#which is something she does when shes anxious or uncomfortable and she mentioned it in a W Mag asmr video | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 11 months ago

Text

Never Shall We Die (3; final)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »»

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final] : 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tags: hoshi loves thighs, corruption kink to the mAX, clit stimulation, oral (f. receiving), breast play, p in v sex (unprotected, 1800s contraception will make you prefer it but pls dont do this irl), making out

[AN]: final part oh my god if youve read the other parts up till now, THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it, im really proud of this fic and im so happy so many of you have enjoyed it so far. @highvern betaing as always ty for not giving up on me. AS ALWAYS, PLS TELL ME YOUR THOTS IN THE RBS OR THE REPLIES OR SEND ME AN ASK LITERALLY WTV MUAH MUAH HAPPY READING <3

THIS IS THE NICEST PRISON Hoshi has ever been in, which was saying something, because he had been in quite a lot of prisons.

But it was uncomfortable nonetheless, six grown men tied up and shoved into a crouching space to be done with as the men that prowled above pleased.

Hoshi would be lying if he said he hadn’t had to restrain from pushing some of those sorry soldiers into the ice waters beyond the glaciers. He had resisted, the crew had resisted, but just enough to convince them of their unwillingness.

Hoshi had realised early on that there was no possible way of getting aboard Tigress without somehow climbing aboard the King’s boat first. The king wasn’t about to simply hand Hoshi’s ship over, and there was no indication that they'd wait till after nightfall to depart.

Hoshi also knew that the King would refuse to have him die so easily in the waters of the Green Islands, his pride depended on it. He imagines the man drawing up the specifics of the most gruesome execution the Kingdom would ever see. Hoshi was counting on it.

The bounds could’ve been broken out of and the locks somehow picked, but Hoshi also knew that he had to wait. Wait for you to find him first.

“What’s taking her so long?” Jun asks. He’d been the most anxious out of all, the shaking feet and restless moving making it clear.

“The bomb won’t…go off still strapped to her, will it?” Minghao asks and Hoshi isn’t quite sure he wants to know the answer.

“It shouldn’t. Not until she pulls the tab. But…”

“But?” Hoshi whips around. “Why is there a but? You were supposed to make sure there was no but!”

“Big bomb, more boom, less predictable!”

“Are you sure we can’t break out and look for her ourselves?” Mingyu grumbles, the most compromised with his longer limbs folded in uncomfortable positions.

“The minute they know we’re loose they’ll swarm her. There won’t be a way to get to her, not without fighting off every last bastard on this ship. They’ve taken our stuff too, we don’t stand a chance.”

They did, actually, stand a chance. But that was only if they were to break away and head straight for Tigress that was empty and standing right beside this very ship. But they couldn’t. Hoshi couldn’t. Not without taking you with him.

Nobody dares to suggest the easier route, and he doubts it’s just because of what he wants.

But panic was beginning to trickle into Hoshi’s veins anyway, the closed off brig refusing to give him any indication of the time of day.

The sun was only beginning to set when they were taken to the ship, and he knew they were near done for if they didn’t finish what they started before nightfall. He can’t tell how long it’s been, and it eats away at his insides.

Please be okay.

And then he hears it, the sound of a body hitting the floors with a loud thud, a chortle of air before it’s knocked out. He finds himself sitting up straighter, pressing his hands to bars of the prison, trying to peer out the narrow walkway that leads to the doors.

And then you appear in the lamplight, haphazard and ruffled up beyond measure.

The knife in your hand drips with blood, your shirt torn at the arms, your hands bloodied and bruised.

When Hoshi sees your face he almost doesn’t recognise you.

There’s angry blooming marks of red and purple all across your neck and collarbone, your eyes bloodshot and red, watering like you’d been swimming in salt water.

“Who did this?” he asks before anything else, watching you drop to your knees in front of the prison, unanswering as you fumbled with a giant ring of keys in your hand.

You jam each key into the lock, twisting it to no avail. Your hands are shaking.

The crew finally twist out of their loose bonds, Minghao lurching forward immediately, swatting your hands away. He picks out a few skinny pins from his boot, picking the rusty lock. Despite the strange angle, the bars creak open within seconds.

“There’s…There’s ropes hooked onto the ship on the main deck.”

Your voice sounds like you’re speaking through sandpaper, talking while struggling to emerge with the bomb you had.

Hoshi doesn’t know what to do when he crawls out of the space.

He’d had it all figured out in his head, what would happen in every possible outcome. You getting hurt wasn’t in any of his universal conclusions; especially not on this ship. They’d kill his crew, they might even kill the King with themselves, but you were meant to remain unscathed.

“Why–why do you look like that? What happened?” Nothing registers in his head, not even when Jun is pushing him out into the hall.

“Get up to the deck and get out across the lines!” Jun gruffs in his ears. “That bomb’s gonna go off with us still on here.”

He sees the canister that lies in the same prison they had just exited, he sees your mouth moving without sound. All he can think of are the distinct fingerprints around your throat and how it looked like somebody tried to kill you before they tried to kill him.

“Soonyoung,” he hears you say in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for him to snap out of it.

His crew is looking at him expectantly. He looks back at the door and sees the crumpled bodies of the prison guards.

So much for leaving quietly.

The minute Hoshi is out the door of the brig, he finds a chest next to the collapsed, bleeding soldiers. Kicking it open, he can only scoff as he finds the entire crew’s weapons in such close vicinity.

He feels better with his dagger at his hip, along with the rest of his knives that he slips into the loops. Even more so with the rest of his crew armed and ready.

“We know where the deck is.” He swallows, eyeing his crew’s weapons in their ready hands. He knew they’d agreed to ensure the clean sinking of the ship, but the fallen bodies on the floor were an ode to a different route they’d have to take. “Don’t hesitate if someone gets in your way.”

Taking cautious steps to the upper decks, he finds more bodies collapsed onto the floor, bleeding and unconscious. He opts to ask you the details later, wondering how you were able to take down all these guards by yourself.

It isn’t until they reach the stairs that lead to the main deck that he comes across a guard.

Before the witness can raise any alarm, Hoshi’s slamming the butt of his dagger into the side of his head, knocking him clean unconscious as he falls off the side of the short railing.

Clambering up the steps as quietly as possible, he raises a hand behind him to signal his crew to halt, peering into the main deck first.

The sun is still out, but low in the sky as it dips in the sky. There’s a few people on the deck, pacing and moving about in preparation for departure. Angling his gaze, he finds ropes suspended over the edge of the railing, parallel to the water.

He can’t see Tigress, but he knows that’s what the ropes are hooked on to.

“Jun,” he beckons. “How long till the bomb on the other ship goes off?”

The bomb Jun had planted in the first ship they had arrived in should be going off any time now, and Hoshi finds himself needing it to go off now.

Jun barely opened his mouth to reply when the ship shuddered.

For a moment, Hoshi thinks the bomb in the brigs had gone off, but when he finds the clambering of boots to one side of the ship, opposite to where the ropes tied to Tigress, he realises their surrogate ship had given its last gift to the crew.

The rest of the ship would be bounding to the main deck to inspect the noise soon, so he shoots a quick, “Hurry!” behind him before stepping onto the main deck.

The entire deck is occupied with the ship that lies a ways away across the expanse of sea, the beginnings that would soon lead the entire ship to be engulfed in flames. It’s tilting at a dangerous angle.

Hoshi stands as he uses the crew straight towards the ropes that lead to Tigress. Glancing, he finds Mingyu and Chan already hanging on the suspended ropes, making their way towards the empty deck of their ship.

Hoshi keeps his eyes on the occupied men on board, still staring at the lightshow that was their old ship. It isn’t until one of them turns, eyes towards the stairs that lead to the lower decks, that his eyes dart to the unfamiliar men on the deck.

“Fuck,” Hoshi curses, before lunging, grabbing the man by the shoulders and covering his mouth, dragging him wordlessly to the edge before throwing him off the ship and into the icy waters below.

“Go!” he hears you rasp brom behind him, ushering him to the ropes.

The crew is gone, Jun making the last jump to land on the deck. They’re running around, pulling ropes and fastening the sails to push the ship off into open waters as soon as possible.

There’s two ropes that tie the two ships together, and Hoshi ushers you onto one of them, pushing you to suspend yourself before he follows.

“There’s not enough time, go to the other one!” you tell him, pushing him to hold onto the other tattered rope.

Soonyoung eyes your state, “Are you sure you can—”

“Yes! I promise I can, please, before they cut both the ropes.”

So he trusts you, eyes straight ahead to the railing of his ship, gripping the rough, frayed rope to push himself towards the deck. His hands burn, but he finds himself moving ever closer to his final destination.

His hand grabs hold of the wooden railing of his Tigress at long last, pulling himself onto the deck of his beloved ship. Immediately whipping his head to his right, he tries to find you reaching the ship with him. The crew is preoccupied in attempting to get the ship ready for departure, he finds your form nowhere.

When he looks back, the rope he had climbed was gone, leaving gaping space in its absence. He trails the second rope, from the hook that had dug into the railing of Tigress’s wood, trailing it to the naval ship’s deck.

What he sees puts his heart in his throat.

You stand on the deck of your father’s ship, swarmed by now alert guards and soldiers who swarm you, yelling profanities and orders as they watch their prisoners get away right in front of them.

Hoshi watches as you lift your dagger, and cut the last rope that ties you together, free to fall and hit against the hull of his ship.

He calls out your name in what could only be described as a guttural scream.

His crew halts whatever it was they were doing, taking the steps to realise what had just happened.

Hoshi’s boot meets the top of the railing, ready to take the plunge into the water. He’d climb back up the ship and get you out. He doesn’t know what you were thinking, what he was thinking when he left you there, but he’d get you out.

Arms pulling him, he’s yanked back and positively thrown onto the deck.

“What is wrong with you?” Minghao yells, pushing his captain back as he springs up.

“She—”

Your father emerges from the crowd of guards and soldiers that run rampant on the deck, approaching you at the railing of the main deck.

Hoshi sees the hand that remains on his shoulder, the blood that covers the still bleeding wound, the effort it takes him to simply walk.

The bruises on your neck, the wound at his shoulder that looks like it was slashed through by a knife.

And then it clicks in Hoshi’s head, what had truly happened in the hours that you were out of his sight. And all he sees is red.

WITH THE WAY THE words on the pages seem to double, you would’ve thought you were going mad.

You’re a child, barely grown into your own body as you sit in the dimly lit library of the palace, utterly exhausted, wishing to be anywhere but sitting at the wooden desk with your name on it. The moon barely shone through the window, your only source of light the fireplace that burned in the corner and your lamplight.

It was a time where you felt like you could prove yourself, that perhaps, the reason your father refused you his approval was because you were simply not working hard enough. And now, at an hour where you should be fast asleep in your four poster bed, you attempt to understand diplomatic structures and everything that made your country what it was.

It was late, and there was nothing you would’ve liked more than to put your head on the table and rest your eyes for a few tantalising seconds, which you do, right over the book you were reading.

You awoke in the same place, shaken awake by a panicked looking servant, the sun shining through the great windows of the palace library.

It seems your disappearance from your bedchambers had put the entire palace in disarray, not realising the princess was fast asleep behind the giant pile of books other servants had already skimmed past thrice.

Not only were you unable to recite the rankings of the constitutions with the vigour your father required, but you were unable to give him a reason as to why you were absent for both breakfast and morning lessons.

He made the servants kneel in the throne room for hours, and did not fail to tell you that it was all your fault.

And now, in the ice cold of the Green Islands, old and wise enough to know that your father simply needed a reason to despise his heir, you accept the hands around your throat as his final act of terror.

Red faced and arms shaking, your father does not speak to you as he presses down on your windpipe with all his might. Your vision is going dark and splotchy, and you decide, for a moment, to let him have this moment.

He’s too preoccupied in applying his pressure to realise that you’ve raised your right foot enough for your hands to fish out your knife from its place, taking positivity in the handle of your knife that fits in your hand.

Before you can lose consciousness, you raise your arm high, and plunge it directly into his neck.

Howling, he releases you from his hold, both of you dropping to the floor of the ship with a resonating thud. You cough, sputter and hack, cold hands finding your now warm neck.

Your father lays clutching his shoulder as he remains in agony on the floor, and you realise you missed the crucial plunge in your own disarray.

It was good enough, rendering the old man incapable of finding his bearings.

You watch as he writhes on the floor of the quarters that almost became your figurative deathbed, the same hands that wrapped around his own daughter’s throat now clutching the shallow wound that renders him useless.

Standing over him, throwing your own shadow on his body, you feel a surge of power, a rush of adrenaline that shoots straight to your head. Perhaps this was your circulation returning from the deprivation, but you let the feeling imprint in your soul, let your father’s broken figure bring you satisfaction.

You leave him there, writhing in pain, digging your knife under the lock of the quarters, pulling back to break it away from the door. The guards stationed outside do nothing as you leave, and it isn’t until you’ve taken to lower decks that you hear the distinct yell of, “Your Majesty!”

Two more guards, who don’t expect an altercation from their princess, simply buffer as you send your knife plunging into them both. You do it deep this time.

Nobody was innocent, you knew these people as your father’s closest men, and knew that all of them were to remain silent as their King murdered his daughter. And when the remorse doesn’t do that thing where it trickles in after doing a bad thing, you decide you weren’t part of the innocents either.

It’s easier than you would’ve expected to get to the crew in the brig, letting out a sigh of relief as you appreciate the familiarity of people on your side.

And when Hoshi took his place to guide everyone out and into the open space of the main deck, you let your racing mind rest and decide to trust the man in whatever decision he made to lead you all out. And he did, he led himself and his crew right into the ship that was theirs, safe and where they would have the upper hand.

Hoshi didn’t know it when he climbed onto the ropes that lead to his boat that he wouldn’t have made it if you hadn’t stayed, hadn’t used your voice of authority to keep the soldiers from attempting to shoot at the escapees, cut the rope while Hoshi remained suspended from it, still only halfway there.

You didn’t look at him when you sliced both ropes before either party could pull back, didn’t register him screaming your name across the void, pretending it wasn’t taking everything out of your strength.

But you couldn’t jump into the water, not now when a dozen of the royal guards remained ready to take the plunge to save their princess as their duty. The same guards that would comply with their king when told the princess was dead for reasons they all knew but were to forget.

The bomb had to go off first, and you had to keep them away from hooking another line to the ship in the meantime. You were operating on a flawed plan and an overenthusiastic crowd of guards that were moments away from shooting a canon straight into the side of the disconnected pirate ship.

The distraction comes in the form of your father parting the crowd of soldiers like the red sea, swatting every soldier that attempts to help his bleeding form for anything it was worth. He approaches you at the railing, and for once, you don’t look at the ground in his presence.

“Bold,” he heaves, the effort in his voice apparent. “Bold of you to think you could slip away.”

“I haven’t tried to slip away, father,” you correct. “I’ve stayed right here, even after you failed to kill me. And I, you.”

“Nobody is going to listen to you, child. Give in. This is the easy way out,” he says.

As if on cue, Jun’s bomb goes off for the second time, but this time the ship shudders with more force. It has your father unbalance and fall, along with multiple other soldier’s stumbling. You grip the railing tight, counting on your father’s need to live.

Despite your horrid throat and the ache in your body, you announce as loud as you can. “The bomb is in the brig, this ship is sinking.”

The fallen king trembles in a rage you had never quite seen before. Any other time of your life, you would’ve wished for the ground to swallow you whole to be the subject of such anger.

Except, in the setting sun, a burning ship in the background, a pirate ship that awaits you, and the ground beneath your feet that was actively sinking into the freezing water; you smile at your doomed King.

“Get to the brig! Secure the lower decks, do not let this ship sink or so help me God!” His voice rings across the deck, spittle blowing from his mouth at the situation.

And just like that, your father gives you the final gift of clearing the main deck out for you, leaving but a few straggling soldiers that are too preoccupied with either the sinking ship or their bleeding sovereign.

Looking back, you find the crew of Tigress standing at the railing, you find Hoshi already half over the edge and send him a slow nod.

Turning back to your father that remains on the floor of the ship that would become his coffin, you utter your next words; for yourself, and the girl that was every second before this, all the way to her first ever memory of sad:

“You’ve taught me to be a ruler fit to be the best for our Kingdom. Consider your death my first act of service for the Crown.”

And then you jumped into the darkening void of the waters below.

THE COLD FEELS LIKE every nerve in your body ceased to work.

It was nothing at first, the temperature so intense it had your body numb in the face of shock. And then it grew, to a striking cold, and then a feeling that pricked every inch of your skin like a million needles plunging into your body. It was only getting worse with each passing second, before it was so painful it was hot, going from cold to searing and blistering like you’d plunged into the licks of flames.

Nowhere in your body did you find a rational sense of mind, something to tell you to kick, flail or float. The warped sky was an orange through the green, only more vibrant. Like there were two ships actively burning on the surface of this water.

Hoshi’s face appears behind your closing eyelids, like a mirage or a taunt. Like he was there with you when he wasn’t.

Would he come for you? Would he take the plunge for the girl he held in his arms, promising her something to fill the gap of a companion, right before she killed her own?

You’d given him what he wanted; your father, his worst enemy, dying as he sank slowly into the bottom of the ocean. You’d run your course of use, and if he was as smart as people claimed, he’d leave you to suffer the same fate as your father.

He could find his freedom elsewhere.

And you would find your freedom in the close of your eyes, and the sinking feeling of nothingness.

Except, you feel a hardness against your body, stronger even than the current of the waters. Moving impossibly upwards, you remember opening your eyes to find a leather cord suspended in the float of the water, before you remember nothing.

THE GREEN ISLANDS WERE on fire.

But as unnatural as it seemed, Hoshi had no inclination to register anything but the way the ship in front of him tilts so far out it's already half submerged in the waters. He’d assumed they might have to ready the cannons, but with the way debris and hollowed wood floats in the waters below, they would not need to.

The King was about to be introduced to Davy Jones’ Locker at the hands of his enemy and successor, but Hoshi could not care enough right now to relish in it.

Right now, he stares at the direct circumference of water your body had made contact with and disappeared into, like the world would explode if he lost his place.

“Should I jump as well?” Mingyu asks, already half taking his boots off. However, when the man turns to find his captain gone, he lurches over the railing to find his captain diving into the water through all the debris.

Hoshi lets the momentum of his dive take him as further down as possible, whipping his head around as soon as his eyes open into the abyss. The water ripples and erupts in showers of bubbles as broken pieces of ship come apart to fall into the water. It blurs his vision immensely, any ripple that could be you in the water coming out to be yet another piece of wasted wood.

The deeper he goes, the more the water presses into his ears. He was a good swimmer, good at holding his breath when needed, but even he had limits.

When he cannot see any sign of you, he begins to feel the churning of something skin to panic brew. Panic was never good, not this deep in the water.

Twisting and turning, flailing about in place, moving dangerously closer to the burning ship that continued to drop flaming bits of killing slabs, he finds no sign of you in the water.

Instead, he watches men in uniform sink deeper and deeper in their failed attempts to stay afloat.

All he can think about is if they were losing the battle for air, then so were you, somewhere deeper in the void than he was. He prays that he’s looking aimlessly, that you’ve already somehow made your way to the surface by yourself, and you were safe on the deck.

The beaded bracelet that remained on his wrist, but belonged to you.

“A reason for you to come out of this alive.”

Even without the encasing on his wrist, you had given him more than enough reason to want to come out of this alive, to want to live beyond just for himself and his duty to the crew he’d taken in.

He chose the life of a pirate because it was his only out, and every member of his crew that he recruited in succession, he acted as the hand he had needed so desperately in that awful brothel where his mother despised him and his father, a faceless man of Port Ash.

Amphitrite was not kind, it was a lesson he learned quickly in his first ventures out at sea. So he too, had to learn to be unkind, to survive in the horrid bellies of ships that weren’t his own. And when Tigress came into his life like a vessel of hope, he found a home in her merciful wood, in the ship that he could call his very own.

Hoshi lived as a free man on his ship, with his crew that had become his brothers in ways beyond what the thick of blood could offer. He did not care if he lived or died after that, as long as it was on his ship, in the waters that held no quarter for anyone, but gave him everything that nothing else could give him.

And so when you approached him with a proposal so bizarre yet so apt for a man like him, he could not refuse. It may have been the way he saw himself in you, terrified of the prospects but thirsting for an escape more than the fear that came with it.

Besides, the king was a nuisance that needed to go, and he found himself agreeing to play the hand too complicated for you.

What he did not expect was to end up here, in the depths of the ocean in the most uninhabitable part of the earth, trying to pull you out of the cold, unrelenting sea.

Hoshi realises in that moment that this might ruin him, the possibility of breaking the surface without you.

He decides that if the heavens do not let him find you, he would simply drown in the same waters that gave him purpose, and find peace with the idea that he would lay rest in the same waters as the person who might have given him something more.

Kwon Soonyoung, the deadliest pirate to cleave the seas, was in love with you. A princess, so undeserving of a man like him; a bastard, a rogue, a good for nothing criminal.

And when he spots the all too familiar build of your form, the linen shirt under the corset he had tied for you just hours ago, the dark brown trousers that signified the change he’d brought into your life, he swore to leave everything he’d ever known to thank the skies and seas for bringing him to you.

His burning lungs, screaming and searing for air, grabbing for your suspended arm that looked as defeated as your closed eyes. Tugging you towards him, he wraps his arm around you to press you to him as tight as he could.

Relief. And with the warm sting in his eyes that he doubted was from the salt in the water, he’s sure of everything he’s felt with the feeling of you in his arms.

With the bruising on your neck, the bleeding wound in your father’s shoulder, he finds it within his breaking body to begin kicking upwards.

Every limb, every cell, every hint of life in his body shrieked with its efforts to make him stop. There was no air in his lungs and he’d lost track of time in his search for you, he doesn’t know how long he has.

But if the blots of nothingness in his eyes were anything to go with, he doesn’t presume he has much. In a last ditch effort, he attempts to kick his boots off to weigh him down a little less, holding your dead weight tighter than anything.

He was so close, he could feel the warmth of the upper levels of the water change in its temperature on his skin. The glow was near blinding as the orange refracted on the disrupted surface of the ocean, so close yet so far.

Inch by inch, kick by kick, memory by memory, he does everything left in his drained power to touch the surface.

And he does, breaking out hand first into the burning air of the world above, taking the longest gasp of air he ever has in his life. Once he’s sure he knows where he is, he pushes you up further on his chest, your head resting against his collarbone, still unconscious.

“Stay with me, princess,” he pants into your ear, hoping you could hear. “I’ve got you.”

Chan and Mingyu are in the water beside him, pushing him towards the pulley that awaited them.

Mingyu makes an attempt to take your weight of his already struggling captain, but Hoshi finds himself holding on to you tighter, simply urging him to help him back on the deck.

The minute your head hits the wood of the deck, he’s checking your pulse. There’s no regard for the chaos that ensues around Tigress, both him and his crew too preoccupied with the way you were not breathing.

“I–I can’t feel anything,” he stutters his words as Seungkwan places a less panicked hand at your neck, under your nose.

“It’s weak, she’s taken in too much water.”

In an instant, he reaches for his knife at his hip, only to realise it was gone, lost somewhere in his rescue.

“Knife,” he rasps before repeating louder. “Someone give me a knife!”

The minute a hilt is in his hands, he’s pushing you over, to reach the back of your constricting corset, pushing his knife into the complicated sailing knot he’d tied it into before, breaking it free. With both hands, he takes hold of the top of the corset and rips it clean in half.

Turning you back over, he presses his hands over your clothed stomach, pushing into it with all his strength in an attempt to get the water out of your system. He keeps his eyes on your face, and when he sees no sign of you coming round, he feels another set of hands pushing him off.

Seungkwan takes over for his weakened captain, pushing into your stomach harder, attempting to get a break out of you.

“Why isn’t she coming around, what’s going on?” He throws the question aimlessly as he takes your unmoving face in his hands, trembling from everything.

Only a moment later, he hears the glorious sound of you sputtering like something was stuck in your throat, promptly spilling out an ungodly amount of water onto the deck as you retch loudly.

Sitting up from the force, your hands clamp onto the deck as you cough and heave, Hoshi’s hand coming behind you to thump your back hard, pushing you to throw up any remaining seawater from your body.

The sight of your back moving up and down, the audible sound of you taking in air; it was enough for Hoshi to simply lay on the deck and pass out.

You rear your head and look up at him, both of you still breathing heavily.

“You’re okay,” he assures, gulping. He takes your face in hands cupping it very gently as he speaks to you. “Go with Seungkwan, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

Nodding, you let yourself be helped up by the rest of the crew, watching as you’re led to the lower decks of the ship.

“Open your shirt, let me see the wound,” Mingyu says, and Hoshi doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Looking down, he sees his shirt soaked in red, sticking to a wound on the right side of his torso. He didn’t even know where he got it.

It looks like a shallow gash, but enough to leave a scar. He takes it better to have it tended to while he was still high on adrenaline and he couldn’t feel much of the pain.

By the time Mingyu and Minghao are done cleaning him up and Hoshi’s standing upright with wobbly legs, he finds the two burning ships beyond his own mere floating structures of wood that were in slow flame. There’s too much debris, too many bits of everything that bob in the large expanse of water to make out any bodies.

“There’s nobody,” Mingyu tells him. “Most of them were in lower decks when it all went down. Trapped themselves.”

“And…?” he asks in silence.

“He stayed on the deck until it sank,” Minghao informs. “Yelling about how he…about how he should’ve finished her when he had the chance.”

“Horrible king and somehow an even worse father,” Mingyu scoffs. “Made it better to watch him die.”

“He didn’t suffer enough,” Hoshi croaks as the marks on your throat dot his vision.

Just then, floating in the water, illuminated by the final streaks of setting light, Hoshi sees it. A darkened purple cloth right next to the hull.

“That,” he points out. “Get that out of the water.”

The late king’s purple cape laid on the deck of Tigress, darkened with water, but also with his blood.

To the Kingdom, this cape would be the last piece of their King that was gone too soon. But for every person on this ship, it would forever be their spoils of war.

Hoshi makes sure the cape will be dried and stored, ordering his crew to begin their slow journey out of the Green Islands, before he too crumples onto the deck unconscious.

IT WAS A SPECTACLE to see Hoshi in his element.

Something about how he seemed to beam, like this ship was charging him a different kind of energy. It was infectious, the rest of the ship decreasingly sour as they put on musical performances on the main deck while they cleaned the floors.

As relieved as you felt, the tight ball of anxiety refused to leave the pit of your stomach as you grew closer to the Kingdom. Nothing could prepare you for the shitstorm you’d have to deal with the moment you’d step onto the soil off a pirate ship of all things—let alone as Queen.

The first few days following the ship's exit from the Green Islands were difficult, if that was all you had to describe it. You took to your hammock for most of the day, curled up as you pretended to sleep, only waking up when one of the crew would come down to force feed you and to make sure you hadn’t died.

You knew they were doing all this to make you feel better, and somehow it was working. More than halfway through your journey, you began to feel more like yourself, emerging from your cave to visit the deck on times other than the nights.

Even now, as you sit on the floor of the deck with Seungkwan, who hands you an all too familiar stack of parchment, you feel nothing as you take them into your hands. As you read his handwriting scrawled in ink, you appreciate your past self for having the sense to keep them all.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better now,” he says to you. “Had us worried for a while there.”

“Sorry.” You smile weakly. “But thank you for…everything. I don’t think I could ever express how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. All of you.”

“I’d like to think we’ve gone past the status of mere business partners,” Seungkwan chuckles. “Lion befriends the bear? Whatever it is. But know we’d do it again.”

Blinking back the sting of tears and doing your very best to not let the warm feeling in your chest overwhelm you, you place the letters on the floor next to your folded legs. When you look up, Seungkwan's eyes are on your neck.

“They’re taking their time to fade, aren’t they?” you say.

Seungkwan has a hard look in his eye, “I guess you didn’t need your letters to remind you of anything after all.”

Your mind wanders, drifting past how easily this crew could have been forgotten in the unforgiving elements. Perhaps you would have let the man that wrapped his hands around your neck finish his job.

“Was getting captured part of your grand plan?” you ask Seungkwan.

“Hm?” It takes a moment to realise what you may be questioning him about, smiling slightly. “What makes you think we went in with a plan?”

“I thought I asked you to man the wheel?” Hoshi stands above the both of you.

“Not to batten down the hatches,” he side-eyed his captain. “Clear waters ahead, the wheel does not need manning.”

You zone out as they squabble over nothing, not finding the heart to be entertained by their back and forth. Seungkwan either loses or forfeits, because you feel him rise from next to you, only for his captain to take his place.

“What are you thinking about?” Hoshi asks.

“Everything,” you sigh.

“How come Seungkwan gets a thank you for your service and I don’t? Need I remind you who jumped for you and who didn’t?”

Rolling your eyes, you answer him, “Thank you, Captain Hoshi Kwon, I am forever indebted to your service.”

He chuckles in exaggeration, “Oh please, all in a day's work.”

“I mean it.”

“Hm?”

“I never did say thank you. But you did jump for me when you didn’t have to.”

“Who said I didn’t have to?”

“Our deal was done.”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “Our deal was to get you out when you jumped. I merely honoured that promise!”

“Merely?” you raise a brow. “Was it all merely a matter of conscience?”

His gaze locks with yours. “Don’t ask questions you know the answers for. I would’ve jumped even if you asked me to rope myself to the mast.”

“Please. I have enough blood on my hands and I haven’t even sat on my throne yet.”

“Blood is only on your hands if you tell a soul of what you’ve done,” Hoshi utters. “You’re the only living soul who knows.”

“And you are…?”

“Pirate. Our word means nothing.” Hoshi smiles.

The thought hangs in the air as you take in the man in front of you. He’s changed an era’s worth, yet all the same. His hair is longer, going from his initial shorter crop to curling around his ears, shielding his eyes. It makes him look younger, like a boy with much to live for.

That, and the multitude of notable scars he’s added to his collection, many of which have somehow been because of you. The wound at his torso is doing better, but far to go in its quest to heal.

Hoshi senses something amiss even after his sermon. Breaking his gaze, he turns to look straight ahead at the raised bow of the ship instead.

“Do you know how I got my splendid reputation for being the filthiest pirate on the seas?”

You can only stare, “I have a few guesses.”

He chortles, “Other than my criminal status.”

“Tell me.”

“Unnamed sailors have the odds of a peanut facing its inevitable fate of being crushed under a straggling boot. Pirates don’t see the government as their enemy when they’re own supposed brothers are more likely to jam a cannon in their mouths.”

He lets out a heavy sigh before continuing, “My mistake wasn’t that I was on the losing side in my early days, but more about how I was leaving nothing behind when I was done.”

“How humble,” you hum.

“Dead men tell no tales. When it’s worth it, it might be better to leave a straggler or two to live to tell the tale. A routine stab in the jugular can turn you into somewhat of a myth.”

“Am I a survivor?” you question.

“You may be sovereign on land, but you’re also an unnamed pirate,” he responds, turning back to lock eyes with you. “And you’ve left nobody to tell the tale.”

No one listens to a pirate, and everyone listens to a Queen.

“This isn’t to say there won’t be a legend that follows you.” He quirks a brow as he speaks. “Shows up and claims her father and his entire ship and crew sank at sea, only to befriend his sworn enemies in the aftermath. And then it evolves; she sent a cannon through her fathers ship, he died at the end of his own daughter's sword, she cursed him to captain a crew of the undead for eternity.”

“Have I planted the seeds for yet another ghost story?” It’s difficult to not giggle at the thought, despite how morbid.

“You’ve given yourself substance,” he says, a little stronger than before. His eyes too, wander to your neck and the bruises that refuse to budge. “Beyond just a royal or even a pirate. You did it for your honour as a human being, and that may be braver than anything I have ever conquered.”

In your anxiety ridden, feeble mind, your thoughts had convinced your conscience that everything would be over the minute your father’s heart stopped beating. That it would bring you peace at last.

And it did, especially when it felt like you’d gotten rid of this constant monster under the bed that had followed you far into adulthood. But from the bleeding heart of the creature emerged yet another one of its brethren, and then another and then another.

Smaller albeit, but monsters nonetheless. Problems nonetheless.

Weeks of this, and in one short interaction, Hoshi seemed to have given you the key to turn this monster into a pet.

On instinct, you feel your hand reach up, brushing against the skin of his cheek. It’s an all too familiar setting, seated on the deck of a ship too close for anybody but yours’ comfort. But without the rum and resentment, of course. And how you doubt he’d pull away this time.

Very lightly, you brush your lips against his. It was nothing but to simply feel him again, to feel a semblance of familiarity.

You feel him take your hand that rests on his cheek to place a kiss on your palm, nuzzling his nose into the concave of your hand.

Everything that was to come seemed a little more possible in that very moment.

Even more so when his fingers found the sensitive areas of your coloured throat, when his lips closed against your jaw, only to trail lower and to press into the marks his fingers continue to trail tucked into your neck.

That night, when slipping into your hammock felt like the most unbearable prospect in your near future, it couldn’t possibly be worse than uttering your next question to the man that seems to fix it all.

“Will you stay with me?”

With nothing but the light snores of the rest of the crew and the creaking of the ship, both you and Soonyoung laid in a hammock most definitely not meant for two. Head on his chest, ear pressed against where his heart beats under his scar, it’s bliss.

The feeling of his warm body against yours and the scent of him settling in your lungs, you decide that this was enough. At least for now.

IT WAS DIFFICULT TO give yourself the full list for obvious reasons, but it does seem to help when you tick off all the possible reasons why your patience has run as thin as it has.

Sitting at the decorated seat at the convened court of old men appointed by your father, you briefly wonder if you should finish them off too amidst your flash of anger. The men continue to squabble and babble about the next course of action, slamming their wrinkled hands on the pristine table and sending their own daggers of threats to the other inhabitants of the table.

“If you’d like to send a search party for the King’s body, be my guest,” you finally speak, having had quite enough when the throb in your temple worsens. “But remind me what troops you’ll be sending to the North if your best men will be gone for months attempting to find a body they never will.”

The dispute in the North side of the Kingdom was taking up most of the conversation anyway, and you doubt they’d put customary burial rites over their own glory of victory the North would bring.

“Your Majesty—”

“I would happily jump on the next search ship for my father,” you lie through your teeth. “But I watched him drown in front of my own two eyes, and as the next sovereign I cannot let you waste our resources for something that will both risk our soldier’s lives and have them come back home empty handed.”

Perhaps you had come off slightly more heartless than you intended, so you quickly add, “Please, let my father rest in peace.”

That seems to end the conversation easier than you had expected, but they’re quick to jump to the next issue not long after.

“The court would also like to bring light upon the palace guests.”

Tightening your jaw, you slump against your seat slightly. “What about them?”

They remain silent as their mouthpiece attempts to form the right words for the following question, mostly because you’ve addressed this multiple times beforehand but they continue to sit restless.

“Allow me to help you, Lord Bridge,” you sit up straighter, intending to put this matter to rest. “My guests will remain here for as long as they do, and if you have any more arising issues towards my guests I will only take it as your collective issues towards me.”

In the moment of silence, you continue, “The Kingdom is in a place of instability as we are all well aware. I find it most appalling that you remain fixated on trivial matters of the palace’s domestic code of conduct than you do for the wellbeing of this country!”

Silence yet again as you wait for their forcibly rehearsed chorus of apologies.

“Our greatest apologies, your Majesty.”

The pain in your temples becomes near unbearable as you dismiss the table after that, screeching your chair as you push it back as loud as you possibly can to do nothing but spite the men.

Turning the corner out of the room, you catch the open gates that lead to the paved gardens outside, the sun seeping into the marble floors indoors. Taking an instinctive step towards the gardens, you find most of the crew sprawled onto the grass as they soak in the sun.

Chan and Seungkwan look like they’re wrestling, their laughter ringing throughout the open court while their captain snaps at them to cut it out, only to get roped under one of their headlocks all the same.

There’s a call of your name and a giant wave from Mingyu, who spots you from beyond the flower beds. Still leaning against the gates, you smile and wave back.

Years the halls of the palace had gone, never hearing laughter in its walls. And something about watching them let themselves ruin the petunias and laugh so loud it echoes, heals you just a bit.

Even that night, when you find yourself in your giant four poster bed you’ve slept in since you were a child, this time dozing under the arm of another, you feel the itch of a healing wound somewhere in your heart.

Soonyoung laid with you for every night on the ship since that night, and stayed even here where the space was big enough to host the ghosts of your worries if not distracted.

He had found you on that first night in the palace still awake, haunting the library fireplace with another stack of papers to keep you company.

“Can’t sleep?” he’d asked as he picked up some of your documents.

“Clearly not,” you huff. The papers were mere decorations as you attempted to find an excuse to leave your rooms.

“You realise you won’t be much of an effective monarch if you exhaust yourself to death?”

There was no answer to that, especially when you were absorbing nothing of your new duties. You’d expected to fall asleep on the armrest of the uncomfortable settee whenever it was that you exhausted your brain of thoughts, even then refusing to sleep in that large bed.

He’s awfully persuasive, because as he tucks you into those very sheets, about to leave but not before placing a kiss on your forehead You stop him.

“Stay. Please.”

True as he has always been, he does.

THE CROWN IS HEAVIER than you had expected, even more so when it remains on your head for longer than your previously practised sessions walking around the throne room. The crew was exceptionally good at giving you things to train with, including fraudulent rodent scares to ensure the crown would not topple from your own head the minute you rise from your coronation.

And now, as you finally remove the decorative piece from your head after your actual coronation to replace it with something lighter for the following ball, you find relief in the fact that you’d only ever have to wear the actual thing only a few times in your life.

Everything moves as smoothly as it could, the decorated pirates that saved their Queen from a horrid shipwreck taking up most of the attendees attention as they either question inquisitively or send snarky remarks to the men who are well versed in how to rebut in true informal manner.

The past months had taken up more of your time than you had anticipated, and during the latter half of the still twinkling party, you attempted to spot the person you’ve been trying to corner all night.

Soonyoung stands at the edges of the gathering, empty handed as you watch him reject yet another offer for a drink from the trays that float about. His attire is the most formal you had ever seen, his face scrubbed and hair pushed back for the glorious occasion.

Approaching him from the sidelines, you take hold of his wrists and pull him towards one of the many doors in the ballroom and into a hallway you knew for a fact was rarely ever frequented.

“I feel I haven’t seen you ages,” you say once you’re sure you’re alone.

“Probably best for you to keep busy,” he replies with the smallest smile.

“Have the wrappings on your wound come off?”

Looking at his covered torso, he runs an instinctive hand over where the wound was. “Just a smaller patch now, but it’s nearly there. Disappointed it won’t scar too much.”

“Disappointed?”

“These are my spoils of war, miss princess,” he adds with a smirk, before correcting himself. “Ah, miss queen?”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” you comment.

“The crown suits you.” His voice is soft and sincere.

Scoffing a little, you answer, “I would hope it did.”

“Although, I do prefer you in trousers and a knife.”

Laughing, you can only agree. Especially in your heavier than yourself dress and jewels. “I think I prefer them too.”

At the mention of your new status, he asks, “Shouldn’t you be milling between your new subjects?”

Keeping your eyes on his face, you wait until he meets your gaze. “I have more important things to attend to.”

He breaks eye contact first, and you can feel the distance grow further. One reach and you could take his hand in yours.

But you don’t.

“I know I’ve been quite busy, but…” you trail off as you attempt to find the words. “Is something the matter? What’s going on?”

With a long sigh, he runs a hand through his kept hair, effectively tousling it a little. “I was going to wait until after the ball to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He makes no moves to look at you when he utters his next words. “The crew and I will be leaving at dawn tomorrow. We’ve taken up enough of your space and it’s best if we don’t intrude any further.”

It’s like you’ve taken a blow to the chest, the air knocked out of your lungs as you register what he’s just said. “You’re….you’re leaving?”

“I would think we’ve both gotten what we wanted. We had a deal.”

Deal? Why was he mentioning that now?

“Are you going to abandon me too?”

His head snaps up to finally meet your eye, mouth opening closing as words betray him.

“What happened to what you said about gaining you? All of you?” There’s a blatant accusation in your words.

“And you have! We’ll visit. Assuming the state doesn’t want my head on a pike anymore,” he chuckles uncomfortably.

In a moment of desperation, you take his hand in both of yours; his scarred, gnarled hands that tell you even in the dark who’s warmth it is that you feel every night next to you.

“Stay. Stay with me, please,” you plead. “I can’t live in this place alone, I despised it when I was young and I’ll only despise it even more now.”

Soonyoung brings his other hand to clasp over both of your own, eyes closing as you hear him take a somewhat shaky breath. “I’m doing this for the both of us.”

“So am I! I can’t possibly rule a kingdom by myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone—”

“I don’t want someone! I want you!”

He begins to whisper your name, moving his face away to blink rapidly.

“How do you feel about becoming a pirate king? I can never forbid you from the waters, that’s your home, and you will have it.”

He does not look at you, but you know he’s listening more intently than ever before.

“But I ask you as someone who loves you more than I have ever anything else, will you stay and marry me?”

Soonyoung falters as he absorbs the fact that you’ve just proposed to him.

“I—” he stutters. “The court—”

“The court wouldn’t dare to deny me the man that saved my life.”

You squeeze his hand tighter, moving impossibly closer.

“And even if they do, I'm ready to fight for the man who fought for me. So answer me as a man and not a pirate, Kwon Soonyoung, will you marry me?”

Soonyoungs mouth enclosing over your own is all the answer you need as you feel him break free of your hands to let them find your waist instead. Amidst the pile of fabric he pushes himself into you as close as possible, letting your hands guide his head to move against your mouth.

It’s everything, as you grip onto the back of his shoulder, pressing unforgettably into his open mouth. He takes in your bottom lip between his own, sucking before letting go, only to engulf your mouth once again.

“We’ll figure it out,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the nuzzle of his nose against the apple of your cheek, hot tears spilling from your eyes. “I promise, we’ll figure everything out.”

He shushes you when he feels you shudder in his hold, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “No need to torment your pretty head. Not right now.”

For once, you listen to your pirate captain without a fight, simply feeling the stretch of your lips as he moves down to capture them once more.

The pressure of his hands isn’t nearly as strong as it would’ve felt without the layers upon layers of fabric that cover your form, but standing in this desolate hallway, you swear his fingers might as well be caressing your bare skin underneath.

The thought sends your mind into a dazzling spin, letting go of his mouth with a gasp, suddenly needing to take a step back.

“I have to—I have to go back inside,” you breathe into his slick mouth. “Meet me outside my quarters at midnight.”

As scandalous as it was, you could not deny how alive it made you feel to be like this, meeting in darker corners in the dead of night. But for now, you allow him to fix the bits of your ensemble you could not see. With the bad of his thumb, he blends in the smudges of your rouge, swiping at your lips ever so delicately to ensure he leaves no trace of himself. Tucking the loose strands of hair back behind your ears, and finally, fixing the encrusted crown on your head, a flash of one of the diamond’s gleams reflecting onto his perfect face.

“You’re beautiful.” There’s a dazed look that graces him. “Beyond beautiful.”

With one last innocent press of your smiling mouth onto his, you promise him your midnight.

BY THE TIME IT was finally an appropriate hour for you to excuse yourself for the evening, you were near to exploding entirely.

Whispers of “Are you alright, your Majesty?” plaguing you through your already racing mind. It was beyond difficult to keep the constant shaking of your foot unobvious, however you could not simply up and leave whenever you wanted—at least not yet. The monarch would remain in an unstable authoritative position for quite some time after ascension, and with the unorthodox situation at hand, you assume you’d really have to push yourself if you were to be of any use as sovereign.

But when the time finally came and you were escorted out of the grand ballroom, only mere ticks away from the resounding bells of midnight, you were holding back from breaking into a sprint. Outside your quarters it was empty, but you remain steadfast in your refusal for your ladies in waiting tonight, promising you could dress yourself for bed on your own.

Standing at the double doors of your rooms, still the princess’ quarters as you refuse to move into the Queen’s rooms, you stand waiting. The two guards remain staring straight ahead, and you wait for the clicking of your ladies to go muffled before you ask.

“Has the Captain approached?”

“No, your Majesty.”

You try not to feel disappointed, despite knowing the midnight bells were yet to sound. “If he does, allow him in, please.”

Opening the double doors, you half wish you had let your ladies help you out of the god awful dress, tight and loose in all the wrong places. The jewels are thrown haphazardly on your vanity, needing the heavyweight of them off of your body.

Perhaps months of little to no bedazzling had rendered you incapable of wearing anything mildly less comfortable than linen and leather, but you suppose you’d slip back into the habit just as easily as you slipped out of it. Your nightgown feels like heaven on your tired, tired body, and the dimly lit interior of your bedchamber is only encouraging you to slip under your covers and fall deep into sleep.

That was one thing about the ship you doubt you’d ever miss.

Three rapt knocks outside of the heavy double doors have you sitting rapt at attention, hastily making your way to the door from your vanity. Pressing the front of your nightgown down, you open the door slightly and poke your head out.

Soonyoung stands at the door, nervous of all things, still clad in his full suit. You smile as you let him in, closing the door to turn the lock.

“Your guards mortify me.”

“Oh? So they’re doing their job right?” You walk up to him and grasp onto his lapels, pulling him down to meet the lips you’ve missed so much despite only being hours apart. “Why? Has this big bad pirate found his match in the palace guards of all places?”

“Hmm,” he’s humming against your lips. “I could take them both.”

Giggling like you were in love, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close.

“I hope you weren’t bothered too much,” you say. “The aristocracy seem to have being a pain in the ass written in their birthrights.”

“I think they were too scared to approach, probably thought I’d start swearing and snatching the pearls right off their necks. Some of them were bearable, asked me how long my sword was.”

It’s difficult to not laugh at that, “Well?”

He raises his brows unceremoniously, “Won’t you like to know?”

Taking the opportunity while you giggled uncontrollably at the situation, he goes back placing never ending kisses to your mouth. Sighing involuntarily, you melt into him once again, infinitely more relaxed than in the hallway.

Soonyoung’s eyelashes brush against yours in a whisper of their own, only reminding you how close you were to him in the moment. His kisses go from soft and fleeting to something with a little more vigour. The warmth of his mouth goes back to overtaking the lower half of your face, sucking and licking into your mouth like his life depended on it.

If your mind was reeling when his hands were merely ghosts of pressure over your heavy dress, the feeling of his palms and fingers so distinct over your nightgown, the only thing separating you two, is enough to have your knees begin to buckle.

From your waist, they move to your back, before caressing back to the sides of your waist, thumb running in circles. Gentle handfuls of your flesh, bunching and letting go of the material of your nightgown. Very soon, his mouth leaves yours and instead moves to your jaw, the air in the room letting you feel the wetness that he leaves behind as a passionate trail.

He soon reaches the junction of your jaw and neck, leaving a particularly long suck in the area that has a gasp leaving your mouth. Remaining in that area, you feel the pleasant graze of his tongue on your skin, only making you tilt your head farther out to let him carry out his loving.

Your mind wanders back to the hands that grope you in ways that would defame you, the unseemly palms that have you needing to feel him all the same.

With grazing hands, you slip your fingers underneath his jacket, pushing it off one shoulder. He understands the message, flicking it off of his frame before loosening his cravat and throwing it somewhere behind him.

Unlatching from your neck, he comes round to face you to find your face the epitome of disconnected and dazed.

“Can you wait for me on the bed, my love?”

“But—” The thought of him being even an inch away was most aggravating, but he cuts you off before you can refute.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Soonyoung rests his forehead against your own, taking your hands in his. “I’m right here. I just need to take this awful suit off.”

Your face must have been peculiar because he’s immediately jumping, panicked. “Uh—do you not want me to, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No!” you yelp, wide eyed. “I, um, I’ll wait. On the bed, I mean.”

He lets you walk over to the giant four poster bed, pushing the flow of your gown down when you realise how high it had ridden, cheeks burning scarlet at the thought of exposing so much.

Hearing ruffles from behind you, you cannot bring yourself to look back at him, already extremely lightheaded and afraid that the sight might make you faint altogether.

Perhaps you were experiencing a delayed case of sea legs, because it’s more difficult than usual to make yourself comfortable on the soft beddings. You make a futile attempt at slowing your breathing.

By the time Soonyoung is done, meeting you in the middle, you keep your eyes on his face as he’s immediately climbing over to kiss you softly. Hand on the back of your head, he guides you to lay flat, adjacent to the headboard so you’re laying on the breadth of the bed.

He handles you like you were made of glass, and it only makes the strange ache between your legs increasingly present and uncomfortable.

Noting a cool feeling on the base of your throat, you open your eyes and catch the leather cord that dangles from his neck, the letter opener charm that’s attached to the end of it connecting you two as your lips part. Just beyond, through the dip of his collarbones and the valley to his chest, you catch the scar that curls above his heart. Even lower, you find the smaller wrappings of his scarring wound.

You trace over the edges of the new addition, shaking hands as you try your best to not brush over the wound.

On the other side, Soonyoung has his hands on shin as his body hovers over you between your legs. Curling around, he caresses the skin of your bare calf, drifting to the back of your knees. He takes the opportunity to lift your leg, urging you to wrap it around his waist.

The action has gravity doing what it does best, the hem of your nightgown dropping to bunch over the junction of your leg, your entire thigh exposed for the air.

Soonyoung takes no time to let his hands wander higher, taking light handfuls of the flesh of thighs, dragging his grip further and further up.

“Nearly tipped the ship over when I saw you in those fucking trousers,” he says, eyes closed as he drags his mouth over the inner part of your thigh.

The sound that leaves your mouth is breathy, mind preoccupied with how quickly he was making his way towards the apex of your thighs. He’s using his mouth like he used it on your own lips, nipping at the flesh before biting down hard.

“Soonyoung!”

Tongue running over the patch, he sucks on the area to sooth the bite. It’s taking everything out of you to not twitch uncontrollably in his hold, the heat in your core reaching temperatures you’ve never experienced.

Unlatching himself from your thigh, Soonyoung rears his head slightly. The sight has your head rolling back, mind drifting to the face of the man who’d visited you in your dreams, the same man that had now made home between your legs.

Before you realise it, the bunched hem of your nightgown is flown upwards entirely, fluttering as the fabric lands on your stomach.

Your heat is bare underneath, evident with the way Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the now fully exposed part of you. Your chest continues to rise and fall as you lift your head to look at him, eyes half closed and mind muddled.

“What…What’re you doing?”

Soonyoung looks like you’ve disturbed him from a trance, snapping up to look at you as you ask him your question.

It hardly registers in his mind. What was he doing? Was it not obvious—

Ah.

If the mere sight of your bare thighs weren’t enough for him to release his load onto the sheets untouched, your unawareness might just end up doing it for him.

Of course you didn’t know why he was at eye level with your cunt; women from this world were not supposed to know.

The buzz in his mind renders him useless for a few moments as his vision blurs, the pain in his lower region unbearable. The thought of him being the first person to do this to you, to pleasure you like this; he wasn’t sure if he’d make it till the end of the night alive.

Screwing his eyes shut, his palms full of your thighs, he drops his head and counts to ten.

“Will you let me show you how a Queen is meant to be worshipped?”

Wet mouthed and unhinged eyes, your arousal was doing nothing but multiplying at the sight of him.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

It takes you less than a moment to nod your head, eyes locked with his.

Bringing a hand closer, he dips one finger into the beginnings of your hole. Bringing some of the glisten onto his fingers. Your lips are parted and he brings a second finger to gather your arousal, rubbing over your entrance ever so slowly.

The motion makes you let out a heavy exhale, gripping onto the bunched fabric at your stomach till your knuckles turn white.

With little warning, you feel his fingertips push and drag upwards, right over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Immediately, he’s rubbing your arousal all over the area, rubbing your clit in rhythmic circles with both fingers.

You can’t stop it when you throw your head back and let out a slight whimper, relishing in the feeling that overtakes every last sense and capability, anticipating the next surge of pleasure that courses through your entire body like you've been struck by a bolt of something.

Vision obscured, you loll your head to the side when you feel his fingers retract, confused.

All you catch is the outstretched nature of his tongue, and how it lands directly where his fingers were.

You let out the loudest moan yet, back arching off the bed as he licks a forceful drag up your cunt before moving back down your clit, circling your hole with the tip of his tongue, right before repeating. He flicks your nub right where he’s found you twitch the most, back and forth as your hips begin to fail at your suppressed stutters, his hands needing to pin you down onto the sheets to continue.

He becomes more generous, laying his tongue flat now as he massages your nub so good. Your thighs are closing around his ears and he does nothing to stop you, nearly suffocating between them. Hips going from their stutters to a grind, you find your hands flying to his hair, grip tighter than you thought you’d come down with. It doesn’t help that he’s now taken a finger to circle your entrance while his lips suck on your clit.

“Soonyoung.” It’s all you can say, throat incapable of forcing anything but his name, the burn behind your eyes only making it harder to not say it louder.

When he pushes the finger in, it has you letting out a moan, the foreign feeling against your walls only forcing them to clamp onto his digit. Gradually, you feel his pace quicken as he slides his finger in and out of your hole, his mouth still doing beautiful things to your cunt.

It doesn’t take long for him to shove in another finger, stretching your hole as you let out a constant string of noises through the pleasure, ever-building as every passing moment only scrambles your brain further.

And then you feel him groan, a vibration throbbing through your system.

It’s suddenly all too much, and before you can tell him what’s going on, you’re rendered incapable. You don’t know where your limbs fly, but all you feel is white hot and overwhelming to an unbelievable degree.

“Oh–ungh—” Your body is telling Soonyoung all he needs to know as he only pushes into your pussy even further, letting you ride out your high as you claw at him in every way possible.

Inevitably, the feeling subsides and you realise you’ve been reduced to sobs, tears streaking the sides of your face. Laying flat with your head still on the sheets, you stare at the ceiling of your four poster, trying to remember where you were.

Barely noticing the man that now hover above you, you hear him whisper. “Are you alright?”

Nodding weakly, you don’t even try to lift a finger in the remaining aftermath.

“I need words, my love.”

Swallowing thickly, you give him a breathy, “Yes.”

The lower half of his face glistens in the light like unorthodox diamonds, and all you can think about is how you need him closer to you.

You make an attempt with your nightgown, your trembling arms, still coursing with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Soonyoung decides to help, hands pushing your spine into an arch as he pulls the slip up and over your head, now entirely bare in front of him.

You watch as instead of throwing the fabric away, he brings it to his mouth to wipe the slick off, tainting the gown with your essence.

Mouth over yours in a salty kiss, you pull him into you as close as humanly possible, needing to feel his heat, his weight, his scent as close as possible. His mouth reaches your throat again, lips brushing over the expanse as he places open mouthed kisses over the nearly faded marks.

His hands are lingering once again as they ghost the sides of your breasts, thumbs coming close to your nipples before retracting in a caress. He takes them in handfuls as he goes back to busy your lips with his own, massaging the mounds with a pressure just enough to have you reeling.

Flicking your nipple lightly, he goes back to circle the bud with thumb again. Making himself further familiar, his fingers begin to pinch and pull at them, pressing down to get a noise out of you, one that you sound as you breathe into his mouth.

Trailing over your stomach, he pushes himself off of you. On his knees, he takes the distance as his chance to look at you in your entirety for the first time. Your fucked out expression and your lack of words is doing nothing but fueling him, your loud breaths somehow more sinful than anything he could ever do to you.

In one swift motion, he’s slipping his arms beneath you, pulling you up so he can lay you against the headboards and pillows. You barely register what’s happening, having given yourself up to him long before.

Grabbing one of the millions of cushions on the bed, he swings one over. Using no strength of your own, he lifts your hips and places it down beneath you, effectively propping you up.

And then he’s meeting you at eye level, hands cupping your face. “I need you to listen to me, darling.”

He waits for confirmation, of which you can only nod, still seeing mild stars. “Do you want to stop?”

It's a visceral reaction; the violent shaking of your head, the hand that flies to his bicep. “N–no!”

You pause as he grips onto your upper arms tight, right as you continue. “I just—a moment. Don’t stop, please.”

Leaning down, he places a long kiss on the corner of your mouth before moving his head to fit into the crook of your neck. He nuzzles his nose against the skin below your ear.

“I’m right here,” he whispers. “For as long as you want me.”

His kisses go from desperate to something with a little more intent, pressing his lips into your neck consistently. Oh so gently, it begins to feel like a draught. He turns into calm just as he could become chaos, bringing you down from the after effects of his own actions.

The hum that leaves you is unthinking, fingers remaining deep in the roots of his hair. Your own nose is pressed against his hair, his scent mixed with sweat infiltrating your nostrils. It fills your head with a pleasant buzz, one that you feel force a pull at the corners of your mouth.

“I meant it when I said it,” you murmur into his hair. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Raising his head, he meets your eye, smiling slightly. “I believe you. Forgive me for making you believe I was trying to leave you.”

“You weren’t?”

He presses his lips into a line, exhaling as he drops his chin to his chest. “I’ve needed to be selfish my whole life just to survive. Leaving…I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten on that boat in the morning without taking you with me somehow.”

Moving back to look at you, you realise very quickly there’s more to the mere glassy look in his eye. “For once, I wished to be anything but a pirate, to be anywhere but near the sea. Not when you wouldn’t be there with me.”

Taking one of his beautifully decorated hands to your mouth, you kiss the soft of his palm. “You’ve done more than anyone ever has to protect me.”

You laugh against his hand, “This is my turf, captain. Let me protect you… protect us.”

Something injects you with a dose of bold, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his raised shoulders. “But…I believe we were in the middle of something. I’d hate to ruin the mood.”

The smirk that graces his lips is immediate, pushing you back down onto the sheets as you let a laugh escape you.

And then you feel something warm graze your bottom lip, pointed in the way it pushes inwards. He’s brought the glinting letter opener charm up to your lips, the trinket pinched between his fingers as he continues to keep it on your mouth. He kisses you deep as the metal remains between you two, your hands run across the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple as he props himself between you.

“I love you,” he cuts between the kiss to groan, the charm dropping from between your mouths to your chest.

“I love you, mmh—” His fingers have found your clit mid confession, rubbing quickly as he attempts to get you all hot and withered again.

Your legs raise on instinct, back arching as he rubs you mercilessly, the pressure building quicker than it had before.

“I–I think—” you start to tell him, and it seems it’s all he needs to remove his fingers entirely.

“Soonyoung!” you yelp, landing on the bed with a thud.

Looking down, you find his hands wrapped around the length between his own legs, and you realise this was your first time seeing it. Past the white-oozing slit, his tip is a painful looking red. If his hands weren’t already pumping and he hadn’t already lined himself up to your hole, you would’ve taken him into your own palms, done exactly with your mouth that he’d done with his own.

But you can’t find it within yourself to stop him when you feel the initial push of his bulbous tip against your hole, the stretch causing you to drop your mouth open.

“Fuck,” you hear him curse, and when you look up you find his own eyes screwed shut. His hands grip the plush of the pillow beside your head as tight as ever, face askew like he was holding himself back from combusting entirely.

Slowly, you feel the stretch turn into something akin to a burn, a sting in the back of your eyes. You let him push himself into you at his own pace, the never ending battle between your mind and your refrained hips ever present as you attempt to keep them at bay.

He keeps his pelvis flush against yours ince he’s sheathed himself inside you entirely. BOth of your pants fill the thick air of the room, the throb of your walls around his shaft leaving a tremble in his forearm despite your forsake.

Hand somewhere above your head, you feel Soonyoung pull out ever so slightly before pushing back in. Just like this, in shallow thrusts, he pumps himself in an out of your walls in a slow pattern.

It begins with a simmering tremble of pleasure that prolongs as he drags his cock in and out, and then in and out, and then—

Your eyes fly open when you feel his hips slam against yours with a resounding sound, fingers gripping his arm as he does it again, your moans penetrating the air. Before you know it, he’s hiked your legs up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking as he goes back to snapping his hips into you.

“Oh, Soonyoung.”

Your nails are digging into his bicep like it was the only thing tying you to this earth, the only thing keeping you from passing out entirely. He’s taken up a brutal pace, pistoning into your clamped walls with a vigour unmatched.

All Soonyoung can hear is the stretch of your moans and groans directly in his ear, the obscene squelch of both of your fluids mixing at your middles. Your hands have migrated to his back, clawing at the skin like you’ve been utterly possessed.

He can’t seem to mind, not when they’ll simply become reopening wounds every time he’ll have you like this, all to himself and no one else. He wonders vaguely if your guards outside can hear the way you’re losing yourself in him just as he is in you, wonders if it appalls them that a filthy pirate gets to have their Queen in his arms as her vindictive pleasure.

One hand rubbing over your slick clit, he pulls back to sit on his heels, the angle allowing him to keep ever part of you occupied, his spare hand coming up to toy with the pillow of your breast.

It’s all too much, for the both of you as your collective noises become increasingly frequent and high pitched.

And then he’s pushed you over the edge, the shake of your thighs electrifying as you nearly scream out in the bliss of your high. Hands moving every which way to find a grip as you let the feeling crash into you over and over again.

“Oh, that’s so good, so good, oh my goodness.”

You’re still in the middle of your climax when Soonyoung can’t take it anymore, letting himself release his load inside of you like a mark. It’s a mess of force and pleasure as the both of you lose sight of your strengths and weaknesses, the feeling of his hot cum shooting into your walls only prolonging your orgasm even further.

He continues to thrust, continues to play with your nub, continues to flick at your nipples despite the orgasm subsiding. It’s all suddenly too much all at once, the sharp jerk of your body and your voice asking him to stop.

“Soon—Soonyoung, it’s too much.”

Hands coming to a halt and his thrusts slowing, you feel him ease himself out of you.

It’s a sight Soonyoung doubts he could ever forget even if he tried, your still pulsating walls doing everything but keeping the milky white of his load inside you, globs of the liquid spilling out as you shudder near lifeless on the bed. His hands grope at the inside of your thighs, pulling your lips apart to take in the mess he’s made.

He can’t help himself when he pushes two fingers into your hole, feeding his cum back into your hole right where it belongs.

You’ve only barely started to come round when he meets you at eye level, plopping next to you on the bed.

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi,” you breathe back, hands coming up to touch his face.

He lets you breathe for a few moments as he finds himself getting off the bed to find your tainted nightgown, moving back to you to spread your legs and wipe you clean as best as he could.

You find it within yourself to allow him to pull you into a sitting position, a cup of water from the nightstand pressing against your tired mouth.

“Come on, just one,” he urges as you slump against his chest.

You take a few sips as he coaxes you into drinking the full cup and half of the second helping.

He gives up as he holds you against his chest, brushing his fingers through your tangled hair to push past your face.

“Are you alright?” he asks you. Your eyes are closed when he leans down to place a peck on the apple of your cheek.

“Mhm,” you muffle. “Want to sleep.

“I’d let you, but…”

“Soonyoung, I can’t go again,” you whine.

He chuckles, “I meant to ask where we could find some sugar around here. You barely ate anything at the ball.”

“The kitchens?” you answer with a floating question mark.

Soonyoung can’t help it when he squeezes you so tight it has you complaining loudly, not being able to sustain the love just in the tiny expanse of his heart.

“Come on, let’s get you some cake before both our hearts give out.”

BUNDLED UP IN WARMER clothes, the only thing the palace walls hear is the tiny whispers and giggles of you and your lover as you make your way to the kitchens.

It’s empty at this time of night, the dying embers of the fireplace the only source of light. Soonyoung uses every last bit of his thievery to manage to find a basket of dough balls, the syrup more readily available at the table in the centre.

The tingling in your brain can’t seem to decipher the overwhelming happiness that floods you from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes. Especially when you call out his name amidst his shuffling, your heart can’t take the grin on his face as he hurries to join on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Arm looped through his own and your head on his shoulder, you decide you’d be quite okay dying like this.

The dough balls are cold and the syrup is probably a little too sweet, but you can’t possibly complain when it warms you just the same.

“I’ve despised my name my entire life,” Soonyoung starts in the silence, picking at the insides of his treat. “Some old merchant sailor was giving his ship away in exchange that the taker would take care of it. He’d built his Tigress from the first board to the last sail, but the years had made their mark. It was practically falling apart when I took it off his hands.”

He pushes the remaining bit of the pastry into his mouth, muffled as he continues, “He had a strange name, said it was given to him by his crew when they realised he was born without a name. Hoshi. I liked it well enough so I kept it.”

“Soonyoung—”

“That one. I wanted to replace the name I loathed, the one my own mother gave me.” You watch as his throat bobs as he swallows. “Ash is my birthplace, my mother worked in the brothels where I was born only because she couldn’t get rid of me.”

Taking one of the hands that wrap around his arm, he brings your fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of each one. “I despised that name, until I heard it from your lips.”

“Soonyoung.” It felt right on your tongue, like you were destined to say his name.

“Yes, my love?” He smiles softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says as he kisses you again. “Thank you for keeping my name, thank you for giving it life.”

You take the opportunity to grab one of the syrup soaked dough balls from the basket and stuff them into his mouth. “Enough, don’t tell me all this luxury’s made you soft.”

It was a jab but a lighthearted one in any case, you loved to see this side of him and you doubt you would ever get enough of seeing him like this. Vulnerable with his softer smiles and squinted eyes.

Bringing one of your digits to your mouth, you suck the remaining syrup off your fingers.

Soonyoung is quick to take notice as he takes your hand and brings your fingers up to his mouth, running his tongue over the pads of your fingers to take in the remaining sugar left on your fingers.

He keeps his eyes locked onto yours as he sucks on the tips of your fingers, making sure every last hint of sweetness is gone.

And then he’s kissing you, tongue in your mouth as he moves against your lips slowly.

Breaking apart, you whisper, “As much as I’d love to, the bakers will be coming in any minute now.”

Soonyoung’s grin is dangerous, and you find out why the minute you feel his arms loop around your waist and under your thighs, lifting you clean off the floor of the kitchens.

You squeal before you can help it, his lips finding home in your neck as you laugh as loud as your chest would allow.

You could get used to this. And you will.

THE SERVANTS CARRYING THE giant stack of plates nearly topple over when you sprint past them, yelling a loud apology over your shoulder as you do nothing but hasten your pace.

The paper in your hands is clutched tight in your fists as you run to where your carriage awaits, near yelling at the driver to make it to the docks before the streets would be full of the early morning merchants and bakers, slowing the gallops of the decorated horses.

The town is waking as your carriage races past, the beginnings of the new day making itself known as the sun peers through the gaps of the houses. You’re incapable of sitting still, your heels tapping against the floors of your cabin incessantly as the docks grow nearer and nearer.

And then you see it, the rush of dock handlers that see the royal carriage slow to a stop in front of the boardwalk. You slam the door open before any of the tens could do it for you, breaking into a sprint as you find the distinct flag of the royal crest wave high on the other end of the docks.

You had already seen Soonyoung off in the dark of the night as he made his way to the ship that was near ready to depart as you slide to stop in front of the anchored ship.

There was nothing sane about what you were doing, the chortles and shocked noises of sailors and merchants deaf to ears as you finally spot him near the prow.

His eyes meet yours and he has to do a double take.

Panting and needing to hold onto your knees for support, you peer up as you watch him run towards the ramp that leads down to the docks to see you, to ask why you were here when he’d kissed you goodbye mere hours ago.

By the time he meets you at the wobbly boardwalk, you’ve somewhat recovered.

“Are you alright?” he asks you as soon as you’re within earshot, hands grasping onto your upper arms in evident concern.

“I had to tell you, this came in right after you left.” You brandish the paper clutched into your fist, smoothing it over as the light catches the red stamp at the bottom.

It takes him less than a minute to realise what it said, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth gaping like a fish. “They…They said yes?”

“They said yes,” you repeat, nodding furiously as you break into a smile. “We can get married, Soonyoung, they said yes.”

His arms are crushing you before you know it, wrapped around you so tight as he buries his face into your neck, repeating it like a mantra, “They said yes…”

By the time you part, he keeps his arms around you, still embracing you in front of the entire port. You take hold of his face bringing it closer to you.

“Three months, and then you come home,” you breathe. “And I get to marry you, in front of everyone.”

Soonyoung lets his lips meet your own in a chaste kiss as he corrects you, “I get to marry you in front of everyone.”

There’s a thud of something nearby, and you look up to find the crew of the Tigress hanging over the railings of the newly appointed naval ship that looked suspiciously like a pirate’s.

“He can’t come back home, if he doesn’t leave!” Seungkwan yells over cupped hands.

You’d like to send him an affectionate gesture involving your middle finger, but choose to save him in front of the crowded port.

“You’ll miss me, Seungkwan, just you wait,” you send him a pointed glare that he simply scoffs at.

He might miss you, but you’ll definitely miss the lot of them when you return to a significantly emptier palace.

“Don’t let the royal snobs walk over you, you’re a better sailor anyway,” you tell Soonyoung. “Not that I needed to tell you, anyway.”

“I promise on our future wedding to be a complete menace.” He grins at the declaration as you admire him in the morning light.

One last time, you memorise the dips and hills of his features, pressing your final kiss into his lips as the voices telling him to hurry it up grow louder.

He blows you a kiss from the railings as the anchor is hoisted, and you send him one right back.

As your carriage trudges its path back to the palace, at a pace more acceptable for both the stamina of the horses and the integrity of the structure, your eyes remain glued to the shrinking ship that fades into the distant horizon.

There’s a pang in your chest, one that brings a tear to your eyes. It’s all very dramatic, the way the melancholy makes a home in your heart. An inkling tells you how you’ll probably become quite used to the feeling, learn to greet it like a friend.

For now you enter the lighter palace, and take your place on the chair in your study and find solace in the ideas your mind brings.

That no matter how long Soonyoung will remain far from you, he will always come back home to you.

Always.

[AN]: ty for joining my babies on their journey, i cannot thank you all enough for reading all 48fuckingK words of this i love you guys truly!!! thank you for all the reblogs and comments on the other parts, it makes me genuinely so happy to see you guys enjoy this universe that i've built. I read every single comment and know i appreciate all of it so so much <3

458 notes · View notes

peanutalergy · 7 days ago

Text

currently missing my ex situationship who had a stardew valley save with me. that's it that's the whole post.

spencer never really played video games. of course he had in the past, and it's not something he actively avoids, either. but it's not a habit. it's not like he has a console and an expensive headset and a side of the couch solely dedicated to playing time like his girlfriend does.

he's partially scared of invading and interrupting your you time by asking to play with you.

he loves watching, though. the way you put your tongue out when you're focused on the screen, the awkward and uncomfortable positions you often find yourself in and he reminds you to get out of, the little yelps you let out whenever there's something remotely jumpy or scary happening.

he'll come home and see you on the couch, tell you not to worry about turning it off (even though wanting to spend time only with him is always your first thought after a long day away from each other) and he'll curl up next to you, talk about his day while he watches you mine. or he'll grab a book and sit beside you in sweet silence that's only interrupted by small complaints muttered under your breath.

but recently, since you told him you'd read his favorite book just for him, he's been more than he already was – which was a lot – invested in your own interests.

“can i play with you?” he feels like a kid in the playground during recess, unreasonably and unusually shy standing in front of you.

studying his face for a second, your own contorts into a confused smile before you laugh and hand him a remote. you scoot to give him space and he instantly settles beside you with a relieved breath. he's not even sure what he'd been so anxious for.

it's not surprising how good he is at your favorite game. (it's basically impossible to be bad at a cozy farm simulator, but) he does have an advantage when he can remember all of the important details of it. the phone you needed to have by your side to check the wiki is replaced by your boyfriend now – and he's prettier, too. a lovely substitute.

he doesn't mention the few inaccuracies, but it's like you can hear the thoughts swirling in his mind, “well, that's not really how refining quartz works.”; “technically, that's a male duck, but okay.”; “tilapia are freshwater fish” & “lingcod are saltwater fish.”

for some reason, he fills up three and a half cabins with conserve jars and barrels. he names his barn animals after intellectuals whose names you had never heard (or, frankly, cared about) before. he is not jealous of the town doctor. he sits at the library and does nothing pretends to read. calls it proper role playing. you think you might cry reading on screen the fact that he wrote your name on his “favorite thing” part of the character creation.

being too focused on the grind (he always laughs when you call it that), you forgot to let him know about the marriage mechanics in the game. when he reached eight hearts with leah, the villager he befriended the quickest – due to how easily pleased she is –, the letter he got about bouquets surprised him.

“i don't want to marry another woman,” there's a hint of hurt in his voice. he's almost mad at pierre, or maybe just at the game, for even assuming he'd ever do such a thing.

“she's not real, spencer.” you giggle, “but you don't have to marry anyone, you know.”

“can i marry you?”

“well, yeah, but only later on in the game.”

and from that moment on, everything he did was with the goal of getting a crafting recipe for the wedding ring. when you do get married, you both pretend you don't take it as seriously as you do.

maybe it's best if he doesn't know about the save where you married dr. harvey. it only matters that you're married to dr. spencer reid.

#yes these are all things my ex did.#should i call him.#spencer reid #fanfic #criminal minds #fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #fluff #stardew valley #sdv #love u

127 notes · View notes

andvys · 2 years ago

Text

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 11

Warnings: none really, mentions of smoking and drinking, reader punching someone....

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler , slight Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Steve watches you from afar, confused about your relationship with the metalhead.

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: @mysticmunson you're always my biggest help and inspiration, thank you, angel🤍

series masterlist

“Will you hold still?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Why are you so shaky?”

“I-I don’t know.”

You drop the eyeshadow brush on the desk and put your hand on your hip, sighing as you look at Chrissy who looks more nervous than ever. She is still wearing a hoodie, the cheer uniform is hanging over the back of your chair. You have been trying to do her eye makeup for the past twenty minutes.

“Lay down.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, confusion takes over her face, “why?”

“Because I can’t work like this, you keep fidgeting – seriously, what’s up? You are never this nervous.”

You and Chrissy always get ready together whenever there’s a basketball game. Usually she does her makeup herself but tonight she asked you to do it, she wanted something similar like you, just with more color.

She seemed happy and excited when she came over but now she seems like a nervous mess. Every time you move closer to her, she starts fidgeting, it’s not the first time you had noticed her doing that. You have noticed a lot in the past three months.

Heather and Chrissy kept being secretive, oftentimes you would catch them whispering before they’d notice you in the room, they share glances that you don’t understand. They still make you feel left out. You confronted them a while back but neither of them gave you any answers to your questions, it upset you and it caused you to distance yourself from them a little.

They had started to make you feel the way he made you feel. The constant lies, the whispers and them going behind your back had gotten to you. It triggered some feelings that you thought you had left in the past.

They were upset when you stopped answering their phone calls and when you would cancel plans but you couldn’t be around them when they refused to talk about the very obvious issues they had with you. You would never drop the friendship, you would never leave them behind, they mean too much to you to just kick them out of your life but you needed some distance, for your sake.

You made a new friend, Robin Buckley. Eddie introduced you to her back in January, they had been friends since middle school – back when he was still a theater kid.

You instantly hit it off with her, she is nice and she is very different from Chrissy and Heather, which is why she didn’t feel comfortable hanging out with them yet. It’s a miracle that she gave you a chance considering that ‘popular’ people make her feel extremely anxious and uncomfortable – which you can understand now that you see things from a different perspective.

To most people, you are still the ‘the queen of Hawkins High’ but to some you are one of the freaks now. They glare at you, they whisper about you, they call you names and point their fingers at you, especially when they see you with Eddie, who feels guilty about the treatment you are getting from some of the people that used to be in your friend group when you were still with Steve. You don’t care though.

You don’t care what other people think of you.

But you do care what your friends think about you, your friends who still keep secrets.

“Yeah Chrissy, why are you so nervous?” Eddie chuckles as he looks up from his magazine, glancing at the two of you. Wiggling his eyebrows at her. She glares at him and rolls her eyes, which only makes him chuckle again.

Eddie knows why she is so nervous, it’s obvious why – well, it’s obvious to everyone but you. It didn’t take him long to figure it out. The subtle glares and the attitude he sometimes gets from the usually nice cheerleader isn’t because she doesn’t like him, it’s because she is jealous of him. Because she likes you.

And she knows that he knows, she realized it after he started teasing her with small comments and the smug looks he would throw at her when he’d catch her checking you out. At first, she was scared. Scared that he would tell you something that she had been trying to hide for so long. Eddie promised not to tell though.

Chrissy lies down, a small huff leaves her lips. You get on the bed and scoot closer to her, reaching for the eyeshadow brush, you dip it into the blue eyeshadow before you lean down.

She is looking at you – staring at you.

“Close your eyes,” you chuckle.

“O-Oh right,” she whispers and closes her eyes.

Eddie puts the magazine down, he leans back in his chair and puts his arm behind his head. He looks at you, you are already wearing your uniform, your hair and makeup is already done. He watches the way you bend down to get closer to Chrissy, your skirt rides up a little, exposing your spandex and more of your skin. He really really doesn’t want to look at you in that way but he can’t look away either.

You are his friend and he really loves your friendship and how easy things are between the two of you but you are beautiful.

And you are sexy.

You suddenly turn around and glance at him, you catch him staring at you. Eddie’s eyes widen but he plays it cool, smirking at you. Your eyes flash with amusement, you raise your brows at him, a smirk tugs at your lips.

“Stop staring, Munson.”

Eddie gives you a cocky grin, “I can’t look away from a beautiful sunset.”

You furrow your brows and a laugh escapes your lips, you shake your head at him, “what does that even mean, you dork?”

You turn back around, still smiling. Chrissy snorts at his words.

“Okay, tell any sane person to look away from two cheerleaders straddling,” he says.

“Eddie!” Chrissy mumbles, opening her eyes to look at you with a disapproving frown.

You grab one of your pillows and turn around, throwing it at him, “perv!” You laugh.

He catches it and presses it against his chest, he smirks at you, “can you do my eyeshadow too, sweetheart?” He jokes.

“Shut up,” you chuckle as you turn back around. You reach for your makeup bag and look for the glitter you bought when you went shopping with Robin, yesterday.

Chrissy leans on her elbows, she glances at Eddie who is checking you out again and then her eyes move back to you. She can see the shine in your eyes, the smile that you are trying to bite back, the flustered look on your face.

It annoys her.

Eddie is amazing and with him, you would actually be in good hands. He is a much better person than Steve ever was. He wouldn’t hurt you, especially not the way he did. Eddie makes you smile, he spends more time with you than Steve did, he buys you little presents that he surprises you with, all the time. He takes you out on dates that ‘clearly’ aren’t dates because you are just friends. Eddie comes to basketball games – he comes to basketball games, just for you.

Eddie would be a good boyfriend, there is no doubt about that. She is not sure if you like each other or not but it seems like it. She should be happy for you and she should support it but the green eyed monster inside of her just refuses to let her be happy for you.

“Are you excited for the party?”

Chrissy snaps out of her thoughts, she looks into your eyes again and nods.

“Are you gonna wear the dress you bought?”

She closes her eyes again when you lean back in with the brush. She feels your fingertips on her cheek when you tilt her face to the side. She takes in a shaky breath.

“Should I?”

You hum.

“You look pretty in it.”

She smiles at your words, “I do?”

“Yes, you always do, Chris.”

She blushes and her smile grows bigger, “thank you,” she whispers.

You smile down at her, “you’re welcome.”

After you finish her makeup, Chrissy takes her uniform and goes into your bathroom to get changed. You clean up the small mess and put away all the makeup and the brushes, you grab your favorite lipstick and walk over to the mirror, you can feel his eyes on you as you start applying the lipstick. A smile tugs at your lips, you glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the same smile as you.

“What?”

He shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck, “nothing.”

You furrow your brows, you smack your lips together and look at your reflection one more time before you turn around to face him.

“Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs and gets up from the chair, he grabs the green hair bow and walks towards you.

“I like watching you get ready,” he says.

“You do?” You smile.

He nods, “mhmm.”

He stops in front of you and looks down at you as he holds up the green hair bow, “turn around.”

You turn around, facing the mirror again. He steps closer to you. You can smell his cologne, it’s a new one. It smells even better than the previous one he used. The smell of smoke always lingers around him though, nothing can hide the smell – not the cologne, not the aftershave, not his shampoo which surprisingly smells like apples, not the cinnamon from his favorite gum.

Eddie’s hands are gentle, his brows are furrowed in concentration, he presses his lips together as he puts the bow in your hair.

Something about this makes you giggle. Eddie being in your bedroom isn’t unusual but him helping you get ready for the game, putting a bow in your hair is very unusual.

His eyes flash with amusement as he raises his head to look at your reflection in the mirror, “what’s so funny?”

You shrug and continue watching him, “just you helping me get ready for a laundry basket game.”

He snorts.

“I’m helping you get ready for your performance and I’m only going there for you, sweets.”

Your heart warms at his words.

“And then you’re also coming to the bonfire party with me.”

“With you.” He nods.

“Alright, I’m done,” he grins and flicks your ponytail before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug, leaning his chin on your shoulder, causing you to giggle again.

You grab his forearms and lean back.

“Do you hug all your friends that way?”

He chuckles and pulls you even closer, “nah only the special ones, babe,” he smirks and buries his face in your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume and body wash.

You giggle and tilt your head to the side, “how many special ones are there?”

“Just one.”

You narrow your eyes as you turn to look at him, he smirks at you still.

“You’re my very special one.”

He isn’t joking about that, despite the teasing look on his face, he is saying the truth. You are special to Eddie. You haven’t been friends for that long, you started talking last summer, back in august but you have only gotten really close after your breakup with Steve. It feels like you have been friends for much longer than that though. The moment you first started hanging out, you instantly got attached to each other. Not a single day goes by when you don’t spend time together, he loves being with you and you love being with him.

Things feel natural, easy and just good when you are with each other.

You look into each other's eyes for a moment, not speaking, not moving, not doing anything. Sometimes that’s enough.

A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. His smile grows as well and before you know it, you both start laughing for no reason.

Chrissy walks back into the room to see you in his embrace. She clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She clears her throat.

You and Eddie look away from each other, the smile still ever present on your faces. You don’t notice the jealousy or the bitterness on her face. He does.

“Can we go?”

You glance at Eddie who nods at you with a shrug. He is definitely not excited for the game, you told him that he doesn’t have to go but he claimed that he wants to go, for you.

You smile at them both, “let’s go!”

Things between Steve and Billy were tense all night. You could tell from the moment they walked out into the gym, the glares they sent each other were more intense than usual, they wouldn’t pass on any opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump into each other and not to mention Steve’s bleeding nose, he tried to hide it but he kept wiping his nose and you noticed the blood on the back of his hand.

He looked angry and frustrated. You noticed it, right away.

She didn’t.

Despite the tension and the weird energy that surrounded one of the best players on the team, they still won against the opposing team and took another win home, which of course has to be celebrated.

Lovers Lake is filled with people, the bonfire party that had been planned for weeks is in full swing, loud music is sounding through the speakers, the smell of burning wood mixed with the smell of the crisp spring air brings you comfort. The cold months are over and the warm weather is finally approaching.

The beer you have been drinking all night makes you feel a little tipsy but you feel calm and the stars in the sky make you smile as you lay on the grass with Eddie. He lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke up into the air.

You turn your head and look around, a few people are sitting by the fire. You see Chrissy and Heather talking to a few girls from the cheer squad. You see Nancy sitting on a log with Jonathan, they are both laughing, leaning closer to each other, Steve is sitting on a different log, he is holding a red solo cup in his hand, he looks into the fire with a dull look on his face.

You raise your brows, you look at the three of them. Odd. Shouldn’t he be the one next to her? Shouldn’t he be the one whispering to her? Shouldn’t he be the one making her laugh?

“Do you think there’s more out there?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention away from him.

“Hmm?”

Eddie repeats his question and you turn back to look at him, he is pointing up at the sky, “like aliens and shit.”

You scoot closer to him, looking at the way he squints his eyes as he smokes.

“Hmm, maybe,” you shrug, “I think there’s more than just aliens though.”

“Oh, do you?” He asks, turning to face you, “tell me more.”

“I think there’s other universes.”

He raises his brows, waiting for you to explain more.

“I think there are different worlds, different versions of us – like, maybe there's a version of us fighting interdimensional monsters right now,” you joke, which he seems to love.

His eyes light up at your words and he laughs.

“Maybe we are slaying a dark wizard right now – what was his name again, Vecman? You know the one from your new campaign?”

Eddie laughs loudly and he shakes his head, “it’s Vecna, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and snort.

“Right, we are killing Vecna, right now.”

“Are we normal humans or?”

“No, we have superpowers.”

“What kind of superpowers?”

You put your finger on your chin and look up, “hmm… you got super strength, super speed,” you pause and look into his eyes, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight, his eyes are dark. Your eyes widen, “you’re a vampire!”

His jaw drops, his eyes widen, “I’m a vampire?”

“Yes!”

“That means I had to die – wait! Did you bring me back from the dead? You know, since you’re a witch?”

"Absolutely,” you giggle.

“That’s so sick, sweetheart.”

“Right?”

You both giggle as you stare at each other. His eyes fall to the chain around your neck, the one that he had put on you earlier tonight. He reaches his hand out and touches it.

“Maybe we are both rockstars in a different world.”

“Both of us?” You laugh, “I can see you being a rockstar but me?”

“Hush. You are helping me write songs and you can play guitar now – well a little, never as good as me but yeah,” he says, cockily. Smirking at you.

You shake your head, snorting at his words.

“Maybe you are my groupie.”

“You wish!” You slap his shoulder, making him laugh again.

“Okay okay, not a groupie – you are the lead singer and I’m the sexy guitarist.”

“Mhmm.”

You lie back again and look up at the stars, a grin takes over your face, “or maybe you are my groupie.”

“Oh absolutely, I’d totally be your groupie if you were a rockstar, y/n.”

You and Eddie are in your own little world, you always are. You don’t care about anything or anyone else when you are with each other. The rest of the world melts away when you spend time together.

You don’t care about the people around you or the awful music that one of the jocks picked out, the prying eyes of the judging girls from the cheer squad. You just don’t care about anything.

You don’t even notice the curious eyes of your ex boyfriend but Eddie does, after you get up to get a new drink. His eyes find a sulking Steve Harrington, who is still sitting by the fire. His girlfriend is long gone and so is her friend, Eddie doesn’t bother to look around for them. He keeps his eyes on Steve, watching the way his eyes follow you. Eddie wonders why he looks so miserable, because of Nancy and Jonathan or because of you? It seems to be the latter, he could be looking for her but instead he is watching you.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, how stupid can someone be? He wonders.

Suddenly, Steve straightens his back and his expression changes from miserable to curious and tense? He turns his head, looking right at him. Eddie raises his brows when he finds himself locking eyes with him. Steve looks confused, his eyes flicker back and forth between you and him.

Eddie follows his gaze to see what confuses him so much. He is looking at you and at the guy who is shamelessly checking you out as you laugh at something he said to you.

Eddie snorts. Of course. If there is one thing that he got used to when going out with you then it’s you being hit on, every damn time.

The guy is tall, probably taller than him. His shoulders are broad beneath the flannel, it’s clear that he’s some sort of athlete. He looks familiar but Eddie doesn’t recognize him.

Curiously, Eddie watches the interaction from afar, sipping his beer.

You are holding a drink in your hand, you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. Eddie can see the smile on your face, you nod to whatever he is saying to you. He steps closer to you, pretending not to hear you properly, he leans closer and licks his lips when he looks down your shirt.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “douchebag.”

The music is loud but he still hears the approaching footsteps, narrowing his eyes, he almost laughs in surprise when he sees Steve. Getting up, he dusts the grass off of his jeans and finishes his drink.

Steve stops in front of him, when Eddie sees the look of disbelief on his face, he almost bursts out laughing.

“I’m not selling tonight,” he mumbles.

Steve shakes his head, furrowing his brows at his words, “I don’t wanna buy anything.”

“Oh, to what do I owe you the pleasure then, King Steve?” Eddie asks, mockingly. He expects Steve to look annoyed but he doesn’t, just very confused.

“You’re not gonna do anything?” Steve asks.

Eddie chuckles, his brows draw together and he tilts his head in question.

“What do you mean?”

Steve raises his hand, pointing his finger at you and the guy who is now holding his hand out to you – you are writing something on his palm, presumably your number.

Eddie rolls his eyes again.

“This guy is flirting with her,” Steve mumbles.

“I’m not her keeper.”

Now he looks even more confused, if he didn’t look so serious, Eddie would have laughed. But then he realizes why he looks at him so shocked. Steve must think that you and Eddie are dating and he doesn’t understand how he as your ‘boyfriend’ just lets you flirt with some other guy.

Steve sighs, he turns around. Eddie watches the way he stares the guy down, a look of distaste appears on his face.

“That’s Ray, he used to be the captain of the basketball team. I always hated that guy.” Steve mumbles.

That’s a lie. Steve used to look up to him, when he was a freshman in high school and he was new on the team, Ray had seemed like the coolest guy around, he was the most popular guy at school, the girls loved him, the boys wanted to be like him and so did Steve until he became popular too and he realized that he could be even better than him. Ray was just a popular guy but Steve Harrington became the King of the school.

A title he used to be so proud of is just an embarrassing part of his past now.

Steve is certain that you and Eddie are dating. He could just ask to be sure but he thinks that it’s too obvious. You are dating. But why are you flirting with the former captain of the basketball team? Why are you writing your number on his hand? Are you in an open relationship with Eddie?

An open relationship is something you never approved of, you always made that very clear, not that Steve suggested something like this. Tommy always joked about it to Carol and you looked disgusted and always voiced your opinions on it.

What happened?

Did the hurt change you so much?

Ray walks away from you and you turn around, walking back to Eddie when someone else steps in front of you and both Eddie and Steve sigh in annoyance.

Billy Hargrove. Always there to ruin the night.

“Getting bored of the freak?”

The smile on your face falls, a sour expression takes over and you tense up. You can’t stand Billy. Not only does he keep trying to get in your pants while he has a thing going on with your friend, he also keeps insulting Eddie and picking fights with Steve, which shouldn’t be any of your concerns but something tells you that Steve’s bleeding nose and the bruise on Billy’s jaw has got something to do with you.

“Fuck off, Billy,” you mumble, trying to move past him. He doesn’t let you. He steps in front of you and chuckles.

“Don’t be like that, baby.”

You scrunch your face up in disgust, “don’t call me that.”

His eyes move up and down, he looks at your exposed skin and you suddenly regret wearing a low cut shirt.

“Ray Parker, huh?” He smirks, licking his lips, “going for the jocks again? The freak ain’t doing a good job at satisfying you? You know, you can just come to me instead of going for some retired team captain.”

“Jesus, shut up, Billy.”

Billy chuckles, his eyes twinkle with lust as he continues to stare at you, “when will you stop playing hard to get? We both know that you will end up under me at some point.”

If you didn’t feel disgusted by him already, you would definitely be now. Anger rushes through you and you roll your eyes.

“Keep dreaming, Hargrove.”

"Oh, I will."

You clench your jaw as you look into his blue eyes. You hate the cocky look on his face, the self assured expression that he always has. The smirk that he wears. God, you want to punch him.

You go to walk past him and surprisingly, he lets you walk away this time but then he says something that makes your blood boil.

“Yeah be a good girl and run back to the freak, no one else will fuck that loser.”

You halt in your tracks and you clench your fists. You had always been protective over your friends but especially him. Eddie may be good at pretending that the bullying doesn’t get to him, he learned to ignore them or to throw some punchlines back but you are not going to stand by and watch how others degrade and belittle him.

You turn back around and his smirk grows when he notices how angry you look.

“I never thought you’d be into some trailer trash a–”

You never punched someone before but you always wanted to know what it feels like to slam your fist into someone’s face, someone that you can’t stand. You didn’t think that it would hurt so bad but the look on his face and the bruise that he will wear later on, makes it all worth it.

His head snaps to the side and he looks stunned for a moment.

You hear the gasps around you, the chuckles from a few boys.

A part of you expects him to hit you back, you are no stranger to his anger issues. The reaction you get isn’t one that you expected though. He furrows his brows and suddenly he bursts into laughter, his eyes flash with amusement and his pupils dilate even further.

You want to punch him again.

“Shit baby, I’m even more into you now,” he smirks.

A groan of disgust falls from your lips and you turn around to leave before he can do or say anything else.

Eddie and Steve stand there with stunned looks on their faces. Eddie looks impressed and proud, a smirk is tugging at his lips.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wide and his lips are parted in surprise. Out of all the things he expected to see tonight, this wasn’t one of them. The feeling that rushes through him is intense.

You should have punched him a long time ago.

“That’s kinda hot.”

Eddie snorts at Steve’s words.

Yeah, it was hot.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Eddie whistles, smirking as you walk back to him. He sees the way your eyes flash with confusion when you notice Steve next to him. “I didn’t know you had such a mean right hook.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. You don't even acknowledge him.

“He had that coming.”

Eddie throws his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest and leans down to kiss your cheek sloppily, not caring that your ex boyfriend is staring.

“That’s my girl.”

He wonders what Billy said to you to make you this mad.

“You gonna hit me next, big girl?” Eddie jokes.

You giggle, biting down on your lip, you look into Eddie’s amused eyes, completely dismissing his presence. You pull away from him, he looks at you curiously, eyeing the smugness in your eyes. Before he can react, you reach your arm behind him and slap his ass.

Eddie’s jaw drops at the smack he received, he snorts at your action, squinting his eyes at you, he tries to give you a mean look which only makes you giggle again. You step back when you realize what he’s about to do. Just as he tries to swat your ass, you run off, giggling.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to run after you, trying to catch you. Your laughter is loud as you run away from him, pushing past the groups of people as you near the forest.

Steve's brows are still raised and his face is still stunned.

Many emotions went through him today; anger, sadness, irritation, jealousy but mostly confusion.

He watches Eddie grabbing you from behind, he hears your squeal and he sees the way Eddie kisses your cheek, again.

He blinks and forces himself to look away, only now noticing how wrong it still feels to see you with him.

But it's not wrong, right?

It's not wrong because you aren't his anymore.

He let go of you because you had asked him to, because he loves her, because he wants to spend his life with her.

He still has love for you, he always will but you are a part of his past now, a past that keeps calling him. The past that keeps haunting him in his mind and in his dreams.

Sometimes when he can't sleep at night, he stares at the telephone on his nightstand and he wonders what it would be like to call you, to hear your voice again, to ask you how you are doing, to ask if you are happy with the life you are living now that you are strangers to each other.

Sometimes he wants to call but he never does. You won't pick up the phone. He is sure of that.

But, if you called, he would pick up the phone, anytime, without hesitation.

next chapter

tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @hellfire--cult @screammunson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @sherrylyn628 @nemesis729 @xxhellfiregirlxx @trashmouth-richie @somethingvicked

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst

1K notes · View notes

ilium-ilia · 2 months ago

Note

I don’t know man, I figured I would ask you personally about this because I’ve gotten two asks now that were quite rude about it, saying I shouldn’t “copy” fics or steal your prompts. But I made a post saying that I had a horrible dark fic idea inspired by your “hole in the earth” fic. I didn’t go into much detail about it in the post but in the tags all I said was that I was thinking about a sort of aftermath situation of it, if John died and the Reader character went insane, trigger warning for child death in the idea I was having. Basically in no way actually copying your fic, just inspired by your work. The lobotomy, if I were to even actually write it, probably wouldn’t even be mentioned and more focus on Stockholme syndrome and kidnapping. Sorry this is long but I’m just kinda annoyed by the anons I’m getting, does this bother you? Seem too close to your work for comfort? Would you call it “copying”? - @cobwebs-in-autumn

Okay, well I didn't want to make this public, and you blocked me, and I'm tired of people walking all over me when it comes to stealing my work, I'm going to explain the situation here and set boundaries right now. Again. Because I'm so sick and fucking tired of dealing with this.

First off, I would like to say don't harass this person. Don't send anon messages, or hate, or comment on their posts, or anything. I'm only bringing this out because you guys need to learn to respect writers. I've deleted two accounts because of shit like this and I'm NOT letting it get to me a third time.

Anyway, so I get sent this anon message. The fic they're referring to is one that isn't posted on tumblr, but is here on AO3. It's a very dark fic, basically where Price kidnaps a wife, and when she doesn't act the way he wants her to, he has her lobotomized so that she's more "docile." It's a horror fic. This person then decided that they wanted to write a continuation of the fic, therefore stealing my idea without my permission. (no matter how much they want to claim they were only inspired, a continuation without permission is still stealing!!)

Now, many of you had kindly pointed out to this person that the idea was very similar to mine. And they very much admitted in this anon ask that it was an aftermath situation of MY fic. But this seemed to annoy them.

"I’m just kinda annoyed by the anons I’m getting"

(you know what else is annoying? people copying or "finishing" your works without permission!!)

So, I then went to this person in dm's to tell them, yeah no, I'm not cool with this at all.

because frankly, why the fuck would i be cool with that lmao. I was pretty short with my messages, but I was being firm. Like I've done this shit before, I'm not doing it again.

They do not respond to the message, and instead, ignore me and reblog their post with this.

Which is fucking amazing actually. So insanely disrespectful that I couldn't help but laugh because how do you see someone saying "Hey, this makes me uncomfortable and you're stealing my idea" and you go and post that? "I feel this is far enough" But you're not going to talk it out to the writer you claim to respect so much?

Anyway so I point this out in the dms because that's just insanely disrespectful.

And I also commented because I was getting anxious that people were going to start pushing them to write the idea that was pretty much mine lmao.

Eventually they responded with this:

Which is also just fucking insane. Basically gaslighting me saying "oh I'll just write something similar but not" (Not to mention the fact their new idea sounds like early's fic anyway lol) But no apology, just fucking clout chasing using my name and idea, for whatever reason. So I sent them a rather rambling response about how that this still isn't okay, I still never received an apology from them, or anything of the like.

And I'm sure you guys saw some of my posts because I was upset. (the misgendering and the incorrectly correcting my name, and saying how i'm not at all okay with people using my works as inspiration). This has happened to me so so so often (and many other writers!) and I'm sick of it. It's annoying. This person has written so many other works and ideas that were their own and that's what I love about fandom- but this? Yeah.

So I waited for a response from them. Clicked on our messages and oh?

Everything's gone. weird. maybe send another message.

oh!

maybe it's tumblr. logged out. logged back in. no history with them in my dm's period. (mind, I can still message everyone else just fine!)

So yeah. This is bullshit, and I'm sick of it. Private conversations do not help. I'm tired of trying to protect people who are wronging me for the sake of their feelings when they so obviously trample and disregard mine. Especially with these answers to your asks here:

This is so frustrating.

Writing continuations of someone's work is never okay. Writing ideas based off of their work without asking them is never okay. And to block me when I point out my discomfort just because you're (assumingely) upset i didn't take your side? And STILL keeping the post up? (at least at the time I'm posting this) Yeah, sorry, I'm tired of letting this shit slide and keeping this quiet. I tried to reach out in DM's to resolve it quietly and that didn't work.

Respect your writers. This is a community. Ask people. If you like my idea so much, then maybe comment or tell me in my asks instead of ripping me off. I'm literally always so happy to talk about my ideas and "what if's" and I'm sure many other writers are too! We literally scream it from the rooftops!

But no, you'd rather steal my shit for clout instead.

again: do not fucking dogpile on this person. just block and move on. unfortunately this isn't their main account, so they're gonna be able to see my shit no matter what I do, but oh well. maybe at least we can all learn that this is not cool at all.

anons are off for now, and any stupid asks will just be blocked/deleted.

#ilium revelation #i feel like people are baiting me into deleting my blog atp lmao #not gonna happen because no offense but no one can write my ideas better than me #pale fucking immitations

89 notes · View notes

hard-core-super-star · 10 months ago

Note

i have to put a trigger warning to this request, im sorry if it triggers something, it was not my intention, lots of love.

heyy, may I request something like a reader who has depression and is struggling in being clean and just want to relapse in old bad habits of self harm but doesn't say anything to Kate because she doesn't want to disappoint her. but in the end Kate finds out anyway because she knows the reader like the palm of her hand and yeah, free choice for the ending!!

when it rains [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: when the threat of relapsing rears its head, kate does her best to support you...even when you try to push her away.

warnings: depressive episode; mentions of self-harm/relapsing; references to anxiety/struggles with spiraling thoughts; hurt/comfort + hopeful/happy ending; kate being nervous but supportive

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was working on the next part of vampire!kate when i got hit with a random burst of inspiration to write this request. i wrote it pretty much in one sitting so forgive me for the messiness. this is a pretty heavy topic so read at your risk and keep the warnings in mind! there aren't any super explicit descriptions of things but proceed with caution if you find this topic triggering. thank you for the request and for your patience, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

In hindsight, the signs that something was wrong were obvious.

You should have picked up on them immediately but you were too distracted by the world around you to notice what was going on inside your inner world. Realistically, there were a hundred reasons for your slip of mind and yet, the only thing you could blame was yourself.

You and your lack of focus.

You and your constant need for external factors to take away feelings you should be capable of working through on your own.

The list of habits to blame for the sudden breakdown of your mental fortitude was shockingly long, in your opinion.

You probably should have told Kate about your increasingly anxious and self-deprecating thoughts but you foolishly believed you could handle it on your own.

Plus, she was busy. Too busy to get caught up in issues she ultimately didn’t care about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself…which just made your thoughts worse.

A part of you knew the archer cared, of course she cared, she had spent the first month since you moved in with her bringing you random gifts after every night of crime fighting. It bordered on ridiculous, especially since there were only so many places to put flower vases, but it showed just how much your girlfriend cared for you. How much she thought of you.

How much she worried for you whether she was next to you or a whole city away.

It’s a thought that usually reassures you. One that reminds you of the love you have for each other.

The more your thoughts turned sour, though, the more that love turned into a weapon. It forced you to retreat, to pull away from the archer while pretending like the distance you were putting between you wasn’t killing you inside.

But being alone only made everything worse. And suddenly, the fear of disappointing Kate suffocated you every waking hour.

It didn’t make sense and yet here you are, home alone, hiding in the bathroom, and gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles had turned white a while ago. At least the uncomfortable feeling in your hands had kept you from doing something you really, really, shouldn’t do.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, frowning at the face that stares back at you. It’s hard to see anything besides the dark bags under your eyes and the exhaustion that’s so clear in every single one of your features.

A sigh leaves your lips as your mind drifts to the razors in the sink cabinet. Your hand is already so close to the cabinet door and the urge to do something you won’t be able to take back rises to the forefront of your mind.

No amount of deep breaths are able to ground you enough for your thoughts to change. Your hand moves a few inches when you suddenly hear the front door slam shut. Some of Kate’s bad habits were also your best allies in moments like this.

You move faster than you can even comprehend, turning the lock on the door and shuffling as far away from the door as you possibly can. You sit on the ground right as footsteps near the bathroom door.

“y/n?”

Her voice startles you despite how soft it sounds. There’s nothing but affection in her tone and yet alarm bells ring in your mind. You almost suffocate under the overwhelming need to run away, to hide, to disappear.

Your intentions must be obvious despite your silence since she knocks on the door once more. There’s an urgency to her movements that you can’t quite explain. It’s almost like she’s afraid of you slipping away.

The mere thought makes guilt rise up like bile in your throat.

“Love?” She tries once more, her voice uncharacteristically calm. “Can you please open the door?”

You want to do it, you really do, but your whole body feels heavier than ever. No amount of effort or inner screaming gets your limbs to move even though all you really want right now is the archer standing patiently on the other side of the door.

You really don't deserve her.

The door slams open at the exact second your thoughts grow dark once more.

The sound causes you to jump, your arms instinctively wrapping around your knees and bringing them further against your chest. Almost as if it’ll truly make you disappear so you won’t have to face the disappointment you know will be hiding in the depths of Kate’s concerned eyes.

“Sorry, I got too impatient to pick the lock,” she says, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck.

You almost want to laugh. Only Kate could be so awkwardly charming at a time like this. Despite her charming act, it’s obvious she’s nervous and more than a little out of her depth. You’d feel bad about it if you weren’t in the same boat as her.

“Um…” Your eyes lift up from your knees to her face, silently watching while she struggles to put her thoughts into words. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?”

The answer is obvious to you and yet you still hesitate. Not because you don’t want her around but because you’re afraid of how you’ll act. Of the weird mix of frustration and desperation that make up your inner world right now.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Kate wastes no time in coming closer to you. A cynical part of you hates the way she looks at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. You know it’s unfair, especially since she’s simply concerned for your well-being, but you can’t change your thoughts. You’ve already spent most of the day trying and failing miserably.

True to her word, Kate simply sits next to you, her side barely brushing up against you. It’s enough of a reminder that she’s physically with you without her running the risk of overwhelming you with more contact than you’re ready for.

You know her just as well as she knows you, though, and your eyes zero in on her fidgeting hands. It’s almost like you can see the struggle in her motions. The aching need to reach out and touch you, to make sure you’re truly safe.

Ultimately, she doesn’t move. And neither do you.

For the first time in a long time, Kate doesn’t rush. She doesn’t question things or make one of her badly-timed but well-intentioned jokes.

She just…sits there.

Waiting.

Silently watching over you in a wordless expression of her support and love for you.

It’s more beautifully emotional than you were prepared for and you’re almost not sure what to do.

Until, eventually, you find some sense of calm. You grasp onto it quicker than your mind can even handle and finally…you’re able to move again.

It’s a subtle, almost slow, movement but Kate picks up on it pretty much instantly. You extend your arm out toward her and she gently holds the back of your hand while lifting the sleeve of your hoodie up. The audible sigh of relief she lets out makes your heart clench.

She doesn’t question you in any way but you decide to speak up. Maybe a part of you needs to hear the words out loud too.

“My other arm is clean too,” you mumble. “I…I’m still clean.”

She brings your arm up until she’s able to press soft kisses all over the inside of your wrist. “What you are is strong.”

You can’t help but scoff. The knowledge that she means well does little to soothe the disdain that’s made a home in your stomach. “That’s not true.”

The tone your voice carries startles her enough for her to change her approach. It’s not one she particularly wants to employ but she figures it’s better than arguing.

“Of course it’s true,” she responds. “I know you’ve been struggling all week, y/n. Surviving that takes more than just luck.”

Her words leave no room for arguing so all you can do is huff in response. Your obvious frustration does little to deter her and she continues to caress your wrist. You don’t miss the way she lingers over the few faded scars that remain etched into your skin.

The affection soothes you somewhat which only brings back the thoughts that had sent you down this spiral in the first place.

“I want to do more than just survive,” you whisper. “I want to live, Kate. Without feeling so…helpless all the time.”

“Babe…” She sighs.

Your body tenses up as you prepare yourself for the disappointment that is sure to follow.

Who are you to complain? The only thing standing in your way is yourself and yet you have the nerve to act like it’s the end of the world. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you can’t function like a normal person.

You expect her to verbalize your own thoughts, to prove that all your doubts were correct, that you deserve to feel this way after all. It’s an extremely unrealistic expectation considering who Kate is but you can’t stop yourself from wanting to be proven right.

To be given a reason for wanting to disappear.

There’s nothing the archer loves more than proving you wrong, though.

“y/n, surviving is a part of living,” she says, her voice soft yet more serious than you’re used to hearing her. “I know it probably doesn’t feel like that right now but pushing through is the first step to living. You just have to take it step by step…and you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, if and when you want me.”

Kate’s never been known for being particularly good at saying the right thing at the right time but today…her words seem to ease some of the weight you’ve been carrying lately. Maybe it’s not much but it’s certainly a start.

“I do want you here,” you find yourself saying. “I just…I don’t know why it feels easier to push you away.”

“Because you’re scared, darling. You don’t want me to leave so you walk away first. I do the same thing, y’know?”

You can’t help but scoff. If there’s one thing Kate doesn’t know how to do is walk away when she really should. It would be infuriating if it didn’t work out in her favor most times. Hence how she ended up as Hawkeye in the first place. “Literally when have you done that?”

“Before I met you.” She playfully bumps your shoulder with her own. “It wasn’t exactly my charm that made me a heartbreaker.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Please, Kate, you’ve always been too oblivious to be a heartbreaker on purpose.”

“Okay, ouch. I am not oblivious.”

Instead of arguing with your stubborn girlfriend, you simply lean closer to her and rest your head on her shoulder. Her arm instantly wraps itself around you to pull you even closer.

The physical comfort helps to ground you and little by little, your bad thoughts stop looking so overwhelming. It’s a small step but it’s a step forward and with Kate by your side, the path to recovery doesn’t seem so bad.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop fic #kate bishop #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld #mcu imagine #marvel fic #wlw fic #writing

137 notes · View notes

lambilegs · 3 months ago

Note

Imagine lee and milf!reader😩

lee x milf!reader headcanons

❤︎ note to anon: OHHHHH HOHOHOHO THE DOWNRIGHT EVIL CACKLE I INTERNALLY RELEASED AT THIS. like, I've thought of this briefly before and... so good. so good. ❤︎ contains: split up sfw and nsfw content, throat-grabbing, spanking, both reader and lee receiving oral and strap, both lee and reader playing into d/s dynamics, reader's body is referred to w the term "pussy," not proofread

it doesn't even matter that you're older, she's still trying to pay for everything. like, if you're dating lee, what comes with that is her automatically trying to take care of you, even if your savings and income are a lot more secure than hers LMFAO

but, she can't help it-- part of her does love it when you take care of her, buying her a pair of slacks she was looking at when shopping, or getting her the thickest, coziest scarf after catching her shivering the other day. it makes her feel taken care of in a way she often doesn't let herself be

she sometimes tries to intentionally prove how "grown up" she is to you... which is fucking hilarious because she's literally 28 💀 but, still, she sometimes tries to be smooth about doing things like taxes and budgeting in front of you, because she wants to prove to you that she can be an efficient partner who can provide for you and be helpful

the first time she does something like this in front of you, she's def admittedly a bit anxious, stumbling over her words as you watch over her and ask her curious questions about her insurance and shit LMAO poor baby is breaking a sweat over it

sometimes, gets insecure about if you'd prefer someone your own age, maybe someone with a bit more life experience, but you always silence her with soft kisses, quietly assuring her that she's all you want, and she's more than capable as a partner, which fills her with warm satisfaction

literally acts like a freshman who's bagged a senior (in all seriousness do not date a senior as a freshman!!!), feeling a spark of pride whenever you show up with her to office parties. I mean, the first time, she's definitely embarrassed -- not of you, but just the fact that she's bringing someone so beautiful and older than her

lays on your tits all the time. idk why this feels so right for milf!reeader, but it just does

whenever you say, "like, when I was your age," she winces because it makes her feel WAY younger than she is LMFAO

but, still, she definitely trusts you a lot due to your life experience, even if it's just by, like, 10-15 years more than her. and so, she usually will come to you for advice when it comes to work, social interactions, even her mom, sometimes -- the last of which you handle so delicately and sweetly the first time, combing her hair and gently whispering as she bites back tears

if you have kids, the older they are, the more scared she is of them LMFAO maika once mentioned this, but she said she feels like lee maybe feels a sense of ease with talking about kids, something I agree with. like, ofc, she'd be awkward and uncomfortable at first, but with time, she'd come to adjust talking to your kid, appreciating the lack of filter and just how damn cute they are. if you have a teenager, though? oh yeah she's probably shitting herself LMFAO and constantly feeling like she's forcefully inserting herself in just by existing around the two of you. she'll try her best to interact, asking questions stiffly about your teenager's classes, and trying not to get annoyed on the days they're showing attitude to you

loves watching you do your night routines, laying out in her tank top and boxer shirts, smoking to unwind, as she watches you pamper yourself at the vanity you insisted on putting in her bedroom

she'll gently joke that you do too much unnecessary stuff in your routine, lazily smiling as she strokes her fingers in your hair once you're in bed. you always scoff and lightly smack her side, playfully saying that she could use some with the worry lines work is giving her (it's very much a joke tho you're literally obsessed w how she looks)

and despite her teasing remarks, she always buys you another bottle of this or that if she spots if when out

she knows you work hard, so she tries her best to take care of you during weekends, like buying food you like and setting aside her own work to look after you with cuddles

nsfw cut:

so, you know, being older and all, you've acquired lots of experience down there, and so, you know what you like, and have picked up on lots of different kinks, fantasies and, you know, techniques

when you tell her all of your different experiences, her eyes are bulging out, clearing her throat hard from how flustered she is. but, she can't deny it -- a part of her is hot with jealousy and arousal over all the things you've done, her naturally competitive streak bolting through her, urging her on to get you in her bed and prove to you she can treat you just as well

she's a bit insecure at first, worried that her own lack of experience will pale in comparison to all that you've done, so you reassure her, over and over again, cooing about how hot you find her and how you'll always enjoy sex with her because it's her

once she feels better, though, she quietly admits to you which kinks of yours she'd like to dabble in, pointedly looking away as she does, her breaths a bit short. but, you? oh, you're ecstatic, totally ready to corrupt her

she lovessss taking care of you, and just wants to be used by you, tbh. like, when you have a bad day, she'll take her time devouring your pussy, sloppily eating and slurping it up as your body tightens and loosens in orgasm after orgasm. even if she has something to read over for work, she'll let you ride her strap, though she usually lasts about five minutes before tossing aside the file, wrapping her arms around your body, then rutting up into your pussy until you shake in orgasm

love when you take control too. like, put your hand around her neck when you ride her, tug her hair, force her face to get smothered by your pussy -- she's glad to do it all. like, the submissive in her goes strong when it comes to you. she just loves having you guide her and being at your complete disposal

and oh, if you top her? such a little mess, just quivering as you press kisses over the brown tuff of hair on her pussy before languidly toying with her clit. and when you use the strap on her, she'll be mindlessly grasping at your shoulders, kissing you hard so you can swallow down her embarrassing whimpers

you kinda love that she's inexperienced, because it feels all the better to try out all your skills and different kinks with her, and see her react to it for the first time -- eyes widening, breaths stuttering, her head tossing back as her oh-so sensitive body trembles

when she takes control for the first time, though, you're literally a puddle. there's something mind-numbingly amazing about being bent over her lap, spanked into a wet mess as she plugs her fingers into you and orders you around

#s.writing #lee harker #lee harker x reader #lee harker fanfiction #longlegs fanfiction #longlegs 2024

40 notes · View notes

deaddee-anime-brownfanlady · 6 months ago

Text

When watching playthroughs of Mouthwashing, I honestly don't understand how some players can completely missed the major detail that Anya was raped by Jimmy.

Personally, I felt it was pretty obvious that Jimmy clearly did *something* awful to her given her constant showcasing of how uncomfortable and anxious and also how skittish she is around him.

The fact that Jimmy has shown signs of him constantly disrespecting, invaliding, and belittling, and being just condescendedly terrible towards her,

Also, he made a messed-up inappropriate sexual comment towards only her about being sexual aroused by cartoon horses during the psychological evaluation flashback. ( which just gives major creep / sexual harassment vibes).

But what really sells the fact of what happened to Anya and why she is behaving the way she is and how vlie Jimmy truly is. Is the flashback of her and Curly in the lounge room talking about the screen projector and Anya mentioning why Pony express sleeping quarters don't have locks on them....but the medical-bay and cockpit does.

That line of dialogue right there, I picked instantly that it was clear as day that Jimmy sexual abused her, most likely in her room while everyone else was asleep and when she was at her most vulnerable, likely in the middle of sleep too as well and Jimmy take advantage of that.

I don't get how some Let's Players / people not picked up on such a vital part of the game story also narrative. It's one of the main reasons why Jimmy does what he does in the game just so he can avoid taking accountability to what he did to Anya and not face the consequences of his horrid act against the only female crewmember.

To see some players or certain essays act like Anya pregnancy was fully consensual or even going as far as to make it seem like Anya and Jimmy were romantically involved with each other, LIKE SERIOUSLY!?

Man, I swear some people really don't understand subtext or subtlety in media anymore at times or can't seem to read in between the lines when it comes to certain details in a story.

I mean, it's like so apparent that Anya didn't feel safe or comfortable around Jimmy, and that what Jimmy did to her wasn't 100th percent consensual by the narrative of the game at all.

#Mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #mouthwashing anya #mouthwashing spoilers #indie games #indie horror game #mouthwashing jimmy #tw: sa #tw: sa mention #mouthwashing meta #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing

57 notes · View notes

beneaththebirches · 7 months ago

Text

Liability: Part 1

Pairing: College Student!Rafe Cameron x Cousenlor!Reader

Summary: Rafe gets himself into a bit of a bind with one of the professors at Duke and is forced to see an on-campus counselor, someone he was very set on hating. But she’s extremely hard to hate.

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence, mentions of drugs.

A/n: First of all, I want to mention that this fic is an AU type fic; it will only include Rafe’s mildly destructive behavior and daddy issues but this does not follow allow with the Outerbanks storyline. This is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy!

“So, what brought you to Duke?”

My head tilts curiously at him, eyes trailing over his frame as he desperately tries to not tremble like a leaf. He’s either drunk, high or anxious (or all of the above), his eyes flickering around the dimly lit room, his eyes momentarily locking with the lava lamp in the corner of the room. When he looks around, he chooses to not look directly at me but instead at the wall behind me, knee bouncing anxiously as he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck.

He resembles something close to agitation or anxiety and has since he walked in the room twenty minutes ago, not caring to say hi or introducing himself but instead just sat down on the couch across from me and decided to take his sentence in silence. It’s to be expected, especially from someone with his track record. I heard a little bit about him from the other faculty in the office and his professors, mixed reviews on his behavior but how, miraculously, his grades show the opposite.

Crossing my legs, I ready the notebook in my lap, pen tapping against the paper as I wait for him to answer my nth question of the night. After a few minutes of uncomfortable and unfortunate silence, he clears his throat and takes a deep breath before adjusting himself on the couch, eyes flickering up to look at the ticking clock on the wall.

“‘s a good college.” He shrugs simply, eyes flickering up to mine briefly as I let out a small sigh of relief at the sound of his deep voice. His back cracks as he leans back into the couch, biting at his lip as he watches my pen scribble aimlessly across my notepad. I can tell he wants to ask what I’m writing, which is the reason why I lifted the pen to draw a simple smiley face in the first place, knowing the thought of me analyzing him would drive him crazy.

“I’ve seen your grades, you should be proud.” The shocked uptick of his brows makes me laugh quietly to myself, taken back by his response to the simple praise. He nods sternly, a faint blush spreading across the tops of his cheekbones. “So why the self sabotage?” I quiz and his brows furrow cutely.

“What?”

“Keying a professor’s car?” His eyes immediately roll at the recollection of his transgressions, the events that brought him to my office three times a week. There’s a part of me that thinks he’s embarrassed, eyes low as he toys with the thick ring on his thumb but I can see the desperate need to defend himself behind his eyes, but instead he chooses the path of least resistance.

“Got angry.” He answers simply but it’s not enough for me.

“Yeah, you have a history of that.” I sigh, placing his records on the table in front of him, giving up the gimmick of ‘good cop’, trying to get through to him as a counselor, but it took very little time to realize my coworkers were right- he’d never trust my authority- the little authority I have. He picks the papers up tentatively, almost looking at me with a ‘should I be seeing this?’ look but indulges anyways, flipping through the pages with a tight jar.

Folding my legs beneath me, a sad smile spreads across my lips as he tosses the sheets back onto the table in front of me, his fists clenching in his lap. I can’t tell if his anger stems from insecurities regarding his own actions or if he’s angry that others have had a view into his darker past. I can tell that he’s a closed off guy, that he doesn’t open up unless it’s mandatory and even then, he attempts desperately to not share, to not open up.

“Look, Rafe, you have to do this- talk to me, I mean. You’re lucky you got mandatory counseling instead of mandatory jail time.” I laugh, trying to desperately ease the tension in the room but he doesn’t crack, just stares down at the packet of paper between us with uneasy eyes. But after a few minutes, my staring breaks through his tough exterior, a heavy sigh leaving him as he finally looks up at me, taken back by my comfortable stance. He mirrors me, folding a leg over his other before tossing his hands up in surrender.

“What do you want from me?”

“Answer the questions I’ve gotta ask you, ask questions of your own- hell, talk about football or something that’s bugging you.” He cringes at the offer, his eyes fluttering shut to briefly imagine what it would be like if he had taken the punishment the professor originally wanted to force upon him but instead he’s stuck with the peppiest counselor he’ll ever encounter.

“Are you an actual therapist?” He asks curiously, attempting to take a jab at my credentials but my smile only grows, happy that he’s taking a step in the right direction.

“I have a masters degree in psychology.” My finger jabs up at the wall to his left, blue eyes following my direction to three diplomas on the wall.

I certainly never expected to end up in a university, tending to the most fucked up age group in the country- my generation. I wanted to go into forensics, to get into the grittiness of the mental psyche but you’d be amazed by the messed up shit you see on college campuses- the dorms, the streets late at night, the blackmail and betrayals. Some of the students that I see, like Rafe, are in mandatory counseling, probably to heal from academic issues or destructive tendencies. But others are girls looking for a way out of toxic relationships, young students who wish so desperately to come out to their parents, or the occasional meltdown where a student just needs me to listen.

Maybe Rafe needs someone to just listen.

Either way, I’d never go back and change anything that led me to this couch right now.

“A masters- how old are you anyways?” He asks, suddenly confused at the math as he leans towards the diploma to look at the year it was dated. With a shocked huff, he turns back to me with wide eyes, elbows resting on his knees and I let out a small bashful laugh.

“I’m 23.”

“Oh.” He mutters, shifting in his seat before adding, “I’m 20.” A fond smile stretches across my lips at his subtle attempt to connect, his quiet voice almost boyish and innocent. I’m not sure the connection was intentional or if he’s sizing me up but either way, the realization in our closeness in age sparks something in him, his discomfort seeming to fade more and more as our times goes on.

“I know. I have your chart.” I lift the binder from beside me into the air, waving it back and forth.

“What else is in there?” He asks, fingers rubbing along his jaw as his eyes seem to focus on his name that’s spelled across the front of the binder in big black letters.

“You’re 20, you have a 3.6 GPA, you’re majoring in Developmental Psych- which is interesting to me.” I snort, wanting nothing but to dive deeper into his psyche and understand why a smart, handsome athlete is majoring in something as specific as developmental psychology. They say people go into a psych degree to learn something about themselves, their past or their family. So, in Rafe’s case, which is it? “You’re a tight-end on our varsity football team, you came from the Outer Banks-” There’s a sense of tension that thickens the atmosphere around us at the mention of his hometown, his shoulders rolling and head tilting so he can direct his attention out the window to look at the setting sun, his strong jaw squared. “I can also see that you spent two nights in jail, you’ve been arrested for drug possession and illegal possession of a weapon-”

“You’ve got my full rap-sheet over there?” He snaps, voice no longer playful but instead he’s seething, brows furrowed as I pause, eyes widening at him briefly, almost asking him ‘may I continue’ without actually saying it. I fight the urge to ask him all of my questions at once; ‘why are you such a troublemaker?’, ‘why the need for drugs?’, ‘why’d you leave your hometown?’- but instead I bite my tongue.

“You’re not giving me anything else to go off of.” I whisper tiredly, anxiously looking up at the clock, wondering if we’ll even end up getting anywhere in this session and/or if I’ll be able to count it as a part of his punishment. A look of realization passes through his expression, his handsome face relaxing with a gentle nod. “You’re not exactly an open book.” He smiles sadly to himself, eyes focused down at his lap.

Take the path of least resistance, Rafe.

“What do you wanna know?” He gives in, clasping his hands in front of him as I grin, prepared to take full advantage of my power and make him laugh, something I’ve heard he doesn’t do often.

“What’s your favorite color-”

“Oh now you’ve overstepped.” He says, dead serious, but after a few moments of silence he breaks into quiet laughter, a shocked scoff leaving me at his teasing. “My favorite color- really? I keyed a car and this is my punishment?” He asks incredulously, scooting to the edge of his seat, the distance between us only lessening as I bite back a nervous smile, focusing on the job at hand- my job at hand.

“The point of counseling is to have breakthroughs and to form a relationship based on trust and open communication.” He cringes at my explanation, a look of discomfort passing through his eyes as he sucks in a breath. “You don’t seem like the trusting type but I’m willing to take my time.” My voice comes out ten times more flirtatious than I intended it to but it causes his whole body to pause, eyes looking up at me with a teasing look, the gears behind his eyes to turn. “To be honest, I have a bit of a habit of growing on people.” He snorts, biting at his lip.

“I gathered that.” He breathes, running his fingers through his hair before giving it a small tug.

“Are you saying I’m growing on you, Cameron- it’s been like a half an hour.” I tease, loving the innocent blush that covers his pale cheeks as he instantly tries to deny, head shaking immediately in defiance. It’s hard to imagine him doing all of the bad things I know he’s done, things that are more extreme and way beyond vandalism. He seems almost awkward at times, boyish and bashful as he’s slowly sinking into the comfort of my office and my prying- far from the man depicted in his records.

“New record?”

“New record for sure.”

“Does that mean I’m free to go?” He quizzes and he blows out a breath, rubbing his clammy hands against the tops of his jeans. I ponder letting him go ten minutes early but there’s a part of me that isn’t quite ready to set him free from my clutches just yet.

“Sure.” His eyes light up at my agreement but before he can stand, I hold up a pointed finger at him, urging him to sit his butt back down. “On one condition.” He agrees almost immediately before knowing my true demand, head bobbing in an agreeable nod.

“Shoot.”

“Hand over your phone.” His face pales at my instructions, eyes staring at my open palm that sticks out to him, waiting for him to do what I said. He looks like a deer in headlights right before a catastrophic crash, tongue slipping out to wet his cracked lips as he stutters.

“Wha-”

“Give it.” I ask again, stern voice forcing a shaky, nervous laugh from him as he goes fishing in his pocket. He hands it over to me without any questions, his eyes watching me like a hawk as I go into his contacts, adding myself as ‘best counselor’. “Only call or text if you’re having an emotional emergency and/or feel like doing something mildly self destructive.” I laugh but as I hand back his phone, he just shakes his head, brows furrowed in confusion as he stares down at the contact.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I ask and he shrugs. “Why care?” The nod he gives me is almost sad, my heart aching in my chest at the thought of him being so out of touch when it comes to having people that care about him, people that want to see him succeed and to not key professors’ cars. “Because, it’s what I do. Get used to it.” Slipping his phone back into his pocket, I make my way to my feet and he does the same, awkwardly shuffling towards the door. His hand hesitates to reach out towards the handle, neck craning to look back at me with a desperate expression.

“You know that’s like asking a fish to breathe air, right?”

“Better learn.” I shrug, crossing my arms across my chest as he huffs, pouting like a child. Reaching out, I push him playfully towards the door as he groans, head tilting back at his steps out into the busy hallway. “Behave!”

“You got it!”What a liar.

#rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #au!rafe au!rafe x reader #the outerbanks #the outerbanks fic #the outerbanks au

45 notes · View notes

emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 4 months ago

Text

To Break Free

Chapter Two Summary:

Joel Miller has been called many things in his life, but a party planner has never been one of them. However, with how things had been left between the two of you after your disastrous date night, the pressure is on. Meanwhile, across the street, the forces of life seem to be working against you, as a letter in the mail and a broken AC nearly convince you to call the whole thing off. Nevertheless, the show must go on and with sweat running down your back, you venture over to the house across the street in hopes that some socialization might distract you from the past.

Warnings: NoOutbreak!Joel Miller/Reader, Sarah and Ellie as siblings, Neighbour!Joel, The Miller Girls as Wingmen for Both Reader and Joel, Tommy Is a Little Shit, Angst and Tooth Rotting Fluff, Both Reader and Joel Want Each Other So Bad, Pining, Soft!Joel, Mentions of Past Relationship/Abuse (read with caution), Mentions of Imbalance of Power in Past Relationships (read with caution x 2).

A/N:

Hey y'all, welcome back! This chapter is a bit long but like my username suggests, it's the first week back after the break and I'm running from my responsibilities rn lol.

This chapter starts off from Joel's perspective and shows where he's at after everything that went down in chapter one. We also learn more about reader's past, particularly the ex that she is trying super hard not to think about. It does give some perspective as to why she is hesitant to start anything with Joel but also, we can see her struggling with that because they are both down bad. A bit of a warning for some of the memories reader goes through pertaining to her ex. No physical violence, but he definitly took advantage of her as her professor and was emotionally abusive. If that is something you are uncomfortable with, please take care of yourself and do not read. You could always message me for a sparknotes version of the chapter if you don't want to miss out.

Either way, don't worry, there is loads of angsty fluff and pining as well. These two want to fuck each other so bad in this chapter that it hurts lol. Enjoy! <3

Chapter 2/10

Chapter 2: The Barbecue

The chips were set out, the drinks buried in tubs of ice, plates of meat and veggies waiting in the fridge for their turn on the grill, yet he couldn’t stop pacing. The moment that the sunrise had peeked through his blinds that morning, Joel Miller had been up and running. He knew he was being ridiculous. Despite his hectic schedule and two teens, the Miller home was usually kept rather tidy. However, the second his feet had touched down on the main floor, all his anxious eyes could see was filth. When was the last time Joel had scrubbed the walls or vacuumed in between the couch cushions? He couldn’t remember, which led to him starting off his day with a needless scrub down of every nook and cranny that any reasonable person would neglect.

Joel was being a bit much, he felt it in the glares that his daughters had both sent him at different points that morning due to his deranged scouring, but the usual embarrassment that came from their teasing was dwarfed by his nerves. Even when every surface in the house was practically sparkling from his efforts, he still couldn’t stop. Instead, Joel buried himself in the food preparations, further annoying his girls as he quizzed them on any food intolerances that any of his guests may have. By the time his worries about the food were soothed, after being reminded multiple times that they had already helped him write the list that he had brought with him to the grocery store, he was close to collapsing.

Something was brewing inside of Joel, something that made all of the air rush out of his lungs, that brightened the tips of his ears when his daughters teased him about it, that made him want to throw up when he thought about the last time he saw you. He had been stupid, so incredibly stupid that he had nearly had a panic attack when you left him on the porch that night. A migraine had gathered at the base of his skull after you bid him goodbye, forcing him to stumble home and collapse into bed with a frustrated huff. It was as if his brain was rejecting itself for bringing you any pain, betraying him for not being more careful with his words.

In his defense, Joel had been barely conscious at the restaurant that night, nodding along to a trust fund baby nearly half his age prattling on about the luxury homes he wanted the company to pump out for him. As much as Joel tried to stay present for the sake of the cash he was getting waved under his nose, he was out of his element. It was Tommy who usually handled all of the schmoozing, giving the clients that million dollar customer service smile that the eldest Miller lacked. However, after a mix up with the scheduling that had left the more sociable brother severely overbooked, Joel had been forced to step up.

“The thing is John, it’s John right? Anyways, I don’t want this to be a place for nobodies. This neighbourhood is going to be nice, a place where young families can go to be away from the rest of this dumpy town,” the client explained.

Joel had smiled politely, though he couldn’t help but imagine strangling the smug prick with his skinny necktie. He had seen tons of developers like him over the years, flashy assholes who wanted nothing more than to build a ridiculously expensive neighbourhood that made everyone else’s rents go up. He hated the homes that his wealthier client base always wanted. They were all the same, luxury homes that were devoid of any life or warmth. Just once, Joel wanted to go back to the basics, to work on a place with a little bit of character or at least be allowed to paint the outside of the building something other than grey. But with this guy, he knew there wasn’t any chance.

“I want the neighbourhood to look clean, ya know? And it can’t be trashy if all of the places look alike. Plus, with a fair price on the mortgages given how nice you’ll make it, we can make sure that the riff raff stays out,” the developer continued, his pointed words grating on Joel to no end.

“Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying,” Joel sighed, swirling the little bit of whiskey left in the bottom of his glass.

Joel suddenly wished he had taken a cab, maybe then he could have slammed enough drinks to make the meeting interesting enough to withstand. The client kept chattering, the sound of his nasally voice slowly blending into the upbeat hits that were making his ears ring. He thought about calling the whole thing off, wondering if he could ask for forgiveness from his brother later if he made up a good enough excuse. However, just as he was about to excuse himself with a fake family emergency, his eyes landed upon you. Or rather, they landed upon you with him.

Jealousy had seeped into Joel’s chest as he watched the way your date’s hand had pushed against your space between your shoulders, leading you to the table with a wolfish grin plastered across his face. All of Joel’s coronary arteries constricted at that, the sight of you being pushed into the table by another man making him burn bright with rage. And yet, he couldn’t look away. The heels that made your legs look a mile long, the makeup that accentuated all of the features that had haunted him since your first day in town, the messy updo that showed off the gentle slope of your neck, were all so infuriatingly perfect. Infuriating especially because Joel knew that it wasn’t for him.

Joel was jealous. He was jealous and he knew that it was stupid to feel that way. Afterall, he had only met you once. Christ, but what a meeting it had been, he thought to himself as he tried not to remember your damp body on display for him. However, no matter how hard he tried to remind himself that you were basically a stranger, that his stupid crush didn’t mean anything to you and shouldn’t, the green monster had been released. It clawed at the inside of his ribcage, tearing his heart to shreds the longer he stared at you all dolled up for another man. He had no claim over you and yet, the envy he felt towards your date had dug its talons into his soul and refused to let go.

Nevertheless, the more time went on, the more antsy Joel became. Something was off, he saw it in the way you squirmed uncomfortably in your chair, or how you began to shrink even further into your seat each time your date rushed off to the bathroom. It was only after the dickhead had shuffled back over for a third time that Joel truly understood what was going on and with you suddenly on the verge of tears, flashing the man across from you a forced grin, he was enraged.

“Anyways John, I’m sure your company will do fine. I’ve talked to your brother a bit. He seems more uh… my speed. I’ll get my secretary to send over the paperwork to him and then we can get started, okay?,” the younger man had asked him, stretching his hand out for him to take.

“Yep, sounds good man,” Joel answered, quickly shaking the hand outstretched to him.

The client had said his goodbyes after that, likely not wanting to sit and socialize with the gruff contractor that had begun to actively ignore him. Quite frankly, Joel didn’t care what the guy thought of him. His work spoke for itself. Plus, he would make his apologies later if need be but at that moment, he had bigger fish to fry.

Although the jealousy that Joel had felt was still there, flaring up every time his eyes raked over your beautifully done up figure, the edges of it had softened as the minutes ticked by. That man, whoever he was, was a certified asshole. Aside from the frequent trips to the bathroom, with each return making your date’s vice of choice more obvious than before, Joel couldn’t help but notice how silent you had become. Distress practically rolled off of your tense shoulders, reaching out to him from across the room and thickening the lining of his throat until he felt like he might burst out into tears himself if something wasn’t done.

Joel had willed himself to yell out, to beg you to speak up from his seat at the bar. He wanted to see you rip your date a new one and walk out with your pretty head held high, but none of that came to pass. Instead, his heart had gotten heavier and heavier as you got smaller and smaller, until he at last couldn’t take it anymore.

Before your date had even fully left the table for his final bathroom trip of the night, Joel was already halfway out of his seat. He slammed down a wad of bills for his drink before he left, not even looking at the ridiculous amount he had left the bartender as he hurried towards the other end of the room. His sole focus was the beautiful woman whose eyes were glossed over as she bounced off of the service staff with the grace of a newborn deer, trying and failing to keep it together as the rich pricks around her failed to hide their amusement.

“Oh honey,” Joel groaned under his breath as he spied your purse still slung over your chair, quickly switching paths so that you wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment of returning for it after your frazzled escape.

Everything that had come afterwards had happened so fast that it was practically a blur to him now. Although, your teary eyed face was burned into Joel’s memory, still beautiful yet so raw as you tried to keep from balling in front of him when he finally caught up to you outside. And then came the punch he had launched at your date, an act of violence that was so out of character for a man his age, a man that had given up bar fights the second his first child had slid into the world, that he didn’t even know what to think. That ride home had been tense, with him trying not to freak out over the snap decision while he drove you home, terrified that it might get back to his kids somehow as you sniffled and sighed beside him.

It was at a red light that Joel had finally made up his mind about the incident. As he watched you try to wipe the smeared eyeliner off of your face, eyes red as a fresh wave of tears ruined your progress, he decided that he didn’t regret the punch one bit. How dare that asshole make you, or any woman for that matter, feel so horrible. The woman he had met a month prior had been tired, a bit sad even, but not diminished. There had been a flicker of light in your eyes, one that Joel hoped to stroke into a roaring flame someday if you gave him a chance, but in that moment it had all but vanished. And the longer he had sat in his truck that night, listening to you trying to breathe through your distress, the more he wanted to rain hellfire down on anyone who ever made the mistake of hurting you.

“Fuck’s sake,” Joel hissed, coming back to the present as hot water suddenly scalded his hands.

Dropping the glass he was scrubbing back into the soapy water, Joel placed both of his hands on the edges of the sink and sighed. He had tried not to let himself think about it since that night, about how hard he wanted to punch any man who made you frown like that. And that moment, with the way things had ended on Thursday, he was at the top of his own list.

Joel needed to make things right with you, he needed it like the air he breathed. For a month he had run to the front windows every time he heard the tell tale signs of your clunky Honda making its way back home, hoping to catch a glimpse of the goddess next door. And now, with the events of your date night still fresh in his mind, along with his piss-poor excuse for an apology the previous morning, he was close to driving to the coast and walking straight into the ocean. Joel sighed, growing more disgruntled by the second. He needed to make things right with you, lest he be doomed to pining for you from afar and getting teased by his family members until you inevitably met a more handsome man that he would be unreasonably jealous of.

“Look, I really appreciate what you did for me today. I know that this was not how you probably wanted to spend your Thursday, but you don’t have to stay. I’m fine, everything is great. You can go back to the people you’ve got and I’ll go back to… Uh, this,” you had laughed bitterly, gesturing towards the empty house, “I mean, this is all I’ve got, right?”

Joel Miller was not the best at expressing himself, that much was glaringly obvious. But your words, the way you had thanked him for something he had done on his volition while simultaneously disparaging yourself, had taken him completely off guard. It was preposterous, the thought of someone like you having nothing in your life other than the fixer upper you went home to at the end of the day.

If only you knew how much the girls adored you, practically gushing about the interesting woman that they cornered at every turn and forced into movie nights. Or, how Joel greedily sucked up any tidbit of information about you they sprinkled into their stories, cataloging everything he learned in case he may one day get the chance to use it. Whether you knew it or not, you had the Miller clan under lock and key, especially their patriarch. Though, given the fact that he had gone AWOL since your first day in Austin, he understood why you wouldn’t think to include him on your list of friends.

The last month of work had been tough. With the school year coming to a close and summer biting at his ankles, the company was set for a busy season of jobs and Joel had been running around like a chicken with his head cut off to keep up with the preparations. Each morning, he was gone at an ungodly hour, barely managing to wait for the coffee to brew most days. Still, that didn’t mean that Joel wasn’t looking for you in all that time, that he didn’t long to be in your presence again. The few glimpses he caught of you after work made his day and he found himself dreaming about the sundresses you wore or the way the light made your hair shine. Even his girls, as quick as they were to tease him about everything under the sun, had shifted their tact from razzing him to outright begging him to do something about his obvious attraction. In their words, he was getting downright pathetic.

“What’s got your head in the clouds?,” Tommy teased, his brother’s loud voice rudely snapping him from the thoughts that were unsurprisingly centered around you.

“New lady just moved in across the street, he’s in loooove,” Ellie singsonged, words muffled around a mouth full of the cookie dough that she had snagged from the freezer.

“Say it, don’t spray it kiddo,” Joel grunted, shaking his head at his daughter as she opened her mouth in defiance, showcasing all of her unchewed food before she flipped him off.

“S’that right? Well I’ll be, you didn’t tell me you were seeing anybody,” his brother laughed.

Joel sighed, suddenly wondering if it had been a good idea to invite you over. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you in his home, filling it with laughter and warmth as you left traces of your delicious perfume on hopefully every surface. Having you over was probably his greatest desire, second only to the far off fantasy of his crappy attempts at being funny being the reason you were laughing so hard, but he couldn’t help his own nerves. What if you didn’t have fun? What if Tommy said something embarrassing? What if you thought his home was a dumpster fire? What if too many people came? What if his girls told you about the stupid crush that he so obviously harbored? And worst of all, what if you never showed?

That last one was what Joel feared the most. He hadn’t meant to imply that you didn’t have anybody and yet, that was how it came out. The breakfast and the note he had left was a cheap apology, but he couldn’t think of what else to do. He was so sure that you would leave his gift on the porch to rot, perhaps even text him a long winded message that amounted to a succinct fuck you, but instead he had been surprised by a short thank you message, followed by a question about what time the event started. Joel had answered the text with shaky hands, buzzing with excitement and terror as he tried to answer as casually as he could. With all the information you could ever need, even with his many nerve induced spelling errors, there was no reason for you not to come. However, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to worry about it.

“Leave him be guys, he looks like he’s going to barf,” Sarah chastised as she strolled into the kitchen, drawing a few laughs from the rest of his family.

“Christ almighty, m’not gonna barf. Worry about yourselves,” Joel groaned, praying for any higher power to smite him before his nausea proved her wrong.

Nobody answered him, preferring instead to give each other amused looks as Joel returned to scrubbing the dishwasher spots from all of his best glasses. With how many red solo cups he had on hand in case any of the adults preferred a mixed drink instead of the sodas, beers, and coolers he had on deck, the quick scrub down was pointless but his brain couldn’t stop playing the what if game. Like what if all of the plastic cups got used up by the time you arrived and you were forced to drink out of one of his? The last thing Joel wanted was for you to see all the little white specks. That was careless. It was less than you deserved. And he couldn’t allow that.

“Dad, you need to chill out. The place looks great, we’ve got way too much food and drinks, and there will be plenty of people here to talk you up. Everything is going to be fine, I promise. She’s gonna have a great time,” Sarah said, nudging him away from the sink so she could finish up.

“I’m not, that’s not -,” Joel cleared his throat, “That’s not what this is. I just want everyone to feel at home. Is that such a crime? Everyone deserves to have a good time. I-I need to make things right with uh - with everyone. Why is that so hard for you guys to understand?”

Joel winced at his own transparency. He was usually better at hiding his love life from his family, if the flings he had over the years even counted as such. But you were different. He didn’t want you to be like the rest, he wanted you all to himself. Alas, he probably wasn’t even on your radar yet, which meant that claiming that you were a part of his love life was false.

“Right, well if you’re trying to impress everyone, then you should probably put in a little bit more effort than that, old man. Can’t be letting everyone think that you dress like a friggin’ slob,” Ellie suggested, her eyes raking up and down his figure in disapproval.

Joel balked, looking down at his outfit. He hadn’t even thought about what he was going to wear, too busy tearing through his house like a madman for any spec of dirt he could find. It wasn’t like dressing up was really his thing anyways. Most of his days were spent in beaten up work clothes or the sweatpants he threw on at the end of the day but he wanted to do better, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he had spruced himself up for a lady, much less one that had infiltrated his brain like you had.

“Hmmm yeah, and everyone would also probably appreciate it if you showered first. You’re a bit too rank right now to be pulling any moves on everyone, unless of course your goal is to make them gag,” Sarah chuckled as she placed the last glass back into the cupboard.

As much as Joel wanted to argue, they had a point. With sweat darkening nearly every inch of his shirt, his curls in disarray, and his body odor souring even the inside of his own nostrils, he was truly disgusting. His eyes snapped towards the clock, lips forming a grim line as he saw the time. One hour. He had one hour before people, perhaps even you, started pouring into his home. How in the hell was he supposed to shower, find something decent to wear, figure out what to do with his hair, and have one last meltdown, all before you arrived?

“There’s an outfit laid out on your bed, compliments of your two loving daughters who got woken up by your loud-ass cleaning spree this morning. Don’t change a thing about it, just put it on when you’re out of the shower and then fix your hair. Go,” Sarah commanded him.

“What? C’mon, I can dress myself!,” he halfheartedly protested, earning him a look from everyone in the room.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank us after you ask her out,” Ellie chuckled, slapping him on the back as she swerved past to pilfer through the freezer once more.

Joel sighed, trying not to let his utter embarrassment overwhelm him as he started towards the stairs.

“Fine, just don’t be getting into the appetizers while I’m gone,” Joel announced, turning back to give them all a look before he started to climb the steps.

The half assed grunts of acknowledgement that Joel got in response were not encouraging, but he was too flustered to care. He took the stairs two at a time, needing to get as much distance between him and his family before he threw himself off the roof. By the time he got back to his room, he was so turned around that he could barely figure out how to get the shower going and almost ripped the faucet off the wall in his haste. Even still, the only thing that kept him sane in that moment, despite all of his panic induced spiraling, was you.

Joel didn’t know you. He didn’t know your favourite ice cream, or if you had broken any bones as a kid, or even why you had decided to work in a library of all places, but he wanted to. God, he wanted to know you so badly that it was driving him crazy. The way your energy bounced off of his in the few moments he had with you so far, reviving the small pieces of him that had been chipped away from years of focusing on his work, on raising his daughters, on keeping the past at bay for his family’s sake, made him feel like he was finally coming back to himself.

Every piece reborn made him want to try a little more, until Joel was foolishly ready to lose all of his senses and beg you to let him be your one and only. It was much too soon for anything like that, but being in your presence was like touching a livewire, like reading a book by a warm fire, like freefalling through the sky, like falling into bed at the end of a long day. It was as terrifying and exciting, as it was calming and gentle, and Joel wanted more. Scratch that, he needed more.

So, as Joel hurried under the lukewarm spray, scrubbing any trace of his hectic morning off of his body, he tried hard to not to think about all of the things that could go wrong. You would come, you would have fun, and Joel would be as charming as someone like him possibly could. Then maybe, just maybe, you might forget about his previous blunders and give him a second chance. Who knows, he thought to himself, sighing as he tried to remember the last time he had been so obsessed, a man could hope.

- You -

The fan was a stupid idea, especially with how downright disgusting your house had become as the hours ticked by, but what else could you possibly do? Your air conditioner, the beautiful beast that had served you for almost eleven years, had finally petered out and died at some point the previous night. Already curled up in bed, you hadn’t noticed until early that morning, when you woke up cranky and covered in sweat, the Texas heat oozing through all of your big and beautiful windows. Despite all of the tutorials online, the damn thing refused to work, leaving you with no other choice than to cook inside all day.

The morning had been tough, especially when a letter from someone you hoped to never hear from again came in the mail. Sighing as you felt how light it was, you abandoned it on the counter, not wanting to ruin the day before it had even begun. Nothing with him had ever been easy and you sighed, kicking yourself for believing that he would actually sign the divorce papers you had sent in the mail. Nevertheless, you decided to ignore how the unopened letter made you feel, choosing instead to focus on the day ahead.

With thoughts of Joel and his utterly confusing yet exciting presence running through your mind, you refused to let him rain on your parade. Across the street there was a handsome man who had first rescued you from back breaking labor during your move, and then later one of the worst dates you had ever been on. A man who, much to your dismay as a newly single woman for the first time in ten years, intrigued you to no end. You spent the entire day basically vibrating from excitement, counting the seconds until you could start getting ready.

A half hour before the barbecue was set to start, you jumped into the shower, hoping that a toe curling icy shower would help you race through your makeup routine without acquiring too much sweat. And yet, after five minutes of shaking from the cold, your limbs had slowly but surely thawed out. No matter how speedy your usual makeup routine was, there was no escaping the heat that caused it to melt off of your face.

Spraying yet another heavy layer of setting spray, you sighed. You had done your best given the circumstances. Despite the sweat that clung to your hairline, along with the annoying last minute outfit change after your first dress had become drenched in sweat, you looked okay. Not as great as you had originally hoped, but not awful. That had to count for something you supposed.

“Goddammit,” you sighed, already regretting your decision to accept Joel’s invitation.

As you stood in front of the mirror, fixing the straps on the pink sundress that showcased an appropriate amount of cleavage and hugged your curves just right, you couldn’t help but feel a bit silly. It was a barbecue, a family friendly event that Joel had invited you to, just as any friendly neighbour would. And yet, there you were, dolled up and sweating. At least if he had invited you out of some sort of neighbourly obligation, he probably wouldn’t notice how disheveled you were.

It was that thought that got you through the door and across the street. Joel Miller was trying to be a friend, and surely a friend wouldn’t care about another friend’s sweaty face on a day as hot as this one. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you knocked on the door, ignoring the way your heart pounded alongside the music you could hear coming from the backyard. It sounded packed inside, much busier than any typical barbecue, and you suddenly longed for the comfort of your own home again. When nobody came, you stood there in silence for a few more seconds, biting your lip as you debated retreating back to safety. However, all of your escape plans were foiled when a curly haired teen yanked the door open.

“Hey - oh shit,” Sarah cussed, concern trickling into her tone.

“What? What is it?,” you asked quickly, stomach twisting as her eyes examined every inch of your face.

Heart pounding, you ripped open your purse, pulling out a compact so that you could have a look at the damage. It was only then that you saw the travesty that the heat had created. The once nearly acceptable look was literally melting off of your face from the heat, creating a mess that even the kindest of strangers would be hard pressed to ignore. You looked like a clown that had gotten jumped, and given the sounds of the lively party going on behind the teen, you suddenly felt like one too.

“Shit, what the hell happened to you?,” Ellie exclaimed, popping up from behind her sister.

“I-I um, my AC broke and I couldn’t -,” you sighed, suddenly wishing you had never come in the first place.

“Oh my god, shut up Ellie! Do you think she needs to hear that right now?! Ugh, you’re as clueless as Tommy sometimes,” Sarah groaned, roughly shoving her sister’s head out of the doorframe,“Get out of here, would you? Go distract dad so I can sneak her upstairs. We’ve got some work to do.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to…”

Sarah’s gaze turned back towards you, playful yet pointed as she examined the state of you. Wordlessly she raked her eyes up and down your rumpled form, cocking her eyebrow as if to say really? Heat crept up your neck, a small laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation bubbling up from within as you watched Ellie soldier off in search of her father. It didn’t take long for her to find him apparently, as Sarah was soon rushing you up the stairs and into her room before anyone could see your disheveled state.

Although most of the original makeup had to be wiped off, you had to admit that the girl had a talent for eyeliner, and even managed to corral your sweaty strands back into a cute braid that kept it from sticking to the sides of your face. When Sarah was done you looked different, like yourself but slightly elevated. The makeup was a lot simpler than what you would normally do but it looked good, cute even.

“What do you think? I know it’s nothing fancy, but I think you look really pretty like this,” Sarah chirped, the hope evident in her voice.

You smiled back at her in the mirror, chest tight with emotion as you did. Maybe your only friends at the moment were two teenage girls but damn, were they better company than the vultures you had been friends with before coming to Austin. The friends you used to have would have gladly let you stumble through the party downstairs with your face basically dripping down down to your neck, but not the Miller girls. They had helped and much to your dismay, the eldest had even done a better job at fixing up your face than you had.

“It’s beautiful Sarah, I love it,” you said truthfully, giving her arm a squeeze as you turned around, “Thank you for this, I was getting ready to run home and bar the windows.”

“Eeek! Okay good,” she squealed, shaking your shoulders in excitement, “Now you can go meet everyone. Ugh, but you should probably go see dad first. He’s been asking us every two seconds if you’ve shown up yet. It’s like dude, she’s coming just give her some time to walk across the street before you freak out.”

“Y-Your dad asked about me?,” you asked lightly, trying and failing to keep it cool.

Sarah raised her eyebrows at that, her knowing look making you want to bury your head in the pillows and scream. The last thing you needed was for the stupid crush you had on Joel Miller to become public knowledge, much less the knowledge of one of the most chattiest people you knew.

“Oh big time. He’s been losing his mind about having you here since Friday morning,” she said with a sly grin, “Pretty much turned the house inside out this morning trying to get everything perfect. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad so excited about having people over. He usually hates it but he got so nervous that he let Uncle Tommy be in charge of the guest list.”

You didn’t answer, too busy trying to control the visceral reaction your nervous system was having to her comment. Joel Miller had been freaking out… over you? That couldn’t be right, not when you had spent the last month convincing yourself that he was a figment of your imagination, or the past 24 hours trying to convince yourself that he was nothing but an overly friendly neighbor.

“I - um… I don’t…,” you trailed off, not sure what to say.

Sarah waved you off, holding out her hand to you instead with a comically wide grin.

“Come on, let’s get down there.”

The barbecue had turned into a bit of a house party in the time it had taken Sarah to fix you up. The house was filled with neighbours mingling with construction crews, kids playing games in the pool out back, and rowdy family members that seemed to be very interested in meeting you. Tommy was the first one you met after he caught Sarah trying to sneak you past. He was kind, seemingly familiar with everyone, and comfortable enough to give you a hug so forceful that it nearly knocked you off balance. It was a stark contrast to the more reserved way Joel carried himself, but it was refreshing nonetheless. His girlfriend, Maria, was less boisterous than him but no less kind, and you soon found yourself at long last conversing with adults your own age who didn’t seem like absolute assholes.

As the pair asked you about your career, education, even the home improvements you planned to do on the bungalow across the street, you felt uncharacteristically at ease. The two of them listened dutifully while you talked, while both of the Miller girls filtered in and out of the conversation as some of their friends showed up. And in turn, you listened to their stories, smiling through every tale that included the southern stud that had eluded you thus far.

Through their stories, you learned that the eldest Miller had once been a swimmer, that he needed glasses terribly but refused to wear them, and that he used to be in a shitty garage band when he was younger. Their stories helped humanize the confusing man. Instead of remaining the handsome stranger who had come to the rescue, he was suddenly the guy who used to shave all of his body hair in highschool so he could get the best time score at swim meets, the guy who gets his daughters to read the fine print on pretty much everything, the guy who once grew his hair out and sang at smoky bars throughout Texas. He was just a regular guy, albeit a handsome and thoughtful one, but a regular guy nonetheless. That comforted you to no end.

“Aw look, here comes trouble,” Tommy called out, interrupting his own juicy story about the time his brother had been kicked out of his own show for swinging on a guy in the crowd that had grabbed one of the waitresses.

“If I’m trouble, then you’re a goddamn villain Tomcat,” Joel drawled, flicking the brim of his brother’s hat as he did.

“Fuck you,” Tommy laughed, dodging another flick as he retreated back to Maria’s side.

“I see you found your way,” Joel said to you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since the disastrous date night just two nights prior.

You really wished Joel would stop looking at you like that. His eyes peered past your exterior, sinking deep into your soul as you took him in all of his glory in. The form-fitting jeans he had chosen, the white t-shirt that fit over his meaty biceps just right, the way his hair was pushed back from his face, the smell of his spicy cologne, was all enough to make someone as neglected as you faint.

You bit your bottom lip, trying not to swoon as you felt Joel’s eyes slide over your body, zeroing in on the way the pink fabric clung to the curves he had seen bare a little over a month ago. He looked just handsome as he had that day, the slight adjustments to his attire only adding to his usual sexy self. And with the heat of his stare scalding every inch of your body, covered or not, you knew that you’d happily give him another peek the second he asked.

“Yeah I mean, hard to get lost when it’s right across the street,” you awkwardly joked, earning a few chuckles from the group.

But Joel didn’t laugh, he just smiled at you, all of the lines in his face smoothing over as he did and you couldn’t help but stare. His mustache was trimmed to perfection, beautifully framing the pouty set of lips that stretched around the grin he gave you. A funny feeling trickled into your lower belly as you stared at his plush mouth, tightening the muscles between your thighs until you were throbbing there. Heart pounding in your chest, you snapped your eyes back up to meet his, knowing that if you stared at his lips any longer, you would be doing something utterly moronic like launching forward to kiss him. Dizzied and drunk off of his heady scent and hypnotic stare, you were frozen, wanting nothing more than to place your hands on the broad expanse of his chest despite the fact that his family was quietly watching the exchange from mere inches away.

“Good, m’glad you came darling,” he said quietly, almost like he was admitting something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Really?,” you squeaked.

A guffaw came from behind you.

“Christ, the girls are right. You two are really something else,” Tommy piped up, shattering the bubble of solace that the two of you had built.

Joel’s face twisted in annoyance, the tips of his ears going bright red as he glowered at his brother. The youngest of the Miller men just laughed and rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Joel’s shoulders so he could playfully shake him.

“Ya know what? I think that grill is getting pretty lonely out there. Why don’t you two go check on the grub? Joel can flip ‘em and you can make sure he don’t burn nothing,” Tommy suggested, giving his brother a slap on the back for good measure before he released him.

“Oh um, yeah sure,” you stammered, unsure of what else to say.

The thought of being alone with Joel was daunting but with the way he stared at you even when you looked away, the heat of his gaze hot against the side of your face, you decided that you were game for any activity involving him.

“S’fine, you don’t have to help me sweetheart. I can handle it just fine if you wanted to mingle a bit,” Joel said quickly, the urgency in his tone making you frown.

Did Joel not want to hang out with you? Was the thought of spending time with you that awful? Your stomach roiled, dread leaking in through the cracks in your chest and poisoning the hopefulness that had taken root there. Given your many years living in the city, you couldn’t exactly say that you were a pro at barbecuing, but you were willing to try if it meant you could bask in his attention for a bit longer. You sighed, letting all of hopes of getting a moment alone with him drain out of you, shoulders sagging in disappointment. It made sense that Joel didn’t want you out there. Afterall, why would he want to awkwardly stand outside and make nice with the crazy woman across the street that was in constant need of assistance?

“I don’t have to if you don’t uh - if you don’t want me to. Doesn’t matter to me, I could just stay in here if that’s better for you,” you rushed out, trying to ignore just how much it really did matter for some reason.

“Course I want you to.”

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his again and finding nothing but truthfulness behind them. Something warm and thick bloomed deep inside your belly, blossoming up towards your chest until you were sure butterflies were about to start pouring from your mouth the next time you spoke. Joel stepped closer, holding out one of those big hands that you had been imagining between your thighs. Looking up, you saw the same hope you felt mirrored back in him and you didn’t hesitate to give him your hand, happily allowing him to whisk you away from his family.

The warmth of Joel’s rough palm was soothing, along with the way he pulled you closer to him as he weaved throughout the crowd. It was as if he was shielding you from everyone else, keeping you safe from the construction guys who were drinking beers and talking sports, or the drunken neighbours in the kitchen that were doing jello shots that someone had brung. He even pulled you against him for a moment as a few of the neighbourhood kids scampered by, trapping you between his chest and the wall to keep you from getting soaked by the water guns that their parents were yelling at them to take back outside. His frame pressed against yours, his eyes vigilant as he timed his next move amidst the chaos. You tried not to react when he looked down at you for a moment, stealing all the breath from your lungs as his nose bumped against yours accidentally but just as you thought that your protector might finally devour you, he was on the move again.

When Joel finally reached the patio door, you were three sheets to the wind, completely drunk off of him and praying that he would never let go of your hand again. But alas, with the heat of Austin in full swing and the pool filled with families, there was no reason for him to keep holding it any longer. With no other crowds to conquer, Joel dropped your hand, breaking the connection that was sending a thrill up your spine so he could check on the food.

“Alright, so what’s the game plan?,” you asked shakily, trying to break the tension as you skipped up beside him.

“Game plan?,” Joel repeated, sounding incredulous as he turned to look at you with a toothy grin,“What d'ya mean?”

“The game plan! Your brother designated me as number two on the grill and I’ll have you know that I take my duties extremely seriously,” you said with a mock salute.

He snorted and shook his head at your antics, “S’that right? Well, how about you hand me that meat thermometer and we can see just how cooked these bad boys are.”

“Yes sir.”

It was meant as a joke really, another cheeky remark for Joel to snort over. However, as you watched his spine go rim rod straight, his dark gaze piercing through you as he turned to take you in, you saw the error in your choice of phrase. Although his cheeks were dusted with a light shade of pink, a bit of embarrassment reddening the high points of his distinguished face, his eyes were downright ravenous. A memory trickled into your mind, one where those same eyes had nearly swallowed you whole as they took in every inch of your nude body, and although the pretty sundress you had chosen was secured to your frame, you suddenly felt just as naked under his gaze as you had that day.

Was Joel thinking about your first meeting? God, you hoped so, and you tried to imagine what he would look like in a similar situation. Would Joel race to pick up his towel, apologizing as he tried to cover up his gloriously nude form? Or would he have the same problem as you did, would he be unable to move under your stare despite the aching cock below his navel? And the more you imagined the roles reversed, the more you realized that Joel should be commended for his restraint. If you had seen him in that state, his body still damp and his cock hard, your response would have been to climb him like a tree.

Joel licked his lips, sighing quietly before he shook his head at the look you gave him. He felt it too, whatever was growing between you, flowering under the hot sun as your neighbours bobbed in the pool just meters away. The swimmers were the only thing keeping the two of you in check, both sets of hands twitching at their sides like they were resisting the urge to grab one another. Another few moments passed, moments where you stared at each other through thinly veiled lust, before Joel finally turned away. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, messing up the carefully gelled curls in a way that you found incredibly endearing before he sighed and nodded towards the thermometer within your reach.

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you heard him mumble under his breath, which made you giggle a bit.

“Hm maybe, but I think you like that about me Miller,” you shot back with a wink as you handed him the thermometer.

Joel looked over at you again, making you freeze in place. His expression made you feel like his prey in the best way possible. Like any cheeky comment or seductive wink might cause him to break and throw you over his shoulder like some sort of caveman, stomping upstairs so that he could have his way with you despite the guests. Time slowed, the cacophony of noises coming from the party softened by the buzzing energy growing between you. He stepped into your space, his overwhelming presence growing ten times larger as his hulking frame towered over you again and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

The two of you were practically nose to nose when Joel leaned down, getting so close that you could see the flecks of a lighter brown, almost hazel, mixed in with the rest of the melted chocolate. He was bold, brazen in his powers of seduction as he watched you quiver from the proximity. Those big puppy dog eyes searched yours, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly when he found whatever it was he was looking for. Perhaps he could sense just how drenched the gusset of your panties were from simply being in his presence. You didn’t care if he did, especially since his own interest was as clear as day.

“I do like it,” Joel admitted, his voice so soft that you almost thought you dreamt it.

A shaky breath was released from you as you shifted a tad bit closer, the blazing heat of Joel’s chest so enticing that you boldly placed both of your hands on his chest. He didn’t react at first, other than the tiniest hitch of his breath that you would have missed if you weren’t literally touching him, but then he moved. Two big burly arms wrapped around you, one hand resting at the small of your back and pushing you closer while the other gripped your hip, his gaze remaining steady as ever regardless of the embrace.

“Joel,” you whispered, not trusting your voice as a surge of want burned through the both of you like wildfire.

Surely Joel felt the way you shook under him, the nerves mixing with pure excitement as your eyes begged him to do something, anything. He studied your face, a deep flush creeping down his neck as the two of you stayed locked in an embrace that was somehow more intimate than any kiss you had experienced in your entire life. And Joel seemed to sense this, his arms holding you a bit tighter until you calmed from the overwhelming surge of emotions that his welcome touch tore from you. When the shakes were gone, laid to rest by the same man that had started them, all that remained was yearning for him, for Joel.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” Joel whispered, the hand on your hip moving up to brush a few errant strands of hair from your face, “I can feel it too.”

The admission struck you hard, making your eyes widen despite your best attempts to play it off. Joel felt it too. What did he mean by that? Did he daydream about you while he was at work too? Did he wonder what your voice sounded like in the mornings? Did he lay in bed at night, rubbing himself raw to the thought of you fucking the shit out of him? That last part sounded like a stretch but based on the heat gathering between you, along with the way his eyes periodically flicked downwards to take in the sight of your heaving breasts, maybe it wasn’t as far off as you had once thought.

“Joel! How much longer for the - Oh shit, well howdy there to you too neighbour! Looks like the two grill masters are getting along just fine out here by themselves,” Tommy hollered, his jab getting a round of raucous laughter from inside.

The Miller house was equipped with many things that made it beautiful, one thing being a sliding glass door to the backyard that the two of you were standing in front of. With the rest of the party turned towards you with shit eating grins, along with the intimate embrace on full display for what felt like the entirety of Austin, you suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink through the cracks in the boards below and cease to exist. The heat that you had felt when Joel touched you shifted into something much more menacing, something cruel and embarrassing, something that made you feel like you were miles away and being put on display for the millionth time by the man you had once thought loved you.

“Don’t,” Joel barked at his brother, his authoritative tone leaving no room for discussion as he slowly retracted himself.

Tommy’s face fell, a curious look in his eyes as they flickered between the two of you. After a moment, the younger man held his arms up in mock defense, earning an annoyed huff from the man beside you. Although everyone inside had already moved on from the announcement, you shifted closer to Joel, using his large frame as a cover from the heavy weight of shame that had been programmed into you for years.

“My bad y’all, it was a stupid joke,” Tommy said apologetically, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly, “Maria just sent me out to check on how long the food should be. She was gonna send the girls out to set up the salads and shit when you’re ready.”

“Send ‘em out in five minutes or so,” Joel grunted, annoyance laced through every single syllable, “Shouldn’t be long.”

With that, Tommy disappeared back inside, leaving the two of you alone again. You bit your lip as you watched him go, trying to see if anyone else was still leering at you from within the house but everyone seemed too busy chatting with each other to pay any attention to either of you. Sighing, you relaxed a bit. At least this neighbourhood moved on quicker than your last one.

“M’sorry about that sweetheart. Tommy doesn’t mean any harm but he’s just…,” Joel sighed and shook his head, “He’s not the best at reading the room. Embarrassing ya probably wasn’t his goal, he just never knows where the damn line is.”

“It’s… It’s okay, I just don’t really like being in the spotlight like that, ” you said softly, still feeling a bit antsy despite your best attempts at calming your racing heart, “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I know that Tommy didn’t mean anything by it, let’s just move on.”

“Why do you do that?,” he asked suddenly.

The question took you off guard, so much so that it broke through your nerves and diminished the shakes that were wracking your frame again. At first you thought that Joel was making a cruel joke, that he was poking fun at your inability to thrive in social settings, but when you looked in his eyes all you saw was an earnest curiosity.

“I didn’t want to make anyone upset or for any of your friends to get the wrong idea about you by seeing us like that. Plus, I know that I can be too much sometimes, just tell me if I get too annoying or something,” you sighed.

Too much, that had been your moniker for years. Whether it was the way you dressed, your apparently over the top contributions to conversations, or the love you had for your work when someone asked; the most common complaint had been that you were a presence that somehow overwhelmed and fell short at the same time. Slowly, you had learned to be quieter, to make yourself miniscule so that you didn’t distract from the real star of the show that you were meant to prop up, to be as perfect as you could when necessary before retreating back to your books and the lonely apartment you shared with a ghost. To be on display in any context where you didn’t look utterly flawless felt wrong. Worse than wrong, it felt like failure.

“You’re not too much honey, you’re just enough f’me.”

Stunned by Joel’s words, you blinked up at him, unsure of what to say in response to that. All of the oxygen left your lungs, the excess air whooshing out of you all at once, and you tried to think of something to say. However, luckily for you, he wasn’t done.

“Plus, how in the hell could I be embarrassed by someone like you? It’s me that you should be embarrassed about. Christ, I can’t even keep my damn hands to myself when I’m supposed to be watching the damn grill. S’all my fault really, I couldn’t help it,” Joel murmured apologetically.

You shook your head, absolutely shocked by his words. Joel didn’t move to hold you again, likely fearful of the reaction he would get after his brother’s joke had embarrassed you so badly, but he did reach out. A shiver ran through you as one of his thick fingers pushed your hair behind your ear, lingering near your jaw for just a moment like he couldn’t help his need for even the slightest of touches before he dropped it back down to his side.

“If anything,” Joel started, a playfulness to his tone as he turned back towards the food, “You’re the exact opposite of too much honey. I mean, it’s like I’m neighbours with a goddamn hermit or something. Only ever see ya coming back from work at the end of the day.”

A small chuckle broke through your frayed nerves, releasing some of the tension that had been building between you since the second he dragged you outside.

“My apologies Mr. Miller, I wasn’t aware that I had loyal fans watching my every move,” you teased, grabbing one the plates beside him so that he could start taking the food off the grill.

Joel laughed, “Well, all I’m saying is that I hope you don’t disappear on me again. Can’t be putting together an event like this every time I want to see that face of yours.”

“Oh, so this was all just a ploy to see me then?,” you asked, giggling at the dark splotches of red that flooded his cheeks in response.

“I-I uh, well not exactly. I do sometimes um, sometimes I have barbecues like this. I like to cook and the girls,” he cleared his throat, “The girls said that you like to er… eat food.”

Joel winced and you cackled, throwing your head back as you laughed at his shaky excuse. The thought of him hosting such a big event in hopes that you might come by was adorable, as well as a tad bit frightening. Nobody had ever done something so big for you and for some reason, you felt like you should apologize for making him go to such lengths. But his previous words played over and over in your mind - you’re not too much honey, you’re just enough f’me - and you let it soothe you.

Joel Miller was a grown man who made his own choices. Even if he threw you a million barbecues to get your attention, it didn’t mean that you were too demanding. You hadn’t even asked for the first one. He had thrown this party all on his own, simply because he wanted to get your attention. That wasn’t cause for fear, it was cause for celebration. Someone had done something for you, something that you had thoroughly enjoyed despite the momentary panic that came from his youngest brother’s taunting. Regardless of the little demons in your brain trying to ruin the moment, you decided to ignore them, to enjoy the warmth that came from having the attention be on you in a good way for once.

“Well, you have my number now so you could always text me if you wanted to see me. Not that this isn’t great, but it must have been a lot of work just to hang out with little old me. I can’t be that scary, am I? I promise that I don’t bite… usually,” you joked.

He chuckled, nudging you with his side as he continued to plate the food. It was a small gesture but it made you grin, the feeling of his body pressing into yours for even the most fleeting of moments so natural and calming that you longed for him to do it again. Physical touch was not something you had ever been averted to per se, but you had never yearned for someone’s touch like Joel’s. His touch lit a fire underneath your skin and you knew that the flames could only possibly be soothed by more.

“Like I said darling, you’re trouble,” Joel mumbled.

“Like I said, you like it,” you repeated, earning another nudge from him.

Joel didn’t say anything, he just smiled and shook his head at you. Which was good, as you were sure that your poor heart couldn’t have taken any more of his sweet words or lingering glances without having some sort of embarrassing reaction in front of the family members that were filtering out of the house with condiments and salad bowls.

As Ellie and Sarah slipped outside, you stepped away from their dad, trying to keep a reasonable distance in fear of overstepping. However, just as you moved away from him, Joel reclaimed the empty space, wordlessly gluing himself back to your side despite their presence. You looked over at the two girls, both of them busy with preparing the table full of food, before looking back at the man in question with a raised brow.

Joel followed your gaze, his eyes alight as he watched them for a moment before he looked back at you. He shrugged and rolled his eyes, dispelling all of your worries without a single word. He didn’t care. A small smile graced your lips, heat creeping up the side of your neck as you felt him gravitate closer every time one of your movements put space between the two of you again.

Joel really didn’t care how close he was, or that his family and the rest of the party were slowly making their way towards the food tables set up in the backyard. You couldn’t believe it. It was as if he was actually proud of it, silently claiming you in front of every single guest at his party regardless of what any of them thought, and it made you unreasonably excited. You weren’t even that dressed up and likely had sweat trickling down your back from the blazing heat, but Joel stayed in place, hovering at your side like he was meant to be there.

Never once had your ex showing you off at his fundraisers or networking events made you feel how Joel did in that moment. The praise you were accustomed to had always felt cheap, like he was rating you based on how fuckable you looked in front of his fellow PhD pricks. And somehow, regardless of how creepily some of them stared at you in those skin tight cocktail dresses, you never seemed to quite make the cut for him. But Joel Miller marking his territory as he was, proudly staking his claim as he kept his eyes glued to you at all times? It made you feel nearly ten years younger, like you were the wide eyed nineteen year old who screamed into her pillow when she found out that a boy that she liked thought that she was pretty.

So you leaned into it, into Joel’s warmth, allowing the handsome man to stay rooted at your side as everyone gathered around for dinner. He led you over to a chair next to his and you let him, uncaring of the way his arms brushed against yours during the meal, or that he laughed when you missed your mouth because you were too busy trying to sneakily glance over at him. It was hard to be embarrassed anyways when someone as handsome as him was leaning over, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb with a goofy grin glued to his face.

Although you had come across the street sweating and unsure where you stood with him, Joel had made his own intentions loud and clear from the moment you arrived. And despite the fact that just a week ago you had made the decision to steer clear of anything that wasn’t casual, it was becoming harder to remember why you would ever want such a thing. How could you possibly be bothered by something that felt so comfortable, something that eased all of the stress from your mind and made you forget what was waiting for you back at home?

So, you smiled and allowed Joel to lead you towards where the other adults were gathered in the backyard after supper, whispering a small thank you that made him beam when he brought you a new drink without ever being asked. Tommy was leading the group in one of his many stories but neither of you paid him any mind, too busy sneaking glances at each other and fidgeting in lieu of reaching out in the summer heat.

- Joel -

For nearly the entire night Joel had stood watch at your side, sucking up every bit of attention you would grant him as the party raged on into the early evening. Even as his house began to clear out when the families started to pack up their sun-drunk children, and oftentimes their even drunker significant others, he had been able to stay strapped to your hip. But when Tommy, fucking Tommy, had called him inside to find a broom he could use to clean up a broken bottle, Joel had been forced to leave you alone with Maria.

The task itself hadn’t taken long, a little less than five minutes altogether, and yet Joel had come back outside to find you missing. He slipped in and out of the stragglers that were slowly headed towards the exit, praying that he might catch a glimpse of the one person he had thrown the damn event for, but came up entirely empty. A heavy sigh fell from his mouth, something inside of him aching at the realization that you were gone. Your sudden departure stung, his gut roiling as he tried to think of a reason that you would leave without saying goodbye to him, but he couldn’t think of any.

In any other circumstance Joel would have let himself dwell on it a bit longer, perhaps even retreating to the sanctity of his room to wallow in his own sadness for the rest of the night but he couldn’t, not when he had two kids with his last name that were making their way over to him. His love life, as embarrassing and depressing as it was at times, was none of their concern so he shook it off and put on a brave face for them despite the sting of rejection that dulled his smile.

“How was the party? Did she like it? Did you finally ask her out? What are you two going to do for the first date? You’re the one planning it right? Can we help?,” Ellie babbled excitedly, getting an elbow to the ribs from her sister in return.

“Don’t overwhelm him, jeez,” Sarah admonished with an eye roll, before she smiled mischievously and turned back towards him, “But Ellie has a point, did you ask her out?”

Joel shook his head at the both of them, wishing like hell they would drop their incessant quest to hook the two of you up. He wanted to be with you so badly that it hurt, but he was a fully grown man who could get his own dates and the last thing he needed when he finally did take you out was to have to give his daughters credit for the idea. He wanted the date and whatever it entailed to come from him, from his heart like you deserved.

“First of all, the two of you need to stop being so damn nosy. I can handle myself just fine. And secondly, I will ask out whoever I want to, whenever I want to. I don’t need y’all giving me any notes on how to do it for Christ’s sake,” he said, wagging a finger at the both of them.

“I told you that he’s too chickenshit to ask her,” Ellie sighed, as if she had already predicted his inevitable fumble.

“Damn, I guess I owe you and Tommy twenty bucks then. I really thought he’d ask her tonight,” Sarah said, the shock evident in her voice.

“There were bets on it?!,” Joel asked incredulously, “Jesus Christ, we don’t even know each other that well yet. I can’t just go around asking out women without getting to know them first, that ain’t proper.”

“She’s not a stranger Dad, she’s the lady that you run to the door to stare at every time you hear her car come in,” Ellie chuckled.

“Ellie has a point there, and you can’t get mad at us for placing bets on it when it was Uncle Tommy’s idea. We are innocent children, he’s an adult,” Sarah added with a shrug.

As the smoke started practically pouring from Joel’s ears, he watched as both of his kids inched towards the door to the house. Ellie was already about halfway through by the time he had fully soaked it in, while Sarah was a bit slower to react than her sister. Joel wasn’t sure where Tommy was but given all the shit that the asshole had pulled that day, his days were fucking numbered. He was about ready to wring his brother’s neck the next time he came across him, so much so that he barely caught his eldest daughter’s rushed goodbyes.

“Okay well, have fun hunting down Uncle Tommy. We’re going to go to the movies with Riley and Sam. See you later dad, please don’t kill any of our family members while we’re gone,” Sarah shouted as she retreated into the safety of the house.

Utterly defeated by the day, Joel sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t be mad at any of them really, especially when he was such a lost cause these days. There had been attempts to establish a real relationship despite his hectic life, some successful for a time and some not, but none of them ever seemed to work out.

There was Marlene, a woman who he could have seen himself pretending to be happy with if she hadn’t abandoned him and their only child a few weeks after she was born. Then there was Tess, a heart break of major proportions that he desperately tried not to think about if he could help it, but after her the rest seemed to just blur together. His roster was an endless list of first dates and third ones, that inevitably fun first time together followed soon by the hard talk they all eventually gave him when they fell out of lust. It was all so meaningless, so boring that he had put it to rest a few years back but then, you.

What Joel felt for you, it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t sure how yet, or more importantly why, but he knew that you were different from the other women that he had tried to form a relationship with before. Perhaps it was the way your smile broke through all his defenses, shaking the dust off of a part of his heart that had been rotting for years, or perhaps it was just fate. Either way, all of his usual worries about trying again were nowhere to be seen, as if even his hyperactive nervous system understood that you were somehow the exception. And since you were the exception, Joel decided that he didn’t mind that you had left. He would throw one party after the next all summer long, going full on Jay Gatsby and letting the entire state trample through his home if it meant you might show up again someday.

As the last few guests filtered out, including his brother who he made sure to slap upside the head for distracting him, Joel hatched a plan. Since you had clearly left in such a hurry, you likely hadn’t gotten the chance to take home any leftovers. With how much you had “helped” on the grill, it wouldn’t be right for him to hog the remaining feast. If Joel happened to stroll over with a few plates of food in his hands, well that was just being neighborly wasn’t it?

Convincing himself that his ridiculous scheme would work, Joel hurried to the kitchen, his mind racing as he tried to remember what sides and desserts you had liked the most. It was only when he turned the corner, skidding to a full stop at the sound of someone humming along to the crackly radio in his kitchen, that he realized his plan was pointless. There you were, still clad in one the most gorgeous dresses he had seen you in so far, quietly tidying the space as if it were your own.

“Hey,” Joel breathed, in awe of the scene in front of him that seemed too good to be true.

You glanced back at him, “Hey stranger.”

“What are you doing sweetheart?,” he asked, slinking up behind you so he could lean against the other side of the sink.

“Dishes needed to be done and I hate saying goodbye to people as they leave. It’s always so fucking awkward. Irish goodbye is more my style,” you said.

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, the warmth radiating off of him as he added, “Mine too.”

Smiling in response, you nodded towards the towel hanging off the stove, silently ordering him to work alongside you once more. And who was Joel to say no to a beautiful woman commanding him to help her? He happily bounded over to your side with the towel in hand, grinning ear to ear as the two of you worked in silence.

It was quiet but comfortable, the soft sounds of a Marvin Gaye song that he had long since forgotten the name of and the slight movement of water providing a warmth to the air that only brought the two of you closer. Joel couldn’t stop looking over at you, finding it hard to stay focused each time your eyes met his. He tried to remain calm, to remind himself that you had returned his advances just hours before, but he couldn’t seem to get his words in order. How hard was it to ask someone out? Apparently for Joel, it was nearly impossible.

“I wanted to ask you -” you started, the sound of your soft voice after such a long period of silence nearly causing him to jump out of his own skin.

“You wanted to ask?,” Joel asked once he recovered, hoping like hell that you were thinking the same thing as him.

You looked over at him for a second, the confidence you had faltering when your eyes met his.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

Joel’s entire being drooped towards the floor, the hope he had squashed under your dismissal. Shy was not the word he would use to describe the woman who had flirted with him outside and yet, you seemed more flustered than you had been when he held you in his arms earlier that day. He cocked his head, trying and failing to pinpoint your change of mood.

“M’kay well, if you think of it again I’m all ears,” he joked, getting nothing but a forced smile in response.

Joel bristled, his jaw clenched as you turned and continued to make your way through the dirty dishes. He eyed the remaining pile, suddenly regretting the decision to use red solo cups and paper plates. If he had used his own, he’d be able to keep you trapped a little longer, perhaps even get you to ask him that question you had wanted to ask. But instead, the clock was running out of time so Joel did the only thing he could think of, he filled the space with his own frivolous questions.

“How’s that new house of yours going? Are ya sick of this town yet or what?,” Joel asked lightly, hoping he could break you out of the funk that you had been mysteriously drawn into.

But it didn’t. In fact, the question only made you sigh, shaking your head in defeat before you begrudgingly looked back at him.

“Look, whatever the girls told you, it’s totally fine. I shouldn’t have even said anything, the situation is under control. The repairman said that they would probably be able to get around to it by the end of next week when I called, so it’ll be fixed up in no time,” you said.

“Huh? The girls didn’t tell me shit. They’ve been too busy hanging out with their friends,” Joel said slowly, squaring his shoulder as he added, “But you do know that I own a contracting business right? Whatever it is, I guarantee I can fix it better than any of the other idiots in this goddamn town. Bet I’d be a hell of a lot cheaper too.”

Joel went through a rudimentary list of the potential problems in your home that he had noticed as you took in his words, trying to rank the issues on a scale of need so he could figure it out himself in case you decided not to tell him. The roof would probably need to be reshingled soon, but luckily the fact that you lived in a warmer state meant you probably had another year or so. It could be the faulty wiring in the downstairs kitchen, in which case he prayed that you would let him fix it before you electrocuted yourself trying to make toast. Or perhaps it was the window in your upstairs office, the one that he knew undoubtedly leaked when it rained, but all that would need was a fresh layer of caulk and it would be good to go.

“Oh um, it’s really nothing Joel. Forget I said anything. I wouldn’t want to take advantage,” you rushed out, trying to avoid eye contact as you pulled the plug on the empty sink.

Joel cocked his eyebrow, bringing his wet hands to his hips so that he could get into what his girls had coined numerous times as his signature dad stance. He gave you a challenging look, pulling out the big guns to get you to fess up to whatever fix your tiny home needed.

“Ugh fine, it’s just my stupid fucking AC. It broke last night while I was asleep and I can’t figure out how to fix it without literally shocking myself,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at the way his mouth popped open to form a perfect O.

“Jesus honey, you ain’t working on it while the damn thing is still plugged in are ya?,” he questioned, already knowing the answer based on your face alone.

“Maybe…”

Joel groaned, all of the worst case scenarios running wild through his mind as he thought about you attempting to fix it again by yourself. And the fact that you didn’t call him immediately to begin with? Absolutely unacceptable. What good was having a contractor that worshipped the ground you walked on if you didn’t let him tinker with any of your things? He groaned at his own stupidity, knowing that if he had worked up the courage to talk to you at any point in the last month, you probably wouldn’t have felt the need to call another person to come fix your AC.

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Just please, for my sake darling, don’t be touching it again until I get there alright? You could’ve really hurt yourself doing that,” Joel begged.

“Joel, it’s fine. I really don’t need you t-”

“I ain’t asking for your permission. I’m telling you that I’ll be at your house tomorrow morning to fix that old ass AC of yours and that’s that. And if you don’t answer the door, it’s a Sunday so I’ve got all day sweetheart. I’ll just keep on knocking until you answer it,” he cut in, grinning at the way your pupils dilated in response.

A small noise came from you, followed by a shaky nod that made Joel grin. You were so responsive to him, so easily affected by his words that it made him want to push the boundaries that seemed to only blur more the longer he spent time with you. He wanted to break them all down at once, to pour himself into you until you were fused together as one, but he refrained. To be with you in that way was a privilege, one that he hadn’t earned yet. So until that time, he would remain at your side, allowing his feelings for you to cross into dangerous territory as he learned more about the woman he’d happily get on his knees and grovel for.

“I guess I’ll have to figure out some way to thank you Miller. It seems that every time I get stuck, I’ve got you coming to my rescue,” you joked halfheartedly.

Joel chuckled, pretending to mull it over for a moment. He had an idea of how you could make it up to him but he didn’t want to push, especially with how much time you had already spent with him that day. Nevertheless, he was too greedy to stop himself, already dreading the thought of you walking back across the street.

“How about you stick around a bit longer and have a bowl of ice cream with me? That’d make us square,” Joel proposed, trying to sound as casual as he could.

You grinned, “Not sick of me yet?”

He shook his head and grinned back, “Not yet, no.”

Joel drifted over to the freezer, groaning when he realized that all of his many flavors had been cut in half by his kids’ inherited sweet tooth. All he had left was either chocolate or coffee, two flavors that you excitedly asked him to combine rather than choosing one. He went along with it, piling the bowls high with the impromptu mixture before he led you to the swing in the backyard.

It was a little bit off to the side, in a corner that held a garden and was blocked from the sun by the tree that it sat under, but it was the perfect place to sit at that time of night. With the sun setting on the horizon, turning the water in the pool a shade of pink that reminded Joel of bubblegum, he had to admit that his backyard had never looked better, even with the mess that the party had left behind.

“I know that I’ve probably already told you this today but you have a really nice place Joel. It feels so… -,” you trailed off, looking for the right word to describe it for a second before you suddenly smiled up at him and said, “ - homey. I’ve never felt so comfortable at someone else’s place before.”

Every inch of Joel’s face must have lit up like a Christmas tree at that admission, he could feel it in the way all of the unused muscles around his mouth worked overtime to give you what must have been his millionth smile of the day. You felt at home in his space. That alone made this friendly barbecue better than any first date he had ever had, and he hadn’t even asked you out yet.

“Fuck, that’s a mighty big compliment coming from you sweet girl. Thank ya,” he gushed, trying not to sound like the awestruck idiot he was.

You nodded, taking another bite of your frozen treat as your eyes took in the scenery once more. Joel suddenly wished he had the artistic abilities that his youngest possessed so that he could capture the way you looked in the golden light of the fading day. A picture couldn’t possibly do your beauty any justice, it couldn’t capture how the light danced in your eyes and polished every inch of your skin. Only someone with pure talent would be able to do that. But alas, the best Joel could do when it came to portraits was wonky stick figures, not the beautiful masterpieces you deserved to be depicted as. And he was about to tell you as much, spilling all of his lovestruck secrets as he watched you take another bite of the frozen treat, but then you spoke.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been spending so much time with your daughters. I know it’s a bit weird, but they have insanely good taste in movies, if I do say so myself,” you joked.

“So I’ve heard,” he chuckled.

Your smile faltered and Joel leaned in, trying to ground you without crowding you too much.

“Ellie and Sarah have been very kind to me. I um… I didn’t really have a lot of kind people in my life before coming here,” you sighed.

Joel tried to control his face, a strange mixture of emotions running through him in response to the statement. Pride came first, the dad in him unable to not feel some sort of way upon hearing that his children had been the compassionate people he raised them to be while outside of their father’s watchful eye, but then came grief and above all else, outrage. He wasn’t surprised that you had been around people undeserving of your presence, the constant apologizing and the way you sometimes shrunk in on yourself was enough to tell him that. What he was surprised at was how you still seemed to feel guilty about receiving the kindness of others, as if you didn’t think that you were worthy of it.

“Darling, you can spend time with the girls whenever ya like. They love it over there and I think…,” he sighed and shook his head, “I think it’s good for them to have someone like you around. Lord knows that I ain’t the best listener at times, but you? You’re easy to talk to and you understand them in a way that I can’t. Hell, they’d probably trade me in for you if they could.”

You smiled again and Joel sighed in relief. He liked you better like that, happy and carefree, not weighed down by the past. He longed to ask you about it, to know exactly why someone as amazing as you would fold in on yourself instead of standing tall, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place and given his own closet full of skeletons, he was in no position to push.

“That means a lot Joel,” you sighed once you were done, looking down at your hands before you added, “I just worry that I’m in the way ya know? Sometimes it feels like people are just being nice and inviting me to places because they want to put me on display, or because they feel obligated to, and I just hate it so much.”

“What do ya mean?”

“I don’t know. When I was with my ex, it felt like he was trying to show everyone else up. It was like I was in some sort of beauty contest that I never signed up for. And with my friends, my invite always felt forced or like an afterthought. Either way, nobody ever wanted me to show up somewhere and just be me so now I just can’t fathom why…,” you trailed off.

“I understand,” Joel said quietly.

And he did, truly. Although Joel was the oldest, that didn’t mean he was the most popular Miller brother, or even the smartest. He was quiet, sullen at times, and quick to anger before he had his girls. At most parties, he could be seen with a drink in hand, standing off to the side as he tried to dodge attempts to get him out onto the dance floor. And although Joel didn’t know what it was like to be dragged around like some sort of prize because of his looks, he did know what it was like to feel used. Such had been the case with the last few women he had tried to date, who had all snuck into his sheets and then ran for the hills the moment he brought up meeting his kids.

Then there was the friend comment, which broke Joel’s heart almost more than the admission about your ex. His heart had been broken once by a woman who he thought he would raise his daughter with, Marlene, but he had gotten over that easily as he watched Sarah grow. He didn’t hold any animosity towards the woman anymore, wherever she was. How could he when she had given him one of the greatest gifts? But what he would never get over, what he still could not forgive, was what Tess had done to him. It had been nearly fifteen years and thinking about his best friend’s betrayal still made him feel as he had that day. Having a shitty ex was one thing, but shitty friends? That was a hard pill to swallow.

“Yeah um, your girls told me a bit about you. I hope you don’t m-”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he cut in, stopping the needless apology before it was even fully out, “You can ask them or me anything ya like darling, I want you to know me.”

You blinked, cocking your head at him for a second before you looked away. Deep in thought, your ice cream was all but abandoned, melting in your lap as you stared off into space. Joel sighed and scooched over, getting a bit closer so he could lift the bowl from your lap before it ruined the pretty pink dress you had on. He scooped the bowl up, reaching across you to put it on the small table attached to the side of the swing but when he leaned back, you were looking at him funny, like you either wanted to jump in his lap or attack him violently. Not sure which one it was, he chose the safest option and started to move out of your personal space but once again, your actions shocked him.

Lifting your feet up off the ground, you quickly scooched closer to his side, placing your head directly on his shoulder in a way that made him feel warm all over. Joel paused, unsure what to do with himself for a moment before you let out a small disgruntled noise that kicked him into action. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders, allowing your body to relax under the weight of it as he pulled you close. With you glued to his side and the sunset slowly fading into dusk, Joel was astounded by his own luck. He waited for the harsh sting of reality to come but it never did. All he got instead was a sleepy, “This okay? I can move if you want,” from you.

“Don’t you dare sweetheart, you’re perfect right there,” Joel murmured, moving his head so he could press his cheek against the top of your head.

Joel wasn’t sure what you used for shampoo but he needed the brand name ASAP. That and your perfume, or was it a body lotion that made you smell so good? Whatever it was, he was on a mission to find it so he could buy some for himself. He wanted to spray it everywhere, to have your signature scent saturate every surface of his home, his truck, his office, but he knew it wouldn’t be the same. There had to be something about you that made it so delicious, and he knew that he would forever chase that key ingredient in hopes to one day bottle it for himself.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?,” Joel murmured.

“Thank you for inviting me. I had a really good time today and I hope…”

He waited for a moment, giving you a chance to speak up before he asked, “You hope?”

Joel felt you shift beneath his arm and moved his head back, giving you just enough space to look up at him from where you were slumped against his side. Your face was close to his, so close that he could feel your tiny breaths puff out against his lips but he didn’t pay it any mind. It was your eyes that he was looking at, so expressive yet so guarded, a small part of you still holding on to the wall you had built around yourself despite everything.

“Nothing, it’s just…,” you tried, clearly struggling to articulate whatever it was you were feeling, “You’re kind too and I hope… Well, I need to be around kind people right now and I hope that I can see you a bit more if that’s uh - if you’re not too busy with work or family.”

Without even thinking about it, Joel leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead. It wasn’t even remotely sexual, nothing but a trick he had used multiple times to soothe the cuts and bruises of his kids over the years, but it was intimate. Nevertheless, you didn’t seem to care, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips before you snuggled back into his side.

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easy,” Joel whispered, placing his cheek back atop of your head as the two of you watched the last bit of sun dip below the horizon.

“Good.”

-You-

The party had ended around 8pm that night, but you didn’t leave Joel’s house until well past midnight. After the impromptu heart to heart, you had fallen into a dreamless sleep, unknowingly squishing him into the corner of the swing as you napped. You were mortified when he finally woke you up, vehemently apologizing for trapping him in his own backyard as you tried to fix your rumpled dress, but he waved you off.

“Darling, I was fine. If I wanted to get up, I would’ve told ya, but I was comfy like that and you’re cute when you sleep. Hell, I would’ve let ya nap on me forever but I just didn’t want us to get rained on,” Joel had chuckled, gesturing vaguely towards the sky.

Before you could even react to the flattery, Joel had reached out and smoothed some of your hair back in place, pulling the few strands that had fallen from your braid back behind your ear. It made you squirm under his gaze and he held his hand to you as the raindrops began to fall. What started as a drizzle soon turned into an all out downpour and Joel hurried you towards the backdoor, the both of you laughing like kids as the heavens suddenly opened up and drenched the two of you.

“Joel! The bowls!,” you shouted over the sound of water slapping against the pavement around the pool.

“Fuck ‘em, I’ll get them tomorrow” he yelled back, forcing another round of boisterous laughter from the two of you as the rain beat down against your backs.

Joel practically ripped the door open trying to get the two of you back to safety, earning another round of giggles from you as he practically launched you inside with the hold he had on your hand. Stumbling in, you barely managed to catch yourself on the island in his kitchen and wheeled around to face him. He hurried in behind you, cussing as he pulled the sliding door closed.

“Holy fuck, I thought we’d have more time than that,” Joel whistled, watching as lightening struck the tree the two of you had just been lounging under.

“More time? How long did you wait to wake me up?,” you chuckled.

Joel turned to look at you, the sight of how soaked he was reigniting that spark between your legs. The shirt he had on was tight against his chest, showing off the strong physique you already had a feeling he possessed. The thick corded muscles in his arms were glistening, along with the tantalizing spot on his neck where rain water dripped from his curls. And the way he was looking, catching how you squeezed your thighs together at how breathtaking he looked, it told you that he felt the exact same way.

“I uh…,” Joel started, swallowing once before he started again, “I wasn’t ready for ya to leave yet honey. I just really didn’t want today to be over, ya know?”

You gave him a small smile and dipped your chin, suddenly feeling bashful. It didn’t help that your whole body was basically on display, the pink dress glued to every curve, every hip dip, every imperfection as stood in front of him. And yet, when you looked back up, Joel didn’t seem to see the same thing you did. At first, you thought he might be in pain, the heavy crease between his brows making it seem like he was suffering from a migraine of some sort. But as you watched as he raked his eyes up and down your figure, taking in everything, you knew that it was desire for you that had twisted his face like that.

“Jesus, what the fuck happened to you two?”

You gasped, turning towards the teenager that had just strolled into the kitchen. Ellie’s eyes bounced between the two of you, cocking an eyebrow at the obvious tension before she shook her head and headed towards the fridge.

“What the hell are ya doing here? I thought y’all were headed to the movies,” Joel asked, seemingly just as flustered as you were.

“In case you forgot old man, movies are like really long TV shows that you go to see and they are usually about 2 to 3 hours long. We left at seven forty five man,” she sassed as she dug through the freezer and pulled out a tub of cookie dough.

Looking over at the clock, you balked. It was a little bit after a little bit after twelve, well past your usual bedtime as a certified homebody. How long had you been outside for? You didn’t even remember what time it had been when you snuck inside to do the dishes, much less when they had been finished.

“I’m so sorry Joel, I should probably go. I didn’t realize it was that late, you probably want to get to bed soon,” you apologized, trying to pinpoint where your shoes and purse had gone in the hours since you arrived. .

“You think I’m letting ya go out there in this?,” Joel asked incredulously.

The wind howled outside at that moment, as if mother nature herself was trying to highlight his point. Even with how dark it was, you could see the way the trees shuddered, the branches thrashing under the gusts blowing rainwater every which way. But still, the last thing you wanted was to overstay your welcome. Which, given the fact that Joel’s youngest daughter was moseying back upstairs in her pajama pants with a tub of half eaten cookie dough in her hands, you were pretty sure that you already had.

“Joel, I’m not made out of sugar. Plus, I wouldn’t want to put you out seeing as you’ve already been stuck with me all day and I -”

“Enough of that, c’mon sweetheart,” Joel sighed as he held his hand out to you again.

“Wait, what?,” you questioned, pulse quickening as Joel grabbed your hand again.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he said, dragging you out of the kitchen without another word.

What you expected was for Joel to bring you towards the couch in the living room, perhaps even cover you in one of the many throw blankets that had been left on various surfaces in the room, but instead he led you towards the staircase. You squeaked as he yanked you up the steps and through the hallway, bypassing the room you knew to be Sarah’s and what you guessed was Ellie’s based on the daunting keep out sign that was tacked to the door. It was only after you passed the upstairs bathroom that you realized where he was bringing you.

“You’re taking me to your room?,” you burst out, unable to keep it in.

Joel turned back, a sly grin on his face at the look of your flustered face. He laughed, shaking his head as he stopped at the very last door in the hall.

“Well, it’s where I keep my clothes sweetheart,” he chuckled, turning back to open the door as he added, “Unless of course you want to try squeezing into one of the girl’s clothes. I’m sure they’d be real comfy for ya darling.”

The thought of trying to squeeze your frame into a fourteen year old’s clothes was downright embarrassing. You were a fully grown, thirty year old woman, with all of the curves and extra padding that came with that. And with how skinny the two teenage girls were, you shuddered to think of even attempting such an impossible task.

“Okay fair enough. There’s no way these hips would fit in either of their jeans,” you chuckled, before you stuck a finger in his face,“But no funny business Mr. Miller. This is a clothing swap, nothing more.”

He laughed and nodded along, “Of course honey, wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

With that, Joel left you hovering near his bed, disappearing into the walk in closet to fetch you some decent clothes. Although you longed to sit on the foot of his bed, to feel the creamy texture of what looked to be the softest sheets you had ever seen against your skin, you refrained in fear of getting them soaked. Instead, you floated around, taking in small pieces of the man while he was busy digging through his clothes.

There was a guitar in the corner of the room, along with a record player with a milk crate of records that unsurprisingly held the greatest hits of a few country legends. An ensuite bathroom was attached to his room, where he had left out the tub of hair gel he had used that morning and the cologne you loved so much. A painting of a deer hung above his bed, while a picture of two chunky toddlers that had to be Ellie and Sarah was placed on his nightstand. A TV hung on the opposite end of the wall over his dresser, which of course held more pictures of his girls and even one of him as a kid.

You picked up the old picture, smiling when you recognized the Miller brothers. They were boys whenever it was taken, no more than six and ten, but you could see exactly who was who based on their expressions alone. While Tommy was captured mid-laugh, missing several of his baby teeth as he grinned maniacally at the camera while clutching his mother’s leg, Joel was more reserved. His smile was small, surprisingly awkward even, though you could tell it had been a happy day based on the large fish he held in his hands and the proud looks that both of his parents were giving him. It made you slightly jealous but you pushed the feeling away, reminding yourself that it wasn’t right to long for something so trivial as an adult.

“Whatcha got there?,” Joel piped up from behind you, his deep voice causing you to jump and fumble with the frame.

“Shit, sorry. You scared me,” you laughed nervously, placing the picture down before you shattered it.

He shook his head and stepped forward, placing a set of soft looking clothes on the bed so he could examine your choice.

“Ah, that’s a good one. That was the first fish I ever caught and it was a twenty one pound channel catfish. Pops was so proud that he damn near cried. Tommy was excited too but I don’t think he really understood what was going on, he was only in first grade. He just liked that everyone was cheering,” Joel laughed.

“I don’t know anything about fishing but I’m gonna assume that twenty one pounds is really impressive?,” you tried.

He snorted, “Ah yes, my apologies sweetheart, I forgot you were a city girl. Yeah, it’s a pretty good catch for that kind of catfish. Anything higher than twenty pounds is considered a score.”

“I was only a city girl after high school Joel, I didn’t grow up in Miami,” you sassed, rolling your eyes at him, “For your information, I grew up in a small town before that. Everyone knew each other and had their noses in everyone else’s business, same as here probably.”

“S’that right? Well pardon me darling, I must’ve misjudged ya. Didn’t realize I had a certified backwoods beauty gracing me with her presence,” he joked.

“Yeah well, I haven’t been back there since I left for university so the city has probably rubbed off on me a bit,” you sighed, trying to remember what it felt like to be back in that town.

It had been twelve years since you left home, filled with dreams and ready to leave behind the place that had held you back for far too long. With nothing but twenty bucks to your name and a flashy scholarship with your name on it, you had taken the first bus out of town. You remember that day, when your eighteen year old self had left for the airport practically vibrating with excitement. Nobody had even known you were going and you didn’t care to tell them, knowing even at that age that your big dreams would have been laughed out of the house. You sighed when you thought of that day and all of the aspirations you had once held, knowing that with how your life had turned out after meeting your ex during that first year of university, they would have been right.

“No family then?,” he asked carefully, as if he already knew it was a touchy subject based on the way all of the muscles in your body tensed up.

Schooling your face, you turned to him and said as casually as possible, “Nope, just me.”

It wasn't really a lie, you hadn’t seen any of them in years. No family members had been invited to your graduation, your wedding, or your thesis defense during master’s, despite the fact that they were all probably still alive and well. Your parents were likely still in the same run down town, smoking on the porch as they watched the cars go by and bickered over who had drunk the last can of coke. And the one brother you had was likely either in jail or somewhere commiting the felonies that would inevitably bring him straight back. They had never liked you and the feeling was mutual even as a child, so to call them family would be a great exaggeration. And as far as your former in-laws went, you knew they were likely relieved that you had vanished out of thin air. They were probably thrilled that their precious boy had finally gotten rid of the trailer trash he had chosen, most likely already planning which debutante they wanted him to marry with you out of the way.

“Well,” Joel started as he awkwardly cupped the back of his neck, “I suppose it’s a good thing you chose this place then.”

“Why’s that?,” you questioned as you drifted over to the pile of clothes he had left out.

He shrugged, “I ain’t gonna let ya get lonely over there.”

A small grin spread across your face, growing by the second as you took in the truth of Joel’s promise. Whether you realized it or not at the time, the Millers had been at your side since your very first day in town. It had been mostly the girls of course, one or both of them constantly knocking at your door after they got out of school, but Joel had been there for your two most vulnerable moments. All in all, given the fact that you were now a runaway of two separate towns and families, they were probably the only people you had.

“Thank you Joel,” you said softly.

“Don’t thank me honey, I don’t need it. Just go get dressed before you catch a damn cold,” he grunted, gesturing towards the bathroom so that you could change in privacy.

The clothes that Joel had given you felt just as soft as they looked, although they did sort of swallow you whole once you put them on. The grey sweatpants were so long that you had to fold them at the waist, while the sweater went halfway down your thighs. Joel was just so big and broad, so undeniably beefy that you could barely fill out his loungewear even with your curves providing some extra padding. Not that you minded really, as wearing his clothes allowed his scent to drift into your nostrils each time you moved. After hanging your drenched clothes in the shower, you shook your hair out of the braid Sarah had put in, allowing it to flow freely as you moved back into his room.

Joel was just coming out of the closet when you came back in, a fresh pair of sweatpants and a navy blue t-shirt hugging his frame as he swaggered towards you. Given the hefty bulge that he was sporting, you knew that he didn’t have any boxers underneath and you tried hard to ignore it. It was the middle of the night and he was in the sanctity of his own home, he could do whatever the hell he wanted. However, the closer he got, the more obvious the outline of his cock became and you quickly focused all of your attention on making direct eye contact with him instead of staring at the beast that hung from his lower half.

“How do they fit? M’sorry baby, I know that my clothes are a bit big but I couldn’t find anything smaller than that,” Joel apologized.

The word baby bounced around in your mind, hitting all of the pleasure points as you tried to remain calm. Had Joel called you that before? You weren’t sure, but it stuck out compared to the other terms of endearment he had used so far. Sweetheart, honey, darling, those were all terms that you had convinced yourself were just a part of his Southern charm, regardless of the fact that you had never heard him refer to anyone else in that way. But baby? That felt different, almost special, and you wanted more than anything to hear him call you that again.

“Y-Yeah, they fit alright. I’m very cozy,” you said meekly, going weak in the knees from the dazzling smile he sent your way.

“Good now, let’s see if we can scrounge up some leftovers. I don’t know about you but I’m fucking starving,” he said.

Again, Joel didn’t ask for your hand as he had before, he just took it and dragged you down the hallway behind him. He brought you to the living room first, gesturing for you to sit down on the couch before he threw a thick blanket and the remote control at you with the command to put something interesting on.

“I can help you in there though!,” you protested as you tried to get up and follow him, not wanting to leave him with all of the work as you lazed about on his couch.

“You are helping me, now pick something for us to watch while I go get us a snack,” Joel called over his shoulder, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The rest of the night followed a similar trajectory. Joel came back with plates filled with way too much food and sat at your side, uncaring that you had decided on a trashy reality TV show that you secretly loved. He even asked a few questions about one of the love triangles, laughing along as the contestants started screaming at each other over god knows what during one of the reunion episodes. Sitting on Joel’s couch, stuffing your face as you indulged in one of your guilty pleasure shows felt good, natural even. However, after you had passed off the rest of your meal for him to devour, you made the mistake of looking over to the clock and realized that it was way past time that you said your goodbyes. It was one thirty in the morning and with no more rain falling outside, along with the sleepy yawn that Joel gave once he was finished eating, you knew that it was time to leave.

Ever the gentleman, Joel demanded that he walk you home, ignoring your assurances that you would be fine. He had even offered his own bed first, claiming that he would sleep better on the couch anyways if he knew that you wouldn’t slip on the slick pavement outside, but you shut his ridiculous worries down. At an impasse, the two of you had agreed that you would not stay the night but that he would walk you home, even if it was slightly ridiculous to think that you would run into danger in the thirty seconds it took for you to get to your front porch. It had been a quiet walk, one where neither of you said anything, almost as if you were both too scared to ruin it.

“Are you sure that you’re alright over here honey? It’s gonna be mighty hot tomorrow morning with that AC of your broken and like I said, I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch tonight if it means you’ll get a good sleep. It’d make me feel a whole lot better,” Joel tried one more time as he stood with you on the porch.

“I’ll be fine Joel, it’s just one night and plus,” you added, a bit of mischief in your eye as you reached up and fixed his collar, “I’ve actually got a handsome handyman coming by tomorrow, so it should be fixed in no time.”

A deep crimson crept up the side of his neck, flooding his face with colour as he tried hard not to let your words affect him too much.

“Sounds like a lucky guy,” he murmured, his breath hitching as you took a bold step into his space.

“Hm, we’ll see,” you teased.

Leaning forward, you placed a tiny peck on his cheek, lingering there for a moment to take in a heavy whiff of his scent. The kiss was light, barely a brush of the lips against his scratchy beard, but it seemed to hit him just as hard as any passionate makeout session would.

“Night Joel,” you whispered, giving him a small smile as you slowly moved away.

“Night sweetheart, I’ll see ya tomorrow,” he breathed, hands bunched up at his sides like he wanted to reach out but knew that he shouldn’t.

You smiled, “Hope so, handsome.”

With that, you left Joel on the porch, his cheeks still flushed as you pulled the door closed. Pressing your back against the wood, you couldn’t help the girlish squeal you let out as the day flashed before your eyes. Had all of that really just happened?

Joel Miller was good, so good that you couldn’t believe the day that you had just had. He had thrown a party for you, nobody had ever done that, and he had spent nearly the entire day at your side simply because he wanted to. And afterwards, he had cuddled with you on the swing, letting you rest against him until the rain dragged you both back inside. Not to mention the fact that he had clothed and fed you, unwilling to let you walk back home in a storm despite your vehement reassurances that you were fine. It was as if someone had made the perfect man in a lab for you and you suddenly couldn’t remember why you had ever wanted to keep him at a distance in the first place.

That is, until your phone started to ring. You drifted over to the kitchen, still running on a high as you unplugged your phone and accepted the blocked number. Although it was strange to get any calls in the middle of the night, as you were usually asleep well before midnight, you figured it would be best to answer. Afterall, maybe it was work. With how much it had rained that night, you couldn’t help but worry that the one hundred year old basement of the library had finally flooded, meaning that you would have to go deal with it before the water destroyed the precious microfilms down there.

“Hello?,” you answered, still chipper as ever despite the late hour.

“Oh, so no answer during the day but you fucking pick up in the middle of the night? I’ve been calling you since three o’clock this afternoon, where the hell have you been? Were you out with someone else? Better fucking not have been, you’re still my goddamn wife.”

Fear, pure unadulterated fear rushed through you and turned the blood in your veins into ice. It was him. After more than a month of radio silence, a silence so potent that you had assumed that he had finally let you go, there he was, spitting venom through the phone.

“H-How um - how did you get this number?”

A snort came from the other line, followed by what sounded to be a heavy glass being slammed down on what had to be his mahogany desk. You had heard that sound too many times to not recognize it, even miles and miles away. Each time he had brought you into that dreaded room, the same one you had once been impressed by as a doe eyed nineteen year old that saw it for the first time as his research assistant, it was always to give you some sort of talking to. The talks were always about your behaviour, your outfit, or something stupid you had said. An invite to that room always came with a reprimand from him, drinking vodka on the rocks as he critiqued every inch of your being, before he inevitably expected you to spread your legs for him whenever he felt like it. It made you nauseous to think about it now, about how cruel you had let him be, stupidly believing that even when he toyed with your mind that it was out of love, but that was then.

The nineteen year old he had hired, the same one that he had shaped into his perfect girlfriend at twenty, then his perfect little wife by twenty two, then his trophy piece for events after he got tired of pretending to care, all still lived inside of you. Real life isn’t like the movies, where the woman leaves her ex and suddenly becomes a different person altogether. That girl who just wanted someone to pay attention to her, who desperately needed love, was still there, along with the wife who had held onto something gnarled and twisted in hopes that it would one day make sense again. However, none of those women were under his spell anymore, his ongoing affair had made sure of that. And as broken as every single version of you still was, they were equally just as pissed off.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound more confident as you asked, “Why did you call me?”

“That’s all you have to say to me right now? After weeks of me trying to track your ass down? I am your husband you stupid bitch, watch how you fucking talk to me,” he spat.

You straightened up, rage coiling in your gut and tensing all of the muscles in your back like you were readying for an attack. Husband? He thought that he was still your husband? After all that he had done? You tried not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

The memory of his face when you caught him with that poor young woman flashed through your mind. He hadn’t looked guilty that he was caught, just disappointed that his little game had ended before he had the chance to truly sink his talons into his next victim, which soon morphed into disgust when you had the audacity to cry in front of him over his betrayal. And later, when you had asked him outright for a divorce? He had been smug, reminding you that you’d never find another man like him, that you were nothing without him, that it was childish to ruin an eight year marriage over something that every husband did from time to time. It was enough to make you want to reach through the phone and strangle him.

“You stopped being my husband the second you started fucking your research assistants behind my back Peter, now what the hell do you want from me?,” you hissed, feeling as though you could breathe fire as you spoke his name aloud for the first time in over a month.

“Oh really? Well, we will fucking see about that you goddamn whore. I bet I wasn’t the only one who stepped out, you just like holding shit over my head,” Peter shot back, but you were too angry to let his insults or ridiculous accusations phase you.

“Listen to me you asshole,” you started, ten years worth of rage seeping into your tone as you spoke through gritted teeth, “You are nothing to me anymore, do you hear me? Nothing.”

“Don’t be a fucking dramatic,” he sighed, almost sounding bored.

“No, you don’t get to say shit like that to me anymore,” you seethed, letting all of the resentment peek out for the first time in ten years, “I don’t give a shit what you have to say, or what your friends think, or especially what your stupid parents want, I am fucking DONE!”

“But -”

“Sign the divorce papers Peter. Or don’t, I really don’t give a fuck anymore. Just know, I’ll be filing for a petition to divorce your ass next week if I don’t get them in my mailbox by Wednesday. You can take the apartment, the money, the cars, everything, I’m out.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Try me bitch,” you snapped, ending the call before he had the chance to respond.

You whipped the cell phone across the room, too angry to care if it broke as you watched it bounce against the back of the couch and hit the hardwood.

“Asshole,” you hissed to no one in particular, the sound of your voice echoing off of the empty walls.

Peter had taken everything from you, everything. He had taken your twenties, draining you of life, of who you were as a person, before forcing you into being the woman he wanted. And you, so desperate to have someone love you, had let him. You had grit your teeth through the entirety of the marriage, hoping that one day the two of you might return to how it had been during those early days. But being a thirty year old woman with a lifetime of experience gave you some perspective on the matter. Those early days, with all of the gifts and the compliments, had been an elaborate ruse. He had drowned you in affection, knowing that if he got you to love him, you would be easier to bend.

Peter had taken pieces of you, slowly and carefully, so that you didn’t notice until it was too late. He was a political science professor, so you couldn’t major in that, it had to be literature and history. He wanted to stay in Miami so that he could get tenure, meaning that moving out of state after undergraduate for a masters in New York like you had hoped was out of the question. He didn’t like short hair, so yours had to be long. Heels soon replaced all of your more comfortable shoes, as he thought you looked frumpy in flat ones. At formal events, you had to always wear a dress, which meant that every pair of dress pants you owned had to be thrown away. He didn’t want you to be smarter than him so a PhD degree became a pipedream, even though a seat at Notre Dame had once been offered to you. Pieces upon pieces were taken, until you had no idea who you were anymore without him.

As you marched up the stairs in your home, reeling from the call as you walked into the bathroom and started quietly taking your makeup off, you couldn’t stop looking at the person who stared back at you in the mirror. She had more lines on her face since the last time you had seen her, as well as a bit more junk in the trunk, but she was there. For the first time in years, the girl who had her own wants, her own dreams, her own fucking life, was there. She looked exhausted, albeit a bit rough around the edges from her time locked away, but her re-emergence was something remarkable.

Peter had cheated on you. Hell, he had probably been doing it for years, but you didn’t care anymore. That had been the least of the injustices he had perpetrated against you anyways. It was the manipulation that had been the worst thing, the tactics he had used to force you into a life that was meant to nurture only him being so devious that you had happily skipped towards your cell and helped him throw away the key. But his last offense had shown you the light. It had ended up being the exact thing you needed to tear you from your prison cell and shove you back into the real world again, a world that didn’t revolve around him. It didn’t matter if Peter didn’t sign the divorce papers, or if he took every single thing you owned in court, you would be fine because at the very least it would mean that you would never have to see him again.

So, as you finished up your nightly routine, letting all thoughts of your previous life go down the drain with your face wash and toothpaste, you put Peter to rest. There would be a time to think about him, perhaps even dissect the damage he had done to you in greater detail when you met with the attorney, but it was not the time for such thoughts. Absolutely drained from the day, you crawled into bed, pulling the hem of Joel’s sweater up to your nose so that you could take a hit of his delicious scent. Your ex, wherever he was and whoever he was with, could go fuck himself. You had a home, a job you loved, and a handsome man that had a crush on you, a man that you knew would never say any of the shit that your ex had to you even if he was upset. Peter didn’t own you anymore and he never really had, you were free.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfic #angst #comfort #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x female reader #Soft!Joel #soft!joel miller #joel miller fluff

26 notes · View notes