. Your smiles spread and your eyes shine for one another. 

The tension between you a different than ever before. 

But it still goes unnoticed by most. 

During the ceremony, you sit between your boyfriend and your best friend. You are unaware of Dustin’s and Lucas’s snickers when they keep glancing your way. You hold Steve’s hand, the whole time. A few tears escape your eyes when Hopper speaks his vows, when he openly shows his love to his pretty bride. 

And in that moment, Steve holds your hand tighter than before, he plays with your ring finger, thinking about one thing only as he stares at the two people on the altar, exchanging their rings and kissing one another with nothing but love. 

A soft smile graces his lips when he looks at you. He can’t wait to be the one putting a ring on your finger. He can’t wait for his future with you. 

The evening goes by in a blur, you laugh with your friends, and share drinks, laugh at all the speeches spoken, cry at the ones from Will and Jonathan when they show their appreciation and love for their mom and the man who promised to take care of his family. 

You hold Steve’s hand beneath the table, play with his fingers and sneak glances and smiles at him. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear when no one is looking but you both get tired of putting on this show.

A very tipsy Hopper makes his way to your table, he stops behind your and Steve’s chair and greets you two with a big smile before he looks around the round table. 

“Are you here to take a few shots with me, Chief?” Eddie grins at him, already holding up the vodka bottle. 

Hopper waves at him, “your uncle’s sitting over there, young man.” 

Eddie snorts and follows to where the older man is pointing at, his uncle is sitting next to his girlfriend, smiling at her. 

“Mr. Munson is preoccupied,” Argyle chuckles and nudges his chin at Wayne who is now pulling Susan on the dance floor. 

Hopper nods and looks around the table before he directs his glance at you and Steve, “how come I have seen everyone on the dance floor but the two of you?”

Steve chuckles and shrugs. 

“Yeah, Steve, why didn’t you ask her to dance with you yet?” Lucas grins, wiggling his brows to which Max only giggles. 

“Yeah, be a gentleman and take the lady for a dance,” Robin smirks at her best friend. 

Hopper grabs Steve’s shoulder, pulling him up, “come on, boy.” 

You giggle at the older man, staring at the teasing grin on his face as he forces your boyfriend to stand up. Steve straightens his back and looks down at you with a grin, he’s been waiting for this moment, all night, to take your hand and lead you to the dance floor. 

Hopper pats him on the back, fixing Steve’s collar as he grins at him, “go on, ask her.”

You and Steve are both very well aware of all the eyes on you, of the teasing glances from the friends who know and the ones who don’t but neither of you care, not anymore. 

Steve clears his throat and offers his hand to you, “would you like to dance with me?” He asks softly and looks into your eyes with love. 

Your eyes run up and down his body, your lips curling into a happy smile. You place your hand in his, “I would love to.”

You let him pull you up, let him place his hand on your lower back, you let him lead you away from the table your friends sit around and you follow him onto the dance floor. 

“Took you long enough, Steve,” you tease him and shoot Hopper a smile as he passes by, making his way back to his now wife. 

Steve wraps his arm around your waist, not caring to hide any longer, he pulls you closer against him, he smiles down at you, “mhm, gonna show everyone whose girl you are.” He says rather possessively. 

Your stomach flutters with butterflies, your eyes lighten up but your lips curl into a teasing smile, “is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Stevie?” 

“What if it is?” 

“Then I’ll tell you that there is no reason for you to feel that ever, I’m all yours.” 

Steve pulls you into the middle of the dance floor, lifting your hand and twirling you around before he pulls you against his chest, making you giggle. 

“That’s right,” Steve murmurs and envelops your body in his, stepping out of hiding, showing everyone that this is more than just a friendly dance, that you and him are more to each other than anyone thinks, that you are his and he is yours, “my girl.” 

There beneath the dim string lights, surrounded by a love song neither of you pay attention to, because in this moment, nothing around you exists, nothing but you and him. You look at each other happily, adoringly. 

“My boy,” you whisper and take another step closer, pressing your chest to his, gripping his hand tighter, melting into his touch as his palm lies on the small of your back. 

His eyes swim with love, lighting up at your words, his heart goes crazy in his chest. 

“I’m all yours,” he whispers and leans in closer, blood rushes to his cheeks, his lips curl into a soft smile. Steve nuzzles his nose against yours, coming closer and closer. Every wish of his, every craving from these past few months with you, finally come to life. 

Steve can hold you, he can pull you closer, he can gaze at you with starry eyes, he can kiss and love you openly. He can do this now. Pressing his lips to yours, he kisses you deeply, softly, passionately. He cradles your cheeks and shows the world that you belong to each other and his heart screams in joy at that — just like yours does, your heart soars, everything in you screams out of happiness. 

Your eyes are closed, your arms now wrapped around his neck as your hand gets lost in his hair, no longer caring about not messing it up. You feel him smiling into the kiss and you can’t help but do the same. 

Eddie and Robin watch you both with smiles on their faces, happy for their best friends. 

Mike is rambling into Lucas’s ear about how much basketball sucks, that he should drop it and just focus on DnD again. The teenage boy only rolls his eyes in response, turning away from his friend, he opens his mouth to ask Max for a dance when the sight before him makes him freeze. His brown eyes widen and his jaw drops. Feeling as though his eyes betray them, he rubs them. You and Steve are in each other’s arms, swaying to the music with your lips locked. 

Lucas leans over his girlfriend, slapping Dustin’s shoulder, “dude… dude!” He says for a second time, loudly enough for everyone at the table to stop their conversations and look at him. 

Dustin frowns at him, shrugging, “what—“ He pauses and follows to what Lucas is pointing at, his own eyes widen and he nearly bolts from his chair when he sees the two of you kissing, “what!?” He shrieks, making El cup her hands over her ears. 

Dustin stares at you and Steve in disbelief. 

“But…” He mumbles and slowly turns to Eddie, pointing between you and him. 

Everyone looks at the two of you now, Jonathan’s eyes are wide, just like Argyle’s are, though there’s a hint of something else in his eyes as he tilts his head at the both of you. 

A warm smile lingers on Nancy’s face, she knew it already, she knew it this whole time, she saw the way you looked at him, the way he looked at you, the way he never looked at her. She is happy for him, he finally found his person and she is happy for you, that you found someone who will cherish you and give you the love he always wanted to give, the love that you deserve. 

El is admiring the two of you, silently. 

Max and Will share looks with each other and smile. 

“But I thought… What the hell? Are they drunk?” Dustin asks Eddie.

“Nope.”

“Then why are they…?”

Eddie grins at the curly haired boy, slapping his hand on his shoulder, “they’re dating.”

Dustin shakes his head, furrowing his brows, “no she is not, she is dating you.” 

Lucas slaps his hand over his head, “you’re a fucking idiot.”

“She is my best friend!” Eddie laughs loudly, “besides, I have a girlfriend, you met her!” 

Dustin rubs his head, glaring at Lucas who is now grinning as he watches you two. 

“I thought it was a bluff!”

Lucas points at you, “she is literally kissing Steve right now!” 

Will clears his throat and leans forward, “yeah, and she’s been kissing Steve for a while now.”

Everyone snaps their heads at Will, everyone except for Max.

Eddie’s brown eyes flicker with confusion, he pulls his brows together and stares down at the boy, “what did you just say?” 

“It was around like… before the fourth of july, right?” Will asks, glancing at Max, who nods with a smirk on her face.  

“Oh yeah, that sounds about right.” 

Robin nods at Eddie, pursing her lips, “fourteen year olds are more perceptive than us, Munson.” 

Everyone gapes at them, especially Lucas who squints his eyes at his girlfriend, “you knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me!?” He throws his hands up, “I was the one who wanted them together!” He says dramatically. 

Argyle slaps Jonathan’s chest, eyes widening, as he finally remembers, “I told you I saw him grab her ass!” 

Jonathan’s frown slips from his face and he straightens his back, “and I told you I saw her kiss him!” 

Argyle slumps back in his chair, mumbling quietly, “and that one time they walked out of the bathroom together.” 

Nancy, who is stunned at her boyfriend and his best friend's words, turns to face them both, “and you never said anything!?” 

Jonathan throws his hands up in surrender, “we were high as a kite! We might’ve been hallucinating for all we knew! I mean they hated each other!” 

Will chuckles at his brother, “you didn’t have to be high to catch these two, they always held hands and kissed when they thought no one was watching.”

Mike turns to face his best friend, he hasn’t given any reactions yet, not until now. 

“And now you didn’t say anything?” 

Will shrugs at him, “didn’t you hear the part when I said ‘they thought no one was watching’? They were clearly keeping it a secret.” 

Your giggle tears everyone’s attention away from Will. Steve is now twirling you around as the love song ended and an upbeat song took over. Your smile is wide, just like his. He’s laughing with you, staring at you like you are the only girl in the world. You are clinging to one another, dancing like it’s only you and him in this world, not caring about anyone around you, not minding the prying eyes or the curious looks. 

Lucas is grinning, though still confused about how it all went by him, how he never noticed a single thing but he is happy to see you two together. 

Eddie and Robin are smiling too, well, everyone is smiling. 

“Come on,” Lucas stands up, pushing his chair back and bowing down before his girlfriend as he offers his hand out to her, “let’s dance.” 

Max bites back her smile, hiding her blushing cheeks behind her hair, she takes his hand and gets up, smoothing down her gown. 

Eddie watches as the teens join you both on the dancefloor and he looks over at Robin, nudging her shoulder, “wanna join them?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at him, glancing over at the four of you, “sure, let’s go,” she shrugs and gets up, passing by Dustin, she ruffles his curls, “come on, Dusty, you’re coming with us.” 

When the metalhead comes up beside you, he steals Max away from Lucas, chuckling at the offended look on his face, “sorry, gotta dance with my sis for a while, Sinclair!”

And as everyone joins the dance floor, the girls try to snatch you away for details, while the guys try to ask Steve what the hell happened, you don’t let anybody rip your hands apart. 

Long months, nights, days, hours and minutes, hidden in the shadows away from everyone else. Hiding from one another even, not showing your true feelings. You both don’t want to hide any longer. You both want to remain open, and for everyone to see and to know. To talk about. You both want people to envy your love, as well as want it. That’s how strong it is.

Soft whispers of I love you’s are shared, every time your mouth grazes his ear, or he comes closer to press his forehead to yours. It was the perfect night, yet, you weren’t afraid of the end of it. You two will see each other the next day, and the next, and the next… the moment will never be over.

So when the both of you are sitting on your kitchen table, your feet in a bucket full of ice water, both drunk out of your minds but still laughing while eating McDonald’s, and he watches you eat lazily, with adoring eyes and a look of love on his face, he takes your hand and whispers–

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @moon-flowerrs @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @munson-mjstan @munsonlore @joekeerysmoles @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn0628 @thecreelhouse @agirlwholovesrockstars @ibellcipem

[hoe4sports]

How this ends

Alexia Putellas x reader

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A note from the author: This is an older draft that i have yet to share. The song is inspired by Lewis Capaldi’s «How this ends». I see every comment you write and I see every repost with a note added to it. I’m forever grateful for the love you give my writing. Thank you so so much. I’m endlessly grateful.

Warnings: angst.

Summary: Alexia decides that after 13 years, she’s done.

-

Alexia knew it was all for the best. A part of her wishes that she had never met you, that she has never let herself fall in love with you, that she never allowed herself to feel all those wonderful feelings you brought into her life. It was a selfish decision, and Alexia knew that. But in her mind, the only solution was calling it off.

She could see you slowly slipping away from her grip. Like you were slowly fading from a painting that she had once painted. Like someone was erasing you from the story she was writing. A part of her wishes that you had never gotten to this point. And she hates that you understand and that you still love her. She wanted you to hate her. To tell her that she was the most awful person in the world. To tell her that she didn’t deserve anything good to happen to her. Instead, you accepted her decision with grace. You slowly packed your bags over the next few weeks, bringing more and more stuff over to your friend, Frido’s house. With each item that disappeared, it felt like a piece of you slipped away.

Alexia was also somewhat embarrassed. Her sister, Alba, had convinced her that you were using her for her money. That you wanted her to quit football. That you eventually were planning to run away from her with her money and her house. She didn’t know how she had allowed herself to believe her sister. But, they had been best friends growing up. She trusted her. She trusted her judgment of you. But she forgot to consider that the pair of you had spent years together. You had gotten together when you were 13. Now, 13 years later. It had all come to an end.

You left out a quiet sight as you walked around in the cold, empty apartment. You traced your fingers along the beautiful carvings on the walls feeling that familiar gloss finish you had agreed upon years prior. The feeling is seeing this home turn into just an apartment was haunting. It hurt in a way that only could be described as crushing. Your footsteps led you around the apartment to the door of what once was your shared walk in closet. You reached for the door and opened it. It was half empty. More than half empty actually, if you were to take the things you had purchased, then Alexia would be left with basically nothing to her name except a few boxers, some socks and a set of sweats. Your gaze shifted to your side of the closet. The memory of standing there for hours trying to pick the perfect outfit for Alexia’s social events was woken back to life. It made you smile sadly. God, you thought to yourself, you loved getting ready for her. The chandelier was hanging in the middle of the room, and you offered it a gaze while your hand rested on the light switch. The chandelier sparkled in reflection of the light, reminding you of why you had purchased it. Speaking of the chandelier, it was also something that you had purchased for your own money. You sighted as you turned off the lights and closed the door shut.

You passed your guest room on your way to the bedroom. It made you smile. The memories of a drunken Mapi that had lost her keys and Ingrid’s keys while going out for a drink. She had camped in your guest room, unannounced. Ingrid had been so confused when she called Alexia to ask if she had seen Mapi. You smiled as you took a last gaze over the room. Seeing all the things you had purchased alone because Alexia didn’t have the time to go shopping. She’d told you that you could take her credit card, and you did. But she didn’t know that you never used it.

You continued to the main bedroom. To your bedroom. Where you had spent hours listening to Alexia’s dreams and hopes. Where you had watches dumb arguments unfold over stress and pressure from work. It was strange, how her dreams had changed over the decade. From wishing to play for a living to dreaming of the ballon d’or. It was always strange, how none of her dreams were about the pair of you. It was always her dreams, her wishes and her hopes. It wasn’t always like that. Once, she was your Alexia. That would bring home flowers. That would dream about weddings, kids and growing old together. Football took that part of her away, and maybe you could’ve been more consistent. Asked more. Understood more. Waited more. Then maybe Alexia could’ve still been your Alexia. Your eyes closed in hopes of stopping the burning feeling you felt in you eyes. It didn’t help, really. You flipped the lights off and shut the door.

Then you moved on to the next room.There was the bathroom. You favourite room. The place that had seen all the things that you didn’t tell people about, not even Alexia or Frido. The place where you cried, laughed, screamed, had occasional sex and spent most of your sick days. Where you had found yourself sat after the losses of all your pregnancies. This room was your sanctuary. It was where you could allow yourself to feel whatever you needed to feel. Where you’d allow the tears to quietly hit the drain while you felt neglected and abandoned. But, yet, you stayed. You stayed, again and again and again. Hoping that your girlfriend would return to her normal self. To get her fame out of her ass. But the turning point you had been hoping and praying for, never came. You looked over at the vanity. Just Alexia’s toothbrush left. No toothpaste. She never bought her own. She never really bought anything for the apartment because she didn’t have the time. You spent hours decorating, shopping, furnishing and trying to bring some life into the empty shell Alexia once had purchased. The floor behind you made a squeak, and you knew Alexia were behind you. You caught your breath, turned off the lights and closed the door.

Your feet then walked towards the living room. The core of the apartment. It had some of the most gorgeous views that you had ever encountered. Anything from gloomy stunning sunrises to slow beautiful sunsets. You were particularly pleased with the look of the room. It was warm and welcoming, but also bright and modern. The white walls matched the white soft couch. You sat down in the couch and let your fingertips run across it. It still made you feel cozy. Like you wanted to wake up from this nightmare and wrap yourself up in a warm blanket. This dumb couch that you had paid a ridiculous amount of money for. Where you and Frido had found yourself at the most ungodly hour gossiping about the players and the people at your job. The spot where you and Alexia once had spent hours giggling, watching sad movies, doing face masks and watching games of football. The thought of your lighthearted memories made during your earlier days brought a well wanted smile to your face.

Your eyes caught the door of the balcony. You loved that balcony endlessly. Your hand searched for the handle as you opened up the door taking in the fresh Barcelonian air. The views from the balcony was undoubtedly the most stunning views of Barcelona. You could see the beach, hear the waves and smell the salty air. The combination of sensations was enough to make anyone want to buy the place. You remembered when you and Alexia had the time to sit outside. Drinking glasses of Wine in the off season, eating watermelon that you had picked up at the local market after games. The mix of your favourite fruit and your favourite person brought tears to your eyes. Things were different now. So different that you couldn’t even have imagined in your wildest dreams that you would’ve been here. Everything was complicated. Painful. You shut the door to the balcony and locked it for the last time.

Your last stop was the kitchen. The intention of stopping by it hadn’t been on your mind, but you passed it as you were heading towards the entrance. You remember all the nights you spent making pasta with Alexia wrapped around your waist. Her standing behind you, embracing you pretending that she wanted to learn when all she really wanted was to be close to you. To hold you tight. All the morning coffees you had shared, Alexia always insisted on drinking her coffee pitch black while you preferred to ice yours. You’d try different types of syrups and flavors to perfect your coffee. Down the lane, she was convinced that maybe iced coffee wasn’t too bad. But only when the coffee was made by you. Your gaze shifted to the countertops. The spot where you would make sure always had Alexia’s favourite red apples. Only the crispy kind though. Before you moved, you closed your eyes. You didn’t understand why your efforts were never enough. Why your patience was never enough for Alexia. You accepted anything she threw at you. Cancelled dates, missed anniversaries and forgotten birthdays. Always understanding that work was her focus. That football was her number one. Yet, you loved her. You still do. But you are so confused. And so hurt.

It was stange and painful. But you couldn’t stay there anymore. It was not right, and it was not how you wanted things to be like at this point in your life. Things had changed so fast. Faster than anyone could’ve expected. Some changes for the good, and some for the worse. You held a tight grip on my phone as you stood there with my eyes closed not wanting to leave the comfort of what once had been your home. The thought of someone’s living eventually moving in with Alexia, having new memories and living in all the furniture that you once had purchased pained you. A sob escaped your lips while tears were silently rolling down your cheeks. Alexia stood next to the entrance staring at the ground.

“Well” you said letting out a laugh. “I guess this is it”

Alexia looked at you with sorrow in her eyes, not saying anything. It felt like room was on fire. Like everything was shutting down. Like the world was brutally coming to an ends

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be enough for you, Alexia. I really tried to be what you needed for 10 years. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that. Maybe in the next lifetime? “

She didn’t say a word. Just looked at you with an empty look in her eyes.

You walked towards the door. And put your hand on the handle before turning to Alexia. Your hand reached for your pocket. It was the promise ring she gave you at 20. When she promised that you would get engaged one day. You held the ring tight in your hand looking down at your hand. Then you looked at Alexia who just stood there. You took a deep breath before you kissed her cheek and opened her hand. You placed the ring in her hand before looking at her with a sad grin. Her eyes looked at the ring before her gaze turned towards you. She looked like someone had stolen her puppy.

“Que? Why are you giving me your ring?”

“It’s not mine to wear anymore, Ale”

“Ai, no! I gave it to you, si?”

“Yes?”

“Vale, that means it’s yours”

You looked at her with a sad look in your eyes before giving her a sad smile and shaking your head.

“Goodbye, Alexia”

Then you turned your back and walked away. The few items you had left in the apartment, had now been placed in a reusable ikea bag that you borrowed from Frido. You couldn’t help but let a few tears fall to the ground as you walked away. Every cell in your body wanted you to turn around. To run back into Alexia’s arms. To beg her to take you back. It took all the strength in your body to walk down to the spot where Frido was gonna pick you up. If you had turned around, you wouldn’t have been able to leave. The only reason you were able to keep walking was because you loved Alexia more than yourself. If she was happy and she got whatever she needed, then you were gonna be okay. Eventually, at least.

*Alexia pov*

A few days after you left for good, she came home from another horrible day at work. She locked the door and spirited to your her bedroom. She laid down on your side of the bed in complete darkness. Her face was staring into the pitch black ceiling. A lump formed in her throat and the tears were pressing on her eyelids. She hadn’t eaten much since you broke up. She hadn’t even slept much. Her workouts had been shitty. And she didn’t know how to function. She thought that she had gotten too attached. That you controlled her life to much. She had been so sure that what Alba said was true that she forgot to think for herself.

However, as she was laying down in complete darkness on your side of the bed. She realised her terrible mistake. Her eyes widened as soon as she realised. She had let other people’s thoughts become her own. She remembered all the times you had missed things for her. All the times she was a shitty girlfriend. She made you miss your nieces first birthday , your parents 30th wedding anniversary and the funeral of your grandmother. What had she sacrificed? What had she given to make the relationship work? She bought the apartment. But you bought the furniture. You made the house a home. You had wanted kids and marriage , and she wanted that too. But then there was football. And you said you’d wait, and alexia had promised you that she would make it happen. You had given everything you wanted away while Alexia got it all. No compromises, just you always accepting all the shit she threw at you.

She didn’t know where it all went wrong. By now, her tears were streaming down her face. Her hands clutching your pillow like it was the last source of water left at this planet. Her lungs desperately breathing in your scent, terrified to forget what you smelled liked One day she was being scolded by her mami for not purposing to you. The next day, Alba insisted that you were using her. But you made her life easier, better, enjoyable. You showered her with the purest kind of love that she didn’t even deserve. Alexia felt confused. Embarrassed. Scared. Angry. You were always so good to here even though she was a horrible girlfriend. She had let the love of her live walk out of the doors, forever. She had made the biggest mistake of her life. She couldn’t accept that this is how it ends. She needed to fix this.

[daenysx]

Hey darling, I have a requests for Aemond if you still writing for him. I just want when he has so much pain because of anything(maybe he's tired of family pressure) and he just need his darling's arms.

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy! you can send requests for aemond or aegon now that the show is back <333

prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader

you can see vhagar's wings if you squint your eyes enough.

aemond is restless these days, he is angry and resentful. his anger has never been directed to you but the peace in your shared chambers decreases day by day. you frown, not knowing what to do to make it all better. vhagar flies closer to the keep and you watch her. you can almost imagine how aemond looks on top of her; sad, disappointed in himself, angry, vengeful. your husband is far from being okay.

you settle down on the bed, the thin fabric of your nightgown does nothing to protect you from the night air's chill. you prefer keeping windows open though. each breath of fresh air is needed in here.

almost half an hour later, aemond returns to you. he smells like dragon and something unique to him, you've grown fond of his scent long time ago since you got married to him. he closes the door, takes a few slow steps into the chamber. you leave the bed to greet him.

"husband." you say lowly. he looks calm. flying on vhagar works like a charm most of the time, he gets to relieve some of his tension to the clouds. he looks at you with a tired eye, a graceful hand of his extended to you.

you accept his touch almost greedily. it's always easier with him, to deal with everything. you've never imagined you'd be a part of a war one day but life is tricky. there are too many reasons to be afraid of each minute that goes by, but aemond makes them all bearable. he's protective, even more so now. you like how he stands tall and charming, like a statue to protect you from all the darkness. he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you closer, close enough to put his head on your shoulder.

your hand goes to his hair. the lovely silver strands messed up by wind. you fix them, fingertips touching his scalp. he breathes heavily, his hands on your waist are insistent. he begs silently. he begs for the pain to go away. only for one night.

aemond pulls himself back with a sigh. he takes off his eyepatch, starts opening the buttons of his riding clothes. his fingers are cruel on his own skin, he doesn't care if he hurts himself. you hold his hands when he roughly pulls the fabric. his hands slow down in your palms, staying still like he's done something wrong. you bring each hand on your lips. they are shaking with hate. you look at your husband to see his eye get all glossy under the light of fire. his arms stay on his sides.

"let me help." you say gently. he sits on bed as you take care of him. he will not bathe tonight, you know, he only wants to be free of the fabrics he carries on him. the eyepatch, the clothes. all of them pulls him down.

when he's finally bare, he gets into the bed. you adjust your pillows to see his face better. the little distance between you is too much for aemond to bear. he puts his head on your shoulder.

"they all say the same thing." he says. you wouldn't hear his silent words but his mouth is close to your ear. you hold his naked body as he keeps going. "same thing. every day. as if i'm a fool who forgot what he's done."

he made many mistakes. mistakes are the nature of a war; thinking back with regret and pain, wishing to take the time back, holding grudge to gods and faith for not stopping the unfair crimes. aemond is too self aware these days thanks to the people he has to call family. they are masters to answer each sentence of him with his war crime. he thinks it's fair sometimes, he has to be punished in a way. he pushes his head closer to your neck to settle down, it's too much for a man to deal with.

"i'm sorry." you say. there's nothing more to say, he knows you try your hardest to forgive him for his crimes each day. you're mostly successful, your love for aemond is blinding. he kisses your neck slowly, curved lips leave a mark on your skin.

"i never wanted this." he says, regret drips from his voice. "i never wanted a power i cannot control."

"it's a dragon, my love." you reason. "no matter what your intentions are, you cannot make her agree with you every time."

"i only wanted-" he takes a breath. "i don't even know what i wanted. i thought the bond between us was stronger, with vhagar."

he doubts himself. it's dangerous to doubt the bond between a dragon and her rider in the middle of a war. aemond is a reasonable man when he's not mad but even he's having hard time facing with the consequences of his actions. he used to brag fiercely, the rider of the largest dragon in the world. now, he questions his worth more often, like he's a boy hiding behind his mother's skirt.

you kiss his forehead, his head must be hurting under all this worry. what feels worse now, accidentally killing the nephew who took his eye years ago, or doubting everything that made him aemond targaryen? he knows there are things he should understand, he's just not brave enough to face them.

because now, he's in your arms. the only place besides the sky that gives him comfort. being in the same bed with you is better than flying sometimes, he's free here. you offer every bit of relieve you can to him, he takes what you're willing to give. every kiss, every touch, every valyrian word you learn to prove him you love him, every minute you spend with his wounds and his troubles. he can't lose you. he has nothing in this world if he loses you.

you kiss him again, for your sake more than aemond's. when you're together you don't have to worry about him. you know he's safe and secure, you know if anything happens he'll be your guard. kisses are a way of communication now, a way of comfort. he closes his eye when your lips connect with his skin. he could spent his life here if he wasn't be a man who's hungry for power and vengeance.

he thinks the fire is easy. it's so easy to burn everything when he has vhagar. he doesn't look back, he doesn't deal with the places he burned. he has the blood of a dragon, he becomes one with vhagar when he whispers words to her. he knows he'd burned down the city if he loses you. he wouldn't look back. there are too many people disappointed in him already. if he loses the only one who holds him together, he'd have nothing.

aemond kisses you softly. he stops breathing when his lips are pressed against yours. he feels like a tamed dragon if there's such a thing. you stroke his cheek, push his hair back from his face. he is hungry for touch and you give him what he craves until he falls asleep against your neck. he holds onto the one person who keeps him sane until the sun shows itself.

[plutolovesyou]

https://www.tumblr.com/plutolovesyou/755080548722081793/do-you-think-ellie-would-be-more-a-strap?source=share

this with abby PLZZ

ellie version. dina version. your wish is my command ♡ lmk if y'all want a dina one too, so we complete the set LMAO. smutty yap ahead! ++ lil bonus scenario under the cut: just like before, abby loves it all. she loves you and your body, and making you see stars any and every way she can. ima gloss over the other ways because i'd rather write full fics about em ;) but one method rises above the others, in my opinion. i think abby would be a fiend for fingering.

i think she'd be quite visual, and what gives her a better view than this—stuffing her thick fingers inside your pussy, watching you fall apart on nothing more than a few of her digits working diligently to bring you a world of pleasure. she'd love watching the fluids leak out of you and soak her hand, occasionally pulling her fingers free to stretch them apart, and admire the shiny webs of slick that have been created. and we simply can't forget the praises that would fall from her lips the whole time, when she's not completely hypnotized that is.

"look at that...takin' me so well, so well, baby." she's sitting there in awe at the way you're swallowing her up so perfectly, the unforgiving pace of her pounding in and out rendering you an utter mess. your broken mewls, sharp gasps and intakes of air when she curls her fingers skyward juuuust right, pleas for more and lewd poems of her name, combined with the soaked squelching sounds of her ministrations curated a soundscape that was straight (heh, not!) out of her fantasies. she wouldn't stop to give either one of you a break, and would go on for ages, thanks to all the exercises she does—incorporating special hand and arm workouts into her routine for this very purpose.

and if your brain wasn't a fucked out pile of goop, you'd prop yourself up to watch her gorgeously toned arms flex and ripple at her movements, which made the experience even better. plus, because she's such a huge fan of feeling you around her fingers like this, over time she has grown to recognize what every little squirt, squeeze, and flutter of your squishy walls meant, and she'd move her thumb to circle your swollen clit to increase intensity of it all. when the peak approaches, she'd continue what she was doing until you're bordering on tears from the overwhelming sensations, talking you through every moment. "that's it, yeah. let go for me, cmon. give it to me- fuck, so perfect..." only when you were trembling and truly couldn't take any more, she'd let up, eyes sparkling while she's examining her handiwork (LMAO) then she sticks her fingers in her mouth to lick them clean, sucking up every drop and sighing at the taste, her blue eyes closing in pure bliss.

bonus: same thing as last time, something that isn't one of the three mentioned but i think she's obsessed with, is thigh riding. hell, even ab riding. dare i even mention dove fucking...? because her physique is so powerful and beloved by you, she would love watching you grind on her taught muscles desperately—however way, whether you were riding her flexed thigh like a rodeo, or straddling her 6-pack, bracing yourself on her broad shoulders, humping her skin until there was cum all over her and dripping onto the sheets. sometimes she'd take her strong hands to your hips and waist to guide you, pulling you in, pushing you down harder against her until your hips stuttered, but other times she'd lazily cross her arms behind her head, lay back and enjoy the show. she'd love watching you rut up and down, rolling your heat on her frantically in all directions, huffing and puffing until you're so close, yet so tired and whining miserably. she would help you out of course, but not before muttering, "go on, keep going baby, doing so well." until you eventually did it, and collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped you in a warm embrace. OKAY GODDAMN THE OTHER ONE WAS LIKE A THIRD OF THIS LENGTH LAWRD...

[fatuismooches]

Could you please write about the Harbingers and their voice lines for the reader? Like them telling the traveler about you and stuff :)

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬’ 𝐕𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ♡

synopsis: The Traveler expected the Harbingers to be cold and ruthless in pursuing whatever the Fatui's goals were. Hearing their loving voice lines on you was certainly the opposite of what they predicted.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: I've wanted to do something like this for a while. It was rather cute and fun to write! Includes five voice lines about you for each Harbinger.

Pierro:

About You - His Lover:

“So you’ve already met [Name], Traveler? I’m not surprised, they like to talk to people, especially when they see me speaking to others. They’re quite energetic and bouncy, aren’t they? But I can’t say I dislike that about them. They are a bright light in my life.”

Chat - Walks:

“Much of our time spent together is on walks outside in Sneznhaya, with the snow gently melting on us. It’s a rather simple activity to most, but irreplaceable to both of us. I hope, after everything is said and done, I can take them on walks in other places.”

About Your Patience:

“They never comment on it, but I know they get lonely without me. For most of the day, they do not see me due to my work, and even when they try to stay up late for my return, they end up falling asleep sometimes. I truly wish I could spend more time with them. But I know, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s dream, I will give them everything and more.”

Something To Share - Meals:

“I don’t think about what I eat or when I do very often. It doesn’t matter much to me, but [Name] clearly disagrees. Instead of the maids preparing my meals, they started cooking everything for me and adding little notes too. It’s very endearing of them, but I don’t think I’ll ever live it down when the other soldiers saw me eating heart-shaped cookies with smiley faces on them…”

About You - A Second Home:

“I remember the destruction of my homeland clearly. It is something I will never forget. But even though I have only a small portion of time with them, they never fail to make me feel… content. With them, I can forget about everything, even if it is just for a few minutes. Heh, sometimes I foolishly wish they lived in Khaenri’ah with me for a bit, if only to experience a normal life with them.”

Capitano:

About You - His Lover:

“There is nothing I cherish more than [Name]. Many people often comment on our relationship, after all, we are quite different in all aspects. But I have them to thank for many things. They have taught me many things I could have never learned on my own.

Chat - Souvenirs:

“Traveler, you have been to many nations for extended periods of time. Would you share some items that would make good souvenirs? I always make sure to bring something back for them. If you have any recipes to share, that would be greatly appreciated as well. Whenever I am back home, [Name] always insists on having all of our meals together.”

A Special Item - The Kamera:

“You must be wondering why someone like me carries around something like this. I never cared for the device until [Name] told me about it and asked me to take photos on my expeditions. I guess I’ve unintentionally become a master without knowing it because they always praise the pictures I take when they organize them in their scrapbook.”

Something To Share - Smiles:

“I am not adept at smiling at all, or very expressive in general, something [Name] has an issue with. Oftentimes, they sit on my lap and try to get me to show some emotion on my face. Reading stories, telling jokes… they try it all quite frequently. While I don’t think it’s working very well, I enjoy their antics.”

About You - Reminiscing:

“I remember once I walked in on them trying on my helmet and coat. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and I couldn’t help but notice how small they looked buried under my clothes. But quickly I worried about whether their head could take the weight of my helmet. Before I could say anything, they saw me and scurried away in embarrassment. I never brought it up again, but it was rather cute.”

“Huh… Paimon would have never guessed Capitano was like this. When we go to Snezhnaya, we have to find this guy’s mansion somehow! Paimon wants to meet [Name]!”

Columbina:

About You - Her Lover:

“Hmm~hmm~♫ Oh, hello there, Traveler. Ah, I see you’ve brought [Name] with you too, come here, my dear. Hmm? Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you. They are my partner in love, music, in everything. Perhaps you should come to one of our shows one day. I’d say we are quite good.”

About You - Favorite Pastimes:

“I love going to watch plays with them. The theater is one of the places where we spend a lot of time. I always end up humming along to the songs. Sometimes, when the theater is unoccupied, we act out certain scenes together. Say, Traveler, have you ever heard of Romeo and Juliet?”

Chat - Naps:

“Hmm… what time is it? The weather just feels perfect for a midday nap. [Name] always indulges me whenever I want when I want to doze off. This surface is no match for their pillowy softness, but it’ll have to do for now…”

“Hey, you can’t just fall asleep in the middle of- oh… Paimon doesn’t know how she can knock out that quickly.”

Secret Hobby - Poems About You:

“Your bright smile that can go on for a mile,

Unmatchable style with a laugh that never ends for a while.

Sweet lips that I want to savor,

Ah, I am so glad I am in your favor.

Or should I say “For you make me ever the more braver”...? What do you think, Traveler?”

Something Interesting - Liyue Opera:

“Traveler, I hear that there is a talented opera troupe in Liyue with beautiful music and songs. Oh, you’ve met them yourself? I would love to attend it with [Name]. They love listening to music from around Teyvat, and I have to agree with them. Haha… I can’t wait to take them out of Snezhnaya for a bit.”

Dottore:

About You - His Lover:

“Hmph, you wish to know about [Name], I hear?”

“Yeah! Paimon wants to know what kind of person would stay with a madman- I mean! A Fatui Harbinger! You know, since that’s quite dangerous and all.”

“Hehe, is that so? Too bad, because I have no obligation to tell you. But they are truly… ah, never mind.”

“Aww… Paimon really wanted to know what he was going to say.”

About You And The Segments:

“Some of the segments are quite fond of them, while some do not know them very well. After all, they were cloned at different parts of my life, before and after I met them. I must say… it’s can be hard to get some of the other segments away from them. I didn’t think they would hoard [Name]’s attention so much…”

“Is it just Paimon, or does Dottore’s attentiveness towards them grow as each clone gets older? And hey, is Dottore jealous-”

“Shush Paimon, before he hears you!”

About You - Whereabouts:

"It's time for their medicine... Hmm, have you seen them, Traveler? You saw them leave and go into the city? And you didn't stop them? Tch, useless. I must simply go and find them myself... Now that I think about it, I wouldn't want you talking to [Name], anyway."

About You - Health Concerns:

“Ever since our Akademiya days, [Name] has been plagued with an unknown and virtually incurable disease. It is essential that they take their medicine every day, but they often try to avoid it, after doing it for so long. This is why I and the clones always keep an eye on them.”

“Aw, so that’s why [Name] always looks so tired whenever Paimon sees them… That must be so hard.”

“… I don’t care what methods or tactics I have to employ, or if the Gods or even you, Traveler, get in my way. I will cure them of their sickness. Nothing will stop me.”

When The Sun Is Out:

“Hm, it’s a perfect day for [Name] to take a walk. The fresh air is always good for their health. Perhaps a boat ride is in order as well.”

“Oooh, Paimon loves the sound of that! Maybe we can fish and eat it too!”

“Why would I ever invite you to be with us? I’m sure your very existence would give them a headache.”

“Hey, how rude!!”

Pulcinella:

About You - Relationship:

“You were fighting some hilichurls when someone called [Name] joined you? And they ended up lighting an explosive barrel? Wherever that child goes, they always bring trouble with them. But don’t hold it against them. They are a lovely person to be around.”

Stories To Tell:

“They always pester me to tell them stories. Though, this is not a bad thing at all. Not many are willing to listen to this old man ramble on willingly. Ah, youth is a wonderful thing. Would you like to join us next time, Traveler?”

Chat - New Things:

“Indeed, they have taught me many things. The latest trends, songs, books, and more that their generation is into. Sometimes I struggle to understand some of what they say too… the world is changing so quickly.”

About You - Baking:

“We bake together quite often. Most of the time, I have to direct them, otherwise, they will burn down the kitchen which has happened multiple times before. Pantalone was not happy. I have never seen a youngster with such little aptitude for cooking, but surprisingly, it is great fun.”

About You - Family:

“Ever since they were young, they were quite rebellious. Running away from the castle, pretending to be asleep after bedtime, beating up all the Fatui soldiers during sparring without hesitance. If anyone else besides me had to take care of them, it would not have ended well. But, I am truly glad they are in my care. I have thought of them as my own child for a long time. If it wasn’t for the possible danger, I’d have officially adopted them long ago.”

Scaramouche:

About You - His Lover:

“Huh? How do you know about [Name]?”

“Well, we just happened to see them with you once. You were actually smiling! And later we went up and spoke to them for a bit, and they were really nice! They told us that they were your-”

“Ugh, that idiot! Always trusting people so blindly… Anyway, I don’t need you to know anything else. It isn’t your business.” 

A Little Secret:

“I wonder if they could make dango for me again… it’s been a long time since I’ve had it. But how do I get them to make it without directly asking? How bothersome… huh? How long have you been there, Traveler? You didn’t hear anything, did you?!”

Something To Share - Burdened Feelings:

“I once tried to wipe my emotions and feelings of them away into nothingness. It felt preposterous to me that I could feel something for a human, one that could barely fight nonetheless. But when I lost the Gnosis, when I lost everything, as I fell down, the only thing that I saw in my mind was their stupid smile…”

When It Rains:

“Whenever it rained, they would always huddle themselves close to me under my hat. At first, I pushed them away, but the look on their face made me allow them to continue. Sometimes, I make sure to take them out on a day that’s expected to rain just to see them do that. Don’t you dare tell them that though, Traveler.”

About Beelzebul:

“[Name] is always telling me to reconcile with her, but what would she think of me, or of them? How would she act toward me? Would she even remember me? There’s that irritating shrine maiden too… Hmm? It’s nothing. Let’s keep moving.”

Arlecchino:

About You - Her Lover:

“[Name]? Yes, they are my partner. I suppose those Fatui recruits can’t keep their mouths shut about other people’s business for very long. Hmm? You’re surprised that I was so direct about it? Well, there’s no reason to hide it. But I would prefer that this discussion ends here. I like to keep my time with them private.”

When It’s Sunny:

“This weather is not my favorite. I prefer the cold much more than this blistering heat. But I did hear [Name] say that they would like to visit a beach someday. Hmm… say, Traveler, is Yaoguang Shoal a good spot?”

Something To Share - Quietly Loving:

“I’m sure you have realized by now that I am not very good with words or emotions. These things are far from my expertise. However, they seem to not mind my behavior, talking enough for both of us. But if they ever requested anything from me, I would do it without hesitance. No one else comes close.”

Chat - Coffee:

“One cup of coffee, with whipped cream, syrup, and sugar please.”

“…Eh?!! Arlecchino, what are you saying? You always order your coffee black!”

“I know. To be honest, I could not care less about all these extra ingredients. But… they always used to try and add things to sweeten the drink behind my back. I suppose I… miss them. This reminds me of them, a bit.”

“Aww… Paimon guesses that even the scariest and coldest of people can have someone special to them.”

About You - The Orphanage:

“They often spend their time with the orphans. I was initially surprised at first, and so were the other soldiers, but it worked out in our favor. The children love them far more than they will for me or the recruits. [Name] is a gentle and patient soul, after all. Reading stories, putting the kids to sleep… they are quite hard working despite having no need to.”

La Signora:

About You - Her Lover:

“My darling [Name] is the most perfect lover one could ask for. They are beautiful, inside and out. How I love to pamper them so… actually, there are a couple of new outfits I want them to try on. I can’t wait to see how they look. They are all mine.”

When It’s Windy:

“Tch, this wind is messing up my hair and clothes. [Name] used to always brush and take care of my hair after a long day, after I showed them how to do it correctly of course. Traveler, I’m afraid I have to go now. I must see them again.”

About You - Letters:

“Hmm, hmm, hmm… and it’s done.”

“Hey Signora, what are you writing?”

“Just a letter to my dearest. They are expecting something from me soon.”

“Wow, so you can send letters with your fire moths? That’s resourceful!”

“Of course. I always let a few stay around [Name] as well. If any of them happen to be extinguished, I’ll know if anything happened to them.”

About You - Favorite Pastimes:

“There’s nothing that pleases me more than seeing them all dolled up in the latest fashion. They look simply exquisite, especially when we do each other’s makeup. But I also adore seeing them lounge around in their favorite hoodies. They look great in anything, really.”

Something To Share - Past Grief, New Happiness:

“Sometimes, it feels just like yesterday when I lost him. Grief and bitterness wrapped around my heart like a cocoon that would never hatch. But when I fell in love with them, I felt something that I had not felt in far too long. That cocoon started to shatter little by little, as I started to remember how to love again. I truly love them wholly with whatever’s remaining of my heart.”

Pantalone:

About You - His Lover:

“So, you’ve met [Name], I hear. What do you think of them? Beautiful, am I right? Of course, they are nothing short of perfection to me. Hardworking, determined, helpful… I could go on about them. Say, Traveler, would you be so kind to direct me to some of the best shops around here? I would like to find some gifts to send to them while we’re here.”

Worries - Financial Concerns:

“Traveler, I have a great issue on my hands. [Name] has apparently forbidden me from spending any more Mora on them. They keep saying that they do not need anything else, but how can I restrain myself from spoiling my darling?”

About You - Favorite Pastimes:

“Oftentimes, we like to end off the day with some leisurely reading. The feeling of them laying against my chest, legs intertwined, as I whisper certain parts of the book softly into their ear, delighting as they turn warm- oho, your face is all red. Did I make you embarrassed? Apologies, I get carried away when talking about them.”

About You - First Meeting:

“My childhood is not something that I like to remember. But, despite everything, it is pleasant to think about the first time I met them. They were poor, just like me, barely scraping by, though they never failed to greet me every day with a big smile. [Name] would take over the grueling working shifts for me and the younger kids sometimes, and sneak bits of food out the window to me. Even with the fact that I was surrounded by poverty, I couldn’t help but think I had a true gem right in front of me. ”

When It’s Cold:

“I confess, I do enjoy the cold, but most of it is due to how adorable [Name] looks all bundled up in my fur coats. Or how they always dive under the covers and refuse to get up for anything. It is always a struggle for even me to get up from bed when they are so warm, too.”

Sandrone:

About You - Her Lover:

“They are my loyal assistant and lover, always willing to help out with any experiment I ask. I have known them for a very long time. They have always been the one to drag me out of the lab to get some fresh air… as a matter of fact, I think it’s about this time when they come to harass me. Somehow they’ve gotten half the robots on their side, too.”

When It’s Raining:

“This weather is good for testing how waterproof my robots are and the joints of my Automatons. A long time ago, I built a feature for an umbrella into some of my creations so whenever [Name] and I went for walks and it rained, we would be fine. Huh, you’re asking if you can use it? No, you can’t.”

About You - Favorite Pastimes:

“Eh? Sandrone, what is all this? You’re all dressed up!”

“Oh, it’s you. I’m simply preparing for my favorite event with my dear lover. We’ve just finished repairing an ancient Automaton, and they’ve decided a tea party is in order.”

“Wow! Even the robots have spiffy suits on! It smells so good here too, hehe, Paimon wants a taste of the tea and cookies too- w-woah! Where’d all these big robots come from?! Hey, let Paimon down!”

“This is for [Name] and I only. Now shoo. The tea party is set to begin soon, and I must welcome my honored guest…”

Inspiration - New Creations:

“Before I met them, I had never thought of using my skills to create mundane things that weren’t war machines or destructive Automatons. I thought anything else would be a waste of time, but surprisingly, it is not too bad. It’s quite nice to feel their fascinated face in the crook of my neck while I work. I usually gift these creations to them, anyway. They’re not much use to me, but [Name] likes these kinds of things.”

The Future - Fontaine Frenzy:

“I hear that I am set to head out to Fontaine soon. I would love to see the faces of those poor souls when they realize their technology is nothing compared to what the Fatui has created. Ah, I guess that means I’ll be seeing you there too. Will you be able to keep up with [Name] and I, Traveler? I must warn you, they are a formidable foe, with their refined skill and raw power from my mechanical attachments. Now that I think about there, there were some new weapons we wanted to try out… hehe, I can’t wait.” 

Childe:

About You - His Lover:

“Oho, interested in [Name] are you? I don’t blame you - they are truly an amazing person. Sweet, kind, and caring, not to mention, they are incredibly strong as well. Teucer loves them too, always wanting piggyback rides. I can’t wait to introduce them to the rest of my family.”

About You - First Meeting:

“I clearly remember the first time I laid eyes on them. I was passing through Liyue when I heard of an archery competition, and naturally, I was eager to test my skills. I was sure that I would win first place, but what did you know! Someone called [Name] had stolen that spot from me. Long story short, I pestered them until they fought me, and they really did beat me down. Haha, it feels so long ago, now that I look back on it.”

When It Snows:

“I once took [Name] to Dragonspine, because they wanted to see the snow as it was a rare occurrence in Liyue. You should have seen them, hah! Shaking and sniffling like it was the end of the world. And it wasn’t even that cold, as least compared to my homeland. Why didn’t I take them to Snezhnaya? Don’t worry, I plan to, very, very soon…

About You - Whereabouts:

"Have you seen them, Traveler? No? Haha, they must be hiding from me again. I guess I’ve asked them to spar too many times. Comrade, if you happen to see [Name], tell them I’m waiting at Northland Bank for them. Xinyue Kiosk, my treat.”

About You - Safety:

“Heh, I wonder what they’re doing right now. I hope they haven’t been roped into any strange commissions again. They are too helpful for their own good. If anything happened to them while I’m gone… Traveler, if you happen to be around, please help them. I’ll owe you, comrade.”

[virgoilluminati]

can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭

It's been a long time coming...

A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹

Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.

Oh, you had royally fucked up.

So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.

You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.

You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.

You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.

You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.

You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.

Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)

His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.

Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.

You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.

You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.

I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!

His reply came almost instantly.

Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?

You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.

Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.

With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.

The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.

After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”

“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.

“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"

"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."

"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."

"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.

"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”

For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.

The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.

Your friends, of course, noticed.

“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”

“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”

“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.

As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.

“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.

“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.

The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.

Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.

You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.

Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.

You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.

You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.

There was a brief pause before his next message came through.

Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.

You: Deal.

The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.

Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.

The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.

The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.

The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.

Your phone buzzed again.

Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)

You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.

You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x

Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.

You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.

Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.

“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”

“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”

“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”

“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”

“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.

“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”

You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”

“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”

“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”

Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”

You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"

Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”

“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”

You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”

Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”

Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.

As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.

When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.

You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.

You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.

Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.

You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.

You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.

You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?

The reply came back quickly.

Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.

You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.

You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.

First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.

Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.

As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.

Jude: Just landed. See you soon

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.

When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.

Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.

"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."

You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."

Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.

He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.

You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.

As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."

You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."

The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.

"Listen. About what I said-"

"We don't have too-"

"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."

"I like you too."

You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.

"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."

He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."

"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.

"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.

"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"

"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.

"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"

"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,

He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.

You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.

Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.

"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.

Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.

Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.

"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.

You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

[sleepyangelkami]

CLOSE CALL b.blake

☆ WORD COUNT - 4.1K

BELLAMY BLAKE X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - based on the episode, 'the calm', season one, episode eleven. during the hunt for food with clarke and finn, you find yourself faced with death, lincoln saves you before it's too late but it's bellamy who finds you running for your life in the woods.

 ☆ WARNINGS - shy!reader, brief mention of insomnia, blood, gore, fire, grounders, saviour!lincoln, death threat, weapons, violence, assault, panic attack, anxiety, sexism, (3) uses of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

bellamy loved sharing a tent with you. he loved being able to brush the hair from your face as you slept soundly while he stared at the tent ceiling, wishing sleep would come over him. he loved waking up to you giggling, pushing him to get up as he slept half the day away.

but it was mornings like this, when he was met with the sight of you leaving that he groaned to himself, hands on his eyes. "where are you going, sweetheart?" pasting his softest tone.

you shimmied the wide-legged jeans up your legs, grinning as you swiped his jacket, not your own. "'m gonna go see octavia." she was currently in the smokehouse, cooking. it was some punishment for something devious she'd done with her grounder boyfriend, 'lincoln'.

"princess." his tone was a warning. "she's in the meat tent for a reason, it's not punishment if her best friend goes and visits her."

you weren't too sure why she was being punished, you weren't sure about a lot of things around here. all you knew was that the group weren't too fond of lincoln seeing as he was a grounder but he saved octavia's life once and had done nothing but be kind to her since. that was enough to get him in your good books.

"okay, then i'll be really mean to her." slipping on your shoes and sticking them out to him.

he rolled his eyes, sighing before sitting upwards. he bent down to tie the laces of your shoes, knowing that he should be up by now already. "no you won't."

you ignored him anyway, smiling as you seated yourself on his lap. he wore his black jeans, that you swore up and down about when he wore to sleep and was currently topless.

"i'll be back to you before lunch." pressing a chaste kiss to your lovers cheek, smiling softly.

you left the tent with a pep in your step, hearing bellamy yell the words, "and tell my sister to stop stealing my girlfriend!" but you only grinned, walking quicker.

everyone was out now, bellamy seemed to be the last awake. you smiled at clarke on your way, deeming her a good friend by now and opening the curtain to the meat tent.

"hi, o." octavia whipped around, grinning at you.

"finally." she scoffed. "next time you see my brother, tell him to stop hogging my best friend."

a smile forced its way on your lips at the mere thought. octavia and bellamy were so alike yet they'd never know, both too stubborn to ever admit it. your eyes trailed to the other person in the meat tent. it was john murphy, infamous around the camp right about now. "oh, hi murphy." a friendly smile gracing your lips. he helped you and many others out when you got sick, it was only fair to return the kindness.

"hey, y/n." though he didn't miss the way octavia nudged your side causing you to frown at her. it was safe to say that they weren't the biggest fans of each other right about now.

your eyes trailed across your best friend, seeing her face glisten. "do you want me to take your jacket? you're sweating."

"good idea, thanks." before the girl could shimmy the jacket off and pile it in your hands, the sound of someone else's voice filled the tent, not murphy's either.

"let's get this party smokin'!" del was a member of bellamy's posse, the one you weren't so fond of, tossing firewood into the fire causing you to frown.

octavia must have shared the same expression. "you don't want the fire too big so maybe just try to knock it down with some wet leaves." you were too embarrassed to open your mouth, inching your way closer to octavia. you never found yourself one to speak freely in front of others.

"you get that from your boyfriend?" the boy retaliated. "grounder-pounder."

but as shy as you may have been, your face suddenly contorted to a deeper frown. you looked at octavia who merely kept quiet, turning and fixing the hanging meat. luckily, murphy spoke instead. "she's right. a hot fire isn't gonna preserve the meat as well."

"can't take the heat? get out of the smokehouse." he looked between the two, knowing better than to throw around looks to you. "you should be kissing our asses for being back allowed in this camp."

"leave them alone." your shaky voice still managed to speak, you followed the boy despite octavia grasping your arm. "i'll tell bellamy."

the boy suddenly froze in his tracks. he turned to look at you, biting his lip with a scoff before turning back around, leaving.

you sighed awkwardly, wishing the entire encounter hadn't happened but as soon as you turned around, you felt smoke engulf you. del should have listened when octavia told him to lay it off with the leaves. you found arms engulfing you, octavia's familiar scent filling your nose. she all but dragged you out of the smokehouse.

the tent went up in flames faster than you could blink.

octavia passed you off to bellamy while a cough ripped at your throat. bellamy questioned his sister's wellbeing, she stated that she was fine, dragging a hand across her forehead. "you okay? are you hurt?"

you shook your head, coughing while bellamy wrapped a hand on the back of your head.

"this is all your fault." murphy stood, his hands outstretching as he pushed del backwards. "we told you it was too much wood!"

bellamy only let go of you once del and murphy began throwing swings at one another, as if it would change a thing. he split the two up, yelling at everyone to stop.

silence engulfed the group. you were next to octavia, a gentle hand rubbing on her back, her face covered in smoke. "bell, now what the hell are we gonna do?" she yelled causing everyone to turn. "that was all our food!"

the food was burned to a crisp. even when people managed to stop the fire, the food was already destroyed. clarke and bellamy looked over possibilities but they only had enough nuts and water to last them a week, two if they were lucky. clarke suggested they hunt.

it wasn't everyday that you were left outside the gates. "can i come?" you excitedly tittered, despite the appauled look on bellamy's face.

"i can take care of her." clarke spoke before he even got the chance to refuse. multiple times, you'd left the gates with clarke, talking on about things that she hadn't a notion about, chiming in with a hum every few seconds.

but she always took care of you, bellamy couldn't dispute with that. "with the entire grounder army out there?"

you slumped but clarke only raised her eyebrows. "and how do you expect her to defend herself if she's starving?"

he knew she was right, as much as he would have prefered to believe she wasn't.

he lined people up, splitting them into groups and handing out guns but keeping it so that one person per group had a gun, the last thing they needed was to run out of bullets right before the grounders hit them. truth was, bellamy didn't know if you were safer out there than you were in here.

you were paired with clarke, finn and a boy called myles.

"don't stay after dark, you hear me?" bellamy was zipping the zipper of his jacket around you but it was clarke who he handed the gun to. "you see grounders, you run back, i don't care who you leave behind."

"i'll be fine." you stretched out the last syllable, placing your hands on the man's shoulders as he was currently crouched in front of you. "y'worry too much."

"i have to worry." he assured. "you don't worry enough." he pressed a kiss to your head as you grinned, then leaning in and pressing one against your smile. "i love you."

"i love you too." you couldn't help but giggle, turning on your heel. "see you soon!"

bellamy watched with a twisting gut, feeling helpless but anxious all at once. he would have gone with you, watching your every move but being the leader of the camp made that incredibly hard for him. he sometimes wished he wasn't in charge, maybe then you could be his only priority. but if he didn't, who would?

"you know, i don't think you're actually allowed to say that." myles was a sweet kid, you supposed but he had some pretty out there views. the forest was quiet, too quiet while finn and clarke trailed above you.

you supposed hanging back with myles couldn't be worse than whatever conversation they were having. "why not? is it so bad to want a traditional marriage?"

"not at all." you answered swiftly. "but it's supposed to be a choice." by now, finn had already caught two squirrels. "the woman should be able to decide if that's what she wants and if you want that, then be with a woman who does too. you can't just force someone into being someone they're not."

"well, we wouldn't have this problem if women just stuck to what they were good at." the comment made you frown.

"myles, can you just be quiet for a second?" the words came from clark who shared the same look of distaste on her own face. you watched as she and finn studied the tracks on the ground, apparently belonging to a boar. "what is it?"

you followed where they sat, kneeling down beside finn to see what was wrong while myles hovered over you all. "these tracks..."

once you got a closer look, you could see how close together they were, how stuck in the mud they truly seemed. "they're perfect."

"too perfect." finn added, his eyes casting upwards. "we're the ones being hunted." someone had planted the boar tracks.

instantly, a shiver ran up your spine while myles stood up, pointing his gun as he glanced around the woods. "i don't see anything." as if on command, there was a swooping sound and suddenly, the arrow landed in his leg, the next in his shoulder.

you could have screamed, instead you gasped out the boy's name, looking to clarke for help. your hands instantly sat on the wound, covering it so blood didn't leak out, clarke sat at the other side, doing the same to his shoulder. "guys, come on, we gotta leave him." finn was adamant, rushing the girls forward.

"we can't just―" you didn't get to finish your sentence for something hard hit you over the head and suddenly you were laying flat on the ground, dizziness swirling your vision. you could vaguely make out a grounder coming from behind finn and doing the same, you didn't see what they did to clarke.

then everything became nothing at all.

it turned black.

𝜗𝜚

when you woke, you were being forced onto the ground. your hands were bound in front of you and your knees smashed against the cold gravel, you could feel the flesh break apart, little cuts littering against your skin. finn and clarke were in the same position, sharing glances of worry.

your brows were knit together as your eyes scanned where you were, some kind of cave though it also appeared to be a room. your first thought was bellamy, how worried the boy seemed when you left, you could only imagine the worry when you didn't return. you'd imagine by the lighting that it was well after sunset.

"we walked for about three miles." finn began to whisper. it appeared as though he and clarke hadn't been hit as hard as you had. "after crossing that creek, another two or so before we got to the road."

"i don't think it matters, finn." clarke's voice had a sense of desperation in it. "they didn't blindfold us which means they don't care what we saw. they're gonna kill us."

a cold feeling settled in the base of your stomach, bile rising to your throat. bellamy was right, it wasn't safe out here and you just had to go and get yourself killed.

two grounders pulled you up by your shirt, you let out a whimper as they shoved you forward, others doing the same to clarke and finn. they led you down the cave's hallway and into another room where other grounders were waiting then shoving you right back on the ground.

a woman stood in front of you, wearing a long black coat. she unleashed her sword, suddenly stalking towards clarke. you made a move. "wait." you tried, shoving yourself in front of her but you were quickly hauled back by one of the grounders.

but the woman didn't kill her, on the contrary, she cut the ropes on her wrist, untying her. they shoved clarke to her feet, uncovering a girl who laid across a table, gasping out in pain. "help her. if she dies, they die." you gulped, turning to finn who shared the look of fear. "her name is tris."

"i can't do this." clarke looked at the body, turning her so she could see her face. "i don't have any equipment."

"we'll provide you with what we can."

"why do you think i can save her?"

"lincoln told her." finn chimed in.

"yes." the woman answered. "our healer is gone, there's nothing we can do for her. for their sake, i hope you can."

"clarke." finn's eyes were glued to the blonde's, adoration filling them. "you can do this."

the woman and the rest of the grounders began to clear the room until clarke's voice stopped them. "wait. what happened to her?"

a dark look was in the woman's eyes. "she was on the bridge when your bomb exploded. you did this to her."

𝜗𝜚

alcohol stained your hands, blood too.

"it's as sharp as it's gonna get." grounders now filled the room, watching as clarke did everything she could to save the girl. she was hit in the chest and was loosing blood, she needed more and desperately so.

"okay, thanks." clarke snapped the syringe from finn's hand who'd been sharpening it against the ground.

you were busy holding a cloth to the girl's chest, hoping to stop the loss of blood but it wasn't doing a great job. clarke stained the needle with bleach, hoping to rid it of any bacteria while your eyes scanned the girl's face. she couldn't have been older than fifteen, how could anyone send her to battle in the first place?

she was a child.

"okay." she stood in front of the 'leader' who went by the name of anya. "i'm gonna need your blood."

a grounder placed his hand in front of anya, pulling her away. "no." was his answer.

"you're from the same tribe, it's the best match we're gonna get." clarke was adamant but so was anya, neither of them willing to take the risk.

"clarke, she's gonna die." your hands were shaking desperately, tears floating your eyes. "use mine! just use mine!" clarke took you up on the offer, pulling your hands from the girl's body and sticking the syringe into your arm. you winced as she sucked the blood into the syringe, you instantly felt sort of dazed but shook it from your head.

clarke handed the syringe to finn and she searched the girls arm. "i can't find a vein." frantically searching her. "she's clamping down, she's lost too much blood."

your faint voice could be heard. "clarke..."

"oh, come on." desperately trying to save her.

but you shook your head, icy fear withering you away. "clarke, she's not breathing."

a simple sentence that silenced them all.

clarke backed away, meeting in the middle between you and finn while anya stepped forward with her knife, cutting a braid from the girl's hair and nodding to one of the grounders. he picked the girl up, gently as possible, leading her out of the room.

you couldn't bear to look, chest feeling hot.

anya suddenly turned to the grounders in the room. "take them away." eyeing you who held your tied hands close to your chest. "kill them."

your breath caught in your chest. "wait." tears filled your eyes as one of the grounders grabbed you, hauling you upwards. "wait, wait, wait, no, no, no, please." he harshly pushed you forward, carrying you away.

"no, no, no, no, please!" one grounder held clarke back as she pushed at him, trying to get to you. "no, i did everything i could, please!"

but the sound of her voice suddenly faded out as they carried you away. you pushed at them, thrashing in their arms but it was no use, the grounder hauled you away from the room. he suddenly set you down, holding your tied wrists down as his face came close to yours. "don't move." his gruff voice could be heard as you looked away, tears filling your eyes.

another grounder walked behind you while he walked in front of you, leading you to the front room of the cave. your mind suddenly turned to bellamy, how worried he must be. you could see the darkness from the entrance.

you couldn't help it, you ran.

but you didn't get far. instantly, you were picked up by the grounder from behind. you whimpered, thrashing against him but it was no use, he shoved you inside the room, practically throwing you. your head hit off the stone floor and you brought your hand to the back of your hair, metallic liquid staining it.

you pulled it away, shaky eyes spotting the blood dripping down your fingertips.

"w-wait." tears pooled your eyes, fear lacing your tone. "please, please, i didn't do anything wrong, please don't do this―"

you gasped out as a grounder took a fist of your hair into his hand. "your punishment shall be death by a thousand cuts." and before you could take in what he said, you felt a knife scratch across your face, cutting your cheek.

you cried out, hand coming to grab your bloodied cheek as you dragged your body backwards, crawling into yourself. a fat tear rolled down your cheek as your body caved in, huddling your knees up to yourself.

it was no use to cry out and beg them to stop, the grounders were simple beings, once given an order, all they could do was follow it. but still, your mouth uttered the whisper, "please." at the same time as you felt a slash against your left leg.

suddenly, a sword crashed through the grounders head. this time, you screamed. the sight was horrific, blood spewed outwards and you held a hand over your mouth. the body dropped to reveal lincoln, the man who adored your best friend more than anything.

"natrona." the grounder suddenly whispered, the word meant 'traitor'. he yelled out and charged at lincoln who pushed him backwards, guarding him against the wall.

lincoln stabbed a sword through the grounder's abdomen, who yelled out again. "go!" lincoln yelled to you, staring at your terrified form. "go, now!"

and you had no choice.

a whimper left your lips as you ran forwards, lungs collapsing. you worried for lincoln, not wanting to leave him alone but if you stayed, it'd meant lincoln did it all for nothing.

your feet ran towards the exit, tears swamping you as your legs moved at a super speed, running the fastest you'd ever run in your life. never, had your calves burned like this and never had your lungs ached so horribly. all you could see was the moment you were thrown into the room, the horrifying look on the grounder's face. you'd do anything to escape it.

running as though your life depended on it, and perhaps it did.

you managed to look backwards, worried something or someone was following you but as you looked back, you felt yourself run into something solid.

someone.

your mouth opened to scream at the same time as a hand wrapped around your mouth clamping down on it as he turned you to hide behind a tree.

your eyes opened to reveal bellamy, staring at you with eyes full of concern. "what happened?" he frantically searched you as his hand left your mouth. "why are you bleeding? where are the others?"

"b-bells." your cry shook your voice, eyes turning behind you, you swore you could see people between the trees, though they vanished as soon as they appeared. "we have to go, we have to leave. they're-they're gonna find us."

bellamy had never seen you so shaken, shallow breaths making way to your throat but not seeming to find their way out. "hey, hey, look at me." his hands grabbed at either side of your face. even in the darkness, you could make out his pretty dark curls and his enlarged brown eyes. "you're okay, 's just me, you're okay, sweetheart."

and you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you threw your arms around him, holding him close as nervous sobs wracked your body, chest heaving out as if it were on fire.

"'s okay, you're fine." his hands smoothed your back, doing his best to reassure you but by no means did your shallow breaths slow. "you're safe, princess."

"can we go?" you pulled away, nervous eyes scanning the forests. "please, bells, i wanna go home."

he couldn't deny your scratchy voice or blotchy cheeks. "okay, okay let's go, angel." he helped you walk though you stumbled better than you walked. his eyes glanced down at the blood seeping through your jeans. "your leg." he didn't bother to inspect it, merely hooking his hands around your legs and lifting you up.

your head lolled against his shoulder, arms around his neck.

you began to feel dizzy but bellamy carrying you seemed much better than trying to run again. still, your eyes danced everywhere they could, searching high and low for a grounder, a surprise attack.

you must have run far for it didn't take long for the clear vision of the camp to fall into line's view. as soon as the gates opened and bellamy carried you inside, you found air falling back into your lungs.

"y/n?" the sound of octavia's voice was the first to fill your ears. you must have looked a wreck, covered in blood, carried limp in bellamy's arm. "oh my god, y/n. what happened?" though her voice was directed at her brother, not you.

"it was lincoln." your scratchy voice suddenly spoke, causing her brows to crease. "lincoln saved me."

her eyes fluttered and questions began rolling in. raven suddenly stepped forward, demanding to know where finn was, others began to question about clarke. suddenly, you couldn't breathe again. "okay, listen up!" bellamy's voice rang through the camp, silence followed. "everyone get back to your tents! we'll continue the search in the morning!"

he didn't wait for them to follow his orders, knowing they would anyway. instead, he carried you towards a tent.

everything was suddenly spinning, nothing seemed to make sense. black dots began to cloud your vision and you couldn't see which tent he had carried you to. you could see a woman, very vaguely and he was speaking to her, at least he looked like he was. his lips were moving but you couldn't register the words coming out of his mouth.

the girl must have been something to do with a medic because you could feel her lifting your head up and inspecting between the strands of your hair. you saw bellamy's face contort, but it was turning to mush, practically a mere squiggle now.

he stepped backwards and your hand suddenly reached him.

he looked back to your face, eyes softening. it was apparent that you weren't really there and how could he blame you? the blood loss was already obvious.

"don't..." it seemed like a chore to get syllables to pass your lips but nonetheless, you willed yourself to move, grasping his large fingers in your hand. "don't leave me."

"'m not going anywhere, princess." and to prove it, he sat against the chair next to you, letting the woman inspect your wounds. "okay? you can rest now, i'm right here."

through the haze, his voice was the only thing your mind could grasp to.

you slowly nodded as your eyes fluttered shut.

"you're safe, sweetheart." being the last thing you heard before everything went black.

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