#the mattress story ADAM PLEASE

[ratatatastic]

having brothers means yes we will take advantage of them and have them do interviews together on this special broqvist segment on primetime panthers

adam and jesper carpool to the arena together

while previously adam has stated he knows jesper better than he knows himself and because of that he knows how to talk to him to motivate him, jesp admits that just having adam's presence is motivation enough

compartive skillsets: jesper is the better overall skater (which is true considering the amount of times adam has fallen on his ass because hes blown an edge multiple times each game lmao), and the better puckhandler. adam is the better backwards skater (lol) though jesper does compliment his skating and puckhandling as well but most importantly he highlights his passing abilities and the way he moves on the blueline

in floorball jesper won most of the times but adam says as he got older he mostly won (to which jesper is like lol no i dont know about that i dont think hes won yet down there)

adam quips they put up a mattress on the wall while they played so they could check each other (which also LMAO THEIR POOR PARENTS) and that they always invited the neighbours over to play

favourite memory of the season so far together? adam says the first game. jesp says the first day they were down here together. he also adds every game so far too because they get to walk down the tunnel together

Primetime Panthers | 10.23.24 (x)

the funniest part was them trying very hard not to sit in the same way and doing it anyways by the end

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. iv

to @mrsmando - without whom this insane story would never have happened in the first place. i love you i love you i love you thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me - it has been a blast. i hope you like where we turn out! love you guys always n forever x

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're a mom. it's time to get your shit together.

warnings: bon jovi mention straight out the gate, labor/delivery [i have never given birth. those of you who have are nothing short of remarkable. please forgive if some of this is a little inaccurate or vague], use of pain medication during birth, description of pain and post-birth recovery, super emotional reader, unprotected piv, oral, alcohol consumption. DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there’s ever anything you feel i’ve missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 12k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

It’s September twenty-third.

Well, by now, it’s probably the twenty-fourth. You’ve been a little distracted, rolling between the sheets with your next-door neighbor for the last couple hours.

The wedding’s still going strong downstairs. The same Bon Jovi song has played three times over. Tommy has called Joel to ask where he is so much that Joel’s phone is now switched off and shoved to the bottom of his bag.

You’re slouched on the toilet in a sliver of moonlight. A fistful of tissue, panties loose around your ankles. Rolling your forehead side to side along the cool tile, heartbeat hammering between your temples.

Joel Miller – Joel fucking Miller – is in your bed. Naked, sweating, cock probably still half-hard.

This morning, the very idea of the man was an eyeroll. Stood in your mirror, promising yourself that this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over with.

This time in a month, it’ll be a foggy memory.

This time in a year, it –

His voice is muffled through the bathroom door. “Did you fall in, or somethin��?”

You snort. The milky moon blurs across your vision when you pull yourself upright. You swipe between your legs and stand, flushing the toilet.

“I needed a fucking breather,” you tease, tiptoeing back across the room.

Joel’s stretched out; a worked arm draped along the headboard. Sun-kissed to the middle of his bicep, paler across his shoulder. One leg bare on the mattress, the other under the sheets. They only just cover his modesty – dark hair trailing beneath light silk just in time.

He’s so big. It’s like you never really noticed until now. He takes up half the bed, laying like this. And sure, you’re halfway to fucked, but – has he always been so handsome?

You flop down beside him with a sigh, curling up in the burrow of sheets at his side. Your eyes trail up his body – the sheen of sweat up his side, the dark, damp hair under his arm. All the parts of him you’ve never seen before, will never see again.

You gulp. Quit fucking staring.

He doesn’t notice, anyway. He’s rubbing circles into his temples, grumbling. “How many goddamn times are they gonna play It’s My Life?”

“…for Tommy and Gina…” you nudge him, “…who never backed down…”

Joel chuckles, pulling his hand down his beard. “Twenty bucks says he’s changing that to Maria.”

“Oh, for sure. I ain’t going back down to listen to it, though.”

He hums in agreement, reaching over for his beer. His Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks.

“You owe me, by the way. This is my room, remember? My fucking minibar.”

He pauses, the bottle against his bottom lip. His eyes linger south of your chin before he answers, “I’m paying for the damn room.”

“Then I want a drink from yours. Make it even.”

He clicks his teeth and drinks again. “It’s one beer. Call it an early birthday gift.”

You frown. “When the hell’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Bullshit.”

“Serious. The twenty-sixth.”

You push yourself up onto your elbows; chest bare and on display. And it’s a strange feeling, how little you care. Twelve hours ago, you didn’t know how close to sit next to him at the ceremony. How many times you could accidentally bump knees or brush elbows and it not be weird.

But in the last two hours, he’s made you come more times than you can count. More times than anyone you’ve ever been with before – that’s for sure. And you’ve repaid the favor: the proof is still dribbling out of you. Still dripping between your legs, all pearlescent and warm. You’re soaked, swollen, still sore from the size of him.

It’s a fucking strange feeling, that you don’t mind at all.

“How old are you turning?” you ask.

Joel swallows. He settles the beer on his sternum, thumbing the corner of the label. Sucks in a deep breath and says, “Forty-eight.”

“Jesus,” you mutter, eyes wide.

He turns slowly, glaring at you. “Hilarious,” he drawls, bumping the bottle against your tummy.

You hiss at the sudden chill. Wiping cold droplets from your skin, you swipe it from his grasp.

Joel pushes himself from the bed with a quiet groan and pads across the room. His cock sways with each step, an arrowhead of thick hair at its base.

He doesn’t seem to mind, either.

You tip your chin back, taking a hefty swig.

The pulsing bass is heavier, guitar squeal sharper, when he cracks open the window. Cool air sweeps past the scent of sex and settles softly on your skin.

The mattress dips again as Joel settles back into bed. He pulls the sheet over himself, silk falling over the stubborn shape against his thigh.

“Well,” you pass him the bottle, “happy birthday, old man. Here’s to forty-eight.”

“Here’s to forty-eight,” Joel echoes, staring off into space, “and whatever the hell it has in store.”

1:29. 1:29. 1:30.

It’s blurring across your vision. The pain and the panic and the blinking of your fucking alarm clock.

Your stomach is still tensed in the aftermath of the contraction; an ache like the slow sway of the ocean, a wave rolling off into the distance. You’re hunched over the edge of the bed – knee bouncing, palms kneading your round belly.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, blowing into the still night. “We’re fine. Maybe it isn’t labor, right? Maybe it’s just those…Braxton…shit…Hicks.”

The cicadas laugh as your uterus swings again.

Another kick of pain; a bolt that winds you, piercing from your stomach down between your legs. So slow it feels fucking personal.

Your back curls, nails digging into the mattress. You grit your teeth until it passes, then push yourself to your feet, reaching for your phone.

You think of Joel: the flecks of gold in his eyes, the rough surface of his palms. The fresh, woodsy scent woven into every thread on his shirt, seeping from every pore on his skin.

The way he’d pull you under his arm and walk you to his truck. Play more Eagles or whatever shit he has to take your mind off the pain – tell you he knows, he knows as you whimper in agony. The way he’d hold your thigh the entire ride, loosening it only to weave his fingers through yours.

He’s in Houston, though. He’s something like three hours away. There’s nothing he could do, even if you did call – even if he did pick up. Even if he got in his truck right this second.

Shit. Shit fuck shit. How are you in labor right now, on this fucking night? All your teasing, all your taunting the universe. You really think that’s gonna happen? You think your kid’s that much of an asshole?

Yeah. They’re half you.

You’re on your own. It’s nothing new; you’ve been on your own for most of your life. You drove yourself to college, worked your ass off, and sold your graduation guest tickets to your roommate. You found a job by yourself, moved back to Austin and turned it into home by yourself.

You haven’t needed anyone or anything, since you were eighteen.

But – oh, Jesus, fuck it. This was a two-man job from the start. Some things you figure you can let slide – and having a kid seems like a pretty decent excuse.

Fuck it.

You move, hunched and hobbling, to the bathroom door. Slumped against the wooden frame, you cup a hand between your legs.

Sure enough, your underwear is soaked. The fluid trickles down the seam of your thigh, warm and thin. It glistens in the moonlight when you lift your fingers.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Goddamn it, Duck.”

Body tingling and almost numb with pain, you scroll through your contacts to J. You stumble into the bathroom, wet fingers slipping around the sink. A weight begins to pull low between your hips.

Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice instantly spilling a cool comfort down your spine.

There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat tone you’d swear sounded bored, if it weren’t for the haste with which Joel asks, “You okay?” the second he answers.

As if he were awake anyway, just waiting for your call.

“Yeah,” you choke, rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just called at one in the morning to…to say hi.”

He sighs, the crackle of breath echoed by the tinkle of wind chimes. The creak of wood as he settles into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, smartass. What is it?”

“I’m…I’m in labor.”

“Mhm. That sure is funny, baby. Good one.”

You groan. “No, Joel, I swear – I swear, I just went into labor.”

He pauses. The chimes titter in the background. “You’re…You ain’t kidding me?”

The sharp peak of pain swipes the air clean from your lungs. The phone hits the sink with a clatter, drowning out your cry.

This kid is beating the ever-loving shit out of you. You’d be embarrassed if you had the energy to think about it.

“Baby?” Joel yells, loud enough that the sound loops around the bowl. His voice lifts to an octave you didn’t know it could reach. “Talk to me. Please, talk to me.”

Your fingers clamp around the phone. “I’m f-fine. It’s fine. I just gotta…gotta change my fuckin’ sheets, Joel, my waters broke while I was sleeping –”

“Oh, Christ,” he growls. The door squeals as he storms back into Vanessa’s family home. “The sh…Change the goddamn sheets? You gotta get to a hospital, darlin’!”

You laugh, head tipping back. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “Feels like the kid’s trying to kill me, but I can – shit, I can take ‘em.”

There’s the jangle of keys, the ruffle of a shirt being thrown over his head. “Yeah?” Joel says.“You can take childbirth, all on your own? Do me a favor and call a damn ambulance, baby.”

“An ambulance,” you repeat, laughing again.

“Yes, an ambulance. Call 9-1-1 right now. You want me to call ‘em? Let me go grab the landline –”

“Joel, do not call an ambulance –”

And if you thought you’d heard him at breaking point before – plucking your underwear from his lawn, dragging you around Home Depot, paling in your room with a pregnancy test in his hands – you know you have, now.

“You gotta get to a goddamn hospital now, baby!”

His voice trembles at its end, quivers like the pluck of a guitar string. A high-pitched echo, a nervous vibration.

Joel’s panicking.

It’s the second thing in less than five minutes that you never knew he could do.

“I can’t afford a f-fucking ambulance, Joel,” you yelp, sitting back on the edge of the bathtub.

“I will pay for it,” he pleads, “I’ll pay. Just – you gotta call them. You gotta…” He sighs again, breath wavering. “You’re in labor, and you’re alone. If anything happened to you, I –”

A hushed voice interrupts him. Follows him through the house, knotting her nightgown around her waist and twisting her dark tresses into a ponytail.

“She’s in labor,” Joel tells her. “I can’t stay. I’m going back for her.”

The porch door slams shut before Vanessa can reply, and Joel’s back outside again. Gravel crunching beneath his boots, crickets screaming in the background. “Still with me?” he asks.

“Still here,” you breathe, tracing your nails along your leg. “Duckie says hi, I guess.”

He hums. “Hi, Duckie. You little shit.”

You rock back and forth, eyes closed. Breathing between contractions, your head low between your shoulders. “How long will you be?”

The truck door creaks open. “I’m leaving right now. I’ll be…Fuck, I’ll be a couple hours, at least. I’m on my way, alright?”

Tears drip onto your bare thighs, the salt spilling into your mouth. “Joel,” you shake your head, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “Are you kidding? Got us this far ‘n now you want to bail? That ain’t you, baby. Come on, now.”

“I wanna bail,” you insist. You slump to the floor, head lolling over the rim of the bathtub. Weeping like a little kid. “I’m scared, Joel. I’m so scared.”

“I know you are. Lord knows I’m scared, too – scared as hell. But –” the engine roars to life, “– I can’t wait to finally meet this kid. Our kid. Can’t wait to hold ‘em. Can’t wait to see you become a mom, and me become a dad.”

“Mom and Dad,” you whisper, sniffling.

“Mom and Dad, right? Yeah. You can do this. I know you can.”

The bathroom blurs behind your tears. You close your eyes, replacing the pale night with warmer dawn. Replacing it with images of tiny hands and feet; missing front teeth and a love-worn teddy tucked safely into bed.

Joel’s voice is softer, kinder. Calmer, now that he’s closing the hundred and fifty miles between the two of you.

“Just – don’t let the kid give you any shit, alright?”

The fear boils into determination. Something more irritating than it is terrifying. You inhale, blowing a heavy, shuddered breath to the ceiling. “Whatever, Miller.”

“Attagirl,” he says. “That’s the spirit. Now, call a damn ambulance.”

With a scoff, you push yourself to your feet, waddling towards the foot of your bed. You sway back and forth, holding your bump and listening to the hum of Joel’s truck.

And then you hear it.

Three sharp raps, from downstairs.

You wander to the hallway, squinting in the dark. “Joel?”

“Hm?”

“Are you…?”

The sound grows louder the nearer you draw. Quick knuckles against your front door.

“Am I what, darlin’?”

You lower yourself down the stairs, fist tight around the rail.

It’s August again. Sun’s encore blazing through your kitchen windows, bleeding golden through your living room. Everything shining, everything new and untouched.

Knock knock knock.

Light satin, duck egg blue; string lights and a diamond-encrusted necklace. The bones of your wardrobe propped against your porch. A rattling toolbox hanging from his fist, a positive pregnancy test in yours.

The knocking halts when you flick the porch light on. She calls your name once, old voice quivering.

Your phone is still glued to your ear as you pull the door open. “Al…?”

She squints at you and lifts a hand to shield from the light. She’s still in her pajamas – green dressing gown loose and lifting in the breeze.

Her eyes drop to the tee draped over your bump, the silver stream of fluid down the inside of your thigh. As she opens her mouth to speak, your hand slams into the doorpost.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, and Alice Brown steps straight over the threshold.

“Are you in labor? Oh, sweetie. Sit down, sit.”

She backs you towards the stairs. One bony, trembling hand around yours – squeezing as tight as you are. She rubs up and down your spine, shushing until the pain subsides.

You blink up at her glowing figure, haloed by the porch light outside. “How did you…?”

She hushes you with a finger in the air. “I’m up most nights. I heard you from the window. Have you called 9-1-1?”

You shake your head, beginning to cry again.

Alice just nods, dismissing your bullshit. “Where’s your overnight bag, sweetheart?”

You toss a thumb over your shoulder. “It’s up in the nursery. I can go grab it –”

She holds you still with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay.” Another curt nod, then, “Get your shoes, get yourself over to my car. Do you need pants? You need pants. My car, right now.”

“Alice, you really don’t have to –”

“Get in the car,” she insists, climbing past you. “I’m right behind you!”

You watch her figure dissolve into the dim upstairs, and lift the phone back to your ear. “Did you…hear all that?”

“Alice Brown,” Joel replies, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “What’d I tell ya? That woman doesn’t miss a goddamn thing in this neighborhood.”

“Three centimeters,” the obstetrician says, covering your legs with the sheet. “Still a little ways to go.”

The suite is hushed and still. Walls an unoffending shade of oatmeal; decorated only with oak paneling and a framed painting of some lilies.

A nurse tilts the shades, averting the twinkling city lights in the distance. She turns and smiles – the same fucking smile everyone’s been giving you since you set foot in the place. Head tilted, brows arched.

Sympathy that you want to chew up and spit back out at their feet.

You force yourself to smile in return, and she floats back out to the bustling reception.

“Will he make it?” Alice asks. She’s still in her pajamas; the floral print goes well with the interior of the room. “The father, I mean. Joel.”

The obstetrician peels the gloves from her hands. She shrugs as she drops them into a wastebin. “I don’t see why not,” she says. “Things are moving a little quickly, but I don’t see you having your baby in the next couple hours.”

“You don’t know this kid like I do,” you groan, shifting in the bed.

She lifts the cardiotocograph reading, scanning the jagged lines. “You’re doing great,” she says. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just holler if you need anything.” She strolls off, letting the door sweep shut behind her.

Alice adjusts your pillow and squeezes your shoulder. She holds out a cup of water, guiding the straw to your lips. “He’ll be here,” she whispers.

You take a sip and settle back. “I don’t think I’m that lucky. I told him I hoped he’d get a flat on the ride there. This feels like karma.”

“Well, if it’s anyone’s karma –” she wiggles her fingers, “– it’s his. Going to Houston was ridiculous in the first place. Hell, you two not being together is ridiculous.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Just because we’re having a kid doesn’t mean we should be together. You shouldn’t be with someone for the sake of a baby who won’t even know any different.”

“Right, right,” Alice agrees, turning away. “You should only be with someone if you love them.”

“Exactly. And me and Joel – we’re not in love.”

She murmurs to herself. She lowers into a chair by the window, crossing her arms. “I’m seventy-three,” she says. “I’m not a damn fool.”

Something twists awkwardly between your hips. You wince, clutching your bump.

Duckie’s heartbeat pulses through the room. Muffled little bubbles of noise, popping one after the other. Strong and steady as hell – a determined little thing, the doctor said.

Don’t I fucking know it, you thought.

You reach for the silicone mask and cup it over your mouth. The gas is cold and funny when you inhale, feeling it shoot straight for the back of your skull. It does little more than dull the spiking pain, but still – you tip your head back, eyes rolling closed.

You let yourself fade from the suite – its yellow lamplight and hushed chatter outside – to somewhere warmer. Somewhere brighter.

Birdsong high overhead, and the whispering leaves on the oak trees in your yard. The sweet breeze on your skin, soothing the sting of the sun. Prickling wood on your fingertips, the gentle strum of a guitar somewhere beyond the fence.

Peering between the slats, catching glimpses of him like watching a film reel. His head nodding, his foot tapping. The concentration tight on his face; the perfect pick and pluck of his fingers on each string.

Half-hoping that he’ll spot you, scold you for spying and storm back into his house. That he might bring it up later – And another thing, while he whips his newspaper from your grasp, ignoring your cackling.

Half-hoping that he won’t. That he’ll sit there at his back door, bottle of beer at his feet, playing to his audience of sparrows.

And you’ll stand here, wishing you could ask the name of each song he hums.

The contraction splits your daydream in two.

In two hours, you dilate almost three centimeters.

You pace back and forth across the suite, pausing only when your womb clenches like a fist. The contractions are lasting longer, swinging lower, and punching harder. They’re giving you less recovery time; less of a chance to get back on your feet.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Joel’s still not here. Last you heard, he’d just hit Travis County. Twenty minutes, baby, I promise. That was half an hour ago.

It might be for the better that he hasn’t gotten here. You’ve warned Alice three times already that you might just beat the shit out of him, whenever he walks through that door.

And you know what, sweetheart? She chuckled. I bet you could beat the shit out of him, sore as you are.

“Fuck,” you cry out, collapsing onto the bed. You stretch out forward, head hanging between your shoulders, and gulp back more of the laughing gas. The ache barrels from your stomach to your hips, peaking in the very center.

Alice rubs circles into the small of your back. It’s not helping, but you let her do it anyways. Gives her something to tell the neighbors that isn’t damaging to your reputation.

“That’s it,” she coos. “A little longer, just a little…”

The door clicks open just as the tense band begins to loosen.

Your head is spinning. The mask slips from your fingers.

Alice’s hand pauses. “…a little longer…” she repeats, voice drifting. Her weight leaves your back, replaced by something heavier, stronger.

Safer.

Someone grounding, someone smelling of pine and sweet spice.

He sits on the bed at your back and curves around your body. Lips to your shoulder like the sun in your backyard. His beard scratches against your hot skin.

You blink your eyes open.

Joel’s watch face winks back at you. His hands are over yours – bigger, wider. His fists swallow yours whole. They turn, slipping beneath your palms, and your fingers lace together.

“Joel…” you breathe, face turning in to his neck.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, wiping sweat from your brow.

You fall limp against his chest. “Holy shit.”

He looks exhausted. Gray, almost translucent. Looks like he’s just driven a couple hundred miles, half asleep and wholly panicked.

But – he’s here. He made it.

The sight of him, the feel of him holding you upright, melts away any anger or resolve to fight back. For now, at least. Picking an argument can wait until there isn’t a human splitting you in two.

He’s here. You’re not doing this alone.

“Holy shit,” Joel repeats. “You okay?”

“How did you get here so –?”

“Ninety-five the entire way.”

You frown. “Only ninety-five?”

“Trunk’s a hunk a’ shit,” he admits. “Couldn’t break a hundred.”

Alice scoffs, somewhere across the room.

He cradles you, his lips to your forehead. “Where we at?” he asks, staring at the paper churning from the cardiotocograph.

“Five, almost s–shit – six centimeters.” You clamp down on his hands, your uterus winding again.

Joel holds the mask back to your lips and you suck another chemical breath in. “Six? Jesus,” he gapes at Alice, “ain’t that…ain’t that real fast? For – for your first?”

Your fingers are weak and shaky, resting on his knuckles. “Your kid has a sick sense of humor,” you mutter into the silicone.

“That ain’t from me,” he says. “That’s all you, maestro.”

You turn closer into his shirt with a groan. He’s solid as a rock, swaying you through it. He’s here.

Alice swipes her coat from a hook by the door. She shakes her head, pulling it over her shoulders. “Ninety-five, Joel? Sweet Lord.”

He rolls his eyes. His hand curves around your bump. “Had a little bit of an emergency, Alice,” he says, watching your face twist with pain.

“And what if you’d had an accident?”

“I didn’t, Alice.”

“You could’ve, goin’ that damn fast. You’re lucky you’re even here.”

Joel finally looks up. “It’s four in the mornin’,” he protests, like a teenager. “Lucky if I passed five cars.”

You give him a weak smile, lowering the mask. You won’t win, you mouth.

He presses his lips to your head. “’s too much fun,” he murmurs, and you snort.

“Oh!” Alice throws a hand up. “I’m glad you find it funny!” She buttons her coat and glares back at both of you, hands on her hips.

She’s a busybody – has been since before you even moved in. She showed up on your doorstep on your first night with a casserole in hand, and made sure to get a good look at your living room before she shuffled back to her own place.

Always watching, always listening.

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d actually be thankful for her snoopiness.

“Thank you, Alice,” you say, head tilting. “For getting me here, for holding my hand…Thank you.”

Her expression thaws, eyes gleaming. With a sniff, she composes herself – and then points to Joel. “You call me as soon as that baby arrives. I won’t sleep, Joel, until you call.”

“I’ll call,” he assures.

She looks back at you. Balls her crepe paper fists, gives them a hearty shake. “Good luck, Mom,” she says, and with one last glance, slips out of the room.

Joel turns back to you, an eyebrow raised. “Take it she was out tendin’ to her tulips again?”

“Yeah,” you snicker, “one in the morning, those fuckers had to be watered.”

He chuckles. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better now,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he says, shaking his head. “I should’ve been here. A goddamn idiot, headin’ off like that. So damn stupid.”

“Shh, you’re here now.” You wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I just needed you to be here.”

He nods. “I’m here, whatever you need. Tell me what I can do.”

You take a deep breath. “I need…”

Joel straightens – bracing, ready to jump at your first request.

“…I need a fucking break, Joel. I’m so tired, and this fucking kid –”

“Alright,” he sighs, shifting from behind you. “You and your goddamn jokes.”

You smirk, looking over your shoulder. “You missed me.”

“Hm,” he fixes the neckline of your gown, “I missed you. I really did.”

Born at 07:43. It’s a girl.

It’s like being broken open. Like splitting at the seams; your old self falling from you like shards of fruit. Separating, rolling apart; making way for someone older, wiser. Someone with all of the answers in the palm of her hand.

Mom.

You finally get it. She turns to you, finally glances over her shoulder. And she’s no stranger – no one you haven’t known your entire life. I know you, you whisper, nail trailing her smile lines and the pimples along her jaw.

I see you every time I look in the mirror.

Duckie is pulled from your body with a scream like bloody murder – a scream which matches the whimper you let out in shock, if not in volume.

The kid can scream. Jesus Christ, she can scream. It pierces the dull room; deafens you for a couple seconds the first time you hear it.

You’ve never heard a sound so fucking beautiful.

She wails as they lift her from your body. All curled-up, wriggling in the midwife’s arms. She wails as they slot her beneath your chin, as they wipe the blood and amniotic fluid from her.

She wails until the moment her skin meets yours, and as though it’s all you’ve ever known, you begin shushing her cries. Your arms close around her body, rocking her until she settles.

Her tiny hand grabs for something, for someone, for –

You.

Her mom.

“Joel,” you gasp, watching her tiny, pruned fingers clasp tight around just one of yours. “She’s…she’s so small…”

He sniffs in reply, lifting his hand from your shoulder to wipe his face.

You turn to look up at him.

He looks as broken open as you feel. Eyes bloodshot and soaking, tears streaming into his thick beard. A sob in his throat which chokes and silences him, until he catches your eye and he can’t help but laugh with elation.

“Look at her,” he weeps, all torn up by the little girl in your arms. He presses his lips to your forehead in a crash of a kiss: wet, soaking wet on your skin.

You beam up at him when he pulls away. “We did it,” you whisper.

Joel shakes his head. He runs a thumb across the damp print left on your head. “You did it, honey,” he mutters. “I was nothin’ but a spectator.”

“You almost missed the game,” you quip, and he laughs again.

Your body throbs; nearly numb with pain, heavy with fatigue and emotion. But as long as she’s here, this tiny tornado of a girl, you don’t feel a thing.

Clenching and then unclenching her fist around your finger – so delicate compared to the punches she was throwing at your ribs just six hours ago. She’s worth every fucking second of it.

You finally fucking get it.

She fits so perfectly in the crook of your arm. It feels as though your body was made just to hold her – the very shape of you, designed especially for the very shape of her.

You wonder whether it was the same for your mom. Whether you came along and made her feel whole, for the first time in her life.

Duckie’s eyes open – all glossy and brand new, blinking up at the both of you like she needed no introduction. She already knows you, from the inside out. Her dad’s graying beard, the threads of silver around his temples. Her mom’s tear-stained cheeks, eyes red and bleary with sleeplessness and pure love.

You’re Mom, you’re Dad.

It’s all she’s ever known.

The pillow sighs as you lean back into it. The doctor begins repairing the damage done between your legs; threading and knitting your body back together.

You’re caught between a state of bliss and shock. Your brain is doing much the same work to itself as the woman between your knees is. Patching over all the bloody parts: the screams which tore your skin, the pain which cracked your teeth.

None of it holds a candle to the weight of her in your arms. No matter how tired you are, you can’t take your eyes off her. Her puffy cheeks, the little creases between her brows. No matter how sore, you never want to let go of her.

Joel runs a finger down Duckie’s cheek. “Ain’t she the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“I love her,” you say, bubbling again. “I love her more than anything.”

An hour old, and she’s already a daddy’s girl.

Joel ambles back and forth at the foot of your bed in the recovery suite, bouncing Duck in his arms. He’s never looked so relaxed, so natural at something. He’s never seemed so content, so peaceful.

Everything he’s ever made with his hands – structures and framework and your goddamn closet – and yet this, this tiny accident, this baby girl you were so sure you’d dreamt up right up until an hour ago –

This is the thing he’s proudest of.

Morning lifts through the windows, all soft and vanilla. It floats around him, sunlight spilling across his skin and breathing life and color into him.

Sunlight – or his daughter. They’re the same thing, anyway.

You pull apart a slice of toast, watching. Just watching. Sweet strawberry jam on your tongue, the flavor of everything sharper, fresher. The colors brighter, more vivid.

The world makes more sense like this, you think. Painted in shades of honey and ochre; a room in a corner of the world where time slows to a halt. A soft lullaby from his lips, and the little coos from hers.

The ache of love and labor lingers deep inside you, and nothing has ever made more sense.

You suck the sticky sweet from your fingertips.

Joel looks up, toying with Duckie’s hand. “You want her back?” he asks, a dumb grin on his face.

You shake your head. “I like watching you.”

He scrunches his nose, nuzzling it against his daughter’s, and whispers, “I wasn’t gonna give you back, anyways.” He sways in the early light, staring down at her. “Jesus,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know I could love somethin’ this much.”

“Me, either.”

He drifts over, lowering himself slowly onto the edge of the bed. He extends his elbow, still cradling the baby, and helps you pull yourself upright.

You hiss, a not-so-subtle sting between your legs.

“You, uh…you think of a name yet?” Joel asks.

“Not yet,” you reply, hooked onto his shoulder. Duck blows a bubble and you wipe it with your knuckle. “I thought we were sticking with Duckie?”

His cheeks swell. The sun kisses the edges of his beard. “I thought of one,” he says softly. “Maybe. It’s your call.”

You yawn into his shirt, the warmth of him calm and soothing. “Alright, Miller. Hit me.”

He looks down at the baby nestled in his safe hands. The smallest thing either of you have ever seen.

The name must roll around his head a few times, the way he tilts to-and-fro – looking at her from one angle, then the next. Deciding, when he pulls back, that she suits it from every direction. Like it was her name long before he or even you knew it.

You watch his lips shape the name before you hear it.

Sarah.

And for what feels like forever, you just stare at him. The syllables lingering in the air like glistening specks of dust in a sunbeam. Your eyes follow them down to your daughter, now sleeping peacefully with two hands around one of her dad’s thumbs.

“Sarah,” you repeat, remembering whose name it was, whose name it is – whose name it has always been. “Sarah Miller.”

Joel’s shoulders lift. “What do you think? She look worthy of bein’ a Sarah?”

The rustle of tissue paper. Blue and green and purple tearing between your fingers. The funny fuzz of pom poms as your hands rummaged through the bag. Her hand swimming towards you, an orange foam fish riding the waves between her fingers. Bubbly sounds erupting from her lips.

Your girlish giggle. Her silly grin. Hopscotch along the sidewalk; stopping to look for cars before she’d walk you across the street. How much do I love you, baby girl?

More than the whole world, Mama.

“I love it,” you breathe, tears running to the corners of your mouth. “Sarah fucking Miller.”

“Sarah fuckin’ Miller,” Joel echoes; two wet lines the same as yours, curving down his cheeks. He shifts her into the crook of his arm.

You’re impossibly close. Your chin rests on his shoulder, foreheads brushing when you lean in to each other. His breath is hot on your lips, closer and closer and closer until –

He tastes like salt, rich with emotion. Salt, and then sweet when your tongue meets his. He lifts his free hand to cup your cheek, and your fingers link around his wrist.

And you know you shouldn’t be doing it – know this isn’t your man to be kissing. But in this room, where no one else can see – where it’s just you, him, and all the best parts of yourselves shaped into someone better – he feels like yours.

Just for a moment.

Joel takes the first week of Sarah’s life off work.

He spends a good twenty minutes on the phone to the contractor, talking more about the kid than he does the job. Her eyelashes, her fingernails, the way her legs scrunch anytime he lifts her up.

He’s besotted with the entire thing. And he tells everybody so.

He moves in with you both, stays in your guestroom. It’s a week of no sleep, no peace, and a total of three showers between you. Wearing the same clothes covered in spit-up and drool until one of you has the time or energy to do laundry.

It’s hard. It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done. By your count, you’ve already cried three times to Joel – terrified you’re getting it all wrong.

But you’re doing it. Jesus God, you’re doing it.

You order takeout most nights. You can’t stand long enough to cook just yet, and you don’t trust Joel not to burn your fucking kitchen down – despite his protests. And it feels like, after everything your body’s given you, it deserves a greasy pizza and some chicken wings.

You rot on the couch together, watching shitty TV and arguing over reruns of Jeopardy! – until Sarah wakes and the whole thing begins again.

Joel loses the game of rock, paper, scissors tonight.

“Shh, baby girl. ‘s alright now, I gotcha,” he lulls, tucking her back in to her bassinet.

She fusses and stretches out; arms over her head, legs curled up. Her onesie is still a little too big – the socked feet all baggy, the sleeves rolled up her wrists.

He lingers for a moment as she drifts off, a hand stroking her tummy. Watching, always watching her. The rise and fall of her stomach, the puffs of breath from her nostrils, her lips still suckling away in her sleep.

“I swear I have a baby photo that looks just like her,” you say. “Same nose and everything.”

Joel clicks his teeth. “Got her looks from her mom. Lucky thing.”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you snort.

He drifts back over, sinking into the couch at your side. “Doin’ okay?” he asks, and you nod.

Every muscle in your body still feels like a ton weight. Your stomach is still swollen; there are still stitches between your legs. There are moments you can’t tell if you’re crying because of hormones, exhaustion, or joy.

Every time, it’s a combination of all three.

Life before feels so long ago – and it hasn’t even been a fortnight. But then you held her for the first time, and now – your arm misses the weight of her when she’s not in it. Your house feels eerily quiet when she’s not laughing, or whimpering, or screaming the fucking roof down.

You can feel your daughter growing up already, and she’s only ten days old.

On the mantelpiece, safe in a stippled gold frame, your mom beams down over her. The photo at least twenty years old, the memory even older. Laughing, the way she always was; nothing quite so funny as a joke frozen in time.

Joel prods you with his elbow. “She’d be proud of you, you know. Your mom.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “no, she’d be like, Holy shit. This kid totally kicked your ass.”

He chuckles. “Sure she did,” he shrugs, “she’s your kid.”

The TV babbles to itself across the room. In its glow, Joel meets your eye. A tiny, pearly fleck swimming in deep honey.

It’s familiar – each shade of bronze in his eyes, each thread of silver through his hair. Like you’ve mapped each and every line on his skin, collecting them like the sleepless hours between you.

Everything about him feels so normal. Burnt toast in the morning, a spoon clinking around a mug of coffee. The rustle of the newspaper, the sizzle of eggs in the pan, the baby snoring on your chest.

Everything – and yet nothing you’ve ever known.

“I miss her,” you whisper. “I miss my mom.”

His hand finds yours instantly. “I know, baby. I know you do.”

You slouch down, leaning on his shoulder, and close your eyes. Joel presses his lips to the crown of your head, his thumb looping around your knuckles.

Sarah gurgles in her sleep. She sighs – a satisfied little sound. Nothing has ever made more sense.

His voice rumbles against your skull. “Who sent the lilies?”

Your eyes flutter open. “Hm?”

Joel flicks his finger towards the window, towards a sprawl of speckled, cream flowers. “The lilies? They weren’t there this morning.”

“Oh…” You turn to look up at him, cringing.

He sees the flicker of her behind your eyes. Her lustrous curtain of hair, her perfect almond nails.

“Really?” Joel asks, mirroring your expression.

You nod, trying not to laugh. “From her and Kate. You were upstairs with Sarah when she came by. I offered to call you down, but – she just wanted to drop ‘em and go.”

“What did she…? Did she say anything?”

Your head shakes. “She just…she said congratulations, said she hoped we were okay. Then she got in her car and she left. I kinda figured things weren’t sunshine and roses, anyway. You haven’t fuckin’ seen her since Houston.”

He snorts, fingers massaging his eyes. “I was goin’ to tell you,” he mumbles into his palms, “I just…Honey, I don’t even know what day of the week it is right now. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” you mutter.

“Yes, I do,” he insists. His eyes flit over to Sarah, then back to you. “We haven’t really talked it through yet, me ‘n her. I called her a few days ago, we agreed it’s time. It – it’s past time. I shoulda called it months ago.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Are you okay?”

Joel’s brow furrows. “’course I am. I got the most beautiful baby girl in the world,” and then, rolling his eyes, “you’re here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clip, batting his arm. “Vanessa could do way better, anyways.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

You squeeze his fingers, softly adding, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Joel.”

He stares down at your clasped hands. He looks tired, worn out. You figure it’s not just from the newborn. But he takes a deep breath, something the color of relief dawning on his skin, and looks you dead in the eye.

“I’m not.”

­“Hey, Duckie – can you say, Happy birthday, Daddy?”

A vinyl wobbles on the turntable – some acoustic record from when Joel was a teenager. There’s wrapping paper still crumpled beneath the coffee table; four plates with more crumbs than cake left, dotted around the room.

Tommy leans in, a lopsided party hat on his head, and tickles Sarah’s chin.

She blinks at him, unamused, then scrunches her little nose and turns back into your chest.

He sighs, straightening. “She don’t like her uncle Tommy all that much,” he grumbles, sulking back over to the couch. Maria puts a consoling arm around his shoulder.

You rest your lips on Sarah’s head, breathing in her sweet scent. Swaying back and forth, you tease, “She don’t like anyone all that much, not unless they’re her daddy.”

Joel’s head lifts and he smiles, eyes glistening. He watches you and Sarah dance; laughs when you twirl her around and she tips her head back, flashing a gummy grin.

“She’ll come around to ya,” he tells Tommy, wandering over to your side. “We all learned to, eventually.”

Tommy scoffs. “Very funny, old man. Jesus.”

Joel stoops down to let Sarah run her small hands through his beard. He catches her fingertips between his lips and pretends to nibble on them.

She giggles, squirming in your arms. Her fingers find the sweeps of hair on his forehead and, taking a fistful, she tugs.

“Christ,” Joel hisses, pulling back.

“That was on you this time,” you chuckle, pointing a finger. “You know she does that, and you still fall for it.”

Maria glances down at her watch. “Is that the time?” she asks, turning to Tommy. “We should really turn in.”

“Oh – right, right.” Tommy tips the last of his beer into his mouth. “We’re takin’ Mom to brunch tomorrow. Better get some goddamn rest.”

Joel hums, still massaging his hairline. “Hey,” he whispers, elbowing you. “Maybe I should take her over. She’s getting sleepy – ain’t you, little Duck?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Tommy stands and holds a hand out. “Why don’t you let Maria and I take her? We’ll tuck her in, keep an eye on her. We weren’t half bad the other day, while y’all were at work. And if she’s stayin’ at Joel’s tonight anyway…”

You glance to Joel, who shrugs. Something shaped like Sure.

“As long as you don’t mind,” you reply, bouncing the baby slowly. “Let me go grab her things.”

Joel’s hand slips across the small of your back as you pass, making for the stairs. He lingers at the bottom, watching until you turn into the nursery with Sarah in the crook of your arm.

You set her down in her crib and gather some of her favorites: a yellow blanket, a duck comforter, a rattle shaped like an elephant. She watches contentedly as you shuffle back and forth, staring when you lean over the wooden rail.

“You know how much I love you?” you whisper, curling a finger inside her fist. She squeezes, and you say, “More than the whole world.”

She grabs at the chain dangling from your neck, the letter S catching the light. Instead, she lifts your finger to her mouth. Her nails scratch light as a feather across your skin. Her gums are tiny and soft around your knuckle.

Everything about her is tiny and soft. Her sweeping eyelashes, her plushy cheeks. Her round tummy, and the squeals she lets free as you dot kisses and blow raspberries all over it. No matter how much she’s grown in three months, she’s still so tiny.

She’ll always be the smallest, sweetest thing you’ve ever known. And she’s all yours.

“Jesus, kid,” you sniff, swiping at your tears. You slip your hands around her back and prop her on your hip. “Alright, let’s go. Quit making your mom cry.”

The bag over your shoulder, you carry her out of the room and into the dark hallway. It’s quiet downstairs; nothing but the crackle of the record player, the distant chink of dishes in the kitchen.

That – and hushed voices in the living room.

“Joel,” Tommy says, over and over again. He’s trying to cut in between his brother’s rambling. Joel – listen to me. Just listen, for one second –”

You linger on the bottom step, trying to split Joel’s voice from Tommy’s. Trying to pluck the words out, over Maria’s humming from the next room.

“…and it ain’t that simple, Tommy it’s –”

“What ain’t simple about it? You have a –” Tommy says it through his teeth, “– you have a kid together, Joel. You really think she’s gonna –”

Sarah grabs the charm around your neck and shakes suddenly, rattling the chain.

You close your hand around hers, losing your balance. “Shhhhit, Duckie, you –”

Joel’s eyes snap to your figure as you step down. He clears his throat, leaning away from Tommy. “Hey – hey, darlin’.”

“Hey,” you reply. Bright. Chipper. Unclenching your fist to let your daughter shake your necklace some more.

She squeals with delight when she spots Joel across the room.

“She ready to go?” he asks, slinging a quick – telling – look at Tommy.

You look between the brothers, browns quirking. They look as guilty as each other: scratching their beards, staring at the furniture instead of you. “Uhuh,” you reply, tongue against your teeth. “Everything…everything okay?”

Tommy slaps his thighs as he stands. “Everything’s great, sweetheart. Sure as shit. Joel – you, uh…you got a key on ya?”

“Oh, yep.” Joel reaches into his pocket. He unhooks a silver key from the chain and drops it into his brother’s open palm.

Tommy calls for Maria. He sidesteps around you, face flushed and smiling.

She floats through from the kitchen, drying her palms on her jeans. “Where’s my baby duck?” she sings, reaching for Sarah.

You pass her over and she melts into her aunt’s arms, curling up into a little pink lump on her chest. “She just had a feed, like, twenty minutes ago, so – she should go down pretty well. And there are more bottles in Joel’s fridge, if you need ‘em.”

Maria nods, wrapping Sarah’s blanket around her. She lifts the bag strap from your shoulder and hands it to Tommy. “I’ll text you as soon as she’s down. Come on, Duckie, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy leans over and squeezes your arm, winking as he follows his wife. He calls goodnight to Joel, lifting a pointed finger over his head, and closes the door behind them.

Things could not have gone smoother.

It’s suspicious as shit.

You turn when you hear Joel shifting.

“C’mon,” he utters, a pile of plates in one hand. “I ain’t leavin’ you with this mess.” He heads through to the kitchen, broad figure swaying.

The plates spill into the sink, water trickling over them. Joel hums to himself as he gets to work with a sponge in hand.

You linger in the living room.

Things have been good lately – peaceful. You’re in as much of a routine as Sarah will allow: a steady pattern of dropping her off and picking her back up, patchwork family dinners, daytrips whenever both of you can make them.

Your body is healing, pulling itself back together. You don’t have to think about being Mom anymore – she walks in stride with you. The world is painted a new shade of normal – one where you can do anything with a baby on your hip, one where love becomes your first language.

One where you swallow back the ache in your heart, for better or for worse. The only piece of you still fractured. The only wound left open.

Joel’s birthday cards lie flat on the coffee table. You pluck them up one by one – his parents’, Tommy and Maria’s, yours – and Sarah’s.

A messy splotch of a handprint, bright yellow paint smeared across half the fucking card (she hasn’t quite mastered self-control yet). A googly eye plastered to the bird’s chest; orange crayon for the beak and legs.

Sure, you took charge for most of the project – but when he opened it and saw his daughter’s little masterpiece, you caught him swiping his knuckle at the corner of his eye. He snuggled into her, perched on his lap, and whispered, Thank you, little Duckie.

You prop them along your mantelpiece, dotted around your mom’s photo. When you step back, looking from son to brother to…a good friend, you could almost pretend.

Almost pretend that they belong here, on this mantelpiece. There is no yours and his. Just one of everything; nothing doubled nor halved.

Almost pretend that he won’t collect them as he leaves, break into another teary laugh at the sight of the duck painting, and then kiss your cheek goodnight. Promise to have your daughter back in time to go swimming tomorrow morning.

Almost.

“Hey,” Joel calls, “did you, uh – did you hear Tommy talkin’ about Jackson?”

You slip into the kitchen, side by side with him at the sink. “Uh, yeah,” you reply, lifting a towel. “Moose, pine trees. Yep.”

“It sounds beautiful. You think we should take a trip up there sometime? Could be Sarah’s first vacation.”

“You mean the three of us?”

He shrugs, scrubbing a bowl in the water. “Sure. I don’t think Duckie would let one of us stay behind, do you? She’d scream the damn airport down,” he chuckles, looking back to the twinkling bubbles.

You hum. “Maybe.”

“You don’t feel like it?”

“No, I do. I just – I don’t know. Maybe someday.”

“Okay,” Joel says, nodding. “Put a pin in it.”

He passes you a dripping plate and you drag the towel over it, circling the pattern until the suds are wiped clean. And another, and another.

It feels awkward. It feels stiff. There’s something hanging between you, heavy on both your shoulders. A weight you haven’t felt around Joel in over a year.

You turn to him as he stacks the last plate on the draining board. “Is that what you were talking to Tommy about?”

Joel pauses. “You heard that, huh?”

“Only the part about having a kid. It’s none of my business, I know, I just –”

“Actually,” he clears his throat, “it’s plenty your business.”

He leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. A deep breath, cheeks puffing as he exhales. His grip on the dish towel whitens his knuckles.

He’s…nervous. The same shade of gray he wore the night you went into labor.

He takes another unsteady breath.

“Joel?” you ask, head tilting. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I got whiskey, if that’ll make it easier. Probably tastes like shit, but…”

His expression cracks. His eyes twinkle, and he smiles. Only a little, but enough. Enough to let the words slip through.

“You know, that night at Tommy’s wedding was one of the best nights of my life.”

Your heartbeat thuds a bassline in your ears; the rush of your blood the squealing guitar. Skin tacky, moans caught between teeth. Laughter and lust tangling together in the air.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Lying there – talking, laughing, messin’ around. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in all my life. I could’ve stayed in that room with you forever.”

Your eyes start to sting. You look away.

“I thought I would regret it. I thought I should regret it. And I never did. But then,” he takes a deep breath, “the next day, I look out front, and my newspaper’s sittin’ on my lawn. And for two weeks straight, I kept checking – and there it was. I thought, Sure as shit, she regrets the whole thing. I thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to see you again. I missed – I missed you. Missed pissin’ you off.”

He laughs. “I missed you pissin’ me off. Missed that annoying as hell thud on my porch.”

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to – you know,” you admit, and Joel nods.

“We got pretty good at avoidin’ each other,” he grumbles. “And then – with Vanessa, I thought I’d be doin’ you a favor. Letting you off light.”

“You…you took her number to do me a favor?”

“Naw,” Joel says. “I took her number ‘cause her brother in-law has a lumber company, and I had a closet to build. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I brought it up to her at the wedding. By the time I thought it through, you ‘n I weren’t speakin’.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shakes his head. He edges closer to you. Voice low, he says, “I shouldn’t’ve gone out on that first date with her. I shouldn’t’ve done any of it. I should’ve talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“Well, maybe we both should’ve,” you mutter, wringing your hands. “I wasn’t exactly the best at it, either.”

His head tips, considering. “Can I tell you now?”

You glance over to him. “Tell me what, Miller?”

“Tell you…tell you that I love you,” he whispers.

It steals the breath from your lungs. One clean swipe.

He nods to himself, then – certain of it – and says it again. “I do, darlin’. I love you.”

Your heart begins to hammer. Tears spill over onto your cheeks, dripping from your jaw.

“And, look –” Joel takes your wrists, “– I got no right to say any of that, I know. I put you through a hell of a lot, these last few months – and that kills me. But if you’ll let me, I swear to you – I’ll make it up to you. I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”

You look up. His cheeks are dappled, too – glistening with tears. “Joel…” you weep.

He cups your jaw. “Listen to me. What we’ve had, the last three months – I want it all the time. I want you, and I want Duck. I want the three of us under one roof. I want to sleep in the same bed as you.”

You breathe a shuddered laugh. Your hands fall over his wrists. Keep talking, you mouth, bottom lip trembling.

“I want to get married, or not,” Joel says. “I want to show up to Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party late, ‘cause Duck couldn’t pick which shoes she wanted to wear. I want to have more kids, take ‘em on vacation.”

“Wyoming?” you sniff.

“Wyoming,” he repeats. “I want…I want all of it, baby. You ‘n me. I want you ‘n me, more than anything in the world. And if I’m too late, then you can tell me. Tell me, and I swear on my life I will never mention it again.”

Your hands curve over his. His strong knuckles, worked and weathered and worn by his years. Down to his wrists – the tatty strap on his ages-old watch, the dark hair peppered along his arms.

“I love you so much, baby. So much that it drives me insane. You drive me…fuckin’ insane.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you whisper, balling your fists against his chest.

Joel laughs, nose brushing against yours. “Yeah,” he sniffs, “I figured you’d say som’ like that.”

“I love you, too,” you mumble, linking your arms around his neck. “Shit, I love you.”

“Ain’t that a thing?” he says, and his lips are on yours.

It’s been a year. A year since the first time you felt him – lips soft as velvet, sweet with alcohol and something stronger. His tongue and yours, his teeth and yours. Every part of you clashing with every part of him.

And goddamn, you’ve missed it.

Joel follows you upstairs, pinning you to the wall by your bedroom door. White heat flooding through your veins, he kneels before you and pulls you onto his tongue.

He’s hungry.

He laps at you as though you’ll be gone in the morning. As though he won’t wake up tangled in you, breathing in your scent, lips on your skin.

Dusk seeps in at the edges of your vision; daylight draining from the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see him clearly, but you feel him fucking everywhere.

His beard grazes the inside of your thigh. He kisses where he scratches your skin. He holds your hips steady, tongue dipping in and out.

“You know how fuckin’ sweet you taste?” he growls, slipping inside again.

He looks so good between your legs. Like he was made for it – made for you. All yours, in ways you never really understood until now.

He brings you to the edge with his tongue flat against your clit. Holding your hips firm against his mouth, groaning with you as you fall.

You come with a broken moan. Hips stutter to a halt, legs fall wide open. The warmth in your belly spills over and rushes to every corner of your body.

Joel moans, tongue still lapping as your cunt pulses all over him. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he slurs, watching you come undone.

He stands, a chaste kiss to your lips, and then parts them with his tongue. “Taste good?” he mumbles, kissing you gently.

Yeah, you think, moaning against him, it tastes fucking good.

He spreads you out on your mattress and kisses what feels like every square inch of your body. You giggle at the feeling of his lips behind your ear; moan when they close around your nipple.

Your back arches; little lightning bolts as he pulls the buds to a peak. Your fingers knot through his hair; hissing at the meeting of pain and pleasure between Joel’s lips.

“I love you,” you whisper, when he settles between your legs. You don’t know that you’ve felt something so true in all your life.

He smiles. Your fingers trace the lines at his eyes.

“Come here,” he says, and pulls your hips to meet his.

You curve a hand around his neck, glancing down at your open legs. “Looks a little different to the last time you saw her.”

Joel shakes his head, licking his lips. “Beautiful, baby. She looks so goddamn beautiful.”

Each movement is careful, deliberate. He notches his tip at your hole and pauses until you’re looking at him again.

And then he pushes in.

He slips an arm under your head; the other holding your thigh on his waist. He kisses you as you stretch around him. He still tastes like salt and slick.

You gasp, teeth gritting around a hiss. “Fuck,” you whimper, turning in to his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Joel coos, voice rumbling against your temple. “Catch your breath. Doin’ so good.”

“It’s not sore,” you tell him, nodding for him to move again. “It’s…it’s just…different.”

“Tighter,” he groans, eyes on your cunt as it draws his cock in.

You agree, “Tighter.”

He catches you in another kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips. “Feel so good, sweet girl. Breathe. ‘m right here.”

It’s never felt like this before. This gentle, this tender.

You have never felt like this before. Broken open, stitched back together. Your heart split into two – whole again each time his body meets yours.

Joel catches your moans on his tongue. He steadies his pace; rocking into you over and over. Laughing against your lips; your fingers intertwined with his.

“Feel good?” he pants.

Your head rolls back. “Mhm.”

“Take it, baby. Such a tight little thing.”

“Joel,” you cry, “I’m close.”

His teeth nip at your neck. “Shit,” his hips jump, “attagirl. Just like that.” He thrusts into you harder, bleeding the color from your vision.

You pull his lips to yours, foreheads tacky. Joel’s eyes gloss over.

I love you, he breathes.

And the world whitens.

He pulls you against his chest when you come back around. Shifts up the headboard, skin all sticky and warm. He kisses your temples, kisses your shoulders, kisses your knuckles.

You melt into his grasp, turning to look up at him. You run your fingers over his lips, through his damp hair. Just staring. Drinking him all in.

“You were right next door, the entire time,” you whisper.

He runs a thumb across your cheek. “Yep.”

“Do you think we wasted too much time?”

Joel’s lip turns. “Nah,” he says. “We found our way.”

“Needed a little help, though.”

He scoffs, tongue between his teeth. “I’m sure she’ll hold it against us forever.”

You think of that evening in August. The last bow of the sun before your world changed forever. Of deals struck and promises made. Of satin on your fingertips – newspaper ink and duck egg silk.

You think of that photograph on your mantelpiece. Bright eyes watching every second of it. A smile on her face the entire time.

You laugh to yourself. Joel looks down and kisses your swollen cheek.

“We should go,” he taps your thigh, “got a little duck who’ll be wonderin’ where her mama and daddy are.”

The church tower rings out twice as the truck purrs between graves.

Joel pulls up under the shade of a sycamore, tires rolling to a halt. Sarah kicks her feet, her heels thudding against her car seat.

“Mama,” she presses a sticky finger to the back window, “flowers.”

“Yeah, baby,” you call over your shoulder, hugging your own graveside gift a little tighter in your arms. “Lots of ‘em, huh?”

“Yeah,” your daughter quietly considers, then kicks her seat again.

Joel waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. He slips a hand around your knee, looking ahead at the rows of headstones. So patient, so gentle.

Your chest swells, a deep breath filling your lungs, and you nod. “Alright.”

“Sure?” he asks. “Take as long as you want, darlin’.”

But if you wait any longer, you’ll never leave. The paper wrap crinkles in your arms. “You take Duck,” you reply, “I’ll take…”

Joel lifts your hand, placing a soft kiss between your knuckles. “You got it. We’ll walk on.”

He leaves you in the truck to collect yourself. He unbuckles Sarah and sets her loose, following her across the grass with his hands in his pockets.

Her light-up sneakers flash as she sprints; head tossed back, toothless smile pointed to the sun. She turns back to her dad, her little hand fitting perfectly into his.

Made for each other.

You hook your fingers around the handle and leave the truck.

Their grave is a short walk down a grassy slope, sheltered by another towering tree. Its leaves flutter down around you as you near the stone; stray petals which catch in the breeze and lead the way.

You kneel down, the grass dry and prickly through your jeans. “Hi, Mom,” you whisper, sweeping some dust from the base of the grave. “Hi, Dad.”

Your grandma picked this spot. She’s long gone – laid to rest elsewhere with a grandfather you never met – so you try to visit as often as you can. Freshen the flowers, brighten up the stone.

It fucking sucks, but someone’s gotta do it.

You peel the brown paper from the bouquet, exposing the soft colors Sarah picked back in the florist. They fit perfectly on the stone, right beneath the words Devoted parents.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a feeling that wraps itself around your throat and steals any other words – until a flash of pink catches your attention.

“Duckie,” Joel calls, following her between graves. “Hey. This is a cem…Hey, Duck, listen – this is a cemetery, we gotta be – Sarah!”

You stifle a laugh, watching him jog after the hoodie tied around her waist. He swipes for her hand and she dodges him, ducking between graves faster than his mid-fifties joints can turn him.

There’s no one else here – it’s only you. And it’s a quiet enough place as it is, so – you let her laugh. Let him chase her, and let her sneakers light the place in pink. What else is there to do?

“Sorry it’s been a little while,” you tell your parents, eyes still on your man.

He’s kneeling now, Sarah on his thigh, in front of a tall, cross-shaped stone. They’re pointing at the words on the stone, her inquisitive eyes studying each one.

“I know I said I’d come visit for Dad’s birthday, but I guess things got busy – what with the move and all. We’re still living out of boxes. But the girls’ rooms are almost done – we just gotta paint ‘em.”

You look back down to the stone. Your mom’s name carved deep into spotted marble, your dad’s underneath. One awful date to tie them both together.

Dad probably heard Duck’s first squeal and turned away; gone back to whatever boring activity he might get up to in the afterlife. But your mom, you know for certain, is sat with her chin on the heel of her palm. Watching her mini-me trace the shapes of words, squirming when Joel presses his lips to her temple and whispers hints to her.

She’s probably smiling, making some comment about how big Sarah’s getting. How smart she is, how funny. How she must keep you and Joel on your toes – and goddamn, she’s right.

“Joel’s been working on the kitchen,” you continue. “I left my phone in the truck, but you should see it, Mom. He got these marble countertops, these little brushed-gold handles. He wrote our names on the wall before he tiled it, so whoever remodels after we’re gone will find that. The four of us.”

“M-meh-mem-orr-mem-or-ree?” Sarah tilts her head.

Joel nods. “Memory, yeah. Good job, Duck.”

“Duckie’s good,” you tell your mom. “She’s top of her class in – well, everything. Really wiping the floor with all the other first-graders. She’d have been your favorite – I know that much. And you’d have been hers.

“She’s gonna be some kind of lawyer, we think. Social justice and all that. She likes to be a woman of the people. Always talkin’ back to Joel – she hardly cuts him any slack, these days,” you laugh.

“He’s good, too – Joel. Working hard, as usual. Tommy and Maria visited last week – they brought Buckley, and now Duck won’t stop goin’ on about us getting a dog.”

You chance a glance over the stone, making sure the pair are out of earshot when you add, “Don’t tell her, but we called the pound last night. We’re heading there tomorrow while she’s at school to pick one out for her birthday. Joel’s giddier than I think Sarah’s gonna be.”

Joel’s carrying Duck now, wandering down a wobbly row of graves.

She halts him by pointing to one. “N-eh-v-eh-never…fff-or-g-for–”

He stares at her, a grin breaking across his lips. “Sound it out, that’s it. ‘s a big word, baby girl. You got it.”

The world seems to blur around them. The birds sing, a light melody from overhead. The green trees sway across the blue of the sky; the straight soar of cars on the highway. It all fades into the background, behind the two of them – wandering from shade into brilliant sun.

Your family. Your man, your blood – and everything in between. The little girl who brought it all together in the end – leading her dad by hand over knolls and broken stone, chasing butterflies, and asking what eh-teh-err-nal means.

“Means forever,” Joel says, kneeling beside her. “’s how long I’m gonna love you for.”

“And Nel?”

“And Nel.”

“And Mama?”

“And Mama.”

Sarah runs her hands through his beard, swaying side to side. “But me the most,” she concludes, nodding.

Joel hms, biting back a laugh. He lifts his chin, asks the little girl whether or not he’s going gray.

She has the same ridiculous laugh you do. The same snort you used to find so embarrassing, until you heard it come from her.

Just watching them stokes the already burning fire in your ribcage – the warmth flooding around your heart. He’s so good at it – being a dad.

Was he ever anything else, before he was a father? You can’t remember a time you didn’t wake up next to him, wrapped up in his arms, or with one of his kids burrowed between your bodies. It all feels so long ago, now.

He wanted to do everything. He’d lie with you between his legs, holding your half-sleeping form upright while you fed her. He’d race home after work specially to bathe her. He picked up any and every single duck-themed thing that he came across.

And what were you? Mom felt like such a fucking longshot. So out of your reach that you couldn’t understand the meaning of the word.

But there are days when she says it – Sarah, looking up at you with Joel’s twinkling eyes and a smirk which matches yours – and it’s like you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear it. Like you’ve been waiting your whole life for her.

Well. Her, and her little sister.

“And, uh – another thing,” you say, reaching for the plastic handle of a car seat. “I brought somebody for you to meet.”

A clumsy fist shoots up to shake a speckled dinosaur toy – the brown spheres of its eyes catching the sunlight. She squeals with delight when you unbuckle her, kicks her legs the same way her sister always did.

“She’s a little nervous, ain’t you, Nel?” you whisper, laughing at her gummy smile and tiny, socked feet. “She spit up on herself on the way here, but – I think you’re gonna love her.”

You perch the baby on your thigh, same as Joel did with Sarah, and she wraps her fingers around one of yours. You wiggle it – waving to your mom’s name, to the petals gently fluttering in the breeze.

“Mom,” you sniff, “this is Ellie.”

[yuuchama]

Sometime during the VDC training camp, when everyone on team Night Raven is sleeping over at Ramshackle Dorm:

Ramshackle Dorm has no shortage of spare rooms, but their condition is another story. You've managed to get enough of them decently clean. They're not as nice as your room, which has had far more time invested in it and is well lived in, but your groupmates should be able to spend a few days at the dorm without issue and are more than free to tidy up rooms as they please.

Yet on one of the first nights, you hear the door of your room creak open. It's dark and you can't see the intruder, though you know it's not one of the ghosts. The approaching footsteps aren't as heavy as Grim's, even after he's cleared out the entire fridge in one sitting. You're also pretty confident Grim is fast asleep beside you.

"Hello?" You groggily lift your head and call out to the intruder. If it's anything malicious, you hope the ensuing scuffle will cause enough noise to wake everyone else up.

A weight pushes the edge of your mattress down and there's a gentle touch at your shoulder. "Prefect, do you mind if I spend the rest of the night here?"

"Jamil?"

You almost don't recognize him in the dark with his hair down. You feel around for a bedside light. Grim groans in his sleep when it clicks on and turns over, shielding his eyes with tiny arms.

Jamil looks exhausted. "Please, I'd really appreciate if you could let me sleep here tonight."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." Maybe it's the sleep addling your brain or your trust in Jamil. You see no reason to turn down his request and didn't question why he was coming to you instead of Kalim. You nudge Grim over to make room for one more on the bed.

The vice housewarden does his best to fit in the cramped sleeping conditions, assuring "I'll pay you back for this. Thank you."

He's turned towards the wall, back touching your side so that he doesn't fall. You wait to make sure he's fully secure in bed before turning off the light. In the calm that follows, you notice he's almost imperceptibly shaking. Sure, the dorm is cold, but not that cold. Especially with three in one bed.

"Jamil, are you okay?" The longer you spend awake, the more concerning this whole situation feels.

"I'm fine. Goodnight, Prefect." Jamil already has his eyes shut and seems adamant about not discussing things further.

"Okay... Goodnight."

You lay down and silence settles over the room once more. It's really warm between your two friends. Sleep is quick to catch up to you, you find yourself nodding off within minutes of your head touching the pillow.

Before you fully drift off, Jamil turns to face you. His hair drapes over the side of the bed and he places a hand on your pillow, lightly grazing your cheek.

"Thanks again," he whispers. "I feel a lot better with you here. Your room doesn't have bugs on the wall."

[macabr3-barbi3]

dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/140496796

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

You were bound to break a term of the deal eventually, right?

we've hit chapter 3! I got a huge influx of people interested and loving this story and I finally got the inspiration and drive to bang the next chapter out for everyone 🤭 there's going to be more coming, I do as the brain commands lol

A big shoutout to @fraugwinska for being like my number 1 hype person on this fic, you are a godsend 💕

And for those who asked to be tagged when the new chapter went up! @spottypug @dennsfz @bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff

Same tags as chapter 1/2 plus a couple new ones: Dream Sex, Dreamsharing, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Rough Sex, Dreamwalking, blowjobs, 'punishment' wink wink, minor injuries, let me know if I missed anything lol

I love comments and feedback, I would love to know what you think ❤️ enjoy!

The shock on Husk’s face at seeing you inside Alastor’s room when the door flies open a few days after the camping trip is matched only by yours- the horror you’re sure is written in your expression at the pool of blood accumulating under Alastor’s body where Angel Dust is supporting him with an arm around his waist, a smoking gash across his middle.

“The fuck are you doing in here?”

“What the fuck happened?”

You speak at the same time, voices overlapping as Husk shoves the door to the room further open to make room for Angel to drag Alastor inside. He’s also coated in blood down one side, likely having been supporting Alastor’s weight from the other side to drag him up the stairs.

Alastor’s eyes are clenched shut, smile more like a grimace as he snarls at Angel Dust trying to get his feet underneath himself. “I do not need any assistance, spider, release me-”

“Sure, Smiles, tell me all about it. Ya can’t even fuckin’ stand up without ya gangly ass legs collapsin’, how else were we supposed to get ya here?” Angel has also just noticed your presence in the room as you rush over, pleased smirk taking over his features. “I fuckin’ told you there was somethin’ goin’ on with them, Husk!”

“Shut the hell up, Angel,” Husk mutters, grabbing Alastor by the ankles and helping the other demon get him to the bed, despite Alastor fighting like a wild cat the whole time. You follow closely, hovering anxiously next to the mattress. They drop him unceremoniously, causing him to hiss in pain before the wound starts gushing again. “You,” Husk says, fluffy finger pointed in your face. “You stay here with him. Make sure he doesn’t fuckin’ bleed out or anything. Angel, you go tell Charlie and Vaggie what happened. I’ll get the med kit.”

“Wait, Husk” you say as he and Angel both step away, and there’s a hard grip on your wrist from Alastor when you start to follow them. “Just one sec,” you tell the demon- a great idea, with how known he was for his patience and understanding- and pull out of his grasp, hurrying after the other two. You catch Husk at the door, Angel taking off to find Charlie. “What happened to him?”

“Got into it with Vox, what else? Those fuckin’ overlord meetings are just trouble waitin’ to happen if you ask me, never would’ve caught my ass at one of them.” He runs a frustrated hand down his face. “We couldn’t get much out of his besides that, figured it would be best to get him to his room before anyone else saw him stumblin’ around the lobby.”

“Fuck.” You glance over at him, splayed across the mattress, an arm over his eyes. “Can’t he heal on his own? I thought regeneration was all the rage down here.”

“He’s been fucked since that battle with Adam- angelic steel right to the chest, did something to his body and he doesn’t heal as quick anymore. Some stitches should get him right for at least a little while.” A dark eye watches you from Husk’s peripheral. “I don’t know what you’re doing gettin’ all buddy-buddy with him but you watch yourself. We’re not all fuckin’ stupid- somethin’s up, we saw the goddamn vampire bite on your neck after camping-”

“Are there vampires in Hell?”

“Not the goddamn point. The point is be careful and don’t fuck anyone else over in the process of whatever the hell you two’re doing.” He points back into the bedroom. “Now go stand guard or whatever you do until I can stitch him up.” Husk is off then, jogging in the opposite direction that Angel had gone. You leave the door unlocked and cracked so he can get back in when he returns and go back to Alastor’s side in the bed.

His face is sweaty, eyes still clenched shut in pain, but one of his ears perks back up when he hears you come closer. “Pay no mind to those idiots,” he mutters. “I will be perfectly fine in a matter of hours. Do not let them back in.” He waves a hand lazily, the door slamming shut with a bang.

“Yeah the smoking hole in your chest gives me a lot of confidence to that. I’m not going to stop them from helping you.” You hesitate only a second before reaching out to his shirt buttons. “Let me- you’ll need this off for Husk to stitch you up.” He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you undo the buttons and slide the shirt sideways as carefully as possible to clear some space for the cat to work. You brush against his ribs and there’s a sharp inhale, Alastor’s nostrils flaring and claws digging into the sheets.

There’s a knock at the door and when you move to go open it there’s again a hand wrapped around your wrist. “Stay,” Alastor says, looking like it pains him to say it. A strip of shadow darts across the room to open the door in your stead, Husk coming back through the frame and raising an eyebrow at the sight of you still seated beside the demon.

“Charlie and Vaggie know what happened and will check on you tomorrow. Angel went to shower. Let’s get this fuckin’ over with.” He settles on the other side of you, and Alastor releases his grip on your hand to clench them into the bedsheets as Husk starts to drag the needle through his skin.

A good bit of swear words and a loosely wrapped bandage later, Alastor is patched up and passed out on his mattress. “Where did you learn to do stitches?”

“I don’t know, not really. Winged it. Just knew he wouldn’ want anyone else to see him like he is now. Vulnerable; weak. Benefit to him to have me under his thumb, I can’t run my fuckin’ mouth or use it against him.” He eyes you. “I assume you have no problem stayin’ to monitor him? With the stitches he should be good to go by mornin’ but you’ll want to watch him through the night.”

You could revive your old sleep habits and keep awake through one evening. “Yeah, I can stay. And Husk, it’s really not what you’re thinking-”

“Don’t care. Not my business. Make sure he doesn’t die- who fuckin’ knows what happens to my soul if that happens.” Husk gathers his materials and leaves the room, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

You wander the room for a while trying to find a way to entertain yourself. He only has a couple books in the room- ones you’ve already read before- and despite your interest in the bayou dimension you don’t want to wander too far away from him. Eventually you pick a book and drag the armchair over to the bed, settling in and keeping an eye on the movements of his chest. He seems to be doing well, despite being weak and injured, no blood yet seeping through the bandages on his chest.

You do so well for a while without getting tired before the siren song of sleep starts to pull at your eyelids. You combat it as best you can- you pace the room, do push ups and jumping jacks, try counting backwards from one thousand. It doesn’t help, and you find yourself curled up in the armchair next to the bed, eyes drifting shut and not opening again.

When the world of Alastor’s dreams comes to fruition, you’re once again just in his bedroom, the only difference being a slightly darker tone to the light. His eyebrows raise when he sees you. “Well! Fancy meeting you here, darling.”

“I’m sorry, I was trying to stay awake out there to keep an eye on you-”

He waves you down. “No worries, dear. I told you before the stitches that I would be fine, that remains true. I cannot fault you for falling asleep on duty when you’ve not been accustomed to staying awake during the evenings any longer.”

A sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was-”

“Ah ah ah,” he interrupts, and with a shifting shadow he stands before you, trailing a finger down your throat. “That is not to say that I’m not upset with you for something else.” He circles you, eyes lidded and smile teasing. “Need I remind you again of the terms of our deal?”

“What?” Something slips around your wrist, almost like the feeling of Alastor’s fingers but softer, and you glance down to see one of his shadows. His meaning dawns on you. “Wait, Alastor, I didn’t- I’m not here on purpose, I-”

“Ahhh but that wasn’t a condition, was it? It is only allowed with my permission , dear, and I must say I can’t recall giving that to you!” Another shadow wraps itself around your thighs, buckling your legs and bringing you to your knees; he runs a hand gently along the top of your head, tipping your head up to meet his gaze. “I’m afraid discipline is in order.” With a wave of his finger Alastor’s armchair is behind him, settling into it as his tentacles make themselves at home across your body, holding you in place where you now sit on your knees, Alastor’s hand still cupped under your chin. “I think a spanking will do.”

Your body jerks where you’re held. “I’m not a child.”

“This may seem a bit tame,” he admits, expression pensive, “but sometimes the classics can be rather effective! Here’s the plan-” The tentacles shift, bending you at the waist so your chin rests nearly on Alastor’s knee. “You’ve done rather well so far so I won’t be cruel . I think ten strikes should be sufficient. You’ll count them aloud, and should you miss one we will start over. How does that sound fair?”

“Alastor-”

The first strike is over your clothing, Alastor cocking his head when you try to move away from the faint sting of it. “Surely you know how to count, dearest.” Your clothes seem to melt off your body, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the chill in the air. When you don’t respond he sighs, his smile almost condescending. “Oh well; I suppose it can’t be helped. We begin again.”

The tentacle strikes again, a sharp snap that has you hissing through your teeth. Not knowing what else you can do, you decide to just submit- how bad can ten simple swats with a tentacle really hurt? “One,” you mutter, and Alastor’s eyes light up now that you’re willing to play his game.

He cups his hand around the back of your head, and you tilt into his palm. “Perfect. Good girl. Go ahead.”

A gentle whoosh through the air, and another blow to the soft skin of your ass. “T- two,” you say, gritting your teeth against the vague ache. It’s not terribly painful; it’s more the humiliation of it than anything else, but not being able to see it coming contributes to the sting. “Fuck!” Another that you didn’t anticipate. “Three.”

Alastor uses the light pressure of his hand to tilt your head to meet his eyes. “Perhaps I’m just old fashioned,” he says softly, “but I don’t believe ‘fuck’ is a number. Start again.”

You feel the sting of frustrated tears. “Alastor, please.”

He brushes them away with a claw. “Come now, darling, no need for that. You can count to ten, can’t you? Why, it’s easy as can be and then we can be done with this business.”

So he makes you start again- and now for a third time when you can’t stop the whine in your throat from distorting the ‘eight’ into a broken groan. The spanks hadn’t been really painful before but as the punishment continued and the same spots were struck over and over you had become sore, and every new blow stung and ached like nothing else.

And yet- maybe its the position, or the utter helplessness of what’s happening with Alastor in control but there’s that familiar burn in your core, slick arousal from your cunt slipping down your thighs and out of sight of the demon before you.

Your eyes had drifted closed at some point, neck eventually losing the strength to hold itself up and pressing into the fabric of Alastor’s trousers. When he makes a curious humming noise you let your lashes flutter back open. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and his smile dangerous as he looks down at you with lidded eyes. “You know, if you’re having such trouble counting I may have a better use for that lovely mouth of yours, darling.” A brief respite from the tentacles, at least, as he repositions you with his hands to bring your face to the erection that’s grown in his lap. “This isn’t my punishment, after all; I don’t see why I should have to suffer now. How’s this- I’ll count for you, and you keep your mouth otherwise occupied, hm?”

You don’t bother trying to speak, instead just nodding in his gentle hold. He smiles, a little softer then, another quietly uttered “good girl” before he’s undoing his pants and pulling his cock out, presenting it to you and slowly guiding it into your waiting mouth.

He’s not demanding about it, lets you take your time in getting your lips wrapped around the head, fingers brushing delicately through your hair. The position isn’t perfect, and not having use of your hands is a bit of a nuisance but you can move your head enough to take some of his length into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. You swipe your tongue along what you can reach of the underside of him and he hisses above you, pulling you back with a soft fisting of your hair until you can only reach the tip.

“We’ll continue now, my dear. Be mindful of your teeth, please.” And he slides back in with a simultaneous strike of one of the tentacles. “One.”

Somehow the childish punishment is easier to take with Alastor’s cock in your mouth. You still jerk in the hold of the tentacles when you’re hit, but your whimpers and cries of pain are muffled, the vibrations of it serving a greater purpose now in bringing Alastor pleasure. You make it to seven before a particular hard spank jolts you forward, prick shoving harder into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. The constriction that happens when you inadvertently gag a bit makes a harsh moan tumble out of Alastor’s mouth, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair. “Fuck-”

You pull off enough to speak, lips brushing the tip as you do. “Thought ‘fuck’ wasn’t a number.”

“Wretched, delightful thing,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “You raise a valid point, but I think we’ve drawn this out long enough- you’ve learned your lesson?” A nod from you, lips once again covering him and tongue swirling around the head. “Lovely,” he sighs. “Then we’ll make this last bit quick.”

He shifts forward in the armchair, enough that he’s now fully inside of your mouth and each lazy thrust of his hips bumps the back of your throat. He gives himself time to savor the feeling of you sucking and licking at him, throat constricting each time he bottoms out, in between swats from the tentacles. “Eight. Nine. Ten.” Your hands are released from their restraints, and rather than bringing them to your throbbing clit like you desperately want to, cunt drenched and ready for something more, you instead bring them to Alastor’s lap, repositioning yourself to better choke on his length. You let your teary eyes drift up to his face, his eyes lidded where he stares down at you, smile tight and tense. “Wonderfully done, sweetheart. I need only a moment more- may I?” He fists his hands in your hair on either side of your head and you let your mouth go slack, allowing him to thrust in and back out at his own leisure.

You can feel under your hands the flexing of the muscles in his forearm and wish that he would take off his goddamn shirt- get undressed in one of these dreams, just something so you weren’t the only one exposed and vulnerable.

“Magic in dreams doesn’t count, I rather think; it seems that you can do it as well.”

You think about what Alastor had said while camping- how your pants had simply vanished with a thought, the mere desire. You’d never really tried much with your dream powers. You just showed up and tried not to be spotted whenever you were in one, or got the information you were looking for and left. It hadn’t occurred to you until Alastor had said something that you might be able to do more , to use the power for something else.

So while Alastor grows more desperate in his race to completion, fucking your mouth with renewed fervor, you concentrate on the buttons of his shirt. You don’t want to alert him to what you’re trying to do- he’d probably take offense to the fact that you aren’t as wholly engrossed in letting him use your mouth as he likes, might even start the whole punishment over again after he came. So you let your vocal chords do as they please while he ruts into the hole you’ve provided for him, soft moans and whimpers to distract him a bit.

The top button twists, and slowly, silently, pulls itself from the hole it was fastened into. A slight shift of your eyes and the second one follows.

The mere possibilities of what you could do with this information makes you moan, long and low and vibrating hard around Alastor’s cock. Already close, the sensation makes him buck his hips hard, spewing curses as he spends himself in the warm and wet heat of your mouth. You’ve hardly had a chance to swallow- the taste and feeling not awful but just a little strange- before he’s yanking you up from the floor, pulling you into his lap and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come to rest on your thighs, traveling slowly upwards until he meets the welts that his tentacles have left on your skin. You hiss into his mouth at the sting of it, and he kisses you gently while massaging the sensitive skin. You distract yourself with popping another button on his shirt, a motion that goes unnoticed by Alastor in favor of switching between kissing you and watching your face while he touches you.

The rush of it eventually slows and stops, content to just sit there together for a bit with him unaware of the 6 buttons you had managed to get undone. Unlike the other times you’ve met in his dreams you aren’t simply shoved out this time- Alastor wakes up slowly and groggily, like anyone else would, and you open your eyes at the same time. He spots you in the armchair and moves to the side, clearing up a space beside him. “Come over here, dear,” he says, and you’re helpless to disobey. 

Sitting up in the armchair you become aware of two things- that the welts and likely bruises from the tentacles had carried over into real life, as did the slick arousal and throbbing need in your cunt, suddenly desperate to be filled with Alastor- not just in a dream but here, now.

You stand from the chair and to the demon’s surprise, slip your bottoms and panties off before climbing into the bed and settling yourself against his side. He turns to face you, face twisting in slight pain when the wound on his chest shifts, but he trails his fingers down the slope of your neck, over the curve of your hip, finally dipping between your legs and feeling how wet you’ve become from allowing him to be in control of you. “We may have to find a new punishment for you, dearest, if this is how you react to this method.”

“Please, Alastor,” you say, reaching a hand down to his lap and pleased to find that while he’s been spent in the dream, his erection here in the real world is eager to go again. You slip your fingers under the band of his trousers, circle them around his cock with a light squeeze. “Please, I need it- not in the dream but here, real . Please?”

His breath catches in his throat, hot exhale against your face. “I- I am injured, darling, I cannot perform as I do in my mind-”

“You don’t have to.” You’re already shifting, getting up on your knees and settling over his lap, slotting his hard, hot length against your dripping folds. “I’ll do it- you don’t have to do anything. I- I just need to cum, please?”

He cups your face in his hand like he had in the dream. “How could I possibly deny you anything?” He assists you in positioning yourself on his cock, a soft “careful, dear” as you start to sink down.

Jesus fuck. The dreams had done nothing to prepare you for the feeling in real life as you’re speared on his cock, your body making room for him with the delicious slide down until you’re seated in his lap completely. You’re full of him in every sense; your cunt stuffed, mind racing with thoughts of Alastor, vision blocked by anything but the sight of his eyes wide as he watches you take him in, his claws digging into the skin of your hips. It’s so, so much better than it is in the dreams- it’s tangible , a real memory that you can hold onto from your mind, not remnants of something in Alastor’s head. This was yours. Something he’s giving you because you asked for it, begged him for it and he obliged.

You raise up on your knees, already shaky from the slow descent, and make it halfway before Alastor shifts his hips and hits the bundle of nerves inside you. You bite back the moan that wants to escape, glaring at him halfheartedly. “I said I would do it.”

“You’re certainly taking your time, darling. Just thought I could offer some assistance.” He gives you a positively lecherous smile. “I suppose if you won’t allow me to move this should suffice.” He lets one hand slide off your hip to rub at your clit with his thumb, the other tightening its grip on you.

“I’ll- I’ll allow it,” you choke out, a little miffed that the subtle shift of his hips was enough to get him right where you needed him. You ride him gently, mindful of his injury, and the pleasure crests, so close to breaking you that your legs are cramping. “God, Alastor, please-”

“What do you need, beautiful?” You have only a moment to process the word before he’s moving, an arm wrapping around your middle and turning the pair of you over, rutting his cock into you with a speed and pressure that makes you dizzy. His smile is dazed looking down at you, watching your cunt swallow him and reveling in the wet noises that emerge from where you’re joined. “You’re so close, darling, I can feel it- your pleasure is mine. Every time you reach that peak, when you cum on my cock, it will only ever be me. ”

He shifts again, brings his knees up closer to get deeper inside of you. “Fuck, Alastor, my god-”

“I like the sound of that,” he purrs, bending down to trail his tongue up your throat. “I want to be everything to you. Would you allow me that privilege? To claim you, to own you in every way that you’d let me, in any dimension.”

Your head whips back and forth on the pillow, the edge so close your vision is dark. “Please, please, please,” you’re mumbling, “Alastor please, I’m gonna-”

The tension snaps before you can finish your sentence, a wailing cry falling from your lips as you clench and shake and cum under him, around him. It’s so different from when it happens in Alastor’s dreams- it echoes in every part of your body, your head spinning and fingers tightening in his shirt so hard that you fear you’ll rip the fabric. His name spills from you in waves with your release, and his eyes are dark as his thrusts intensify, chasing his orgasm with the resolve of a man possessed.

“Yours, all yours,” you mumble against his lips when his face comes close enough to catch his mouth. “All of me.”

He snarls and his hips stutter, snapping hard against yours. “So much- so much better,” he gasps through the tightening of your pussy on his length. “So perfect- mine -” With a harsh growl he spends himself a second time for the night, into the wet silken grip of your body. He thrusts gently through the wave of it before he collapses in a heap against you, breathing heavily into your ear.

“You’re so- lovely,” he mumbles. “Giving, for a demon. One would think that you would simply take- I would, were it me with your powers. But you’re just…” He trails off, head against your shoulder and breath slow. 

You bring a hand up to trail down his back. “I meant it,” you whisper, swallowing your nerves. “If you- if you would have me, I would be yours. For as long as you want. Forever.”

He remains silent.

Fuck. You hope you haven’t overstepped some boundary. “Alastor?” He doesn’t move, or show any indication that he’s heard you. “Hey, are you okay?” You push at his shoulder with no response, so you double down and push harder, tumbling him off of you.

“Mother fucker.” The bandages wrapped around his chest are stained with red, more than when you had begun- the demon had torn his stitches open when he flipped the pair of you around to take control back, after you specifically told him you would handle your orgasms yourself. “Idiot,” you hiss at his slacken face, but you still brush his hair back from his sweaty forehead before pulling your bottoms back on and rushing down the hall to find Husk, ignoring the sting of the welts on your rear the whole way.

[crushedsweets]

I'm the sweetest girl in town; so why are you so mean? Nina 'the Killer' Hopkins in Creeped PT 3: NEW MESSAGE

PT. 1: K-12 — PT. 2: PURPOSE — PT. 4: MISSED CALL (TO BE UPLOADED)

General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories. TW for toxic relationships, murder, and violence. Please take care of yourself and only engage in content you can handle.

NEW MESSAGE

❥Nina’s nails anxiously tapped against the front desk of a shoddy motel. It was one of the first she stayed at when she moved to Tuscaloosa, so when ‘Mark’ asked to meet her somewhere discreet, she immediately thought back to her miserable nights here.

❥She paid for the night and awkwardly made her way to the room, long acrylics fidgeting with the key. She felt eyes burning into her. The receptionist glaring at her down the hall, the truckers peering through the blinds, roomkeepers casting judgmental glances. She kept texting Mark, asking when he’d show up. 

❥By time Nina entered the room, he stopped replying entirely. She deadbolted the door and sat on the dusty mattress, quietly running her hands along her thighs to self-soothe. She kicked off her baggy sweatpants, revealing a mini skirt and torn tights. Nina just wanted Mark to reply. She didn’t want to get stood up. She wanted to see him so badly. She dressed up for him in uncomfortable clothes, did her makeup especially pretty, washed her hair and shaved her legs.

❥An hour went by with nothing. She would pace around the room and send him a text every few minutes. Peek through the blinds, scanning over the dark parking lot. Rain poured hard onto the asphalt and the street lamps flickered. A few busted up cars were littered about the lot. She’d text him a photo of it, making a comment about how pretty it looked. Then, Nina would return to the bathroom. Reapply her lipstick, fix her mascara, re-do her ponytail. Then text him again. Then flip through channels. Then text him again. She eventually laid down on the bed, staring blankly at their messages. Her hopes were dissipating, until-

❥New Message! ❥”im outside, open the door. its cold”

❥Nina was quick. She shot right up out of bed, her head snapping towards the door and its peeling paint. She smoothed her hair back down, fixed her skirt, cleared her voice, and stood at the peephole. Standing on her toes, she could see a man through it. Maybe 5’6, in a white, rain-soaked hoodie. He had shaggy black hair and a black face mask. His eyes were piercing. 

❥”Mark?” Nina’s voice cracked through the door, more high-pitched than she intended. ❥”Open the door, Nina.” He rasped. Nina’s heart skipped out of her chest. She fumbled with the deadbolt, earning a sigh from the other side of the door. Finally, she cracked it open. He simply pushed it, nudging her to the side and slamming it behind them. Nina’s pulse shot through the roof, eyes darting over his entire figure. 

❥But he just let out a groan, pulling his hood down and walking to a chair. He plopped down, getting comfortable and leaning into it. His head tilted back against the chair, visibly exhausted. She watched his Adam's apple bob for a moment. Everything was silent. Just his slow breaths and her tapping against her phone. 

❥He sliced through the tension with ease. “How long did I have you waiting?” 

❥Nina laughed first, waving her hands and settling back onto the bed. She insisted it wasn’t long, she was just so excited. He nodded, finally craning his head back to look her in the eye. She couldn’t really handle it. He asked her a few more questions, mostly about the motel. How much it cost, how often she came here. He seemed to be accusing her of frequenting motels to meet guys online.

❥It proved too much for Nina. She began to stand, anxiously dismissing herself to the bathroom. She thought she was going to throw up. His head rolled to the side as she hurried to the bathroom, watching her curiously.

❥She stood at the sink for a moment, chest heaving. She wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. Why was she so nervous? She was so comfortable with him online. She told him so much, and she thought he listened intently. Maybe it was the face mask? Could she ask him to take it off? Maybe he had a cold. Would that be rude? He could just be awkward. Not everyone is the exact same over text and in person. Or she caught him on a bad day. It was late and he seemed like he walked in the rain. She needs to calm down, give him a chance. He wasn't doing anything wrong. This was Mark, her friend.

❥There was a firm knock at the door.

❥”Why’re you hiding in there, Nina?” She didn’t even know how to respond. She didn’t lock the door, which they both noticed at the same time. He pushed it open, and Nina simply stepped back. She wasn’t thinking, just letting him put her where he wanted.

❥He wasn’t wearing the mask anymore. He was pretty pale, skin resembling an old classmate she knew with vitiligo. He had a few piercings, including eyebrows, a triple bridge, and snake bites. But these details were miniscule in comparison to the torn flesh of his cheeks. Violent, jagged scars from the corner of his lips to his ears. Mark really was a Jeff fanboy, huh?

❥Nina choked on a gasp at first, but the gasp turned to a cry when he violently shoved her back, forcing her into the tub and climbing in after her. His knee pressed into her gut and his forearm pinned her wrists above her head, uncomfortably grinding her bones into the tile walls. She was about to scream, but his palm fit harshly against her mouth. Nina’s legs were hooked over the edge of the tub, due to him shoving her in the short way.

❥He began whispering to her. It started with mindless rambles that were difficult to comprehend. Nina began to cry, muffled against his calloused hand. He leaned down, licking her tears and spitting to the left, now grumbling about her makeup. He kept it up for a bit, until he made a remark about her appearance. Something about a pretty girl like her liking a guy like him, how odd that was. Her struggling weakened by this point, eyes going wide as his head tilted into her shoulder. 

❥He kept going on and on. Bringing up how much Nina liked him, how obsessed she was. Bringing up posts she made in the past or mentioning his favorite photos of her. How he killed people just like she described. He'd ask her for ideas, and he'd share them all with her. It wasn't hypothetical, it wasn't a fantasy, it wasn't a story.

❥It was funny, actually. Despite her fixation, Nina didn’t even realize who he was. She thought this was Mark, a random Jeff fanboy ready to make Nina his first copycat victim. But the more he spoke and the more she frantically studied his face, everything set in.

❥This was her idol.

❥Seated on top of her, touching her, speaking to her, going on and on about how pretty she is. He stalked her page for hours on end, too, reciting all the posts that she’d made on him. To anyone else, they’d have understood it was from his own ego. To Nina, it was for her. Just like she dedicated the last three years to Jeff, he had dedicated one to her. He had been texting her. He asks her for photos. He tells her how creative and beautiful she is. He sends her images of Jeff’s crime scenes before she could even find them online. His crime scenes. 

❥He didn’t make sense half the time. He’d bring in random names and information totally irrelevant to her, or so she thought. He kept talking about a girl named ‘Clocky’ and how annoyed he was that ‘Clocky’ was hiding Nina from him. Something about her being a shitty wingman.

❥He eventually relaxed on top of her, removing the forearm that pinned her wrists to the bathtub wall. Instead of his knee pressed into her stomach, he placed them on each side of her. Her legs remained hooked over the tub, but she had long stopped kicking. She was sniffling a little, letting her sore arms drop to her sides. He made her agree not to scream if he let go of her face. She nodded desperately.

❥He removed his hand carefully, eyes scanning over her expression, watching her throat to see if she’s about to scream. 

❥”I love you,” was an insane thing to say. He stared at her for a moment, before throwing his head back and barking out laughter. His rough hands grabbed at her face, nodding along as he confirmed that he was well aware. Just like he spent the last few minutes going on his mindless rambles, she did the same. Whispering about what he meant to her, how strong he was, how much she wanted to be like him. How she’d do anything to fuck that bitch Claudia up the way he mutilated Randy. She shared what she did that one day, but began crying when he laughed. He joked about how weak she was, but she agreed with him. 

❥She clung to his hoodie. They sat like that for a while, having an uncomfortable, bizarre conversation in the bathtub. It largely centered Nina’s webpages, blogs, and forums. How it fed his ego. He kept making backhanded comments about her, but she warped them all into compliments. Eventually, he stood, yanking her out and making her wash her face. He liked her, unfortunately.

PUPPY LOVE

❥Nina was truly living out a long-time fantasy. Her and Jeff began to frequently see each other. Much to Natalie’s horror, Nina pulled her aside at work one day and shared this news. Brought up the ‘Clocky’ comments, and Natalie dragged Nina outside by the dumpsters and quietly scolded her. She tried to warn Nina, saying that regardless of her own friendship with Jeff, Nina was making a stupid choice. And it scared Natalie, too. Nina didn’t seem too stable. What if she started to run her mouth? Get Jeff in trouble, dragging cops along to her farmhouse?

❥Well, Clocky got an apartment that year. She kept in touch with everyone all the same, but she switched into a new career and housing situation. Leaving Jeff and Nina alone.

❥It started with Jeff tugging Nina along, bringing her to the forest and laying her down on his dirty mattress. They’d fool around, talk, he’d go through her blog right in front of her and laugh at her. Even if it made her nervous, she did a good job at convincing herself they were laughing together. They were bonding. 

❥Eventually, he began tagging along to her apartment. It was a cute, comfortable little place. It had heating and cooling, a stocked fridge, washer and dryer, a fucking kitchen for once. A TV, too. He began staying night after night. Nina always made him dinner, always washed his clothes, always let him relax. He’d bring her to lay down with him and she’d melt into his touch.

❥It seemed soft, at first. Jeff began introducing her to the messier parts of his life. She met BEN, she met Toby, she met Jack. They all scared her a little, but when Jeff threw his arm around Nina and made a comment about ‘his girl,’ she was over the moon. The group liked her a decent bit, and she clicked quite well with Toby. It helped that Toby was close friends with Natalie, a beautiful coincidence that made the three a solid trio. 

❥Nina wanted to integrate fully into Jeff’s life. She kept up her obsessive research on his friends, or whatever she could find. Apparently, BEN did a great job at wiping information online, which explained why Nina had such a hard time finding information on such an infamous killer. However, BEN didn’t wipe anything with Liu. Liu wasn’t an ally or friend to any of them. But he was Jeff’s brother, and Nina learned some fantastic news about him. He had moved to Alabama recently. Nina wanted to grow close with him, too. 

LAKE WATER

❥Outside of Nina’s blossoming friendships with Jeff’s crowd, the two began to get into some trouble together. Jeff would have Nina help steal alcohol, as they were only 19 and 20. He’d send her to talk to plugs for him, saying that Nina gets weed cheaper on account of her pretty face. 

❥One day, they were doing exactly that. They were hanging around a relatively empty parking lot in a dead shopping center, waiting for some guy to show up and sell Nina some weed. Jeff was in the distance, observing as the man pulled up to Nina leaning against one of the lot’s lamps. The guy parked, got out of the car, and chatted Nina up for a while. Jeff watched as the man pushed Nina’s hair back, leaning too close and saying God knows what. 

❥Jeff stalked up to the situation, pretending he was on his way to a nearby car. The guy didn’t even look his way, not until Jeff suddenly slipped into the picture. It was sudden and sloppy, but Jeff never needed to practice his violence. He pushed Nina out of the way and began to crash the guys’ head into the metal pole, repeating it until Nina was frantically crying and begging him to stop. The guy crumpled to the floor afterwards, blood pooling beneath him. The sight was too familiar for Nina. Images of 16 year old Claudia beneath her flashed before her eyes.

❥Suddenly, Jeff started rummaging through the man’s pockets. Yanking out his wallet, phone, some weed, a lighter, and his keys. He told Nina to get in the car.

❥Nina protested, but Jeff shouted it this time. So like the sweet girl Nina is, she listened. Jeff dragged the man into the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat. 

❥Jeff was reckless in every way. He was impulsive, brash, and unpredictable. In this random dude’s car, he began barrelling down the streets. It was night time in their fairly small town, leaving the roads quite empty. He had all the windows rolled down, laughing as their hair whipped around them. Jeff’s adrenaline was pumping violently, while Nina was crying and begging him to slow down. He was going 110mph down a random highway, doubling the speed limit. 

❥Nothing Nina said could stop him. He was at an all time high once again, a victim in the trunk of a stolen car and pretty Nina beside him, wailing and afraid. 

❥Nina didn’t know what to think when she saw him driving towards the biggest lake in the county. There was a poorly made pier leading far into the lake, but Nina swore Jeff was going to slow down. Please slow down. She panicked more when he reached over with one hand, unbuckling her seatbelt. What the fuck was he doing?

❥It surprised them both when the car actually flew into the water. Nina’s screams were cut off as she inhaled that dirty lake. Water immediately flooded the vehicle and moonlight reflected through the murky water. She desperately fought her way through the open window, swimming to the surface. She choked up the water and sucked in as much air as her lungs would allow. Fuck, she was so scared. She sobbed, trying to regain enough composure to keep her afloat, weak kicking and splashing. She barely made out the shoreline, desperately swimming her way there with chunky platforms and soaked clothes. Jeff got to the shore first, but returned to the water to help drag Nina out of it.

❥Before she could cry at how cruel that was, he lifted her up and crashed his lips into hers. His arms moved tightly around her waist, lifting her feet above water and laughing loudly as he spun her around. The muddy water splashed all over as he cackled, still pulling her further away from the lake in his arms.

❥”I fuckin’ love you, Nina!” He barked, still on a high as he dropped them both to the ground, smothering her in his excitement. That was the first time he said that to her. 

PT. 4: MISSED CALL (TO BE UPLOADED)

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Rise : Chapter Fourteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 5.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER THIRTEEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER FIFTEEN

            The door opened with a moan, & you rose to a sitting position, preparing for Adrianna to bring you your breakfast. You were glad you were given a couple days to recoup after the latest move. Everything was a blur. All you remembered was being sick, completely out of it, & never fully aware of your surroundings. But thanks to Adrianna, you managed to get better again. And now you could finally pull your own weight at the mill.

            But when you looked up to greet Adrianna, it wasn’t her dark brown eyes you met.

            Rafe stood in front of the closed door, his arms crossed as he peered at you. You felt like a fish out of water, like you were a strange sight to see. Adrianna insisted on you being separated from the others for some time in case your sickness was caused by the virus, but once you had improved she let you mingle with the others. But you had never seen Rafe in that time. He must’ve been busy running the place as best as he could in the end of world times.

            You brought your knees closer to your chest, resting your chin on them before you finally spoke.

            “Hey.” Your voice was hoarse, not having used it much, but you hoped the timid smile on your face revealed your welcomeness to his presence.

            Rafe frowned, his brows creasing & causing the skin there to crinkle. He stared at you longer, making you shift under his gaze.

            “Are you okay?” You questioned. He did look tired.

            “Are you?” He returned.

            You shrugged, rubbing your arms, “Better, at least.”

            Rafe moved further into the room until he was standing across from you. Your bed was a mattress on a pallet, so he towered over you with his staggering height. But you didn’t mind. You just wanted to stop looking at you with that worrisome look on his face.

            “I’m okay, Rafe.”

            His lips parted, as if he was trying to understand something that couldn’t be deciphered.

            “Are you?” You asked again, concerned about his unchanging gaze.

            “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, repeating himself to sound more stabilized.

            You nodded, but said nothing more. Was he here to bring you to the mess hall? You knew your way around enough, you didn’t need someone to hold your hand anymore. However, you couldn’t deny being somewhat relieved to see him, to have him here.

            “You didn’t bring food. Are we going there?” You asked, changing topic. Your stomach was growling with hunger.

            Rafe inhaled sharply, finally snapping out whatever funk he was in upon seeing you.

            “In a bit, yeah. I wanted to talk to you first.”

            Rafe moved closer then. You scooted over to make room on your full size mattress so he could sit with you. As he did, his eyes never left yours, & yours never left his. This was someone you were comfortable with. Rafe always looked out for you.

            “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again, & you felt mildly irritated at that, like he was coddling you. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “Will you quit asking me that, please? I’m okay.”

            Silence filled the small room for a moment as Rafe seemed to think quietly to himself. You hoped he would hurry up with what he wanted to talk about so you could go eat before everyone else got the majority of it.

            “Do you remember anything?” Now it was your turn to be confused. Remember anything?

            Frowning, you stared at him, “Like what?”

            Rafe swallowed, his Adam’s apple moving swiftly under the skin of his throat, “Before coming here.”

            You paused to think. You remembered the lakehouse. Millie. The group separating. And then your head started to hurt. You winced, like you felt a headache coming on. Why was Rafe asking you this?

            “Adrianna said I’ve been sick for a while. It’s hard to remember.”

            Rafe looked like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself from doing so.

            “Why, Rafe?”

            He sniffled, pressing his lips together as he fell into deep thought. When he finally looked at you again, you were concerned about the look in his eyes.

            “Sayyed?”

            You felt your heart stop for a moment at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. Adrianna had told you what happened. That the virus came for him & Nuha too fast, that there was nothing to be done. You had a vague memory of Sayyed telling you he loved you, but you couldn’t be sure. It felt more like a dream than anything.

            “Adrianna reminded me.” Your voice softened, almost to a whisper. You wished you could cry over his death, over not being able to say goodbye, or at least remember it.

            “She…reminded you?”

            You looked away to stare at your feet, “The virus. I don’t remember a lot, Rafe. My memory is kind of foggy. She said that would be normal for a while.”

            He inhaled sharply again, drawing your eyes back to him. He looked conflicted.

            “What is it?” You asked.

            Rafe forced a smile then, shaking his head,, “Nothing. I’m just glad you’re better,”

            You returned the smile, though it was small, “Me too.”

            “Let’s, uh, let’s get some food, alright?” Rafe stood up, offering you his hand, & you took it, letting him help you raise yourself to your feet.

            In that moment, Rafe took a moment to look you over from head to toe. You felt like he was still studying you. But when his eyes fell to your legs, an amused smirk appeared on his face, “I can’t believe you packed these.”

            You looked down, addressing the clothes you wore. You gave a small laugh yourself, “I’d never get rid of these.”

            Rafe nodded, “I think that’s good. A reminder of happier times, huh?”

            You met his eyes, nodding, “Something like that.”

            Rafe left you at a table with Kai, Vic, & Maddy as he sought Anna out. He didn’t get far before she entered the mess hall herself at the farther end. Anna took in Rafe’s subtle look of rage as he grabbed her elbow & moved her to the hallway.

            “What the fuck is wrong with her?” He hissed, making sure his voice was low & voices carried far & quickly in the spacious room.

            Anna pulled her arm from his grip, rubbing the spot that he grabbed so harshly before answering him, “What? She’s fine.”

            “You know what the fuck I’m talking about. She doesn’t remember anything!”

            “So?” Anna bit back, glaring up at him, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

            Rafe was angry, but he stopped in his verbal assault to reflect.

            “Or would you rather she remember that you made her kill Sayyed?”

            His nostrils flared still as his anger began to simmer down.

            “I thought you’d be jumping with joy.” Anna added in a sarcastic tone, “But if you want her to know the truth then be my guest.”

            “No.” Rafe shook his head, “She said that you told her she would remember in time about everything.”

            Anna sighed, shrugging, “I don’t know. Like I said before, I’m not a psychologist. I took a class or two, so I know what she’s experiencing right now, kind of, but as far as if she’ll her memory of everything will return, I don’t know.”

            “What she’s experiencing?”

            Anna nodded, “Amnesia, obviously. Dissociative or selective, doesn’t really matter which, they both do the same thing.”

            “Which is?”

            She sighed heavily, clearly bothered that she had to explain the basics to Rafe, “After a traumatic event the brain will shut down, protect its host from the memories that caused the trauma. She doesn’t remember anything because her brain won’t let her. And I think that’s for the best, at least for you, isn’t it?”

            Rafe stared at Anna, “But only for some time?”

            “I. Don’t. Know.” She enunciated, “Could return tomorrow, next week, or never again. There’s no saying.”

            “If she remembers…” Rafe didn’t want to think about it.

            “Then you’re a dead man.” Anna said jokingly, but Rafe didn’t view it as a joke.

            If you remembered what he’s done, he would lose you all over again, & he was positive there would be no containing you then.

            It felt nice to be part of the group again. You had blurred memories of the time when the group was split, but you had an inkling that it wasn’t an enjoyable time. When you had seen Bear for the first time two days prior, you gave him a hug that would rival his nickname. He returned it with fervor, claiming he was glad you were okay.

            Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

            “Where’s Bear?” You asked Kai, who jumped slightly at the sound of your voice as he cleared his plate of food.

            “Um, I think out scavenging.” One thing that bothered you though since rejoining the group was that Kai never looked you in the eye. He kept his head down often & avoided a lot of talk with the others.

            “Hmm.” You hummed. At the far end of the mess hall, Rafe appeared, Adrianna right behind him. You left your food behind on the table & approached him.

            “Everything okay?” He asked, his tone full of worry. You were grateful for his older brother like attitude, but you hoped he knew you could take care of yourself again.

            “I want to be a part of the scavenging group.” Your eyes flashed between his & Adrianna’s.

            Rafe inhaled sharply at that. He gestured for Adrianna to leave the two of you & she did. You frowned, looking back at him, “What’s wrong?”

            “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He admitted.

            “What? Why? I was the best back at the lake house. We both were.” You reminded him.

            “I know, but ya know, things change. Micah is in charge of scavenging now.”

            “So, I’ll join him.” Little did you know how much Rafe pitied you. So innocently unaware of Micah’s hatred towards you. If Rafe allowed you to go out with Micah, there was no guarantee you’d come back.

            “No, _____. We need you here. You’re good in the garden with Maddy.”

            You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Bullshit. I was never good at that. That was Millie’s thing.” At the mention of your deceased best friend’s name, you felt your defiance lower.

            “I want to scavenge.”

            “No.” Rafe replied with finality. “If you don’t want to garden, fine. We’ll find something else for you.”

            “I’ll be fine, Rafe. I know you’re always looking out for me, but I can take care of myself.”

            He looked troubled, almost…sad.

            Stepping closer, he kept his voice low. He brought the palms of his hands to your upper arms, not quite touching you, but grazing the skin there, “I can’t lose you again.”

            You peered up at him, your heart beating faster. Why was he looking at you like that?

            “You won’t.” Your voice was barely audible. But Rafe shook his head anyway, “I won’t risk it, I’m sorry.”

            With that, Rafe stepped back, his voice at normal level again, “Work with Maddy today, we’ll find something new for you tomorrow.”

            Then he left you standing there. Begrudgingly, you returned to the table. Maddy, one of the new people, grinned up at you.

            “I’m with you today.” Your tone wasn’t a happy one but that didn’t deter her bashful attitude.

            “At least you’ll get more sun.”

            Yeah, you thought to yourself, at least.

            It was nighttime, & you were helping one of the other new people, Barry, clean up the mess hall from dinner. You were about finished & ready to head back to your room when Rafe appeared.

            “You got the rest covered, Barry?” He asked & Barry nodded.

            “Great.” Rafe looked to you then, offering his hand, “Let’s get you to bed.”

            There it was again, the coddling. Sighing annoyingly, uncaring if it was obvious, you bypassed his hand & stalked towards the hallway. Once in the hallway, Rafe caught up to you, “What’s wrong?”

            “You’re babying me. I hate it. I wish you would stop.”

            “I’m not babying you.” He argued, his voice defensive.

            “No?” You stopped in your tracks to glare at him, “Keeping me from what I do best? Putting me to bed, Rafe? I mean, god, come on.”

            “I just don’t want you to push yourself.”

            Though you understood the sentiment, you wished he would let it go. You were stronger & better than that.

            “I’ll be fine. You’d know that if you’d let me do my own thing.”

            “Doing your own thing is what got you sick in the first place.” Rafe finally seethed, “I won’t apologize for looking out for you. And I won’t stop either, so get used to it.”

            Then he walked ahead of you. You stood there for a second longer, watching as he grew further away from you. You felt conflicted. You knew he only meant well, but you couldn’t help your need for independence. But you had to admit to yourself if roles were reversed, you would look out for him in the same way.

            “Rafe, wait.” You jogged up to him, gently touching his elbow with the tips of your fingers, “I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I wouldn’t have survived if not for you. I guess I just want to do more for the group than just have my hands buried in dirt all day.”

            Rafe’s gaze softened at that, but he nodded, “I know. Like I said, we’ll find something else for you. I promise.”

            The two of you traded a smile before you started walking again. You were following blindly alongside him, not really paying attention to where he was leading you until the two of you stopped just outside a door you didn’t recognize.

            “I thought you were taking me to my room.”

            Rafe looked between you & the door, “I am.”

            Then he opened the door wide enough for you to enter. You peered inside first, taking in the larger size than your own bedroom. There was a bed against the left wall—a real one with a frame & everything—& a window straight ahead. It was dusty & musty but clean for the most part. But you couldn’t help the frown on your face, “I don’t understand.”

            “It’s our room.” He revealed.

            Your eyes rounded, staring at him appallingly, “Our room?”

            Rafe let out a shaky breath as he looked you over, “You don’t remember a lot…”

            You felt your brows cinch together, concerned about the tone in his voice.

            “You weren’t with Sayyed at the end. Not, ya know, with him, like before.”

            You felt your mouth fall open to ask but closed it. What was Rafe getting at?

            “You were with me.”

            What?

            An awkward, forced breath of air, that somewhat sounded like a startled laugh, left your mouth.

            “We’re together, _____. We have been for a while.”

            “No, what? That’s not…” Your head was beginning to hurt again as you struggled to comprehend what he was saying. Out of instinct, you backed away, but Rafe was quick to catch your hand, holding it desperately as if he was scared of you slipping away.

            “Anna’s not here to confirm for you, to help you ease into it. But I am.”

            You stared at him, distrustful. No. There was no way. You would never leave Sayyed, let alone for Rafe. Rafe was like a brother to you, you couldn’t…wouldn’t…

            “It’s why the group split.” Rafe told you, “Because Sayyed found out about us.”

            A shocked gasp left you, “No, no. I didn’t—”

            “You did, _____.” Rafe’s voice was soft but his grip on your hand firm, “In the woods. After Millie.”

            Tears kissed your eyes as you vaguely recalled something happening in the woods after Millie’s death. But the images were still blurred.

            “I’m sorry.” Rafe’s thumb rubbed the skin on your hand, “But it’s true. We’re together.”

            You stared past him, your eyes falling to the bed. You had slept with Rafe? Been sleeping with Rafe? It didn’t sound like you, it couldn’t be.

            A sob finally erupted from your throat as you felt deep down that what Rafe was telling you was true. You had cheated on Sayyed. With one of his best friends no less, with one of your own.

            “Oh, my god.” You covered your mouth with both your hands. You couldn’t fully remember the events happening, but you could remember the heartache of hurting the person you loved most.

            Rafe swallowed, stepping closer to you. As you cried into your hands, he wrapped you into a hug, his chin resting near the top of your head. He ran his hands in circles along your back, hoping to soothe you.

            “I swore I would protect you & I meant it. You may not remember but you know it’s true.” And you did. But still. This was the reality you were coming back to?

            Rafe pulled away just enough to grab your hands, to look you in the eye, “You’re my girl, _____. Mine. And I’ll be damned if I ever let another thing happen to you again.”

            It’d been a little over a week since you re-assimilated to the group. Bear, Micah, & the others were still gone in that time. But when they returned, you would be the first to find out. Rafe secured you a new position in the group. Sayyed’s old one.

            In an office on the ground floor that overlooked the gravel parking lot was a comm set-up. The computers were useless of course but there was a working satellite radio, & a few walkie talkies. It would be how you communicated with the scavenging group once they were within range & announcing their arrival. But while you waited for that call, you were constantly calling out to other survivors on the shortwave radio. In the week you had been doing that, there was nothing but white noise that responded. One time you heard a dead announcement about the end of times nearing, but it was on repeat. No one ever responded.

            It was about midday, & you were preparing to head upstairs to get lunch, when the sound of the walkie talkie crackled with a muffled voice.

            “Base, this is scavenger. We’re five miles out.”

            A grin ripped across your face at the sound of Micah’s voice. They would be here soon. You hadn’t seen Micah since rejoining the group, but with Rafe busy doing his other duties, this would be an opportune moment to talk to Micah about joining the scavengers. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for Rafe getting you out of the garden, but you wanted more. Micah could give it to you. He was Rafe’s right hand after all.

            You responded over the walkie, “We hear you scavenger. Look forward to seeing you.”

            “Who is this?” Micah’s voice sounded, & it sounded displeased. He had always been so moody.

            “_____, Micah. It’s me.”

            There was no response. But you didn’t care. You were just happy to see two of your friends again.

            But the moment was ruined when the door behind you opened. You spun in your chair, finding Rafe standing in the doorway. There was a malicious look in his eyes.

            “What’s up?” You asked, suddenly feeling like you had been caught doing something you knew you weren’t supposed to be doing.

            “They’re almost here.”

            “Uh, yeah.” You glanced down at the walkie in your hand, “How’d you know?’

            Rafe reached into the backside of his jeans, revealing his own walkie.

            Of course, you thought to yourself.

            “But I can take care of it from here. I’ll help them unload & whatnot.”

            “No.” Rafe was quick to respond, shutting the offer down, “You’ll stay in here. I’ll help them.”

            “What? Why?” You felt yourself growing frustrated. Ever since he told you that you two were together, something you still struggled to get used to, he hadn’t let off of his protective side. In fact, it felt more heightened at points.

            “You get lunch, I’ll cover for you.”

            “No, Rafe.” You had had enough. It was one thing to get used to him against you at night, his body molding to yours as you fought to sleep at night, but it was an entirely other thing to boss you around like he owned you. “I can help. I will help.”

            “_____.” Rafe sighed, equally as frustrated as you.

            “Stop babying me, Rafe! Goddamnit!” You raised your voice, “Why don’t you trust me?”

            “It’s not that.” He groveled, his voice hard & low as he narrowed his eyes, “I just want you to eat.”

            “Bullshit.” You argued, standing up, “You promised me that you would help me. This isn’t helping & I’m not buying what you’re saying.”

            He stared at you silently, his lips rubbing against one another.

            “Do you trust me?” You asked.

            “Of course.” He replied without pause.

            “So, let me do this. Okay?”

            He looked past you, staring out into the gravel lot, contemplating your plea.

            “Fine.” He shook his head, “But we’re doing it together.”

            It wasn’t ideal, but you had learned quickly that Rafe wouldn’t compromise often. You had to get what you could.

            “Fine.”

            The two of you stared at one another momentarily before he stepped forward, his hand reaching for your face. You flinched just a little, but enough for him to notice. He frowned at that.

            “You still won’t let me touch you.”

            It was true. It was strange sharing a room, let alone a bed, with him. You loathed that you couldn’t recall your own memories, that losing Millie, Sayyed, & Nuha had fucked you up beyond repair. But the reality of you being with Rafe? It was still surreal to you. It didn’t sound right, feel right. But Rafe always looked at you with longing, like he missed you. You couldn’t feel the same. You still saw him as Rafe Cameron, coke fiend & BFF. It was hard to grasp that he was your boyfriend.

            “I just need time.” You told him, looking away to sit down. Rafe followed suit, dragging out a nearby chair by its legs before sitting beside you.

            “I know, I just…” His words fell short as he eyed you warily.

            “I know.” You reassured him that he didn’t need to voice it. You saw it clear as day in his eyes.

            “Any luck with the comms?” He questioned, nodding towards the radio.

            You shrugged, “No. Nothing. We might be the last of us.”

            “I wouldn’t mind that.” He said, but he was smiling in a joking manner. You didn’t share the sentiment.

            “As long as we’re together, right?” He asked, gripping your jean clad knee. Your muscles tensed beneath his touch, but you forced a smile anyway.

            “All of us, yeah.”

            Rafe was about to say something, his mouth opening, but the sound of gravel crunching caught both your ears. You turned in your chair to see Rafe’s truck pull into the lot.

            “They’re back!” You leaped from your seat, ready to race outside to greet Bear & Micah.

            Rafe beat you to the door though, & you noticed that he was purposefully walking slowly & using the width of his body to block you from surpassing him. You were forced to walk behind him. Like his dog. The thought made you cringe.

            Outside, you watched as Micah hopped out of the driver’s side. Matt & Robbie, you guessed, were in the bed of the truck & leaping over the sides. The passenger side opened then & Bear stepped out. You didn’t care about what Rafe wanted then. Pushing past him, you launched yourself towards Bear, enveloping his larger frame into a hug.

            “I’m so glad you’re back.” You spoke into his chest. He pulled you back then, looking you in the eye. You frowned when you saw his face. He had a black eye & split lip.

            “What happened?” Your voice rose with worry.

            Bear’s eyes flashed briefly to Micah who was rounding the front side of the truck. You followed his line of sight.

            “Micah, hey.” You offered a small smile.

            But Micah didn’t return it. He paused, staring at you bewildered. Then his expression changed to one of deep anger. It made your skin go cold. What was his problem?

            Without a greeting or smile back at you, Micah stomped towards Rafe. Rafe tossed you a concerned glance before he & Micah stepped inside.

            Turning back to Bear, you inspected his face, “What happened?”

            But Bear was looking at you that same way Micah had. He looked confused.

            “Are you okay?”

            You stepped back, surprised by his question. Why would he be asking you that?

            “I’m fine…” Your voice faded, “Why?”

            His eyes flashed over your head to the mill behind, likely looking for Rafe & Micah.

            “Why are you talking to him?”

            “Who? Micah?”

            Bear frowned.

            “Why wouldn’t I?” You questioned, but you felt hurt by the inclination. Had something happened between you & Micah?

            Before Bear could respond, you heard the sound of your name being called.

            “Go get lunch.” Rafe ordered, his voice hard as he walked towards you & Bear.

            “But—”

            “Just go. I got it from here.” Rafe wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes solely placed on Bear.

            You felt like you were caught in the middle of an unspoken battle between the two of them. What the hell happened?

            “It’s okay.” Bear voiced, making you look back at him. He nodded, faking a smile, but you saw right through it.

            “Make sure you see Adrianna.” You told him, to which he nodded in agreement.

            Backing away from the two, you glanced over your shoulder in curiosity as Rafe blocked Bear from your view to speak with him.

            Inside, Micah was nowhere to be found. You began making your way to the second floor to get yourself some food. But as you did, you felt your stomach swimming & your head growing dizzy.

            Something was wrong. You had felt it when you first came to a week or so ago, but as the days passed, you felt the inkling growing stronger. Rafe was lying to you, or at least keeping some truth from you. There was too much negative tension, too many bad feelings in the air for you to be fully in the loop. That would come to an end. You’d make sure of it. If Rafe wouldn’t tell you the truth, you’d find someone who would.

            It was shortly after dusk when you found yourself crawling into bed. Rafe had yet to return to the room, & you saw little of him since lunch. Same with Micah. Bear.

            You felt like they were being kept from you, or you them. Either way, you’d confront Rafe about it.

            For the next twenty minutes, you read a book: a collection of Irish literature that someone had found & stored away on a bookshelf in the mess hall. But as you read, the words weren’t registering. Your mind was too busy trying to fill in the holes of your memory. But the more you tried the more your head hurt.

            You were mindlessly reading the final paragraph of a short story when the door to the bedroom opened. Rafe stepped inside, spying you on the bed before smiling. You didn’t return it. Dog-earing the page you were on, you placed the book on the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as you watched Rafe get undressed. His back was to you as he slipped out of his flannel, t-shirt, & jeans before he finally made his way towards you.

            “Watcha’ reading?” He asked, peering over you to see if he could spot the book. You shook your head, “Nothing.”

            He hummed in response, groaning quietly to himself as he slid under the covers shirtless & in his boxers. Once he was comfortable, his read resting against a pillow against the wall, he smirked up at you.

            “You alright?”

            You narrowed your eyes, “You tell me.”

            Rafe crinkled his brows at that, “What’s wrong?”

            “Something.” You blatantly pointed out, “I don’t know what, but something.”

            He was silent, staring at you unblinkingly.

            “But you do.” You added, “And don’t deny it.”

            Rafe sighed, sitting forward, “Okay, what’s this about?”

            You glared at him, frustrated that he was playing dumb, “Don’t. Don’t fucking do that. Don’t respond like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you know exactly what I’m talking about, Rafe!”

            Rafe returned your glare then as he studied your face, “And what exactly is it do you think I know?”

            “Everything!” You exclaimed, your voice cracking. No, you pleaded with yourself, don’t start crying now.

            “Everything, Rafe. Do you think I’m blind? Stupid?” You asked incredulously. “Micah looked at me like he hated me. Bear has his walls up. You’re keeping me from them. What the fuck is going on? And don’t feed me some bullshit about it all being in my head. It’s not!”

            “Okay, okay, calm down, will ya?” Rafe sighed, looking away in contemplation. You stared at him, willing him to look you in the eye & tell you the truth.

            “You & Micah aren’t friends.” Rafe finally looked at you, but revelation shocked you.

            “What? Why?” Your voice shook.

            “Because he…” Rafe fluttered his eyes closed in frustration, “blames you for Millie’s death.”

            What? You blinked away tears as the words repeated in your head.

            “Why would he…?”

            “I don’t know. I mean, I do, but it still doesn’t make sense. He’s angry, wants someone to blame. He picked you.” Rafe licked his lips, shaking his head, “And as far as Bear goes, he uh, he doesn’t agree with my method of doing things.”

            Though you were still stuck on Micah’s hatred toward you, especially the reasoning, you were concerned about what Rafe had just revealed about Bear.

            “Your method?”

            Rafe inhaled sharply, “I’ve done some shitty things, _____. But they were necessary. For our survival.”

            “What’d you do?” You were beginning to regret learning the truth.

            “I’ve hurt people.” Rafe responded flatly, as if he was removing himself emotionally from the conversation, “Killed them.”

            “The men in the woods?” You asked, suddenly recalling a vague memory.

            “Yes.” Rafe nodded, “And others.”

            “Others?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

            “It doesn’t matter.” Rafe shook his head, “I did what was needed for us to get this far. I did what no one else could or would do.”

            You frowned, your mind running wild with the possibilities.

            “And the only reason I’m keeping a close eye on you is because not everyone here can be trusted.” The final piece of information unsettled you.

            “They know what you mean to me, & they know your condition. If anyone here wants to get rid of me, they know to go through you to get that done.”

            “That doesn’t make sense.” Your head was throbbing, “If you don’t trust some of them, why are they here?”

            Rafe met your eyes, his gaze unwavering. “Because we need them.”

            Your head was still spinning but your heart softened. Your distrust faded.

            “I told you I wouldn’t risk losing you again. I need the others to keep that from happening.” It surprised you to see his eyes begin to wet, redden, like he was holding back his own tears.

            “This is the new world now, _____.” Rafe began, “Our enemies become our resources to survive, whether we like it or not.”

            “I understand.” You commented. But you didn’t. Something was still off. But you couldn’t pinpoint it.

            Rafe smiled but it wasn’t happy or real. You scooted closer to him on the bed. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his shoulder. You felt him shudder beneath your touch. Feeling braver, you maneuvered him so he was in a position where he lied with his head on your chest. Rafe was quick to wrap his arms around your middle, tugging himself closer to you.

            “Thank you.” You whispered, your fingers running through his hair.

            He turned onto his back then, looking up at you. There he was, your best friend staring up at you with that look of longing. Before you could say anything or stop it, he placed his hand on the back of your neck & pushed himself up.

            Rafe kissed you, his lips soft yet firm. You resisted at first, but found you had nowhere to go with his hand keeping you in place. And then before you knew it, you were kissing him back. It wasn’t because you necessarily wanted to, or because you had a sudden epiphany about being attracted to him, but because it was the first honest thing you had gotten in the last week. So you welcomed it. If only for a moment.

            Rafe rolled onto his front, never letting his lips separate from yours. He easily found himself between your legs, but the second you felt his prominent arousal pressed against your center, you gasped, shoving him back.

            “I’m sorry.” You covered your mouth, your hands shaking, “I can’t. I’m not, I don’t know. I just, I’m not ready.” You admitted.

            Rafe sighed, & you could tell he was mildly irritated, but he nodded once, “Okay.”

            He rolled over to his side of the bed then, looking at the wall. A pang of guilt shot you in the chest. Ignoring your nerves, you eased toward him, situating his arm over your shoulders as you rested your head on his chest. You felt relieved when you felt Rafe relax into it.

            “I’ll get there, okay? But I have to go slow.” You craned your neck to look up at him. Rafe’s face was expressionless but he nodded, leaning forward to kiss you on the forehead. Your skin burned where his lips touched.

            “I know you will.” He replied, “I’m just impatient to have you back.”

            The two of you settled into bed in that position, & soon enough Rafe was breathing evenly as he slept. But you lied there wide awake, reflecting on everything he had just revealed to you; more so on your relationship with him. You were genuinely worried that he would never get you back, & if that was the case, you worried about your status among the group. You felt that if you didn’t fall back in love with Rafe Cameron then you would cease to exist. And as much as you hated to admit it, you needed him to survive. It’s like what he said: our enemies are our resources to survive. Rafe Cameron was yours.

quite a bigger chapter for you all! i apologize in advance for the last half of this as i wrote while being drunk (teehee). anyway! just a filler chapter to ground reader's suspicions & her struggles with amnesia.

as always, please share your thoughts w me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask.

thank you for reading!

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[navybrat817]

The Red Woods

Pairing: Lumberjack!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve tells you a story as he keeps you warm by the fire. Word Count: Over 2.7k Warnings: Implied sex, spooky story (violence), attempted scare, humor, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #5 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense belongs to Lumberjack!Steve thanks to this poll winner. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The moon and stars lit up the night sky, beckoning you to go outside and bask in the beauty. Cold settled into your bones as you stepped outside and shivered. It was chillier than you expected and you debated going back into the comfort of the cabin. Steve had already started the bonfire nearby though and you knew the heat from the flames would warm you up.

So would your lumberjack.

Steve carried an extra load of wood from the shed as you walked toward the fire. He set up a spot for you to sit beside each other, but you had a feeling he'd have you in his lap as the night went on. He liked having your body close to his, whether it was after a long day of work or coming home after a mission. You enjoyed it, too, because he enveloped you with his love.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, catching the slight tremble in your body as you took a seat. "When I suggested the fire, I didn't think it would be this cold."

"It's okay," you assured him as he added another log to the fire. The rich and powerful scent from the smoke soothed you as you stared into the flames. "But what made you so adamant to have one tonight?"

"No particular reason," he replied casually, wiping his hands before he sat down beside you. It was a bit too casual, but the red and orange from the flames dancing along his face distracted you. The urge to reach up and touch his beard was strong. "Wasn't something I really got to do in the city."

Part of you would always love the city. So would Steve. There was always something to do and inspiration could be found around every corner. It didn't mean it was home though. It was a place to visit, to remember. Your place in the woods with each other was where you were meant to be.

And the love of your life provided plenty of inspiration if you ever needed it.

"I don't remember ever having a fire there," you said after thinking about it. There weren’t many places to have fires. Your old apartment didn’t even have a fireplace.

"Hardly ever saw the stars," he added.

You nodded a little, your fingers scratching along his chin. If your touch was too cold, he didn't make a big deal out of it. "I didn't really get to appreciate the stars from my old apartment either," you said, tilting your head to look up at the sky. "But out here? It's like they serenade us. It's a chorus that resonates with the moon until the sun comes up."

Steve wrapped an arm around you, allowing your body to heat up more. He was your own personal heater. "Even when you're not writing, your words are beautiful."

You couldn't blame the fire or his body for the heat that filled your face. His opinion on your writing meant the world to you. "You're just saying that to get in my pants," you teased.

He chuckled as his mouth moved close to your ear. "I already did that this morning," he whispered.

You exhaled, remembering the two of you tangled up in each other. Lazy, soft kisses and lingering touches as he made love to you. His large body pinning yours to the mattress, his hips thrusting in a slow rhythm like the gentle waves of an ocean. You nearly sobbed when you came, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he quickly followed.

You had lovers before Steve, but he taught you the true meaning of making love.

"And I'm sure you'll do it again before the sun comes up," you whispered.

"If I have my way," he said, pulling you closer. Your hand fell to his shirt, gripping the flannel. Your super soldier was insatiable some days, but you weren't going to complain when you both reaped the benefits of his appetite.

"It's too bad the gang isn't here. Otherwise we could tell spooky stories," you said. Maybe you could invite Bucky and Jewel over another night for dinner. It was nice that Steve had one of his best friends not too far away. Sam also didn’t mind making trips to visit.

"Well, you and I can still tell stories to pass the time," he said, kissing the top of your head. "How about I start? Even though I’m not the best storyteller."

“That’s a lie. You’re a great storyteller,” you said, lifting your head and seeing a hint of a blush in his cheeks. With his deep, commanding voice, the man could read the phone book to you and you'd listen. You teased at times that he could do a podcast if he wanted to. Or erotic recordings. "And I don't scare easily, but you can try."

You didn’t mind a healthy dose of fear now and again. It was natural and helpful in some situations. It was also fun and exciting in the right setting, like this.

"I'm sure you've heard all sorts of different stories about creatures and spirits who live in the woods," he began, which earned a nod from you. "Local legend says there's a spirit right here who controls part of the forest: The Lumberman."

"Wow. A lumberjack is telling a story about a lumberman? How original," you said, your deadpan expression dropping when he pinched your side. "Hey! I was kidding."

"Let me tell the story," he said, brushing his lips against the top of your head again as an apology. "They say long ago that a lumberman lived in the deepest part of the woods. He had no family or friends and mostly kept to himself. He only ventured into town to sell the wood he chopped down."

"A loner," you said, already invested.

"Yeah, he was. Not unfriendly. Just a quiet man. And all was well until a local woman went missing. The town searched everywhere for her and couldn't find her. It was like she vanished without a trace. Her family demanded answers, so people shifted the blame to him," Steve explained, a slight breeze rolling by.

You frowned as you listened. It was just a story, but you knew how dangerous mob mentality could be. "What happened?"

"A group of men confronted him in his home and demanded to know what he did with her body. He swore he didn't know what happened and that he would never hurt a soul, but they didn't listen. They were out for blood,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “When he still refused to admit to any wrongdoing, the men took turns hacking him up with one of his axes and burned his cabin to the ground. They even brought the axe back as some sort of trophy, stained with his blood."

"Jesus," you whispered, scooting a bit closer.

"It was only after they killed him did the girl show back up in town alive and well. Not a scratch on her. She had gone a couple towns over to meet up with some guy," he said, rubbing your arm.

"So they condemned an innocent man to death," you said.

"They did," he said, nodding toward the trees. "Most of the townspeople didn't venture to his part of the woods out of fear that his spirit would seek revenge. And they were right."

You raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue.

"Over the years, hikers and locals who were brave enough to go on his old land went missing. Their bodies were never found, but people say you can hear their screams echo through the air if you get close enough,” he said, pausing to look around with a somber expression. "And that they became part of the trees."

Glancing around as well, it was difficult to make out the trees in the darkness. "They became part of the trees? How?"

"As you get closer to his land, you can see faces twisted in pain in the bark if you look closely enough. Some even say there’s blood in the sap and dripping from the branches. They even renamed that part of the forest the Red Woods since the paths have inexplicable red dirt, like blood had seeped into the soil," he said, lowering his voice as if to tell you a secret. "It’s like a warning to turn back."

"That is not why they call it the Red Woods," you argued, though you weren’t completely sure now. You actually had no idea why the area got that name.

"That’s how the story’s told."

"So an innocent man was hacked to pieces in his home," you said slowly. "And now he kills anyone who steps into his territory?"

"Condemned to a terrible fate. Just like he was," he said as simple as that. "And people still go missing to this day."

You smiled a bit. There was nothing at all uplifting or funny about the story, but Steve spoke with such seriousness that you almost believed the tale was real. "Okay, but why is he still haunting the woods? If it's revenge on the men who killed him or the townspeople in general, he wouldn’t go after random, innocent hikers."

Steve’s head tilted as he looked at you, something a bit more sinister in his gaze. "Isn’t it obvious? They took his axe. He’s waiting for someone to return it."

A heartbeat passed before you huffed. "Of course, he is. The axe that the men brought back as a trophy," you said, gesturing toward the toolshed. "It’s too bad you don’t have it. You could help put his soul to rest."

"What if I told you I do have it?" he asked.

Your heart rate increased before you huffed again. "You’re a great storyteller, but a terrible liar, Beefcake."

His eyes shot to yours, maintaining eye contact as he reached beside him. You raised an eyebrow when he held up an axe. You had to admit, you knew his tools well and that was one you didn’t recognize. "See? Still stained with blood," he told you, holding it closer to the fire so you could see the blade. "Should we go into the Red Woods and return it?"

You didn’t admit that your stomach turned a little as you brought your hands up and slowly clapped. "Bravo. You went all out for this story. And, no, I’m not going into the woods when it’s this cold out," you said before a snap from a twig nearby drew your attention, making you tense up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, setting the axe down.

"Oh, you had to have heard that. Your hearing is ten times better than mine," you argued, standing up and narrowing your eyes to try and see when you heard another twig snap. You froze before you began to giggle. "Okay, Bucky! Come on out! I know Steve put you up to this."

Steve jumped to his feet and pushed you behind him. He wouldn't let anything happen to you. "Buck isn’t here. He's at home with Jewel," he said in a hushed tone.

"Wait, you didn’t convince him to come out of the woods to try and scare me?" You asked, placing your hands on his back when he shook his head. "Okay. It’s probably just an animal then."

SNAP.

"I don’t think an animal did that," he whispered, guiding you toward the cabin. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. "I think we should-"

"Give…" you stopped at the sound of a demonic voice just beside the toolshed, your heart thumping. "Me…" a man stepped out of the darkness, dragging his left foot behind him. "My…" His decayed skin was caked with blood as he lifted a hand. "AXE!"

Your eyes widened before you snapped out of your stupor. "Oh, fuck this," you muttered, pulling away from Steve who called after you. Grabbing your shotgun from the porch, you brought it to your shoulder and cocked it. "I don’t have an axe, Lumberman, but I’ll shoot you in your fucking face if you take a step closer."

"Whoa!" Steve shouted, holding out his hand for the "zombie" to stop. "Don’t move. She’s serious!"

"Fuck," the zombie muttered, tapping the side of his neck. "Seriously? I really thought I’d get you," the demonic voice fading to a normal tone.

"CLINT?!" you guessed, lowering your gun. The former Hawkeye nodded. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"For the record, this wasn’t my idea," Steve said, an innocent look in his blue eyes. "And I told you she wouldn’t get scared. I don’t know why you insisted on this."

No wonder he wanted to have a fire tonight.

"Okay, okay. It was my idea. Everyone is off doing their own thing and I just wanted to have some fun," Clint explained, walking closer toward the fire as he began to peel the makeup away and toss it in to burn. "This didn’t work on Jewel either! She grabbed one of Bucky’s knives and almost stabbed me."

You laughed a little. No doubt Bucky was both proud of and scared for his girl for that move. "Maybe because, I don’t know, in the story Steve told the Lumberman was hacked to pieces and you’re clearly not. There was also no indication that the Lumberman could leave his territory. Everyone went missing on his land. So why would he be here?"

Clint exchanged a look with Steve. "She has a point," your husband said.

These men are defenders of the universe.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks for that," you said, putting the gun back where it belonged. "I have to ask though, why prank me? And why prank Jewel?"

Clint shifted a bit on his feet. "So the guys could be heroes? But seeing as how you grabbed a gun and Jewel grabbed a knife, I think you two are good."

You had to smile as you turned your attention back to Steve. "You wanted to be my hero and protect me from a zombie?"

With a sheepish smile, Steve nodded and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I did," he said in a small voice. "It’s stupid, right?"

Your man, a true hero who saved hundreds of lives, simply wanted to protect you from anything bad. You never loved him more. "It’s not stupid. I think it's kind of sweet," you assured him. "Clint, please, put out the fire and get the hell out of here. Steve, get inside so we can have sex and get warm."

Clint coughed into his hand. "Can I at least get a coffee before I go? I was out there for a while and it’s a little chilly."

Steve ignored his friend as he gave you a smile. "You’re really going to sleep with me after we tried to prank you?" he asked, looking at his feet for a split second. "And you know I’d never want to scare you, right?"

"Yeah, I’m really going to sleep with you. And I know the last thing you’d ever want to do is frighten me. All you want to do is protect me," you smiled. You weren’t going to deny yourself pleasure, especially since you were starting to get cold again. "But for the record, this is pity sex for failing your prank and not grabbing the gun first," you added, giggling when he took two large steps toward you.

Clint stared after you as Steve grabbed and pulled you toward him, fastening his mouth to yours. "So, is that a no on the coffee?"

Your friend eventually got his coffee before he went on his way. After Steve thoroughly wore you out, he promised to stick to cuddling in front of a fire moving forward. Making love in front of a fire was also on the table, whether it was in front of the fireplace or outside under the stars. Though he never did tell you where he got that axe or why it really looked like it was stained with blood.

But maybe you could convince Clint to take that axe into the Red Woods and show Steve how to really scare someone.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wolfs-archive]

"So what? Does that change my love towards you?" Part 2

Masterlist || Part 1 || Part 3

Summary: A casual day to the coffee shop makes Hyunjin fall in love with barista Y/N who is also a student but with a different major at the same college, hiding his identity he catches up casually and they fall in love initially. What happens when Y/N finds the true identity about Hyunjin. Read more to know what happens.

Pairing: Student!Hyujin X BaristaFemaleStudent!Y/N

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive, mentions of marriage, drunk confessions.

Note: This is Part 2 to the "So what? Does that change my love towards you?". The Hyunjin or the other members mentioned here are no where related to the idol Stray Kids and are just a fictional character. Minors DNI please!!!

"The semester exams are finally over, yayy!!" exclaimed Y/N. "That means I'll not get to see you the next 10 days" pouted Hyunjin. "Ah, look at you, we can still talk over the phone have video calls an what not. Just 10 more days and we can meet again" she responded. "But nothing comes to meeting my Y/N in real" he said caressing her face. "Do you really need to go?" he asked. "Yes, Hyune, my parents are waiting for me, shouldn't I go meet them" she said pinching his nose. "Ok fine" he said.

The college closed for vacation. Y/N left to her hometown and spent her time with her parents. One night, she was busy reading a story book, her mom had called her to have dinner, she went and when she came back, she realised the windows to her room were open. As it was snowing outside, she went to close the windows, when she saw a human figure, hiding behind her curtains. "Aaaaaahhhhhh" she shouted, immediately the person behind the curtains came out to shut her mouth. Seeing who it was she was shocked. Immediately she heard her mom asking what the matter was, to which she replied that it was a big sized cockroach. She then told her that she threw it outside the window. Then immediately went to close her doors and locked it. "Hyunjin, what are you doing here at this time?" she whisper shouted as she glanced the clock to check the time. "I called you a number of times, you didn't pick my call so I came" he said. "She went to check her phone. "Oh, it was in silent mode. May be that's why I guess" she said chuckling. "He sat next to her, pulling her in a tight hug whispering to her ears," I missed my Y/N, I wanted to meet her. Wait a minute. Did you just call me a cockroach, that too a big one? Usual Hannie is called as a bug. Do you know what this cockroach does?" he said as he leaned forward for a kiss. "What?" Y/N asked with a smirk, as she pulled him by the collar. "Hyunjin's girl friend is becoming bolder day by day" commented Hyun. "If you don't like it then I won't do it" she said, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she listened to the way he adressed her. "Who said that?" he said, as he kissed her. The kiss came to a stop when Y/N heard a knock on the door. "Oh my god, I'm done for. My parents would kill me, hide under the bed" she said. "Coming" she said as she went to receive the door. "Y/N, you forgot your glass of milk" her dad said. "Thanks dad" she said, as she closed the door. Hyunjin who hid under the bed came out. "What did you say" he asked "I thanked my dad" she said. No not that before that he said, with a grin on his face. "Coming" she said. "Want to?" he asked. "What no, Nothing of those sort now, anything you want you can have your Y/N after marriage. Ok?" she asked. Knowing how adamant she was with that particular topic, he said "Ok fine". Y/N walked towards the bed, made Hyunjin sit on the soft mattress and leant on him. "Hyune, 2 more days and we would meet anyways. You didn't have to come so long to meet me" she said. "It's okay Y/N, I came because I love you." he said. "If you love her, you should struggle to come, not tag us along too" said Seungmin and Felix who had struggled to climb up the windows of Y/N's house. "Come in Felix and Seungmin" Y/N invited as she handed them a glass of water each. "Bro, you should come for your love, why should we too wait?" asked Felix. "You could have called me" said Hyunjin. "We tried, you left your phone in the car and we literally waited for 3 hours before deciding to climb up" Seungmin said. "Sorry, I didn't know you were all coming too. You can take Hyunjin away now" she said giggling. "Y/N ah, I don't want to go" he said with a dramatic gasp. "2 more days baby" she said and all the three left the way they came up earlier.

2 days later, college started and on the third day, when Y/N was working her part time at the cafe she heard the manager calling out everyone for a small meeting. "Today we have another person joining our Stay Cafe" she said as she clapped her hands. Seeing who it was, Y/N's face lit up. "Y/N will explain your duties. Dismiss!!!" she said "Hwang hyunjin, what are you doing here" asked Y/N. "I didn't want to stay away from my Y/N, so I joined the Stay Cafe to stay with her till I get tired" he said. She smiled and the duo started working together.

Later, one day in the university, Chan and Hyun had gone to the Computer department. "You know what, you are distracting me, once I see you, I'm not able to concentrate the entire day" she said hitting his chest. "Is it? Then I'll come everyday, so you can think of me everytime." he replied with a smirk. "Can you both have your flirting a little later, I'll leave after telling her why I came here" he said. "Sorry Chan, didn't notice you" she replied with her tongue sticking outside. "Yea, I get it. That's how love is" he said. "Jokes apart, It's my birthday the day after, I'm planning to throw a small bday party. I really wish it would be nice, if you could make it, and yea please bring Lily too." he said. "Sure Chan, but do you want me to come or was it for Lily to come" she asked with a smirk. "It's.... ". he said as he placed a hand on his head. "Ok, I get. Don't worry, If you really like Lily, I can help you" she said. "Deal" he said with a thumbs up. "Deal" she responded with the same gesture.

"Thank you Y/N for coming and thank you for coming Lily" he said. Hyunjin was stunned seeing how, beautiful Y/N was. In his 6 months of dating her, he never ever had seen her so beautiful. He was completely mesmerized by her and he was too stunned to speak. "Hwang, what are you looking at like this?" she asked. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you are? You are literally breathtaking. Y/N you are doing something to me now, I don't know to describe it." he said. "Mr. Sexy Dynamite Hwang, don't make this bday party into a gender reveal party please" commented Han. "Get a room the 2 of you" Changbin said. "Ok, let's start the party" said I.N as Lee Know brought the pre ordered cake to the table. After the cake cut ceremony, Chan called everyone for a toast, and started partying. In the meantime, Y/N who didn't know she had low tolerance consumed an alcohol with high alcohol content, making her drunk. To make her sober, Hyunjin took her out. Upon reaching the lawn, "Y/N sit down and have some water" he said. "No, I want you to feed it for me" she said sheepishly. He smiled and fed her water. A few minutes later, she got up to adjust herself, lie on Hyunjin's lap gazing the stars. "Do you know what? I have the best boyfriend in the world. He is the most handsome, no no he is the most sexy. That is why he is called Sexy Dynamite Hwang" she said whispering the name. Looking at Y/N he started giggling. She then looked up at him and said, "I don't know if I have ever told you how much I love you. I fell for you the day I saw you at Stay Cafe. That day you were busy to notice me, but I liked you starting that day. The day following that, I really felt happy when you came back to me. Knowing you were Lee Know's and I.N's friend made things even more comfortable. Even if you hadn't asked me out or confessed to me, I would have tried my best to sweep you of your feet." caressing his face, she further added, "You know how I wish to live my life fully with you? I want us to get married, have kids, how many kids do you want?" she asked. "2, a boy and a girl" he replied. "See, that's why we match each other. That's exactly how I want it. A boy and a girl named Hwang Ho jun, and Hwang Hye in, we can grow old together, have fun, raise kids and have a happy life" she said. Tears flooded, as he realised how much she loved him and that his love was nothing when compared to him. But before he could say anything, Y/N passed out. Lifting her in bridal's style, he took her to his room to make her sleep. "A boy and a girl named Hwang Ho jun and Hwang Hye in" said a voice as he came out from his room. "How did you hear it?" asked Hyunjin who was mocked by Lee Know. "Y/N was loud enough to be heard by everyone" he said smirking. "He choice of names seems to be niceright?" he asked flustered. "Yea" said Han.

Few more days had passed, one fine day, when Lee Know, Seungmin went to the cafe, "Y/N, we want to see Hyunjin's barista skills. Don't prepare our order." said Seungmin. "Hyunjin ah, you do it for us" he said. Rolling his eyes, he went to add ice to the cup "How dare you ask me to do it for you, come to the dorm Seungmin, I'll air fry you." he snapped. "Irrespective of who you are you decided to do it for Y/N right?" Lee Know commented. "What's goin on, who are you? Why do you want to air fry our Seungmin" Y/N asked. Realising the blunder Hyun made, he tried to gloss off the conversation which Y/N found unusually strange. "If you don't tell it to me now, I'm not talking to you" she said with slightly fuming face. Surrendering, Hyunjin said, "They wanted me to do this work because they have never seen me doing it for others, because I usually don't it coz I'm not used to it, they have always taught me how to do chores, so never ever had they thought that I would work here." he replied. "What, you are talking like the son of some big businessman" she chuckled making fun of him. "I...I am" he said. It took a moment for her to register what she heard. That moment she left everything as it was and left the cafe.

2 weeks passed by, there was not a day Hyunjin went to the computer department to talk to her, only to find her absent. When the group summoned Lily to ask about Y/N's whereabouts, "Hyunjin, after her parents and sister, you were the one she loved the most. She didn't expect you to be from an affluent family. She really cried the whole night that she started running a fever. To forget about you, she...." she started. "Tell me Lily, please it has been 2 weeks since I have slept or eaten properly, not to mention she is not attending my calls either" he complained. "..... she has gone to her home" Lily completed.

Back in her home, Y/N had felt so sick, that she refused to eat or sleep properly. When their parents asked her what it was, she said she was not physically feeling well. As parents who took concern about their daughter, they left it loose but one day, "Y/N, I know you don't want dad to butt into your problems, but as parents we can't stand to see our child like this. Loosing one child was already a hell going experience. We don't want to loose you too. If you really feel like sharing the trouble with us, we are all ears" her dad said. Y/N listening to the consoling words of her parents started to burst into tear and explained them her love life and how it was on the brink of a break up. Her parents after listening to it, "Y/N, I get why you don't want to talk to Hyunjin, but I also know that you are not a coward like your sister to choose death rather than fighting for your own love. If you want something always fight for it no matter what the outcome is. You'll have satisfaction that you at least tried. Death is always not a solution" advised her parents. The words of her parents made Y/N think about her thoughts to break up. That's when she felt, "Why not fight for Hyunjin rather than fighting for death" after all Hyunjin was the love of her life.

As Y/N was packing her bags to leave her house to meet Hyunjin and share her made up mind. The bell rang, and Y/N's mom was met with Hyunjin, he introduced himself and pleaded if he could speak with Hyunjin. Seeing Hyunjin's pathetic state, her mom said, "Hey Hyunjin, Y/N told about you, she is packing upstairs to meet you don't worry, you can go meet her". He thanked her and went upstairs. When he knocked on the door, "Come in" Y/N said. He opened it, and before she could see who it was, she was engulfed in a hug and met with a kiss. The warmth feeling made her realise who it was, and as tears started to spring through her eyes, she said," Do you know why I don't like affluent men? My sister....."she was cut by Hyunjin who said, "I know Y/N, your sister..... my intention was not hide it from you...."I know I'm from an affluent background. So what? Does that change my love towards you?" he asked "But do you know what? Unlike my sister, I have decided to fight for my love" she said. "Y/N my parents are not like other parents, they literally love me whole heartedly, though they run a business or our college, they have never stopped me from doing what I have always wanted to do. That's why I chose designing and they were fine with it. Also, they would really love you and cherish you once they see that you are the person who makes their son happy. My mom has always said that love is something that cannot be forced and that I have the rights to choose who I love or marry provided she should be a good person and not be a gold digger. I know about you. Surely my parents will be happy to see you and make you their daughter-in-law" he said. A rush of relief spread over her as she listened to the words that came out from him, "You know what, you suck as a barista, so please quit it." she said. "Then how'll I see you" he said as he placed his head on the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry Hyune, for hurting you, I should have faced you not run away". "I'm sorry too, I should have too told you about myself" he said. "Can you please now leave me, I'll pack and we can go together?" she asked. "I'll never leave you, you are stuck with me for eternity" he said as he pressed a kiss on her temple.

[suseagull5914]

@flufftober day 17: Only One Bed

Henry can't believe this. “What are you doing here?”

This is what he gets for attending June's wedding. He loves her, he does- after all, she's the person he can talk to about anything and everything, his best friend (in addition to Pez, of course) but her brother is another story.

Alex grinned and spread his arms wide. “Didn't my dear sister tell you? We're roommates! She said it would save money.”

It does, it's true, but Henry is pretty sure he’s willing to take the hit if it means he doesn't have to share a room with Alex, of all people, especially considering- “You have noticed how many beds are in here, right?” Sure, they’re both adults, and it’s a king-size bed, but still. There’s a little secret Henry has been holding on to for years: that Alex is the most attractive man Henry has ever seen, and he's had a crush on him for years. Sharing a bed with him is something Henry has never dared hope for even in his wildest dreams- and even if he maybe had once or twice pictured it, Alex sprawled out on the mattress behind him, he had never wanted it to be in these circumstances.

Alex winces. “Yeah, I need to text her about that…”

“No, don't,” Henry protests in a rush. He'll regret this later, he's sure, but he's adamant. “June has enough to worry about. She doesn't need this.”

Alex is looking at him curiously. “Is there a specific reason you don't mind?”

Henry gulps. If he had made a bingo card for this year, coming out to Alex and revealing his feelings would definitely not have been on it. “I-”

In a flash, Alex crosses the room. He's always been so much shorter than Henry. Henry knows this. So how does it seem like Henry suddenly has no room, no air to breathe?

“Admit it,” Alex murmurs. “Please, please finally put us both out of our misery and say it, sweetheart: you've had a crush on me for ages.”

Henry's mind goes blank. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I wanted to text June to have us in separate rooms because I couldn't stand the thought of sharing a bed with you without at least getting to kiss you.”

Now Henry is the one closing the (at this point minuscule) distance between them. “Then kiss me, love.”

Alex does. Christ, does he- and it's the best kiss of Henry's life, just as he knew it would be- everything he'd imagined and more.

Henry needs to text whoever's responsible for this (likely June's bride, Nora) and thank her. This night is already better than he ever dreamed it could be.

[klanceficatalogue]

hi! i was wondering if you had any band au stories?? those are something i really like reading

definitely :) enjoy - k

twin sized mattress by breadpoetsociety (1/1 | 3,811 | Teen and Up)

"I'm gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient," Lance sang, smile now no longer gracing his face. His eyes instead bore an intensity, a question on the tip of his tongue but never asked. "I'm gonna have to learn that this love will never be convenient." Keith could almost feel the lyrics forming on his tongue even though he'd never heard this song before. He knew the feeling and Lance could put it into words for him. They did make a good team. (Lance makes music. Keith is trying.)

Little Notes by Sachiela (1/1 | 11,276 | Teen and Up)

Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Shay form a band called Interstellar Lions, where Lance is lead guitarist and songwriter. But he can't find the inspiration for a ballad. The others suggest that he asks out their manager, who he'd been crushing on for months. Despite his reservations, he does just that. And the rest is just pure fluff.

(hunk/shay)

A Song Worth Singing by orphan_account (1/1 | 2,773 | General)

“Oh? And it has nothing to do with- what’s the band’s name again?“ Shiro looked at Adam, pretending to think. “‘Keith Kogane, please notice me‘.“ Adam pursed his lips, finger tapping against his jaw. “No, I’m sure they were called, ‘I put on this event only to show off to Keith‘.“ Shiro shook his head. Keith rolled his eyes, “You old-timers have no idea what you’re talking about“ he huffed and looked away. It was a complete lie of course. Adam and Shiro knew exactly what they were talking about, both being professors at not only the university, but the same department as Keith and Lance.

(adam/shiro)

[thevelria]

Electric Love (Gojo x Reader) Chapter 4

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

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Summary:This is the 4th chapter of an AU story, some parts might be canon, but mostly not. It's going to be a love story between you and Satoru with some spice. Warning will be at the beginning of the chapters. Please read them carefully and skip if any of the listed warnings might trigger you. Otherwise have fun!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY//smutty smut! I mean detailed, heavy smut with a pinch of fluff.

Wordcount:2455

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

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

Finishing in the bathroom, you dropped a fluffy white towel around your body, when you heard a knock on your door. 

“Who’s this?” you frowned. As you walked you heard another knocking, a louder one. “I’m coming!”

When you opened the door your confused look told everything. A troubled looking Gojo was standing in front of you. His clothes were messy and you swore you saw some blood on them.

“Satoru? What are you doing here? What happened to you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a step forward, forcing you to let him in. Not a single word left his mouth before he grabbed your waist, pulling you into him. 

The next you remembered him lifting you up, as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Where?” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Second room, left.” you whispered. 

Gojo didn’t waste anymore time and roughly crashed his lips against yours. Kissing you with so much passion your body became jello. He entered your bedroom, tongues fighting for dominance. 

The mattress of your bed slightly bent under his weight, as he sat down on the edge with you on his lap. Your knees resting on the bed, caging him between your thighs. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, breaking the kiss, pulling a bit back.

“Now, I am.” he smiled. 

Looking at his worn face, you bit your lower lip, before your hand wandered behind his head. You’ve never seen his face entirely. That annoying blindfold always blocked the view and now you wanted to truly see him. Your fingers fidgeting with the cloth, while you were examining his expressions. But he neither stopped you nor said anything, so you kept going. Slowly freeing him from the straps until it fell down, revealing his angelic face.

Your eyes widened the second he made eye contact with you. 

“You are beautiful.” you whispered, as your palm caressed his cheek. In which he immediately rested his face. The snow white hair of his gave him an irresistible look. “Fuck, why do you hide yourself under this fold?” you chuckled, while blush crawled upon your face rapidly.

For a response he pulled you into another kiss. His huge palm rubbing your back up and down.

“I’m sorry for coming here, but I had to see you.” he broke the kiss, hands resting on your hips.

Now it was your turn to stay silent, enjoying the sight in front of you. In the next second he grabbed you and with an easy move he switched your position. Gently laying you down on the bed. He freed you from the towel, but you didn’t care. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

Slowly crawling upwards to the headboard made him smirk. He towered himself above you in a second. Your fingers grabbed his collar, pulling him in a kiss, which made him moan into your mouth. The second you started to undress him he lost his control. 

Gojo kneeled up, finishing the work you started and freeing himself from his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned torso.

“Damn, Satoru. I didn’t know you were this ripped.” sliding your fingers up and down on his abs. “You are full of surprise.” you chuckled.

“You have no idea.” he smirked, while leaning in once again. Planting featherlight kisses on your neck, shoulder, collarbone. Working his way lower and lower. 

One of his palms cupped your breast, as the other one grabbed your thigh. 

“Fuck…” you let out a desperate gasp the second he reached the bottom of your stomach. The way he looked up, into your eyes made you wild. You felt the tension pulsing between your legs. 

His palm let go of your breast and wandered down to your other thigh, grabbing into your flesh, opening you wide for him and leaning in. 

“You have no idea how I yearned for this.” he murmured, being so close that you felt his warm breath on your skin. 

Rushing your fingers through his snow white hair and moaning his name the second his tongue entered your needy part between your legs. Gojo lapped and sucked on your clit in a way that drove you insane. Head throwing back into the pillow, while your eyes rolled back in your skull. 

“God…” a loud moan left your mouth, while you bucked your hips. He clutched your thighs with his hands to keep you still, while kept eating you out like a starved man. Humming and growling here and there, enjoying your taste. 

The second he switched his tongue with one of his fingers you lost your control. The pace he chose was perfect. Just a few moments later one more finger entered your pussy, hitting the perfect spot again and again. 

He smirked, as he felt your wall clenching around his fingers.

“Damn, ‘Toru…” you moaned in lust “Just like that! Fuck, I’m so close…”

Gojo enjoyed the view you gave him. He wanted to pleasure you the way you deserved. And hearing you moaning his name turned him on even more. Speeding up the pace pushed you over the edge.

“I’m gonna…” you breathed heavily “I’m about to…” your sentence died into a lustful growl.

“Come baby, come for me.” 

He kept you in place as your high bursted out and you rode your climax under his fingers.

Blinded from desire you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Take off your pants.” you commanded and he obeyed. Freeing himself from every unwanted cloth, he crawled atop of you in an instant, burying his face in the crock of your neck. Resting his already hard shaft on your stomach. A slight hiss left your mouth, when he bit your neck, marking you. 

But then suddenly he kneeled up, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, confused.

“I don’t have a condom.” he shook his head, giggling in embarrassment.

“I’m on birth control.” you laughed “So don’t worry.” your eyes wandered down on his dick and he saw the fear on your face. “Fuck, ‘Toru, you are huge!” you gasped.

“Nah, baby…” he positioned himself to your entrance “You can take me, I know you can take me.”

He was gentle, sliding himself slowly in, inch by inch, giving you enough time to adjust. Even if it felt like a torture to him. He wanted nothing else, but to bury himself into you, pounding you senseless. You closed your eyes, trying to relax your tense body.

“You can move now.” you whispered. Gojo leaned in, his palms resting aside your head, biceps flexing, as he started to move. Painfully slow, sliding himself in and out. After a few minutes you clenched your legs around his waist.

“Please, ‘Toru…please go faster.” you begged. Your desperate voice made his dick twitch. He crashed his soft lips against yours, while he started fucking you.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud, the pleasure he was giving you made you dizzy. Your nails digging into his muscled back, leaving marks behind, but he didn’t mind at all. 

As his movement speeded up his balls slammed against your sore pussy. Unholy sounds echoed through the room. 

“You feel so good, baby. So damn good.” he mumbled “Look at you…you can take me so well.” he kept babbling under his nose.

Before you reached your next high you put your palm on his chest “Wait.” you panted.

“What’s wrong, princess? Am I hurting you?”

“No.” you smiled “Not at all. I want you to come behind me. I want to feel you even deeper.”

The cocky smirk that appeared on his face made you giggle. In a few seconds he put you on all four and slid himself in right away.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so tight!” he growled in lust, digging his long fingers into your hips. 

Gojo enjoyed you being a complete moaning mess under him. Your walls clenching around him, squeezing him hard as you were about to reach your climax. His hard shaft hitting that one special spot again and again drove you wild.

“‘Toru..I’m close!” you pushed yourself back, wanting to feel his whole length at once.

“Do it! Come on my cock!” he clenched his jaw, speeding up the pace.

His words pushed you over the edge, riding your orgasm under him. 

An animalistic moan bursted out from his throat as he also reached his high and filled you up. He thrusted once or twice more before pulling out and dropped himself down on the bed next to you.

As he rested on his back, facing the ceiling you scooted closer to him, resting your face on his chest. “That was amazing.” he played with your hair.

“It indeed was.” you agreed, before taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned.

“Should I ask what happened after you left the club?”

“Please, don’t.” he whispered.

So for now you kept silent, enjoying his embrace. 

***

The next morning Gojo woke up to be alone in bed. Tapping the side next to him to realize you were gone. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, slowly opening his eyes. As he yawned, sitting on the edge of the bed he automatically fidgeted with his blindfold, placing it back on his face. You pleft clean boxers on the chair near the bed.

“Hmm…” he hummed, while looking for his clothes, but couldn’t find anywhere. 

You were standing in the kitchen, baking some pancakes for breakfast, wearing panties and a tank top. Smiling like a schoolgirl and actually feeling like one. After last night’s hot ride you felt satisfied and happy. You didn’t even remember when was the last time you had mind blowing sex. But one thing was for sure, Gojo was an expert in the bed and you were grateful for it. Sighing deeply, biting your lower lip as memories of the night flashed in front of your eyes. 

“Good morning, princess.” Gojo’s husky voice snapped you back to reality.

“Morning, handsome.” you smiled, flipping the pancake in the pan. “I hope you like pancakes. Oh and I put your clothes in the washing machine, in less than an hour they will be clean and dry.”

“I love them.” he walked behind you, hugging you tight. Feeling his abs on your back sent shivers down your spine. It seemed it was enough to turn you on. Gojo noticed your body language and decided to take advantage. “So…” he murmured “Does it mean that we are dating?”

“Maybe.” you shrugged.

“That’s not good enough.” he giggled “It seems I need to convince you.” The way he pulled aside the strap of your top and planted a super light kiss on your shoulder gave you goosebumps. But he wasn’t intent on stopping yet. He kept kissing your neck, slowly. Brushing his soft lips against your skin, licking it. “How about now?” he smirked, feeling your body shaking from the tension he was giving you. 

“Nope…” you teased.

Gojo gently bit your earlobe and a soft moan rolled from your lips. “I can go even further, if you want me to.” he cooed into your ear, guiding one of his huge palms under your shirt, cupping your breast, squeezing it. 

As you baked the last pancake and placed it on the plate, you turned off the stove and faced him in an instant. Disappointedly noticing the blindfold on him.

“What’s wrong?” he tilted his head.

“Your eyes are so beautiful, your face is so handsome, but you hide it under this.” you picked your index finger gently under one of the straps of the fold.

“Do you want me to take it off?”

“Please.” you bit your lower lip. He took it off in a second, tossing it aside, then grabbing your hips and throwing you on the counter like you weighed nothing. You opened your legs wide for him as you pulled him into a passionate kiss. Clenching your legs around his waist, losing yourself in that sloppy kiss. “I want you ‘Toru.” you growled, sliding your hand down on his bulge. Rubbing his cloth covered throbbing shaft. 

“I’m gonna fuck dumb, baby.” he burried his face in the crock of your neck, biting it hard, leaving one more mark on you. As your fingers slid under the waistband of his boxers, trying to reach his dick you heard some noises from the front door.

“What the fuck?” you snapped your face in the direction of the door. Satoru also heard it, like someone would have tried to put the key in the keyhole. 

“Did you not change the lock?” he gave you a worried look.

“Uhm…” you pulled an awkward smile.

“Y/N.” he rolled his eyes.

Daniel opened the door with a victorious expression on his face, he was almost sure you already changed the lock. 

“Morning, baby. I’m home.” he cooed, walking to the kitchen. His arrogant smirk froze on his face the second he noticed you sitting on the counter in panties and Gojo standing between your legs only in boxers.

“You fucking whore!” he yelled “How dare you…” Daniel didn’t recognize Gojo with his blindfold completely off and his hair down, but the second he heard his voice the blood in his veins froze.

“You better spin on your heels and get the fuck out of this house.” Satoru’s cold voice made you uneasy. You saw the fear in Daniel’s eyes and it made you confused.

“Is it you?” Daniel gasped “Man, I didn’t know…I’m sorry, I just came to collect some of my stuff I left here.” 

“Wait. You know him?” you frowned, asking your ex. “I mean you barely met once…”

“We talked…” Gojo turned back to you, caressing your face “Right?” he side eyed Daniel, who nodded like an obedient puppy. “Let me walk you out.” he softened his voice.

As they were standing at the door you stayed on the counter, shaking your head. You definitely felt both of them were lying. 

“Give me the key.” Gojo commanded him. When Daniel's hand touched his it felt like a slight electric shock. Daniel faced transformed, thick lines appeared on his face and jaw. Looked like Sukuna’s marks, but with fire. Like hot lava would have boiled in the lines under his skin.

“Sorcerer…long time no see.” 

“Arvis?” Gojo’s eyes widened “What the fuck? How?”

“I’ve been looking for a vessel for so long. Sukuna suggested this body and man, he was right. It’s a strong one. I let the pathetic moron be in charge until he came here. But from now on he’s no more. Oh and one more thing, sorcerer…” the words dripped from his mouth like poison “You better watch out for your woman, before Sukuna gets her.”

[deijiyong]

Navigation: Next Part | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

2014 October 5th - Changkyun invites himself to your house

You wake up to you bedroom door opening

Being a light sleeper really be like that sometimes

What you weren’t expecting was to see Changkyun sneaking into your room with plastic bags full of snacks and a drink holder with two iced coffees

When he realizes you’re already awake, he dumps both coffees on you while he screams as if HE is supposed to be the one unsuspecting in this situation

You’re covered in coffee, frown frozen in place and Changkyun is begging you not to murder him because he’s trying to hang out with you today

MOM!!!

She’s not here

She just left

Please stop screaming

WHy are yOU hERE?!

Well, you blocked me

And I still want to talk

I figured we could hang out like old times

I even brought Frozen

Jooheon said Jiyeon wouldn’t watch it with you

I’m not watching Frozen with you, Kyun

GET OUT

Please, yn

I’m not asking you to forgive me for the past few years

I just want us to be cool again

I already watched Frozen alone, Kyun

I also brought that movie based on the book series I’ve seen you reading during lunchtime

You just stare at him

Why was he being so adamant about hanging out with you now? You’re seniors for crying out loud!! 

You were finally going to get the freedom you have been wanting since he-

If I remember correctly, we never really watched movies together, kyun

Sure they were running in the background

But you were always talking about yourself

Or asking me for advice to help Jooheon with Jiyeon

Which she now knows about, btw, so you’re lucky she hates you right now or she would’ve ended your life months ago

Then just hang out with me

We can eat our way through all these snacks

And we can drink,,, something else

You release a sigh, the stench of coffee was probably embedded in your mattress by now

There was no getting rid of it at this point

You ball up your blanket in your hands and toss it at CK, knocking him to the ground to land on top of one of the bags of snacks

You cannot help the laugh that leaves your mouths when he whines hearing a few of the bags pop open under him; not to mention the ungodly crunching of chips

You inspect the damage of your clothes as you drag yourself off you bed

Then glare down at the coffee spots on your bed

I cannot believe you spilled coffee on me

You owe me a new mattress

I’ll give you mine!

I don’t want that nasty thing

Who knows what you’ve done on that thing

Ew

Nothing any hormonal boy hasn’t done

EW

You grab clothes from your closet and move to the bathroom across the hall to shower

CK sits outside the door, body leaning against it

I know I don’t deserve it, yn

But can you please give me another chance

Idk~ you ruined my whole bed

Seems like you were just here to sabotage my living space 

Did Sara send you here to ruin my weekend as well?

She, uh, doesn’t know I’m here

I haven’t talked to her since Jooheon’s party

What a shame~ (sarcasm)

I’ll bet she’s just beside herself that her toy doesn’t jump when she tells him to

You’ve gotten mean since I left you (pouts)

Strange how being bullied for the past two years by YOUR gf does that

(throws his head back against the door) why didn’t you tell me how bad she was being to you?

Would you have done anything about it?

I have had more bruises and bodily injuries thanks to her than any football player my age

Would saying I’m sorry help any?

Probably not

I’m sorry

You don’t have to believe me

But I didn’t know she was being so mean towards you

Her friends always defended her whenever Jooheon would try to tell me what she had done

And,,, I believed them

Jooheon has been your best friend for years, Kyun

In all those years, had he ever lied to you about anything?

(sighs) no

I guess it’s my fault then

I should have tried harder to make you realize how bad she was

You shut the shower off, towel drying

I’m surprised Jiyeon didn’t 

She always seemed more upset than you ever were

You open the door, ignoring how he just lets himself fall down at your feet while you stare down at him

I think we both know why I was never able to approach you in school

My devilish good looks?

Your crazy ass gf

My problem with crowds and meeting new people

I would rather just avoid you than put myself through more pain

I’m sorry

You wait for him to stand before you take your drenched coffee-smelling clothes to your hamper where your blanket had ended up

Changkyun is hot on your trail, following you down when you take the dirty items down to the laundry room

Do you still have such a bad reaction to going to parties?

You mean: do I still vomit my guts out and back out of every last thing until people get so tired of me that I never see them again?

You can see how his face falls

That had definitely been something that you struggled with over the years

It wasn’t until you met Jiyeon; your rock that things had started to change

You made it to Jooheon’s party

I couldn’t not go

I don’t think you understand how convincing Jiyeon can be

Besides, we share Jooheon and I couldn’t miss his birthday

It’s the one thing I do for him and Jiyeon every year since we became friends

Share Jooheon?

So you never heard the rumors?

Supposedly, everyone is waiting for Jooheon to announce that he’s dating both me and Jiyeon before the end of the year

As if I could possibly get between those two

They’re perfect for each other

I’ve never heard that before

Jooheon has never mentioned it to me

Maybe because it involved me

You push past him to the kitchen to grab some apple juice from the fridge

It’s getting closer to noon and you’re not surprised when CK’s phone starts pinging like crazy

He checks the screen, flips it to mute and then slides it back into his pocket

Wow, good for him (insert eye roll)

I would answer that if you don’t want her to deck you on Monday

Better yet, answer it so she doesn’t kick my ass on Monday 

I’ll get back to her later

Does your mom still buy that Shasta pop?

Yeah, knock yourself out

He helps you change the covers on your bed

You both lay on your bed, neither really convinced that movie day is it

Instead, like always, Changkyun catches you up on what’s been going on with him since you last hung out together (minus Sara, obviously)

He was able to get a 3.7 GPA

He’d decided on music as his major

With only minimum backlash from his parents

They knew he was in love with music since he was young

It wasn’t hard to convince them to let him study it

He’d fallen in love with the Mortal Instrument series after seeing you reading it a few months back

Angry that Alec didn’t fall in love with Magnus as fast as he did

“I would have agreed to date Magnus the second I saw him”

He had created an audio portfolio of sorts since the two of you had split

It was what he submitted to the schools when they asked to see what he had been working on

He plays “Fly with Me” that he had written a couple of months after distancing himself from you

It sounds like a piano in the background

He admits that the finished version isn’t as soft as the one he’s played for you; because that version was only meant for you

He got into his first-choice school

Changkyun pulls you to him, dragging you to lay on his chest like you used to back when you were younger

His hand threads through your hair, nerves intensified since you haven’t talked since he started catching you up on him like he used to do

You both haven’t even realized how late it is until your mom comes into the room, a smile on her face when she sees you both like how she would find you years ago and asks if Changkyun is staying for dinner

That’s his cue, it seems when he disentangles himself from you and stands to leave - denying her question

I promised mom I would come back tonight

I’m sure she wouldn’t mind

You’re just across the street 

A promise is a promise

Your mom only nods and leaves the doorway

Changkyun turns back to you, lifting his phone

I’ll text you later, okay?

(you roll over away from him) who wants to talk to you

(he climbs back over you) come on, yn, I thought we could be friends again

You were finally talking to me

You’re just a weekend lover, Kyun

By Monday you’ll be back to your same attitude

Letting your gf prance all over me

Just go home

He does as you ask, afraid that you’re right

You don’t look back

But Changkyun does and it hurts him physically

He had to prove you wrong

He would prove you wrong

[tokkiwrites]

FAWN HEART PART THREE : love in death.

dark!joel x f!reader

part three | part one | part two | more coming soon.

summary: After a few months of being together, you move in with your boyfriend, 'Adam'. The landlord, Joel Miller, takes a special liking to you.

tags: dark!joel !!!!! , mention of murder, violence, blood, stalking, spying, mention of abuse, kidnapping, age gap, vulnerable reader, stalker joel, mentions of abusive relationship, literally insane joel, restraints, unrequited love, f reader w she/her pronouns. (lmk if i missed anything!!!)

ㅤ↪ㅤtokki's ۫ 𐑺 𝚜𝚞ׂ𝚐𝚊𝚛 ࣭ note ˑ ⌕ ࣭ ּ ➭ i have returned with the next part!! with just 1.5k words, this is more so exposition to set in where the next events will take place. remember guys, THIS IS NOT CUTE. This is crazy stalking behavior, but it is fiction. so stay safe out there. not proofread.

【commencing】: In the twilight of existence, there wandered a figure cloaked in the deepest midnight. She was Death, a woman of otherworldly beauty and a heart that beat with an emotion long thought foreign to her kind. Death had fallen in love.

「july 4th ㅡ unknown time」

A constant trickle sound bounces off the walls and all around you, you can't make out what it is quite yet, but as the fog clears from you vision you find yourself in a dimly lit room, the constant trickle being the rain outside, hitting the roof. Or maybe it was something elseㅡ You couldn't see. There were no windows. You look down and find yourself covered in blood that has blackened, and you want to get up, but you can't. Shaking your limbs, you find you've been cuffed to the frame of the bed you'd been sleeping in. The bed was white, and little fake-flower details plastered in corners where rust started to settle in. There were no sheets, just a splotchy mattress. This is a bed you've surely had nightmares about, or seen in horror movies. Yet, the walls around you told another story, pristine brick walls painted white, a large mural on the farthest one from you: a lush forest with critters all around and in the middle of it allㅡ a deer. one staring right back at you, eyes large as if it, too, was locked in this place alongside you.

you try to remember all that you can, snippets of last night's happening flowing back and over, transforming into tears that threaten to spill out again. You swallow in a sharp breath before screaming a short 'hello', the little echo in the room being the only answer. So you scream again and again until you're out of breath and resort to pulling on your restraints. It seems as if you can't even cry. The tears once there are now completely gone as it dawned on you: will i die today?

you're quickly pulled out from your self inquiry as rapid and heavy steps are heard closer to the door. then it opens revealingㅡ him. You stumble upon your words. " Please, I- What do you want? I'll do anything, just dontㅡ don't kill me please." Joel's brows quirk up, the wrinkles on his forehead hidden under his graying hair. "Why would I kill you, fawn?" it sounded like he was more confused than you at this moment. "Why would I kill the most precious thing to me right now..?" he looks down as he takes each step closer to the bed at the back of the room, where you were. You shudder, unbeknownst to what he might do. "I'm- I.. Why, why me?" You ask, that familiar feeling in your throat. "You? You are...everything." He huffs out the last part with a smile, head crooked as he now stands over you, knees at the edge of the bed. "Everything I've ever dreamed of, baby. I didn't wanna hurt you last night, really... And I'm sorry for this- mess." He says, waving his hands around. "It's not ready, but I didn't expect you to move in so soon. Last night wasn't...planned."

"Why did you do it then?" you find the courage to bite back. "Why'd you murder Adam?" You whisper, the air in the room settling freezing around you two. "Had to be done. I saved you." Joel points down at you, before kneeling down next to your head, as if ready to pray. "Saved you, fawn baby." He traces one of his roughed up finger along your neck, a big smile gracing his features. "I know it's hard for you to understand. But thisㅡ it's all for you. This-!" he exclaims whilst clutching his own chest, circling his heart. "It's all for you."

You're left speechless. This has to be a dream, or a sick twisted prank. You want to laugh but are afraid of Joel's reaction. "Is this... a joke?" and his gaze is clouded by darkness. "A joke? You take my love f'you as a-a joke?" he pulls back from you, still on his knees. "You don't understand, do you?" Joel repeats, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper, cold as steel. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "I don'tㅡ I don't understand why I'm here.. why you killed Adam, why you think this is love?" The words tumble out, each one feeling like a step closer to an abyss you're terrified to fall into. Joel sighs, shaking his head slowly, almost as if he's disappointed. "Fawn, my sweet fawn, you don't see it yet, but you will. Adam... Adam was a threat. He was going to take you away from me. He was going to ruin everything we've built together."

You feel a surge of anger. "Built together? I don't even know you! This isn't some romantic gesture, Joel. This is kidnapping. This is madness." He stands up abruptly, his face a mix of frustration and something darker. "Madness?" He paces back and forth at the foot of the bed. "Madness is letting you slip through my fingers, letting someone else have you. Madness is living without you when I know we're meant to be together."

You pull at the cuffs again, your wrists aching. "Joel, please, just let me go. We can talk about this outside, somewhere safe. You don't have to do this..." He stops pacing and looks at you, a strange glint in his eyes. "Safe? You think out there is safe for you? No, no, my fawn. Here is where you're safe. With me. Always with me." Tears prick at your eyes again, but you blink them away, trying to stay strong. "What about my family? My friends? They're going to look for me. They're going to find out what you've done."

He smiles, but it's not a comforting smile. It's a smile that speaks of plans and secrets. "Let them look. By the time they figure out where you are, you'll have accepted our love. You'll understand why this had to happen." He leans in close, his breath warm against your face. "You will. In time, you will. And until then, I'll do whatever it takes to make you see. To make you love me." You turn your head away, refusing to look at him, refusing to acknowledge the twisted reality he's trying to force upon you. "I won't," you whisper, though the words feel feeble and unconvincing even to yourself.

Joel stands up straight, his demeanor shifting from affectionate to stern. "We'll see about that, my fawn. We'll see." He walks to the door and opens it, pausing before he steps out. "I'll give you some time to think. But don't worry, I'll be back soon. And maybe then, you'll start to understand."

The door closes behind him with a heavy thud, and you're left alone, the sound of the rain outside a constant reminder of your confinement. You take a shaky breath, trying to calm your racing heart, but the terror grips you tighter with each passing second. Your wrists ache from the cuffs, and the dried blood on your skin feels like a cruel, suffocating reminder of last night's horrors.

You try to piece together the fragments of your memory, but they come in disjointed flashes, each more terrifying than the last. Adam's face, twisted in pain, Joel's maniacal grin, the sharp, blinding pain that brought you here. A sob escapes your lips, and you bite down hard to stifle it, afraid that he might hear and come back too soon. The wind outside pick up and you make eye contact with the deer on the wall again. Gaze empty, devoid of any fear, acceptanceㅡ andtears finally spill over. you let them fall silently, the only sound in the room the faint trickle of rain and the occasional creak of the old bed frame. You pull at the cuffs, but they don't budge, the metal biting into your skin. Panic swells in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

in the ghostly stillness of the room you shudder and you lie there, exhausted and terrified, a bitter realization creeps in: you have no control over this. No way to fight back, no plan, no hope. You're utterly at Joel's mercy, and the thought is enough to make the darkness of the room a little less unsettling than your reality.

[anicekidlikeme]

Do you know how I grew up?

Back when I was dating Peter, I was always aware of just how much he would talk (about his accomplishments, about his friends, and different annecdotes). His stories would go far back as elementry school. I hated it. I know that is a horrible thing to even think as somebody's girlfriend (I knew that then too) but at the time getting myself to like the person I was dating felt like a crushing expectation. How am I supposed to love you unconditionally? How am I supposed to love you at all? Your friends are mean, your music taste is okay, and I cannot stand the way you refuse to walk alongside me.

There was a moment when we were walking to Target to buy Kombucha, and holy shit was I pissed off. Peter would walk ahead of me, constantly, and turn around in tiny spurts to tell me to speed up. Could you please walk with me? I know now that love is definately not supposed to feel like that. It is the easiest thing in the world. Drew walks next to me, always. Even if it means having to slow down his pace (often, also emotionally). He grabs my waist everytime we have to cross a road, or everytime I walk into a room I've never been in before. He has incredible patience. I could hear Drew talk and talk for hours, and just keep wanting to listen to even more stories of his. He teases me about how many times in one day I ask him How was your day?! But I just want to hear you talk!

Anyway, a year ago I would think a lot about Peter and I's out of sync walking. It felt like he was ahead of me often. Especially when he told stories. I would sit at the dinnertable with his family and just listen most nights to him sharing annecdotes. About Sam, Adam and Holden, about Miss Gurb from Middle School, and about going to house-shows with Isabella. I would think holy fucking shit, how can you remember all that? How do you have so many happy stories to tell?

The earliest my memory goes to is sometime before 3rd grade when my mom was texting my father on her Nokia, and my uncle had been bugging her all day about selling their Dad's house. I realized then how easy it is to just block out undesirable moments out of your memory. Forget about them completely so they are never to be spoken of, and better yet, never to be remembered. After that, it is a blur. I don't have any stories to tell from growing up, all I remember is how some days felt. There was never enough room where we lived post-divorce, always too many angry people, always too many bugs, and always so many fights in this tiny one- bedroom apartment we shared with 8 other people. My mom told me that I was once in the hospital for 6 months. I had no fucking clue that happened. I still dont.

If I told somebody that I slept most nights of my childhood on a purple straw mat (yes, no bed. not even a mattress), they would probably be so fucking confused. But it is true. And it happened, and it is not a very tell-able tale. Not like Peter's atleast. I am trying to think of other things that happened but I am noticing myself getting fatigued. It's too hard, and there is a big lock on that door. Let's not bother. It is much easier to say Im doing well now. Oh, she sucks and he's dead.

So if you were to ask me how I grew up, I would tell you I have no fucking idea. I dont know how I grew up. Bitter and scary and mean, is probably what my friends from high school would say. Unfortunately, as a result of me changing as a person, I had to quit talking to them. I couldn't find it in me to say, hey guys, I'm in America now so I've decided to be a completely new person. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be this person I was anymore. It's not their fault, and it is not mine.

I am now very emotional (something I was very very afraid of, and am still coming to terms with), very silly, not obsessed with being smart anymore (I'm surprised by that one too), and very very Vaibhavi. Everyone calls me Vai, and I hate it. I want to shout at them, and instruct them to call me Vaibhavi. That is who I am! I am intensely focused now on the memories I make, even if they are bad ones. I dont want to forget anything. I don't want to forget my fights with Fawwaz, or my sick days with Drew, or my secret-spilling sessions with Atharva. I dont want to forget when I had awfully pink hair, or when I was friends with people I hated. I want to have stories, and I love the stories I have now. I am obsessed with getting engaged, because then I will have a family. A family I like, a family to tell stories about when I am asked so, tell me about your family.

A family to love, a family of two. Definately not one with Peter, but I wish him luck. I really do. We are both good people with so many differences, and my hope is that he finds someone to cherish them. I know I did (and god, is Drew a sight for sore eyes).

I have no idea how I grew up, but there was a tent in a balcony. Don't know which one, we have moved too many times.

[judeswhore]

a kiss or two… or three; steve harrington

summary: bedtime in the harrington household always contains a copious amount of kisses

type: dad!steve harrington

requested: yes

warnings: none

notes: you can find my masterlist here

“okay, sleepyhead, s’time for bed.” steve’s words were a little muffled from where he’d pressed them to the top of his daughter’s head, quiet in the silent bedroom. she was settled into his side, his arms like a cage around her as he held the fairytale book in front of them, her own arms wrapped loosely around her rabbit plushie. they were propped up against her headboard, a blanket thrown over the knees to fight off the winter chill as steve read page after page of her favourite book to settle her into sleep.

at his words she shuffled, made a soft noise that made his chest ache and then shook her head. she turned her face and hid it in the material of his sweater, her way of trying to make sure he didn’t see just how tired she was. but she’d been yawning for the past fifteen minutes, slowly slipping further and further down until she was almost in his lap. it was already passed her bedtime but one story had bled into another and another because steve was weak and had extreme difficulty saying no to either of his girls.

“don’t wanna.” he let the book fall closed, set it down on her bedside table with a little difficulty considering how tightly the little girl was clinging to him. “just five more minutes?”

“you had five more minutes an hour ago, trouble.” he shuffled a little, stroked his hand over her cheek as though to coax her out from hiding but she refused to move, only buried herself deeper. she yawned again and steve laughed, tugged playfully at her hair. “see, you’re tired.”

“m’not.”

“oh really? so who was yawning?”

“mr floppy ears.” steve’s smile grew even wider, his head dipping as she finally looked up at him. her eyes, almost identical to his, were soft and full of sleep, a clear sign she must have been dropping off as he read to her. he settled his palm on her cheek, brushed his thumb beneath her eye and watched her stifle another yawn, her eyes growing glossy with water.

“i think you’re telling lies.” he used his thumb to tap her nose, watching the way it scrunched and wrinkled in response. she was adorably stubborn sometimes, a trait you claimed she got from steve but he was adamant she was a replica of you in that way, always needing to get her own way no matter what. he shifted and patted her leg, climbing up off the bed. “c’mon, let me get you changed and then i’ll tuck you in, all snug yeah?”

she didn’t answer, just pouted at him, watched with droopy eyes as he rifled through her drawers for a pair of pyjamas. he was quick in finding them, tucking them over his arm before turning back to the bed, his heart almost melting in his chest at the sight in front of him. his daughter was mid-yawn, tiny fist rubbing into one eye, her dead dropping off to one side, plushie clutched close to her chest. she was still sitting up although a little unsteadily and steve wanted to wrap her up in his arms and keep her there forever. keep her warm and safe and protected from everything outside of this room.

he was quiet in approaching her, mumbling her name softly to get her attention and he smiled when she blinked sleepily at him, all traces of argument gone from her. he paused at the side of the bed, tapped ever so lightly beneath her chin. “gotta stand up for me, baby, we’ll be quick, okay?” she nodded a little sluggishly and with steve’s help stood on the mattress, her hand clutching tight to his arm. “what are we gonna have for breakfast?” he spoke quietly, a barely there whisper as he worked her shirt over her head, apologising even quieter when it tugged a little at her hair.

“pancakes. with nutella, the special ones that mommy makes.”

“lift your arm, that’s it. mommy’s special ones? with the strawberries and cream? other one, please.” the girl in front of him, already half asleep, nodded, drowsily did as she was told as he swapped her r shirt for a pink pyjama top, pulling the sleeves over her arms and checking she wasn’t twisted. “gonna do your trousers now, yeah? you wanna hold my head so you don’t trip?”

“i want the ones that she makes into stars and the hearts.” as she spoke she stepped in closer, wound her arms around her fathers neck and tucked her face away in his throat. steve pressed on hand against her back to steady her and used the others to tug at her trousers, helping her step out of them with a little struggle.

“hmm those are the best ones. we can ask her in the morning. can you lift this leg for me? careful.” steve laughed softly when she wobbled a bit, fatigue clearly pulling her under and tried not to wince when she clutched at his hair. “lift the other one and then we’re all done.” within another couple of seconds she was settled into a pair of pyjamas, her head falling on to steve’s shoulder as he lifted her up, settled her on his hip.

“do you think uncle dustin will wanna come and play tomorrow?” her words were a little sluggish but he could only smile, an odd fluttering kicking up in his stomach at the mention of dustin. his daughter had never really been told to call any of steve’s old friends uncle or aunt but it was as if it was just a given, from the moment she could talk it was alway uncle dustin or aunt robin and no one ever corrected her. steve would never admit it out loud but it was something he enjoyed hearing, no one would ever be able to understand the gravity of how much it meant to him, that they’d all still stuck around after this long, watched him grow and build his own family.

“we can ask him,” he pulled her sheets back, kissed the side of her head and set her back on the mattress, watched her plop herself down on to the pillow, shuffle a little until she was comfortable. steve passed her mr floppy ears and pulled the sheets back up, tucking them beneath her chin. “you can show him your new bike.”

“i can show him that i can ride to the end of the street now!” her voice rose a little from excitement and he reminded himself to make sure to call dustin and ask him round, just so his daughter would keep flashing that summer sweet smile. he sat to her side, grazed his fingers softly over her cheek.

“i think he’d love that.” she nodded, a sleepy smile still settled on her lips as she snuggled down into the sheets, eyes once again starting to droop closed. “get some sleep, yeah? you’ll need all your energy so you can beat uncle dustin in a race tomorrow.” he leant down and kissed her forehead, both cheeks, then her chin and finally her nose, grinning at her sleepy giggles. he nuzzled his nose against hers, dropped another kiss to the very tip. “i love you.”

“i love you, daddy. this much.” steve pulled back to see the way she was holding her hands, as far apart as possible.

“that’s a lot.” she nodded, face serious.

“it’s the most.” she blinked at him, hid a yawn behind her hand and steve smiled, ruffled her hair much to her annoyance.

“time to sleep, you want your night light on or off?”

“on please.” he nodded, went to push himself off the bed but she caught his arm, tapped her cheek when he looked down at her. “can i have another kiss?” the laugh he left out was more a breathless puff of air, his chest inflating with overwhelming love, a sudden surge of emotions crawling up his throat and he had to hold back an odd wave of tears. steve had never really known what this kind of love was like growing up and he was determined to make sure that your daughter felt every ounce of the emotion possible at the hands of both of you. leaving hawkins, he’d vowed he would never be like his parents.

“just one more and then you have to sleep.” she nodded and he kissed her cheek but ever the softy couldn’t settle with just that and pressed his lips once again over her head and nose and chin, a ritual they’d developed long ago. forehead was always first, nose last, it was a silent i love you, a press of feelings that neither of them really needed to say but he said it again anyway. “i love you.”

as he went to shift away, the little girl followed him up, pressed her own kiss to his cheek before settling back into the pillows, snuggling into the sheets and mr floppy ears. “g’night daddy.”

[buckybarnesdiaries]

please

© @captaincentenarian

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! sub!bucky (more or less), handjob, mention of bodily fluids, praise!kink, language, cockwarming.

author notes: this isn't proofread, sorry for possible mistakes. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Oh, fu— fuck”.

A muffled moaning escaped his lips when your thumb caressed his reddened tip. Since Bucky woke you up some minutes ago, with curses and groans, you knew perfectly what he needed. Now he was sprawled between your legs and his back was stuck to your chest. The soldier tossed his head to your shoulder, having a better view of his tongue strongly licking his lips and his eyelids closed.

Your right hand pumped his most sensitive skin, up and down, at a medium pace. Enough to please him, but not to make him cum too soon. Bucky was stirring under your strokes, gripping his balls with his cold fingers as the flesh ones got tangled in your hair. Sometimes, he just needed to be touched. Touched by you, and no one else. Be treated with care and tenderness. The last mission had some complications and that took its toll.

“Does it feel good?” You whispered using a honeyed tone of voice into his ear.

“God… yes… so damn good, doll”. He replied as he could.

“You deserve it”. You hummed spreading sweet kisses on the connection of vibranium and skin.

Increasing the pace a little more just to tease him, Bucky responded with a soft growl, rubbing his abdomen with the palm of his free hand, slightly stretching back his head. His hard cock felt warmer with every move of your fingers around it, using some more pressure to give him an added pleasure. Bucky had to settle himself better against your chest, stealing the air from his lungs when you nailed your teeth in his neck. His digits got closed tighter in the back of your head, watching him trying to breathe through his parted lips.

James wasn't too loud while having sex, except in moments like those where your only purpose was to make him enjoy. He couldn't control his vocals, babbling your name with a wrecked tone. You used the tip of your tongue to draw a mark on his skin, sucking and hollowing your cheeks slightly. You loved to mark your territory, although those hickies never lasted longer than a day.

“Puts your hands on my thighs”. You ordered him, placing your legs over his to keep them wide open at any moment.

He obeyed with a soft pout, landing your free fingers on his balls to massage them slowly, contrary to how you were pumping his firm dick. Bucky would never recognize it, but he loved when you took control and told him what he should do. Tilting his head, he kissed you slowly, invading his mouth with your tongue as you felt his anxiety by digging his fingertips in the sides of your legs. Both were hungry for each other, jerking his length faster till earning again his moans and his curses.

Bucky looked like the most beautiful piece of art with the pearls of sweat decorating his forehead and some tufts of his black hair stuck on it. He bit his bottom lip fixing his pale blue eyes on yours, not needing words to express to you what you were making him feel.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” You purred against his lips, brushing them with yours. “My good boy”.

“Yes… I am”. Bucky whined when the pleasure started to be too much for his body.

“Of course you are, and you belong to me”. You spoke this time with a hoarse voice that gave him goosebumps, watching your boyfriend swallow. “Say it”.

“'M… you— yours, doll… only yours… I swear it”. His dick was twitching between your fingers, getting tensed as you squeezed his balls tighter. “Fu— Fuck… I need to… I need to cum…”

“Beg for it, my good boy”. You murmured, licking his parted lips with the tip of your tongue while slowing down the pace of your strokes, causing him to sob.

“Don' be… petty, doll… C'mon… C'mon, lemme cum, please”. Bucky growled in gasps, starting to rock his hips against your hand unconsciously.

He needed to release all the frustration running through his body. And he wanted you to help him with it. For you, it was a little funny how easy it was to make your big bad boyfriend plead. Although he hated you for it, trying to do his best to not push you apart and finish by himself.

“Baby, ple— please… Please…” Bucky moaned closing his eyes strongly, gripping your thighs with his huge hands. “God… I ca— can't wait… I can't…”

“You 'gonna disobey me?”

At the moment you replaced your left hand from his balls to his throat, forcing him to look at you again, his breathing became erratic, keen. His chest rose and fell furiously, not being able to control a single action of his anatomy.

“Please…” He begged you one last time, feeling all his blood concentrated in a concrete point of his cock and the knot within his low abdomen growing. “Doll… please.

“Cum for me. Now, James”. You commanded jerking him off faster than before, receiving a delighted cry from him.

Soon, the white ropes fell and stained his torso. His whole body was shaking, his Adam's apple was dancing under the palm of your hand still gripping his throat, the toes of his feet were curled and his abdomen was tense because of the orgasm exploding within him. Shutting up his vocals by devouring his mouth, your tongue fought his with dominance, while he was trying to breathe through his nose.

Collecting his arousal with your fingertips, you broke the kiss leaving him running out of air, sucking clean your digits under his attentive and exhausted gaze.

“Should be illegal to taste like that”. You purred giving him a whole show. “Wanna try it?”

“Please”. He mumbled leaning his head enough to lick your lips and suck the tip of your tongue. Bucky couldn't help but gasp at the savor of his jizz mixed with your saliva.

Not saying a single word, after placing one last kiss on his sweaty forehead, you stood up from your bed to go to the bathroom. Wetting a small towel with warm water, you came back to find your big soldier lying on his back and trying to recover. You kneeled on the mattress to clean first his face from the sweat, before continuing with his chest and abdomen and finishing with his —yet— twitching erection. Bucky sighed because of the careful caress, placing his hand made of vibranium on your back.

You tossed the towel somewhere over the floor, stripping yourself after that to lie by his side. “Come here…”

Using a sweet thread of voice, you urged him to turn and to let you embrace him. What he wasn't expecting was one of your hands to be snaked among your bodies, while you put a leg over his waist. Bucky understood your intentions when he was buried deep inside your soaked walls, sinking a more than pleased growl in your neck. He closed his arms around your body, forcing his cock to beyond your limits and holding it within your warm pussy.

“You're an angel, babydoll”. Bucky whimpered, feeling your walls clenching his sensible erection. “I love you… I love you”.

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