#you're not the first one to bring it up either

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[morganas-pendragons]

Hands | Celebrimbor

gif by @quietparanoiac

I’m obsessed with this gif. Seriously.

Short little thing about celebrimbor’s hands. It’s ridiculous how attentive I am to this detail.

tagging @thatlittlered @pentaghasm (I really do not know who else wants to be tagged, I just tag based on previous interest) @erebusbabylon @ladyoflindon and @poetryvampire (since you said you were looking for softer Celebrimbor fics)

***

His hands are worn. The first time you feel them, he is cradling your own while tending to a burn you’ve obtained from your first real venture of crafting at the forge. You spend far too much time staring at the lines of his hands, the way the muscles of his fingers move as he cradles your own and applies salve before tenderly wrapping a bandage around the wounded area.

You practically melt when Celebrimbor places a kiss thereupon.

"Wait, Celebrimbor."

He allows you to take his hand in yours and shivers when you drag your fingers across his palm, whispering to yourself as you turn his hand over and examine the scars upon his knuckles. "Dearest," Celebrimbor whispers hoarsely, swallowing the knot of emotion in his throat as you curl his fingers and bring his hand to your lips. "Why are you-"

"Beautiful." You say firmly, interjecting your opinion before he can speak lowly about himself. "Worn hands are beautiful."

***

His hands are gentle. They are the hands of a creator, hands that must often care for precious things. You are his most precious thing in this world now. Precious things must be protected.

"I didn't know you could braid." You remark, leaning your head back into his hands as Celebrimbor easily weaves your hair together. "It feels phenomenal. You're so gentle."

He smiles and kisses the crown of your head. "As you know per our customs, Elves fix wedding braids for one another. My hair has always held curls well as that is its natural state. Yours is perfect for braiding," Celebrimbor reaches to the small pile of adornments you've kept for special occasions and pulls out a particularly detailed group of flowers to slip into the gaps of your braids. "And it will be my pleasure when that day comes."

***

His hands are careful, always moving with intent, with purpose. You find those same hands on either side of your head while your body remains caged beneath his own, his knee pressed into the part of your thighs as you stare up at him in wonder.

Celebrimbor's fingers flex in yours as you both hold your breath. The two of you had not thought you would get here. To be able to stand in front of the ones you love, to commit to the vows you'd made in front of your loved ones and the Valar.

"I love you." You whisper. His eyes shine with tears as you surge up to kiss him, and you can taste his tears on your tongue as he seeks to deepen the kiss.

Those hands do not leave yours once, grasping at your fingers with the intent of anchoring Celebrimbor to the present moment when he slides into the warmth of your body, into home. He moans low into the crook of your neck and fights the urge to allow his hands to wander.

Chest heaving, you turn your head to whisper low in his ear, "You can touch me, veru."

Those hands have never sought violence, nor had they inflicted them: They have only ever sought to create goodness, to hold greatness within his grasps and cradle it as the most precious thing he can hold.

You. You are the most precious thing Celebrimbor's hands will hold.

Translations:

Veru - Quenyan word for husband

[fruchtfliege]

Midnight Monday Snippet 🤍🐺

Tagged by @ksbbb and @honestlydarkprincess (thank youuu and don't look at the time it took me to post this) so here's the beginning of my new WIP!!

First Chimera!Liam and Scott's Beta!Theo. :))

They all stare at the new guy leaving. Kira and Scott are both wearing a cautious smile while Stiles crosses his arms with a deep frown. His foot taps on the concrete and echoes in the silent night as he starts thinking. Usually just as suspicious as him, Theo looks uncharacteristically dazed. All he can manage with the few brain cells he has right now is to stare with wide eyes as Liam smiles and does a tiny wave at him. Theo can't even bring himself to wave back, he feels flushed all over.

“Well, that was weird,” Stiles says like they were all thinking it.

“What was weird?” Kira asks, changing her sword into a belt again.

Stiles gives her a face of disbelief but he sighs when he sees that Scott is just as confused. “The- H- Him! Liam! Did you see how he just sweeped in at the last second to save our asses? C'mon, we know better than that now. That guy is sus! Theo, back me up on this.” Stiles waits, still staring at Scott and Kira, but back-up never arrives. “Theo?”

They turn and Theo is still staring at where Liam was standing just a second ago, a dumb little smile on his lips and a genuine tenderness in his eyes that they’ve never seen before.

“Him!? Really?” Stiles screams with a very high-pitched voice.

Kira breaks into a bright smile at Theo's soft expression and Scott affectionately taps his friend's shoulder, knowing full well what's going on.

Stiles loses his questionable composure seeing this. “Don't encourage him! I spent three years trying to find him someone! I introduced him to every girl, every guy, every both, and every nothing I could find and he was always ‘meh. not for me.’ Here I was, thinking he was either the pickiest dude on earth or straight up nosexual! And the first blue-eyed short king he sees, he's gone for? If I had known I would have saved myself the trouble!”

Scott gives him an unconvinced look. “I thought you were pretending to be a wingman to flirt with people.”

“Is it my fault that my generosity and thoughtfulness is very appealing to people? I just didn't want him to be single all his life.” Stiles groans with an eye roll.

Scott frowns. “You're also single,” he says, confused.

“Not as single as him!” Stiles points to Theo with a scoff.

“Maybe not for long,” Kira says with a singsong tone and a knowing glance.

“You all skipped the part where I said the new guy was sus, didn't you?” Stiles asks woefully but Scott and Kira are already walking away towards the library, both taking one of Theo's arms and dragging him along. “Anddddd you're walking away. Great! Great talk! Love how we've achieved this level of communication through our years of hardships, guys!”

No pressure tags: @thiamsxbitch @aristarr @hemlocksandfoxgloves @opheliathiams @honestlydarkprincess @ksbbb @cdo499

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Part 12

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Anxiety, Bad parents and siblings, Talking about abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

It had been just over a week since your wedding. You and Jake have improved your communication. He's also managed to really set himself up in the home theater where he'd spent that first night. Apparently one thing your parents got right was the massive pair of recliners specifically for that room. Jake swears they're more comfortable than most of the beds he's slept on over the years. It makes you feel better about taking the master bedroom for yourself. Clay had visited again bringing a few duffel bags of Jake's things, including his computer. The massive screen for the theater worked really well for his setup.

While you were cooking, Clay had made sure to update Jake on the status of his family. Things were working pretty well, but there were going to be a lot of paper trails to hide so that they couldn't be followed. Or at least, not followed easily. Aisha and Cougar had both caught a couple of people following his family around that were confirmed to be employed by his parents. Hopefully now that Jake had his computer he could get some better intel on the parents' finances and connections.

But you weren't privy to that update. Jake and Clay agreed it was safer to keep you in the dark about the details. Though Jake didn't doubt your sincerity, there were still too many unknowns about you.

You really didn't mind that they got quiet whenever you were near. Your mind was already at maximum anxiety with Travis, your brother, still being in the Intensive Care Unit. Your parents had been acting unusually as the week progressed and Travis didn't get better. According to the police report he'd been seen drinking heavily with friends before trying to drive home. Usually one of his friends would be the designated driver and keep everyone's keys but, somehow, Travis had gotten his keys.

And now your parents seemed to be readjusting their life plans, and yours as well. The one time you were allowed to visit the hospital you'd overheard your parents murmuring about "he can't be seen like this," "he'll be seen as weak," and other similar thoughts. It made you worried you and Jake would be even more under their scrutiny, set to even higher standards. Your breath hitched as you realized they may demand a grandchild to help change the public perception of the family to one of hope or something like that.

You and Jake were getting ready for your first public event as a couple. You're helping Jake pick out the right suit while doing your best to answer his questions about what to expect, what is appropriate conversation, how much both of you needed to talk to others before you could leave. You know you're missing things. Jake does, too. But neither of you can think of the questions to ask so you establish a silent signal for help. Jake squeezes your hand three times and you either step in or whisper some advice in his ear. It's not a great system, but it's all you can do for now.

Jake hates how he looks in all of this but he knows it's not about him or his comfort. At least he doesn't have to wear the torture device you call a dress. The thing looks impossibly tight on you. He's worried about your ability to breathe. And the stiletto heels have you warning him you'll be on his arm all night to help you keep your balance. Jake actually takes comfort in that because he really doesn't want to be left alone at this event. Probably any event, but this first one especially.

As the car pulls up Jake takes a deep breath and you attempt the same.

"We can do this, right?" He says quietly.

"I believe we can," you nod. You gently squeeze his hand in reassurance like you did that first morning with the parents.

He nods, "let's do this."

As soon as he's able Jake is out of the car and opening your door for you. The last time he did so you were scared of each other. Now you make sure to give him a small smile of thanks as he takes your hand. The elevator ride to the party is as quiet as the one you took together your wedding night, but less oppressively so. It isn't until the elevator doors open that you both put on your fake smiles. Both of you taking small comfort in the fact that neither of you is suffering alone.

After the first couple hours Jake is ready to punch someone, anyone, just so he can be forced to leave since he's not allowed out yet. He's incredibly grateful you insisted on eating a little something beforehand. The food here is barely edible and dissolves faster than cotton candy. He hates the wine? Champagne? Whatever the hell it is, he hates the taste of it but, in following your lead, he knows he has to at least sip often enough to warrant a replacement glass every 30 minutes or so. Jake was grateful to have your weight on his arm to help keep him grounded.

Especially when Charles Blackwood, a "friend" of his from high school, showed up. Charles had been nothing but a leech throughout all of high school but Jake was desperate for some kind of friendship.

"Jacob! Where have you been?" Charles holds out his hand and Jake grips it firmly.

"I've been okay, Charles. You?"

"Holy crap, you're married now? Is that why you finally came out of hiding?"

"Sort of," he admits.

He goes to introduce you but Charles stops him. "I know this lovely lady quite well," he admits. You avert your eyes. "We were engaged for some time."

"You were?"

"Didn't she tell you?" Charles smirks. "Would've been married for two years now if her parents hadn't stepped in."

"For once I'm glad they did," you interject. "You're a conman who shouldn't be here."

Charles gives a small laugh, "well look who finally grew up. Too bad you didn't pick up on what was going on before I got you into bed." Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "How are those dolphin projects going?"

"Sharks," Jake snipes. "Her focus was on sharks."

"Ooo, nerd standing up for nerd. How cute."

"You need to leave us alone," Jake fumes. "She is my wife and I won't let you insult her."

Charles scoffs, "since when can you fight?"

"Since boot camp."

That gives Charles pause. He searches Jake's face for tells that he's lying but finds none.

"Yeah, alright," Charles concedes. "Just don't ruin this party for me. Lots of other potential targets."

As soon as he was out of hearing range you let out a breath. "I'm so sorry," your voice quavers. "I should have...I should have told you."

"Told me what? That your ex-fiance is an asshole? That's not something you need to divulge."

"No...that...that I'm not..."

Jake leans in so that you're the only one who hears him. "You're more than just your virginity status. I'm sorry your first time was with him, he doesn't seem the type to make your pleasure a priority, but I'm not upset that you've had sex before."

You take as deep a breath as you can to steady yourself. "Thank you for that."

"So, can we leave the party yet?"

You check Jake's watch, trying not to be obvious about it. "We've got at least another half hour."

"When we do get out of here, would you be up for going out for some real food?"

You chuckle, "maybe delivery? Or take out? I'm not going to be able to eat much in this dress."

"Fair. And thank you for helping me get through all of this."

"Thank you for listening to my advice," you counter.

"Always," Jake affirms.

Part 11 - Part 13

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @embarrasingmf;

@irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82;

@ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[jelzorz]

197.

It feels like treason to think it. Opeli would feel guilty for it on a normal day, she thinks, but the situation is dire and she wonders if anything will ever feel normal again. The Banther Lodge is a far cry from the castle, and it is crowded enough without the kingslaying elephant in the room.

She watches Soren fight Rayla over it.

She watches Ezran hide his tears.

She watches the Kingslayer walk free.

Well, she thinks. There are certainly worse things than thinking it. There are worse things than talking to her friends, her family, who also happen to be part of the council. Worse things have been done than calling a meeting behind Ezran's back, who is the King, yes, but a child first, and he has enough on his hands without this too.

"I don't think Prince Callum can continue being a part of this council."

Soren grimaces. Corvus shifts uneasily on the spot. Barius makes a face and fiddles with his hands.

Opeli stares them down. "Do you disagree?"

A pause. A sigh. Soren huffs and glances through the cellar kitchen window to make sure Callum is still preoccupied with defending Rayla and her murderous father from anyone who dares to look at them the wrong way. "No," he mutters after a moment. "You're right. You usually are, but this... Is Ezran's decision, not ours."

Opeli scowls, some misplaced maternal instinct raising her hackles. "He's dealing with enough," she says shortly. "He's eleven years old, his home has been destroyed, and his own brother returns with the elf that killed—"

"We get it," interrupts Corvus tiredly. "And we're not disagreeing with you. You're right. But what are you asking us to do, exactly? Kick Callum off the council? Is more internal conflict really what we need right now?"

"With respect, High Cleric," says Barius, "are we even supposed to be having this meeting? Isn't it breaking some sort of law to be talking about this before talking to King Ezran?"

Opeli wrinkles her nose at that, the wrongness of this heavy in her gut. "It's not illegal to bring up a concern with members of the council in confidence," she grumbles. It's a weak argument, but it's been played in court before, and she's not above playing the same dirty tactics to keep her king safe. "We are Ezran's council," she asserts. "Our duty is to him and to Katolis and I don't believe Callum's priorities are quite the same. He—" She grimaces too and locks eyes with Soren. "He's starting to remind me of your father."

Soren snorts at that. "Don't I know it," he mutters, and Opeli sees the truth of it in his eyes. Soren would know better than anyone what magic can do to people, the kind of power it gives them, the cleverness they think wielding it grants. "But Opeli, seriously, what are we going to do? We can't just arrest him. All this aside, he's still the prince. He's Ez's brother."

"One might argue that King Harrow was his stepfather, and you can see how much he cares about that."

Another pause. The room flinches because they all know that it's true, what an insult it is to Harrow's memory that his murderer would be allowed to dine at his son's table.

"Have you asked Ezran what he wants to do?" asks Corvus at last.

Opeli winces. "I didn't want to burden him with it," she mumbles. "I don't know that he knows what to do and frankly... I don't either."

"A first," says Barius, not unkindly. "It's all right to be concerned, High Cleric. It's all right not have all the answers."

"Yes, well." Opeli clears her throat and bows her head, hiding her weakness in the way her hood falls over her eyes. "I'm not particularly good at not having answers. I've come to you three hoping you might have them instead."

"I don't think we can help anymore than you," says Corvus wryly. "But our duty is to Ezran, the same as you. Soren and I won't let anything happen to him. The same way Barius won't. The same way you won't. Okay?"

"Call it a secret council pact," adds Soren with a grin. "If Callum does anything else stupid, we step in, no matter what. Deal?"

Hardly, thinks Opeli, even as she nods. She takes what little solace she can get.

[doukeshi-kun]

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 (𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨) + 𝙘𝙖𝙩

note ✥ dipping my toe in the sandman fandom hello :3 i'd like to write longer fic ngl. hopefully i could do it and post it in my writing blog. alas, this is a practice on morpheus' character tbh

content ✥ slight dark!dream of the endless, he's a cat and a certified stalker c'mon now, a little possessive thoughts, gn!reader

Morpheus thinks it is a little ridiculous to approach you like this. 

For eons, he is never afraid to come up to mortals who have caught his eyes, offering them his hand to guide them back to The Dreaming, to indulge in his love. But he could not say the same, in this case. 

He did try. He knows how The Waking and humans work. He has approached you in a manner that people say is normal, but perhaps his stoic voice and straight stance spook you so badly that you retreat the sun on your lips, hiding away from one such as him. 

He first called you by your full name. 

First mistake.

You had never seen him around and yet he already knows full name. Next, he told you his name—“You may call me Morpheus.” He said and he could only watch in confusion as you stuttered and grabbed the cat you were feeding before jogging away from him in haste. 

Is the name Morpheus too unusual for you? Too ancient? Shall he pick another modern alias that could help him blend in among the humans? Well, his real name does hold a sense of modernity in it—Yes, he will introduce himself to you with it the next day. 

And he waited. Only for you to not appear. 

Perhaps it was just a coincidence. But that is impossible. He has watched you for so long, he knows your routine by heart. He decides to stay back in The Dreaming and orders Matthew to fly his way to The Waking. And there you were, in the same place where he waited for you to appear. 

You were feeding the same stray cat. 

At that moment, Morpheus realized, you have a liking towards cats. You are fond of them. He continues to watch you through the eyes of his raven, seeing how you greet every cat you pass by with a “Hi, meow!” 

Your cute voice does bring a shadow of his rare smile. 

But his goal right now is to pursue you. 

He might have lost his mind in an attempt to pursue love, for he has shifted his physique into a black cat, roaming The Waking, searching for his mortal who has tickled his heart unknowingly. 

There you are—he arrives at the usual spot you would stop by to feed a stray cat. He meows and you immediately squeal in happiness at the sight of a new cat in town. 

“Hey, baby!” You chime as you wiggle your fingers, motioning him to come. Of course he would. He walks up to you, ignoring the glare from the stray cat beside your feet. The stray cat hisses at him once before it continues to eat the food you prepared for it. 

Morpheus looks up at you, meowing once to get your attention. You chuckle, petting his head and giving nice scratches on his chin. Oh, how he wishes you would do this when he is in his truest form, in all its glory. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t have food for you left…” You coo sadly. Morpheus does not care about that either. He continues to circle you, rubbing himself against your legs. Yes, he is marking you—he has long decided that you are his anyway. 

“I’ll get you some food. Can you wait here? Yeah, meow?” You talk to him before standing. You are stepping away and he already follows you, catching up fast. It surprises you a bit that he follows you so eagerly. You sigh with a smile. “Alright, you hungry boy. Come on.” You pick him up, cradling him in your arms as you walk through the busy streets. 

Morpheus snuggles against your body, purring. Ah, how wonderful would it be if he had the chance to be himself and actually buries his face into your chest, like this. 

“You don't look like you're from here, Murphy. Maybe you’re lost…” You say to him and he looks up at you with his adorable eyes. You grin. “Murphy sounds cool to you, yeah? You’re completely black like that one weird guy who approached me. He called himself ‘Morpheus’. You kinda look like him… in a sense.” You giggle before you lift your arms a bit, pressing a hard kiss on Morpheus’ head.

“But you are much cuter, Murphy.” You say with a hardened tone. Cuteness aggression is certainly flooding your mind as you press more kisses on his head. “You’re my good luck charm, okay? When you're near, that weird man is not gonna appear to me.”

“He’s a little scary. He knows my full name, can you believe it, Murphy?” You continue to ramble as your feet keep walking and you seem to have a destination in mind. “I’m afraid I have a stalker… I have to report him to the police but I don't really know who he is.”

Any human agency is no match for me, dear love—Morpheus thinks. 

Listening to your rambles, he only stays quiet, relaxing himself in your embrace—something he wishes you to do to him when the two of you are officially together. You keep telling him stories until you arrive at your apartment. 

“I just got an idea, Murphy. I’ll keep you around for tonight and tomorrow we’re gonna find your owners, yeah?” You give him another kiss and bring him into your humble apartment. You put him on the floor and he starts to explore your place by himself. It is not like he has never been here before. When you are asleep, he comes here through your dream, checking this little life of yours. 

You provide him with simple cat food on a paper plate, along with a bowl of water. Then, you leave him in the living room, going to your bathroom to take a shower. He does not even touch the food—he just patiently waits for you in front of the door, sometimes his paw digs the wooden door. 

He has all the power to get inside, but it is better to not rouse suspicion. He learned that he does need to be patient—which is not that pleasing, but he has all the time in the universe to tickle your heart. 

You sure take a while washing yourself. He gives up staring at the door and starts to pace around your house—beginning from the hallway, to the kitchen, to the living room and finally, he gets into your bedroom by sneaking in through the gap between the door. 

He jumps onto your bed, making himself comfortable and cuddles in your blanket. Soon after, you finally enter your room, only in a towel wrapped around your body. 

“Oh, hey, Murphy. You sure are a smart cat.” You give him some more pets before you go to your wardrobe, dressing yourself in a comfy shirt and a pair of shorts. 

Morpheus watches. Of course he will. He never plans to look away. 

You hop into the bed afterwards, making yourself comfortable. Ah, nap time. Morpheus almost forgets this time you choose out of the hours you have in a day. He moves a bit, giving you the room to lie comfortably. You stroke his fur again as you take your phone, scrolling through your social media. 

He just stays there and moves an inch closer when he senses that your sleep is also coming near. Yawning for the tenth time, you finally put away your phone, adjusting your head on the pillow. “Wanna sleep with me, Murphy? Come, come, kitty, kitty.” 

He meows. He gets closer, curling right beside you as he watches you slowly drifting away. Your soul taps into The Dreaming—he can feel it. He waits until the dream in your mind is forming clearer—until your brain cannot tell what is reality and unreality. 

His black fur dissipates into sand—and the sand multiplies, growing larger and larger in size until it forms a tall figure in a black cloak looming over your vulnerable body.

Morpheus’ bony fingers reach out to you as his void of eyes stare deeply into your dream. His finger slowly touches your head, sliding down your face, caressing your skin ever so slightly. He bends down to bring his face close to you. 

His pale lips touch your skin. And your body tenses, as if there is a change in your slumbering mind. 

Dream a little dream of me, dearest.

©doukeshi-kun 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @/cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 20 🍒

"Baby Loves Me"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 8,823 (she's a big'un)

Summary: A blizzard, a wedding, family secrets, and two people who can't stop thinking about each other. Are these fateful events going to drive you apart for good, or bring you even closer together?

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 39, Joel is 56), takes place a few days before Christmas 2023, mention of eating food/drinking alcohol, mention of health issues, oral (m & f receiving), Ellie has anger issues, use of guns for recreational shooting, jealous!Joel, mutual pining, reader wears makeup and dresses, unprotected piv, creampie, TW for minor heart attack and hospitalization (everything is okay in the end), getting back together and having a happily ever after. In this universe everyone is alive and happy.

Author's Note: this series was the first story I ever posted on AO3 and then recently here on tumblr. I had no idea so many people would love it, and it's currently my most liked, most commented-on, and most bookmarked work on AO3 ♥️ It feels so good to finally have this complete, but I will write some one-shots about this couple in the future, because part of me really doesn't want to let them go. Much love to those who stuck around and showed their support while I got this story hammered out. I love and appreciate all of you!

Please enjoy this playlist for your listening pleasure, songs that either appear in the series or provided inspiration

Series Masterlist

It's early when Joel wakes, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he puts his hand to his heart, eyes scrunched closed tight as he prepares himself for the increasingly painful palpitations. He grunts in suffering at the agony of the erratic pounding of his heart, body tense until it passes, and he sighs with relief, head in his hands as he runs his fingers through his greying locks.

It's been almost a week now that he's had these pains, happening every day now that Sarah's wedding day is nearing. He gets them on and off but lately stress has been catching up to him and reminding him he's not in his thirties anymore. Hell, he'd give anything just to be in his forties again.

He gets up to get a glass of water, quickly throwing on a shirt before going downstairs. The house is quiet though he can see the electric glow of the television light on underneath yours and Ellie's rooms. He hesitates just outside of your room, putting an ear to the door, hoping to catch some tidbit of your voice, some clue as to what you're doing in there, but it's quiet, just the low volume of something playing on TV.

With a sigh he goes down to the kitchen.

Alone with his thoughts, affected by the presence of you and Ellie under his own roof, he takes stock of his life, of all the moments he failed you when he should have been there for you.

That first night he set foot back in Austin after serving time in the Bexar County jail, wondering if he should call you, he'd gone instead to a bar and met Hailey. He didn't recognize her at first, but she'd come on so strong, and the alcohol ran freely that night, so by the time he'd taken her home and her warm, tight little mouth was wrapped around his cock, it was too late. He didn't expect that that one night would lead to her wanting more, but by then you were gone, tucked back safely away in Houston where he couldn't get his hands on you and where you could (he'd hoped) in time forget about him. You were too much of a good girl with too much potential to waste it on someone like him. Hailey was someone who was always going to be stuck in a small town, so he didn't have to worry he was holding her back. But he soon came to realize that all they had between them was fucking. Not that he'd ever minded it in the past, but after having you, experiencing what real love was like, what Hailey offered felt like a cheap replacement, and he just wasn't that man anymore. He knew Sarah hated her, so when he caught Hailey stealing from him he knew that was the last straw and ended things.

Sad to say he went back to his usual routine from before he met you. Working from sunup to sundown, coming home with new aches in his joints to a meal Sarah had had to cook herself, or pizza that had gone cold. On the weekends he'd be at the bar, either with Tommy or more often alone, and he'd find a woman and wind up at her place. He could never bring them back to his, not in his bed that he shared with you.

Seeing you in New Orleans that summer night had been a shock to his system. He thought he'd managed to get over you just a little, but seeing you, a little older than the last time, looking soft and happy and bright-eyed as you laughed with Tommy.. and that fucking rock on your finger that signaled you were taken. Something primeval in him stirred when he ran into you in that restroom hallway, your lips full and glossy from making out with his brother, jealousy surging through him that you'd be so willing to cheat on your husband-to-be with someone other than himself.. it led him to want you more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Leaving you the next day had been the hardest thing, but he had to remind himself you were going to belong to another. He couldn't get in the way of that, not when he'd only shown his love for you by fucking you in a bar restroom. You were going to marry a military man and have a respectable life, that was what he wanted for you. To have a life with Joel would only make you sordid, ripe for gossip. He was old enough to be your father and you were in fact his his best friend's daughter. He couldn't sully your life with his mistakes.

On a last minute whim he'd come to your wedding, sat at the very back as you were oblivious to him, staring into your husband's eyes as you spoke your vows, each word a piece of jagged glass in his heart. He'd left before you could see him, driving back to Texas at a high rate of speed, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Why hadn't he just objected? He could have done it, raised his hand and told the entire congregation that you were his god damn it. He would have led you out, carrying you bridal style, ripped your damn dress off you and fucked you senseless.

It was later that Tommy suggested the dating app. Joel wasn't a fan of technology, and in fact still had his old Nokia phone that Sarah was warning him was becoming obsolete and cajoled him into upgrading to a smartphone. Once she and Tommy had helped him with setting up a profile on eHarmony, the requests piled in. Women from all over the state showed their interest. He had his pick of almost anyone. While he went on a few fruitless dates (some of which actually ended up in sex) there were few that actually interested him.

Until Tess. She was so much like him, and more suited to his age. A divorcee, she knew what she wanted in a relationship and stuck by her values. Beneath her tough exterior Joel found she was actually very kindhearted, even sweet. She cared about animals, liked beer, and was a homebody. She'd resisted his charms at first, but eventually neither could give in to the spark they felt. It took some convincing to get her to marry him. She accepted only on the terms that he move to Boston. She'd visited Texas a few times on business, but she wanted to stay in the northeast, and Joel, in love again for the first time in years, acquiesced.

The problem was they were too much alike. Both wanted to lead, and while he was happy to let Tess have the reigns now and then, it became an issue. This led to more arguments, tense discussions over things that shouldn't have mattered. The divorce, when it finally happened, was a blessing in disguise. Joel followed Tommy away from Boston and found comfort here in Wyoming, in a place he could start anew.

Sarah had been none too subtle when she brought you up in conversation. "Did you know she's a teacher?" "She's single now, divorced actually." "She's in California with her daughter."

Every damn day there was a phone call or a text where you were mentioned. And now, with you here under his roof at Sarah's behest, it was apparent that she was trying to get you two back together again.

He knew he needed to speak with you about that comment you uttered, about "our" daughter Ellie. He'd done the math in his head, just to be safe, and had calculated that he could indeed be her dad. But he had to get the honest answer from you.

It'd be easy if you would at least acknowledge his presence.

Your cold shoulder is more like an arctic icy blast. Your refusal to even meet his eye is like an arrow through his heart. He wishes that you would at least glare at him, or say something sarcastic or hurtful, but your silence is the coldest thing, even with the blizzard outside.

He's hopeful during one moment the next morning, as he's going into the hall restroom while you're coming out. Freshly showered, you're wearing a towel around your body, skin glowing, hair combed back and damp. The steam that surrounds you from your hot shower makes you look like a figure from a movie, an ethereal angel come to earth. His breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, your beautiful eyes wide and plush lips parted. Then you resume your coldness, pulling your towel tighter around you as you go to your room. When he steps in he smells the jasmine aroma of your body wash still in the air around him his dick hardens in response.

Hearing that Sofia has arrived is the one bright spot in your time here.

You meet her at the Tipsy Bison after everyone has helped out shoveling snow off the path. You'd found yourself working next to Joel and said nothing to him, ignoring his silent appeal for you to talk to him.

Now the crew is indulging in some food and beer at the bar while you catch up with your cousin.

"How did you get in? I thought the roads were impassable," you tell her after a big hug and an introduction to her fiancee Ruby. It had come as a surprise to you when she'd told you she was marrying a woman, but Sofia had said she'd only followed her heart and didn't consider herself stuck to any sort of label. Ruby was the perfect person for her and there was no looking back.

"Tommy sent a pilot friend of his to pick us up from the airport when our taxi couldn't make it through the snow," she says, nearly knocked over as Ellie pummels her with a bear hug. "We were helicoptered in, like a couple of VIPs."

It's like old times as you share a booth altogether, different kinds of appetizers in the center of the table as you catch up on things.

"How did you manage to still stay friends with Tommy?" you ask when Ruby and Ellie go to make change for the jukebox. Hearing that Sofia is staying with Tommy and Maria during their visit, you can't help but wonder how other people can so easily put aside the past.

"I think it helped that we were friends before we started dating," she shrugs. "And.. to be honest, our relationship never got that serious. Not like you and Joel," she finishes in a whisper, darting a glance at the elder Miller brother, who's knocking back some beer with Tommy and a few others.

"Why do you ask?" Sofia continues.

"I don't know how to deal with being under the same roof as Joel," you admit. "Everything that he put me through.. I know we're only here for a few days but it feels like an eternity. It's becoming harder to avoid him."

"You should talk to him," she says gently. "You don't have to be best friends or anything, but you're a friend of the bride. You should at least be civil."

You sneak a look over your shoulder at him, just to find he's already staring at you. You quickly turn away.

"Does he know about.." Sofia motions with her head toward Ellie, who's at the jukebox with Ruby.

"No," you respond. "And he doesn't need to know."

"That's not fair to him," she softly scolds you.

"You are the only one I've trusted with this, Sofia. Please do not make me regret telling you."

Sofia is really the only family you have left. You never saw you father after that fateful night when Joel fought him, and your mother disowned Ellie when she came out, causing you to disown your mother in return. Your circle is small but faithful.

She backs off. "All right," she relents. "But what about Ellie? She'll resent you for keeping this a secret this long."

You watch your daughter, who's drifted from the jukebox to one of the pool tables, mindlessly spinning the cue ball upon the soft green surface. She's distracted when she sees another girl across the room, a pretty dark-haired girl around her own age, watching Ellie furtively, as if fascinated.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" Ellie shouts, causing the girl to run away.

"Ellie!" you snap at her, and to your astonishment Joel walks past you to go to her. You freeze, watching their interaction, but all seems to be okay as they talk quietly.

"I don't know what to do for her. I don't know how to help her.. she's so angry, especially since the divorce. And Justin rarely ever sees her. The only thing he's good for is the child support." You swig your beer, itching to go and talk to her, but the stubborn side of you refuses to be closer to Joel than is necessary.

Sofia folds her napkin in sections. "She called me and told me about Riley.. and the little mishap at the mall."

Earlier that year, Ellie and Riley had been picked up by the cops for trespassing in an abandoned mall and vandalizing some stores. It was completely unlike her, and even though you both sought family therapy for all the issues you were going through, it didn't seem to be making much leeway.

"She doesn't seem so angry now," Sofia mentions, and you turn to see Joel and Ellie starting a game of pool. You both watch as she tries to pull off complicated trick shots and Joel just shakes his head in feigned frustration. Once again your gaze lingers too long and you lock eyes, but this time you offer a tiny smile, mouthing 'thanks.'

"Hey Mom, can I go with Joel and Finn? Joel said I have to ask you."

You look up from where you're steam-cleaning your dress for the rehearsal dinner tonight. "Where are you going?"

"It's near the woods on Joel's property. We're just going for a hike," she shrugs.

"I guess.. just behave yourself, okay?"

She grins, glad to have gotten permission. You follow her down to the foyer where Joel and Finn are getting their hats and gloves on. "Be careful," you tell them, though it's mostly meant for Joel.

"Of course. You're okay with her shootin'?"

"What?!"

Ellie manages to look chagrined. "I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew guns would be involved."

"Well you thought right!"

"I won't let her if you won't allow it," Joel offers.

"Come on!" Ellie groans.

"Just remember that you're on thin ice back home," you tell her without wanting to let on to the others about Ellie's troubled past.

"Somethin' the matter?" Joel asks, eyes darting between you and her.

"Nope," Ellie's all smiles when you hesitate to answer. "Let's get going!"

She and Finn race out the door into the snowy yard just as Joel stops for a brief moment. "I won't let her shoot if you don't want her to," he says solemnly.

The nearness of him, the rich baritone of his voice could easily bring you to your knees. It feels like a chore just to swallow that emotion and consider it dead, a mistake.

"Just be careful," you repeat, a smile flitting on your lips. Heat rises in your face when you see his gaze drop down to your mouth, his tongue peeking out to swipe across his own lips.

"You could come with us."

Your first instinct is to refuse, to keep that wall built between him and yourself. Good fences make good neighbors and brick walls keep people from reliving past trauma.

But damn it's hard to say no when he's here right in front of you, after all this time, and the parts of you that have healed just want to give in, to go into his arms again.

It's not a surprise when you're in the passenger seat of his truck, like old times. And though it's a newer model and the seats have warmers and the upholstery makes the whole car smell like it was just driven off the lot, in a way it still feels like summer 2003.

Finn's done this before, the apple of his grandfather's eye. Even with the skill of a child, he shoots with ease, knocking down most of the targets Joel had set up on a fence.

When it's Ellie's turn she's eager for the gun, but her practice shots are haphazard: off an old fallen tree, a random snowbank. She huffs in frustration.

"Wide right," Joel tells her. "You're flinchin'."

Ellie shakes her head. "The target's too small."

"I made it bigger than I should've. Eject the cartridge."

You watch your only child move with precision, handling the gun with ease despite being new to this. "I'm not flinching, the rifle just sucks."

You and Finn exchange a look, suppressing your laughter.

"Okay, give it." Joel changes places with Ellie, who quips, "It doesn't aim right, you'll see."

It's hard to tear your eyes from him as he sets up, moving with the ease of someone half his age. "A deep breath in, slow breath out. You squeeze the trigger like you love it," he says, ignoring Ellie's teasing remarks. "Gentle, steady, nice and slow."

"You gonna shoot this thing or get it pregnant?" she smirks, and when you laugh out loud Joel shakes his head, pulling off the perfect shot.

After, you rest on the tailgate of the truck while drinking warm beverages from your thermoses. Ellie and Finn gather their energy quickly enough, playing in the snow and chasing each other. It brightens your day to see your daughter smiling.

"I wanna apologize for the other day," Joel says, his eyes flicking to you. "I was outta line. I've apologized to Ellie too. I think she and I are good now."

You nod, somewhat relieved that he'd brought it up first. "I'm sorry too. I guess I get pretty riled up when someone tries to out-parent me."

Joel looks away, towards the mountains that peak their grayness against the clear blue sky. "He been outta the picture long?"

"Who? Justin?" You notice Joel winces at your ex husband's name. "Long enough. He was supposed to spend time with her for Christmas but chose his new wife over his own daughter. She didn't take it very well."

"Fuckin' bastard," he mutters. "Always figured there was a reason for me to not like him."

You give him a strange look. "You didn't know him."

"Didn't need to. He took you away from me. That's reason enough."

"Joel," you say quietly, both a scolding and a scoff. You remember his body against yours that night, the way your sheets bore his scent until the day before Justin came back from out of town and you had to wash away the evidence of your betrayal.

"I'm sorry I didn't go after you. There were a million opportunities and I failed each time."

You say his name again, with softness this time, your hand finding his, his palm almost completely dwarfing yours. You think about his fingers inside you, teasing you for the first time, showing you how to open up to him, and how you ended up giving away your whole heart.

In the moment where you can say the most heartwarming or romantic or even angry thing, what comes out of your mouth is: "You never accepted my friend request."

Joel looks puzzled. "What?"

"My friend request. On Facebook. I tried to add you but you never accepted it, so I canceled it." Cringing at your own words, how needy they sound, you take your hand from his, but he traps it within his own again.

"Darlin', I never look at that stuff. I only got one 'cause everyone else goaded me into it." His eyes look mirthful as he sees your doleful eyes.

"And that's how I found out about Tess.."

"Oh." The mirthful look is gone, replaced by a dark, blank look. The first marriage, the only marriage he ever had, so late in life, ended.

"What was she like?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He looks at the ground, as if the snow is so interesting. "What was that idiot fuckboy husband of yours like?"

You almost laugh, surprised that he's jealous, even after you've moved on from your marriage.

"He wasn't as great as I thought," you shrug. "But that doesn't matter now."

Joel smiles, agreeing. "Tess was.. we were good for awhile but you're right, doesn't matter now."

"Because we both turned out okay.. me and you."

He thinks it over a bit, eventually nodding. "Yeah.." His deep brown eyes meet yours, and you catch a glimmer of the man he was before, twenty years past, a single dad with a teenage girl and an interest in the new girl next door. "I'm sorry.. for everything. We happened so fast that my brain had to catch up with my heart."

You're afraid that if you think about it for too long you'll cry and never stop. "We don't have to talk about that.."

He nods, looking a little sad that you declined. "You're right, we don't."

"Look at you with all this land," you smile, gently teasing him to change the subject. "What are you gonna do with all of it?"

Joel shrugs, looking at his property, thinking again of the possibilities. "I might decide to turn it into a ranch, raise sheep," he shrugs. "They're quiet and do what they're told."

He's quiet another moment, before his voice drops an octave. "I'm really glad you came, babygirl.. it's really good to see you. Don't think I said that before."

A smile graces your lips, a genuine one, and the warmth of his words melts what's left of your defenses. "Joel.. there's something I need to tell you.. about Ellie.." The words are out before you even think.

Your heart pounds, taking residence in your throat as if to keep the truth from spilling out. Joel turns his whole body to you. His eyes search yours, without question or condemnation, as if he's willing you to say it because he already knows, because he just wants it made real.

When the moment passes it's a disappointment to both of you. It's getting later in the afternoon and you still need to get ready for tonight. The kids trudge back to the truck and you get in next to Joel in the front. There's a quietness that fills the space, thick and somewhat desperate.

The Tipsy Bison has gone through another temporary makeover for the rehearsal dinner: garlands of lights arch across the ceiling from beam to beam, creating a pleasant, dreamy atmosphere. People mill around waiting for the bride and groom who are running a little late. Drinks are served and tables of food boast different kinds of cuisine.

Ellie makes a beeline for the hors d'oevres, immediately picking out what she wants and stuffing it straight into her mouth as if she hasn't seen food in months. Joel watches her from the next table over, trying hard as hell not to call her out too harshly, but as his stomach growls he joins her in the hunt for sustenance.

A tray of pastel-colored macarons catches Ellie's eye and she takes a light green treat with her fingers. "What are these?" She scrutinizes it, taking a quick sniff.

"It's some kinda cookie.. or something.. how the hell should I know?" he grumbles.

"Pistachio," she grunts in disgust, putting it back on the plate.

"Well, now don't put it back, you've already touched it and sniffed it and everything.." Joel quickly pops the discarded macaron into his mouth.

"If you want 'em they're all yours," she says, giving his shoulder a couple heavy claps before moving on down the line of food.

He just shakes his head, looking around for you for the tenth time tonight, finding you with Sarah and her soon-to-be inlaws at the bar. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you in a dark red dress, long-sleeved, cinched at the waist, and he feels a familiar rush of blood to his cock as he eyes the thigh-length slit on one side of the skirt.

"That color is sensational on you."

You turn to the voice you've just heard, as the group you were talking with disperses.

"Hi," you tell the older, well-dressed man in front of you. "I don't believe we've met." But then it hits you, and just as he introduces himself you realize you already know his name.

"I'm Frank," he says, a Duchenne smile lighting up his features and crinkling the wrinkles around his eyes. He's handsome, and very friendly. And he was friends with Joel during his marriage to Tess.

He introduces you to his husband Bill, who regards you with a certain suspicion and gives a gruff acknowledgement to your hello. "He's like that with everyone," Franks explains in a stage whisper, while rolling his eyes. "He's just a big grump, but I love him."

"I'm a friend of the bride," you tell them after giving your name, and also introducing Ellie, who's arrived next to you with a plate piled high with shrimp, pulled pork sliders, and mini cheesecakes.

"She's a friend of Joel's," Frank tells Bill, as if to clarify.

"Um, yes.. I'm also a friend of his," you agree. Pretending to spot someone across the room, you excuse yourself, giving a subtle motion for Ellie to follow you, but she stays where she is, popping a whole shrimp in her mouth, eyeing the couple.

"There's a story there," Frank says enticingly as he sips his beer.

"What do you mean?" she asks, curious about the gossip.

Bill gives him a look and shakes his head. "She's a kid, she doesn't need your dramatic stories."

"Now I have to know!" Ellie insists.

Frank feigns annoyance. "Oh all right."

He weaves the tale of Joel and his wife Tess: happily married at first, so alike in attitude and hobbies. She thought she knew everything about the man she married, but when Tommy, in a drunken game of poker one night, recalled a certain young woman who Joel knew, a woman who could tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue, Joel told his brother, in a similar drunken state, that he remembered her fondly, missed her like crazy, she was the one who got away.

Tess wasn't the type to hound someone for details, but she didn't like there was a part of Joel's past that she didn't know about. Especially if that past was filled with him falling in love with and screwing a college girl. This naturally led to arguments that Tess refused to drop. Joel didn't want to relive that time with you, and insisted it meant nothing since you were well and truly out of his life.

But the damage had been done, and the thorn of jealousy had pierced Tess's heart. You were a stranger to her and still could not be defeated.

Frank recalled with suppressed glee the night Tess had stormed out on a dinner party, ranting at Joel about "not being able to get over a stupid ass teenager" and causing a scene for the others to eat up. It had embarrassed Joel deeply, but when news of Sarah's wedding had become known, Joel couldn't keep it secret from the friends of his ex-wife. He'd come to like them in his own way, especially Bill, with whom he shared a predilection for quiet and keeping to one's self. They hunted and fished like old times and soon enough both he and Frank were invited to the wedding.

"There's a saying that goes," Frank is telling Ellie, "'everyone can see it but them.'"

Ellie glances at you across the room, and then at Joel. You and he trade silent, surreptitious glances at one another, filled with longing. You glance at him and he catches you before you glance away, and vice versa. The signal between your gazes is irrefutable. There's something there, has been all this time. All it needed was a little meddling from Sarah to bring the spark back to life.

For the first time Ellie sees you as something more than her mother. She realizes you had a past, a life before she was born, and a fraction of that life was spent in love with a man she just met a couple days ago.

"Hey Mom, can you help?"

Hearing Ellie, you immediately shift into Mom Mode, stopping your own get-ready routine to assist her. She's in your doorway, holding out her wrists. She picked out the suit herself, but the cufflinks are something new.

"Did you get these from your dad?"

"Joel let me borrow them for today."

It's finally the day of the wedding, and as the ceremony isn't until the evening, the whole house is a kind of organized chaos from morning through the afternoon. As if your nerves weren't already on fire, Sarah had approached you early that morning (fortunately for her while you were drinking your coffee) and asked if you'd replace one of her bridesmaids who'd come down with a cold overnight and couldn't attend.

You'd reasoned with her that you didn't have a bridesmaid dress, but that was easily solved when it was revealed the bridesmaids were all wearing jewel tones, and the sapphire gown you'd purchased off the rack would do just fine.

You had anticipated being part of a crowd. Now you'd be at the front of the congregation, all eyes on you, especially Joel's.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you finish helping Ellie with her cufflinks and let her entertain you with whatever teenage thought is flipping around in her brain while you touch up your makeup.

"I'm supposed to meet with Sarah and the bridal party at the church. You can ride with me or you'll have to find a ride with someone else."

"Joel will take me."

You brush away some stray powder on your cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Maybe he could take both of us. Want me to ask him?"

"No--"

But she's gone before you can stop her.

You feel Joel's eyes on you as you during the short drive to the church, and you blame the heat you feel coursing through your body on the seat warmer.

"It's a nice thing you're doin' for Sarah, steppin' in at the last minute," he says, eyes finally on the road.

"I can't let down a bride in need," you say somewhat cheerfully. "She'd do the same for me."

"Maybe at your next wedding." Ellie pipes up from the backseat, and Joel's frown is not lost on you.

The lead-up to the actual ceremony is a blur, as it was at your own wedding fifteen years before. The bridal party clusters around Sarah, who looks radiant, as she promises she isn't nervous. You can sense her agitation in the way her knee bounces as she's seated, one of the bridesmaids doing a last minute touch up to her hair. The air is heavy with excitement, the scent of hair spray and perfume all around you, reminding you that you're flammable.

"Remember this day," you advise her, and she looks up at you with a grateful smile. "It goes by unbelievably fast."

You wonder if you'll ever have this again, the butterflies in your stomach as you wait for the moment when you see your man at the aisle, awaiting you. You were lucky to have it once. Twice would be an anomaly, considering you haven't had a real relationship in so long.

Joel knocks and, granted entrance, the bridesmaids flutter about, getting ready for their entrance into the church. The bride and her father are left alone, no doubt exchanging words of love before he gives her away to her true love.

You had no one to walk down the aisle with when you were a bride, and the memory threatens to cloud your mind as you take your small bouquet of white roses and camellias. "Canon in D" starts, and the line makes its way down the aisle, towards the altar where Theo and his groomsmen wait.

Situated at the altar, the congregation rises as the music changes, and Sarah walks in, arm in arm with Joel.

Your eyes are on him the entire time, and your heart feels to big to fit in your chest. You've never seen Joel in a suit, but this one is perfectly tailored to his broad, strong physique. His hair is perfectly styled, his grey visible through the curls you long to run your fingers through.

When Sarah and Theo exchange vows your gaze unexpectedly meet Joel's and this time neither of you look away. You catch the glimmer of a tear falling down his cheek, which he does not wipe away. The bride and groom's words seem to ring loud and true: a promise of love through hard times and illness; of love that only grows in each others' absence; of love that does not die even after death.

The reception is held at the Tipsy Bison, and you marvel at how it's managed to disguise itself once more from a saloon to an elegant wedding atmosphere. A lot of money has gone into the week's events, and you know it's all Joel's doing. He's giving away his daughter, sending her off in style, giving her a day she'll remember forever.

You watch Sarah and Joel during their father-daughter dance, a tradition you didn't get to have yourself. "I Loved Her First" by Heartland starts up by the band onstage, and it tugs on your heartstrings to watch them. In the back of your mind you see them, Joel still thirty-six and Sarah still fourteen. By the time Sarah and Theo have their first dance as husband and wife you're already in the ladies' room, splashing cold water on your face so no one can see you've been crying.

Later, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have scattered, dancing or drinking at the bar, mingling. You stay at your seat at the now nearly-empty wedding party table, fingers twirling the stem of your champagne glass.

Mired in your own thoughts, you don't realize Joel has approached, crouching next to you.

"Dance with me?" he asks, his voice nearly a rasp with how nervous he is.

Wordlessly you take his hand, which practically dwarfs your own, as he leads you to the dance floor. You fall into a rhythm as the band starts up "Tennessee Whiskey", swaying softly to the music. His right hand rests on your lower back, gently guiding you. Your heart pounds as you gaze into his eyes. You haven't been this close to him since the night you conceived Ellie, the fateful night that threw a wrench into all your plans.

"It was a beautiful wedding," you lean in close to be heard over the music.

Joel shivers at your proximity, the brush of your lips against his ear, and he pulls you a little closer. "I'm happy you came all this way for it. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," you affirm, your hand gliding up to his shoulder.

The air is thick with tension, much like in the days you'd first met. You have to turn away or risk your feelings made known to everyone here.

Ellie's at one of the booths with the dark-haired girl from a couple days ago, watching something on her phone. As the girl laughs you see Ellie looking at her with a warmth you haven't known her capable of for anyone else.

"She's going to hate me for having to take her away again.." you tell him. "I haven't seen her this happy in a long time."

He clears his throat. "Maybe now she has a reason to return." He nods towards Ellie and her new friend.

Your limbs stiffen a little in response. You're not yet ready to think about the future, the possibilities it holds. You've barely begun to mend your friendship with Joel.

"Maybe," you relent, quietly, a promise made in the ether.

Joel's silent as the music moves smoothly in the air between you. His grip tightens on your body as he asks, "She's mine, ain't she?"

You snap from your thoughts, your heart in your throat as you stop dancing. "Excuse me?" Your eyes bore into him, daring him to speak the truth for himself.

"The other day you said 'our daughter'.. the timeline's right, I'm not that bad at math," he manages a smile.

"Joel, I.." you shake your head. "It's all too much. I can't think about this right now."

"Just tell me the truth," he says quietly.

"What would it matter if she was?"

"It'd make a whole hell of a difference. Two daughters, two Miller girls. Don't you think somethin' like that would make me happy?"

For a rare moment you let yourself think about the day your mother came to get you, pull you back home to Houston seeped in shame and regret. She'd lied and manipulated facts to get you on her side. You vowed you'd never be like her or put Ellie through that.

"Yes, Joel.." you whisper. "She's yours.."

The joy that shines in his eyes is like nothing you've ever seen before. When his arms wrap around you your lips find his as if twenty years has never passed between you. Right there, in the middle of the dance floor, you're making out like teenagers.

"I want you," he growls.

"Let's get out of here," you agree.

You're barely through the front door of his home when he presses you to the wall, his mouth hungry for yours. You hadn't thought you'd experience this level of passion again, but time has not diminished it for either of you.

"Joel," you moan as he presses himself to you, the blunt hardness of his erection teasing you. "Fuck me, Joel.."

He groans at your words, body aching with desire as he goes to his knees in front of you, lifting the hem of your dress. He presses messy kisses along your thighs while his hands roam over your hips and ass, his breath hot against your skin as he approaches the spot he most wants to taste again.

"Been too long, darlin'," he murmurs as he pulls your lacy underwear down your legs. "Been too damn long since I had you like this."

You kick your panties off, hooking one leg over his shoulder as he dives in, tongue lapping at your sweet pussy like a thirsty man finally finding water.

He stays there, tongue dancing between your folds and then tickling your clit, tasting you so deeply that you cry out, head falling back, body arched towards him, fingers tangled in his hair. Joel feasts like a man starved, slurping you up, inhaling your scent that surrounds him. There's nothing about you that's changed. You're still so sensitive to his touch, responsive to his lips, tongue, and now fingers pressed deep inside, finding the spot that makes you scream while his lips purse around your throbbing clit.

He doesn't stop after you come. He feasts on you over and over again, making up for lost time, pleading for your forgiveness this way, literally on his knees until you scream his name, convulsing around his fingers, your honey collecting on his large digits. Only when you feel completely boneless does he remove them gently, licking up your syrupy taste.

Joel picks you up, your dress falling back in to place as he carries you bridal style up to his room.

All roads have led back to him. No matter where you went, no matter who you chose, Joel was always going to be there at the end of the path, your guiding light, even when you thought you hated him and when you thought he would never choose you again.

Even now, his body over yours, he's the missing piece of the puzzle. He teases you with his cock until you beg him to just put it in, to make you whole again. The glorious slide of his flesh into yours causes you both to gasp and your bodies still for a moment, taking in the significance of this act which you've done so many times before.

He's older now, but his vigor is not gone. He fucks you gently at first, then with impatience, as if he's afraid you'll dissolve like a dream in daylight. You'd know the feel of his cock among any other, the smooth outline and the ridges, the way he's molded his perfect shape into you, marked you years ago when you were a virgin, as if leaving his initials inside you. Mine.

You've never had a man to match him, never had someone so in sync with your body. He knows all your buttons, every dip and valley that his hand caresses. He's mapped out your skin like a cartographer, claiming the land in his own name.

You come almost too quickly the first time, before he flips you on top of him, gripping your hips as you ride him. "Love you," you moan as you come close to the edge again, heart and soul flying ahead of you into the bliss you've only really known with him.

Beneath you Joel's eyes go wide when you come, his hips lifting up into you, warmth spilling into your core.

"Babygirl," he whispers, a choked grunt as he turns pale, his skin clammy and sweaty when he loses consciousness.

As soon as Sarah and Ellie arrive at the hospital you hug them, overcome with worry for Joel's medical emergency.

"How is he?" Sarah asks, still in her wedding dress. Even in the emergency waiting room she's generating a lot of interested looks her way.

"They just took him in a few minutes ago," you tell her, secretly glad she wasn't there to see her dad in such shape. "I think it was a heart attack.."

"Oh my god," she puts her hand over her mouth and sits on the nearest chair, Ellie right next to her, comforting her.

"The party's winding down at the bar," Ellie explains. "Only a few people know-- Theo, Tommy, Maria.."

"We didn't want to worry anyone else," Sarah adds.

You look at her, heart aching. This is supposed to be her special day.. and if something happens to Joel--

Don't think like that.

The three of you sit down, drinking stale coffee from the machine down the hall. Soon Tommy joins you, Theo staying at the house to keep an eye on Finn.

The worst thoughts poke through your brain, teasing you and taunting you. But at last the doctor comes out, a guy even younger than yourself, green scrubs and white coat.

He talks with the family, letting them know the diagnosis. "It was a silent myocardial infarction, basically a mild heart attack," he explains it. "He's going to be fine and he's resting right now."

"A heart attack?" Tommy and Sarah exclaim together.

"At his age it's not uncommon.. he's fifty-six years old," the doctor checks the chart. "Now, we have him on some aspirin and beta-blockers. Tests show he doesn't have enough blockage to necessitate surgery, but he'll need blood pressure medication and to keep a healthier lifestyle."

"Can we see him?" you ask.

"Yes, two at a time, preferably. We want to keep him calm while we're monitoring him." He checks the chart again and looks at you. "You brought him in, correct, ma'am?"

"Yes.. why?"

"What was Mr. Miller doing before he exhibited symptoms of his coronary event?"

"Um.. what?" you pretend not to understand.

"What was he doing before he had his heart attack?"

"Mild heart attack," Tommy emphasizes.

"Well.." you race to think of what to tell him.

"I take it you were celebrating a wedding," the doctor says, seeing Sarah in her dress and the rest of you in tuxes and gowns and whispers a 'Congratulations' to her.

"Yes. Well, we danced.." you answer, and the doctor keeps his eyes on you as if he knows you're lying.

You go up to him, giving a subtle whisper. "We were.. intimate--"

"Sexual relations," he nods, writing it on the chart. "It's important for us to know what was a causing factor in his event. Now, two at a time can visit him."

Tommy and Sarah go first. He gives you a sly wink. "Y'all were fuckin'!" he teases, passing by. Sarah gives you an excited smile, to which you just purse your lips.

It's quiet but for the bag of Lays Ellie has opened, eating the chips slowly. "So you and Joel?"

You nod.

"But not just tonight.. a long time ago, right?"

There's an odd sensation in your stomach, as if the unspoken truth is fluttering around inside, beating its wings as it tries to find a way out. "I guess there's a lot I need to tell you. But only when you're ready."

Ellie seems to steel herself for whatever conversation is on the way, nodding at last, crumpling up the bag and tossing it in the bin. "Ready."

Seeing Joel in the hospital bed is a sobering visual. Years ago your age gap represented something illicit, scandalous. Now you're reminded that no matter what road you and he take from here, you will most likely outlive Joel Miller.

He's awake when you and Ellie go in. It's obvious he doesn't like being here, but in his current state is not fit to complain.

"Hey," you say softly, going to his side. "How are you feeling?" You caress his cheek with the back of your hand.

Joel's eyes close at your delicate touch, and when he opens them there's a warmth in them that can't be denied. "I've been better, babygirl," he says. "But I'm damn glad you're here."

He glances at Ellie, seated in a chair on his other side. "And how about you, kiddo? You okay?"

"Am I okay?" she says incredulously. "Dude, I'm not the one in a hospital bed." But her face clearly shows relief that Joel's all right. You also see her brain working over everything you've told her (well, the gist of it.. there are some things she doesn't need to know).

"I was so worried," you tell him, your voice soft and warm, all your feelings coming to the forefront. "I thought I was gonna lose you."

Tears appear in Joel's eyes, which he brushes away impatiently. "You ain't losin' me yet, baby. Not for a long time, not if you don't want to."

"Joel.." you whisper. "Do you really want to do this? After everything that's happened.. all the hurt we put each other through.. all the secrets.." you cast a glance at Ellie, who looks more reserved than you've ever seen her before. Sensing this is a moment you want to share alone, she gives a fleeting smile before she leaves, giving Joel a playful mock hit on his shoulder. Still smiling, Joel pats the space beside him in the bed and you snuggle in with him, his body warm.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" Joel asks softly, eyes imploring you. "You're mine and I'm yours. That's how this thing of ours operates: you belong to me and I belong to you. Despite everything that's happened in the last twenty years, that's been the one constant." His hands grips yours, thumb running over your knuckles. "I don't care if I've got thirty years or thirty days left of my life. I wanna spend the rest of it with you, babygirl."

You search his eyes, seeing nothing there but the truth, laid bare and ready for you to either accept or deny.

He continues, "I don't wanna keep failin' you. I'm too much in love to let you go again." Then he gently lifts your chin, making sure you meet his eyes. "But only if you want me back."

Some would say you're on a precipice in the choice you're about to make, but it's not that difficult to choose. It's simply the separate paths you're on, converging at last. for good.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted," you whisper. It's not a fancy declaration of truth, a bit surprising coming from an English teacher, but it's the only thing Joel needs to hear before he pulls you close for another kiss.

Joel's released on Christmas Eve, and the two of you don't waste any time.

You and Joel are married in a small, intimate ceremony in the spacious living room of his home. Ellie, Sarah, Theo, Finn, Tommy, Maria, Sofia, Ruby, and even Bill and Frank are in attendance, watching as a judge from town and friend of the Millers officiates.

Joel promises you a nicer wedding when the frost thaws, anywhere you want in the world. You tell him you can't imagine a more perfect place to marry the most perfect man for you.

Your first wedding went by in a blur, but this time around you engrave it upon your heart, make note of every little skip of your heart when you and Joel hold hands, his delicate touch as he places a gorgeous sapphire ring on your hand, the sweetness of his lips when you share your first kiss as husband and wife.

After Christmas, Sarah and Theo leave for their honeymoon to Maui, and with the weather more agreeable the guests take leave too. Tommy sees to it that you and Joel have your house all to yourselves for your own honeymoon.

You insist on taking it easy with Joel, but he tells you he'd rather die while inside you, his name pouring from your lips the last thing he ever hears. He seems to get a second wind with you, making use of every possible flat surface in the house. You feel better about such activity when he takes his medication, promising to take it faithfully so long as you follow it with a kiss.

One morning after a particularly strenuous night, while drinking coffee in the kitchen and discussing your plans, Ellie returns, calling out to you before she enters.

"You're not doing anything gross in there, are you?"

"No," Joel laughs.

"Yes we are, we're working on making a sibling for you," you smirk over your coffee, glancing at Joel and giving a little shake of your head when his eyes go wide.

"Gross," she mutters, walking in. "Joel, Tommy says everyone's meeting at the Tipsy Bison for lunch later. But he couldn't get through to you on the phone." She makes a playful, pointed look, eyeing the two of you.

She's lukewarm to the idea of calling Joel 'Dad', and there's going to be some legal hoops to go through regarding Justin and his parental claim. But it all seems so small in comparison to the problems that plagued you before. You can get through anything because now you have each other.

You and Joel get ready as Ellie goes back to Tommy's, enjoying spending her time with Finn and getting ready to leave with them instead.

Unable to keep your hands off each other, it takes you twice as long to get dressed, hands going into each other's back pockets, lips finding each other's throats.

There's all the time in the world for it now.

Driving up to the Tipsy Bison, Joel turns on the radio. "Cherry, Cherry" starts to play, and you sing along with Neil Diamond, catching your husband's eye as he smiles and sings along too. The road before you is smooth, mountains standing guard in the distance, staying the same grand height no matter how far along you drive. Joel's hand finds yours, presses a kiss to it before entwining your fingers.

"Babe?"

"Yes, Mrs. Miller?"

You smile. "Let's not go right away. Let's drive around a little, play this song again, just soak in this moment."

"Of course, babygirl. I don't want to share you with the others just yet anyway."

Neil continues on the radio: No, we won't tell a soul where we gone to Girl, we do whatever we want to Ah, I love the way that you do me Cherry, babe, you really get to me

It's come full circle, and it only took two decades to complete. You and Joel in his truck, your song playing, the sun shining through the hazy clouds. You could close your eyes and it'd be 2003 again.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

[ripdragonbeans]

Love In The Darkest Of Places // Modern!Aemond x Reader

Chapter 4: Freedom

Summary: You and Aemond are in college now, which presents itself with its own new challenges. One you didn't expect, however, was cutting off your family.

TW: unhealthy family dynamic

Masterlist

Chapter 3 // Chapter 5

The thought of jeopardizing your relationship with Aemond was too scary to even consider. As much as you wanted to say yes, to be his, you knew there was no way to guarantee you would stay together. At least with this friendship there was no way of messing it up. Or at least you hoped. Your heart and soul yearned for him but your brain was terrified. The risk that came with being in a serious relationship was too great, according to your brain. Your heart and soul said to hell with it, to jump into the deep end, but in the end you were too afraid.

For the rest of high school that’s how you two were: best friends. Never once did either of you waver. Not once did either of you date. There was an unspoken arrangement that you would wait for each other. Of course, since Aemond made his move after that regrettable double date, it would be up to you.

“Do you wish we could be together?” you asked him one night. You were spending the night in his dorm room. It wasn’t the first time you’ve asked the question.

“You know my answer,” Aemond replied, never looking away from the television screen.

It was movie night and as per usual, you stayed in his dorm. High school seemed so far away yet it was almost as though it was yesterday. The double date with Cregan had always stayed in your mind. That Monday afterwards did, too. 

“I feel like I'm playing you,” you admitted to Aemond. 

“If you actually were, I don't think you'd be worried about it.” He looked at you and smiled. “I'll wait however long and if we only stay friends then that's okay too. You're my best person in the world. Together forever, remember?”

“Yeah, together forever.”

Silence.

“What if…” you started, “what if there's someone else out there for you?”

“The only person I want is you. If someone else finds me then maybe you ran out of time.”

“What if… what if I find someone else?” 

“Then I'll let you go. I'll do whatever to make you happy.” Aemond reached for your hand and squeezed it. He looked out the dorm window. “It's getting late. Do you want me to walk you back to your house or?” He left the question hanging.

“I think I'll go back to my house alone” you replied. It hurt your heart to leave him but you did so anyway.

Aemond’s face fell when you gave his answer. He simply nodded and got up to let you out of his dorm. 

“You know I -” you began to say.

“Don't worry about it,” Aemond said with a tight smile. “I understand.” 

And with that he closed the door.

You couldn't help but press your forehead against the door. You knew you should head back to your own dorm but you couldn't bring yourself to do so. Your feet refused to move and the thought of leaving Aemond alone in his room hurt your heart. 

So you let yourself stay there. 

You could hear Aemond through the door a tiny bit. You wondered if he felt as conflicted as you. A small mirthless laugh left you. Of course he felt conflicted. You were the one making him wait. Taking a deep breath, you pulled yourself up and headed out of the dorm and to your family’s house.

Unlike Aemond’s loving family, yours refused to pay for a dormitory. You had to walk or grab a ride home at the end of every day. Normally you would ask Aemond or Helaena for a ride but you wanted to be alone right now. Asking Aemond after this movie night was out of the question as well. So instead, you basked in the brisk cold night as you made your way back to the house.

When you arrived at the house you didn't bother announcing your presence. It wouldn't have been met with anything kind anyway, if it even received a reply. While the interior was warm and welcoming to everyone else, it was cold and lonely for you. Stepping inside the building, you toes off your shoes and shrugged off your coat before retreating into your bedroom. It was your safe haven in this place. 

Plopping down on the bed, you let out a groan. The day had been going perfectly well until you told Aemond it felt as though you were playing him. You were just too scared for yourself and for him. You didn't want either of you to get hurt in any way. Gods forbid the pain is caused by you or him. You hugged a pillow, wishing it was Aemond. Soon enough, sleep found you.

You walked down a cold, empty hallway. Your footsteps echoed against the walls. You didn't know where you were going; you were just walking. One thing you did notice, however, was the deep pit in your stomach. Something was going to happen but you didn't know what. And it would be something big. 

Soon, the walls became grand. Wallpaper were plastered on and large portraits of your family lined them. Your parents looked regal, of course. If it were another time you thought they would even be royalty. Then came the portraits of your brothers, Jace and Luke. 

Ever since Luke took Aemond's eye, you’ve cut him off. You avoided him, refused to talk to him, and have even left buildings if you found out he was there. There was no love in your heart for Luke, even if you were siblings. You could never forgive him for what he did. Yet here, in his portraits, he looked like a carefree child. So innocent. So wrong.

Jace’s portraits seemed accurate, in your opinion. He was still as charming as ever but you could see underneath him, how he loathed you, how we always craved the attention from mother and father. You smiled cruelly at that thought. He would never have their full attention. It was always on themselves but you let Jace believe that maybe one day their focus would be on him. To an extent you pitied Jace but not enough to make room in your heart to love him. He did nothing while Aemond was hurt and he constantly ridiculed you. No, there was no love.

Soon, there were pictures of Mrs. Alicent, Mr. Criston, Aegon, Helaena, and Jason. Unlike the photos of your family, these were candid, happy photos. They were real and genuine. No fake smiles or practiced poses; just silly faces and love. As you approached each of their photos, you couldn't help but feel joy. You were so happy for them and you wished desperately to be part of that. 

But something was off.

In the bundle of photos with Aemond was another person. Their face was covered or they were always facing away from the camera. Aemond was either grinning ear to ear or looked at that person with…love. The person in question had long, dark, flowing hair. You didn't recognize this person but it did something to your stomach. A pit dropped and it made you want to throw up. 

You kept walking down the hallway.

Suddenly, you heard laughter. Laughter and voices. You pinned down Aemond's but didn't recognize the female one. You didn't like this one bit. Could there be someone else for Aemond?

No. No, that can't be.

You raced down the hallway to find Aemond and this mysterious woman locked in an embrace.

“Aemond?” You asked quietly.

Aemond turned around. “You're too late,” he said. His voice echoed. “I waited for you but you took too long. I found someone else.”

“No!” You cried. You had woken up in a cold sweat. Looking around, you tried to ground yourself. There is no hallway, no portraits or pictures, no Aemond with some other woman.

You sighed as you heard someone come up to your door. You had an inkling it was one of your brothers.

“Hey, can we talk?” Jace knocked on your door.

You opened it only to reveal your older brother. “What do you want?”

He looked down at his feet. “I wanted to apologize. I've never been the best big brother and that's on me.”

“Okay…” you were confused as to why he was doing this.

“I was talking with my girlfriend, Sara, and she said that we needed to talk so here I am.”

You crossed your arms and leaned on the doorframe. “Talk about what?”

Jace shrugged. “Everything, I guess.”

“...Okay. Give me a minute to get dressed and we can go to the Dorne Café.” You closed the door behind you and got ready.

Within ten minutes you and Jace were out of the door and in his car. The ride to the café was silent. It wasn't tense or anything, just quiet. When you arrived at the café there were a decent amount of people there but not too many. After both of you placed your orders you went to claim a table outside.

Sitting across from each other, you waited for your brother to say something first. You simply looked at each other. In contrast to you, he was waiting for you to speak first. Once again in your life, you were at a stand still with your brother.

Not being able to stand the silence, you broke it. “Okay, I'll bite. You, Luke, mother, and father never wanted to do anything with me. I was always on the side and when I wasn't I was teased and ridiculed.”

“That’s a pretty heavy way to start this,” commented Jace.

“Well, you wouldn't talk first, so I did.”

“I teased you because I was mad. I was upset that you were closer with Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond and not with us. You're my sister. You should've been with me and not them.”

“You weren’t the most welcoming type when it came to me, Jace.”

“That's because I didn't know!”

“That’s a shitty excuse. We could have been closer. We could have had a better relationship.”

“I know and I want to fix it!”

You sighed and put your head on your hands. “Jace, it might be best for us to just go our separate ways. Damage was done and it was constant. I just can't forget all that.”

“Yes, you can. We can start over, pretend that nothing ever happened.”

“But it did happen. My childhood was filled with your constant teasing and mother and father’s neglect. It's forever burned in my mind.”

Jace threw his hands up in the air. “Then what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, Jace.” You could feel a lump growing in your throat. You didn't know what to expect on your way to the café but it wasn't this.

He nodded his head. “Okay, then.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I wasn't a better brother. You deserved to be treated better.”

“I know.”

Silence enveloped the air. No one talked. Only distant conversations and cars speeding by were heard by the two of you.

“I think it’s best if I just go to Helaena’s,” you whispered.

“What about us?”

“What about us? We're ruined Jace. We were never truly brother and sister.” You paused. “I was planning on moving in with Helaena, anyway, she needs a roomie for her apartment. I'll pack up my things over the next few days and I'll be out of everyone's hair.”

“If that's what you want.”

“I'm sorry, Jace. I truly am.”

Both of you were slow to pick up your trash. It was as though you were savoring these last few moments. When Jace dropped you off at Helaena’s apartment he walked you to the door.

“Maybe one day we’ll get better,” he said.

“Maybe.” You were hesitant but you gave him a hug. “Goodbye, Jace.”

Once he left and his car had gone out of view, you knocked on the door.

“Coming!” Came Helaena’s dreamy voice. She opened the door and wrapped you in a big hug. After letting you go she said, “I read your text, I'm so excited for you to move in! It'll be just us. No boys to stink up the place.”

“Believe me, I'm so excited.” You tried to smile but it faltered.

Helaena furrowed her brows. “What's wrong?” She pulled you into the apartment.

Once you were seated on the couch you told her everything that had transpired between you and Jace. 

“It was a goodbye and it was upsetting but it was also freeing in a way.”

Helaena nodded her head. “I understand.”

“I’m not looking forward to moving all my stuff out. I just don’t really want to go back there.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way, I promise,” Helaena said. “And we can ask Aemond and Aegon to join us, too. They would keep your family away from us.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “You know, my mother still thinks Luke was in the right. She thinks that Aemond deserved to lose his eye. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m related to her.”

“That’s sick,” Helaena agreed.

“Gods, what even is my family?”

“A mess. They’re a giant mess. But,” she paused. “You have us. You have me, my mother and father, and Aemond and Aegon. We will always be with you.”

“I used to be so scared that you guys would push me away; especially after Aemond lost his eye.”

“Why would you think that?”

You shrugged. “I felt responsible and guilty. I blamed myself and believed that you guys would later blame me, too.”

“Don't be ridiculous. That will never happen. I promise.” Helaena pulled you into a hug.

Gratefully, you returned it. “I talked to Aemond this morning.”

“And?”

“I'm just so torn, Hel. I want to be with him but I don't want to risk our friendship.”

“You know I think you should take the leap but I can't make that decision for you. You have to do it yourself.”

Your thoughts moved to your dream. “What if there's someone else for him? Someone better than me?”

“I honestly can't see Aemond with anyone else but you. You two have been through it all. And,” she paused and obviously glanced at your collar bone. “You're still wearing the necklace after all these years.”

You brought your hand up to rub the gem between your fingers. It was an action that you developed whenever you got stressed. 

“Look, you even mess with the necklace whenever something is wrong because it calms you. Aemond calms you.”

“It’s all so much.”

“You know what I think, but I want you to do it on your own terms. If you need more time, then take it.”

You took Helaena’s hands in your own. “Thank you.”

She squeezed your hands before letting them go to clap them together. “Now, shall we start moving in now or tomorrow?”

You huffed out a laugh. “I think tomorrow will be fine. We can give the boys a heads up tonight and just chill.”

“I love that idea.” She looped her arm through yours and led you to your soon to be room.

Moving in with Helaena was a breeze, thankfully. You didn’t have much to take out from your parents’ house. Jace actually stepped in to help a little bit but said nothing when doing so. When you left with your things, all he did was give you a small nod. 

You had officially cut ties with your family.

You were free.

The air felt fresher. The grass was greener. Your mother, father, and brothers no longer loomed over you. Taking a deep breath, you smiled as you looked around your room. No one would steal anything from you. You had a whole apartment you shared with one of your closest friends. Everything was right. Everything except the hole in your heart.

Pacing the room, you went through the war in your head, trying to choose if you should talk to Aemond or not. The worst he could say was no but that would be too much. Even though the chances of him saying no is almost nonexistent. Still, the risk was there and that terrified you. Putting your gears aside, you dialed Aemond’s number and called him. 

The phone barely rang before Aemond answered.

“Are you okay?” he immediately asked.

“Yeah, I'm okay. I guess I just wanted to talk to you,” you admitted. 

“What's up?” He asked again. When you didn't respond he said, “I know something is wrong. You don't call me unless something is really messing with you.”

Sighing, you nodded your head until you realized he couldn't see you. “Can I come over?”

“Yeah, always.”

You could hear his smile. Aemond always loved it whenever you came to his dorm.

“I'll see you in a bit, Aems.”

“In a bit,” he repeated.

When you asked Helaena to drive you to Aemond's dorm she gave you a knowing smile.

“Are you finally going to tell him?” She asked you.

“I…I don't know but it's in the realm of possibilities,” you said. It was true. You played with the idea of telling him today but you were still scared.

The car ride to Aemond’s dorm was uneventful. Helaena gave you words of encouragement and tried her best to keep you calm. 

“You're going to be okay. Both of you. I've never seen two people who meshed as well as the both of you. Whatever bond you have with him is unbreakable,” Helaena told you.

You wrung your hands together. “Yeah.”

When Helaena pulled up to Aemond’s dorm building he was already out in front waiting for you. His tall frame making him stand out in the emptiness of the walkway. With his hair down and flowing slightly with the breeze he looked ethereal. You could never get over how beautiful he was. 

When Aemond saw you, a smile brightened up his face. You smiled back. It was going to be a good day, you thought to yourself. Stepping out of Helaena’s car, you gave her a quick thank you and tried to control yourself as you walked to Aemond. As soon as you were by his side he pulled you into a hug.

“You've had me worried these last few days,” he admitted.

“And why's that?” You asked him.

“You've pulled away a bit.” He was quiet.

Your eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean?”

“Once you moved in with Helaena you didn't call or text me much and didn't offer to visit until now.”

“Oh.” You couldn't tell him everything. Not yet. “There's been a lot going on.”

“You don't have to take that on alone,” Aemond reminded you. “I'm here for you. Together forever, yeah?”

You smiled. “Together forever.”

That night you spent the entirety of it with Aemond. You put on a movie, popped popcorn, and simply enjoyed each other's company. It was as though there was no lingering feelings between you two. It was just you guys. Anyone from the outside would have assumed you were together, and gods, did you wish it was true. Aemond, for sure, wished it was. 

You and Aemond say against the wall on his bed. His arm was casually around you while you snuggled in close. At some point in the night he pulled his hair up in a messy bun. When you tried to braid his hair he swatted your hands away with a goofy grin on his face. 

“Just once!” You pleaded.

“You've already done it once!” Aemond laughed.

“When?” You put your hands on your hips.

Aemond sighed then explained, “Back when we were fourteen. You convinced me to let you braid my hair. It was in knots afterwards.”

Crossing your arms over your chest you muttered, “It wasn't too bad.”

“We needed Helaena’s help.”

Nudging Aemond with your shoulder you told him, “Fine. I won't braid your hair tonight. But let's do something!”

“What if I braided your hair?” 

You raised an eyebrow. “You know how to braid hair?”

“There's a first time for everything,” he shrugged. “It's your turn to have knots,” he bumped you back with his shoulder.

You huffed, “Fine,” and plopped yourself in front of him.

When Aemond ran his hands through your hair, you couldn't help but lean back into him. He gently massaged your scalp before carefully dividing your hair into three sections. 

“Are you sure you know how to do this?” You teased.

Aemond tugged on your hair, sending shivers down your spine. “We're about to find out,” he whispered in your ear.

You couldn't help but flush at his words. Aemond braiding your hair shouldn't be as intimate as this and yet it was. Your relationship has changed since you've both moved on to college. Now, you simply danced around each other.

As Aemond braided your hair, he would tug on it every now and then, causing a bolt of pleasure to shoot through your stomach. 

“Am I hurting you?” Aemond asked when he tugged it for the fourth time.

“No,” you let out breathlessly.

When Aemond finished braiding your hair, you turned around only to find each other nose to nose.

“Aemond?” Whispered.

His violet eye bore into yours before quickly dipping down to your lips and back. “Yes?”

You looked at him and slowly leaned forward. Meeting you in the middle, Aemond captured your lips in his. It was soft. It was tentative. For a second you froze, not knowing what to do, but then Aemond reached up to cup your face and you kissed him back. You moved so you were on your knees in front of him, just now slightly taller than him sitting down. His hands went to your waist and he held on like he never wanted to let go. 

Sitting back on your haunches, you placed your hands on his shoulders. Aemond tensed up slightly but relaxed quickly. The kiss wasn't heated or rushed. It was very slow and calm. You were both waiting and now you finally had each other.

[soliloquent-stark]

Hi, would you have any baby's first Stony fic recs for a stucky shipper?? Like I want to read Stony but literally have no idea where to start or how to get there without feeling like "wait, where's Bucky?" if that makes any sense

Tysmia!!

hi! congrats and welcome :) i want you to know i am taking this task very seriously! i am a big bucky lover so i don't read bucky bashing fics anyways, so pretty much any rec of mine is okay from that sense, but i understand the difficulty in switching ships or having your fav absent.

so, i thought the best way to get acquainted with stevetony would be to read fics that contain bucky, or past stucky, or focus on learning about tony from steve's pov (since i assume you're most familiar with his perspective and character, so then you can fall in love with tony together). i also added some stuckony ones in case that's your cup of tea, but feel free to skip those. 💕

ps. almost all these are mcu, but let me know if you want comics/au recs too. but overall, for more recs, you can check this tag.

music by @treesramblings

Steve turns seventy-five today. Tony has a special plan in place to show Steve a happy birthday.

I used to use liquor to get me inspired (but you look so beautiful) by @underwhelmingalchemist

Steve was used to Tony's flirting. It was weird and slightly annoying, but it was just part of who he was. It was always surface-level compliments, comments on his ass and thighs, teasing him about his "pretty face". But when he was drunk, those comments turned to something sweeter and much more genuine.

more after the cut

Triple Espresso by @festiveferret

Everything is going great for Steve. He loves his boyfriend, his apartment, his pets. He finally has some opportunities to share his artwork, the coffee shop he manages is doing well, and Bucky is about to finish his exams, which means no more night shifts. It finally feels like life is on track. And then Tony Stark walks into the cafe and everything goes off the rails.

5 Times Bucky Thought Tony Was Good For Steve +1 Time He Told Him by Anonymous

To say Bucky is unimpressed by Stark would be an understatement. It isn’t that he dislikes him. It’s more that he’s a brand of indifferent that curdles with disdain on the rare occasion that Bucky catches him on the TV: Stark is glib and crass in a way his father never was, and he wears suits like he’d slipped out of the womb clad in Armani. So it’s a surprise when Bucky moves into the Tower and finds that Steve actually gets along with the guy.

some words build houses in your throat by only_more_love

The night before they travel back in time, Tony says what he needs to say.

A Partial Dictionary Of The 21st Century By Captain Steve Rogers, US Army by @copperbadge

Steve is adapting well to the new millennium, and he has the dictionary to prove it.

Equilateral by FestiveFerret

It was the way Steve had said, “I found him,” the desperate, agonized hope, that had Tony replying with, “Bring him home,” without any hesitation. But now, now he was hesitating like fuck.

felt with your two hands by @ishipallthings

Steve lets out an exasperated huff. “It’s just, I can’t shave.” It’s such a small thing to be upset about, and yet here he is, fighting the urge to tear his bandages just to look clean-shaven again. One glance at Tony shows that he’s surprised by Steve’s admission, eyes now fixed on the days-old scruff covering the bottom half of Steve’s face. (In which Tony helps Steve with shaving, and the close proximity leads to so much more than either of them anticipated.)

Feels Like Home by @tinystark616

Steve thinks there must be something fundamentally wrong with him when adjusting to his new life seems scarier than fighting an army of aliens. He knows how to fight. He's excellent at it. What he doesn't know is how to feel like he belongs in the future.

Catching Up Fast by Catchclaw, Crowgirl

Tony doesn't see the other guy coming, is the thing. Best mistake of his life.

everybody needs some affection by @meidui

It's for Steve's sake, Tony tells himself as he befriends Bucky. (But then it isn't.)

last call by @gottalovev

Tony didn’t prepare for Steve calling first. It's been thirteen months, why now?

Operation: Knuckleheads by FestiveFerret

Bucky is enjoying his new, post-Winter Soldier life at Avengers Tower, until he discovers that the constant tension between Steve and Tony was caused by a recent (and mysterious) breakup. Determined to make his friends happy, Bucky gives himself a new mission: figure out what went wrong, and get these two idiots in love back together again.

[mattsredgaphoodie]

attempting to study with cfs!chris - which leads to something else very quickly. wc: 897. warnings: fluff, making out, mention of getting hard.

"chris come on. you need to study, seriously. you're gonna fail your sat."

chris whines subtly from the spot next to you, laid out next to all the books and the one macbook infront of you both. "cubbyyyy.. i'll be fine. can we just take a break? we've been studying for hours."

"i've been studying for hours. all you've done is run through my pantry of snacks, kiss my thighs, and fall asleep what, twice now? you really need to focus." she says, almost desperately.

he plants another subtle kiss to her lower thigh. "yeah, but you like it." he huffs softly, realizing she's not gonna give up anytime soon. "fine. ill study. only cause my favorite girl wants me to, so so badly." he sits up, now in a criss-cross, rubbing her thigh in admiration of her dedication for his studying.

"finally. here, maybe to keep your mind focused and on-track, ill give you a kiss everytime you get 5 questions right, yeah?"

"5?!" "5." "maybe 1?' "3. lowest ill go." "fine."

after this agreement, desperately in need of kisses from his favorite, he quickly got on track. he finished 3 questions and smiled at her and rubbed her cheek.

"mm-mm. i have to make sure they are right, first." she says as she smiles softly, pulling his hand away from her face and looking down at the paper.

he huffs softly, rather taking this short period of time to examine her. he notices the small things about her when she's checking over his work, like when she bites the bottom end of her pen, the way she rubs the paper flat every once in a while to make sure she can see everything, and how she doesn't take her eyes off the paper, not even once, so she doesn't lose track.

"they're all right?" she nods. "you sure?" "you doubtin' me, sturniolo?" "no, no, of course not. just making sure." she smiles and kisses his soft, rosy lips carefully.

as she's about to lean back, he quickly diminishes his shy-personality and grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer. despite her efforts, she quickly reciprocates the much-needed kiss.

truthfully, she's been needing this just as much as he does. they haven't had any time to themselves in a while, and seeing how quickly it takes for their desire to appear, they both take advantage of the 3 right answers.

she pulls away quickly, earning a whine from chris. "hold on, im setting the stuff on the floor so we don't mess anything up." he nods and leans back, watching her as she sets everything down onto her hardwood floor. as she leans back up, he grabs her wrist and pulls her on top of him, bringing her closer to his reach, allowing him to kiss her beautiful, glossy pink lips.

she quickly straddles him, not breaking the kiss. as she's doing so, he takes the small opportunity as she opens her mouth slightly to quickly enter his tongue into her mouth.

this reciprocated attraction quickly passes 10 minutes, including small breath breaks.

by accident, she rolls her hips across his, creating more comfort for her, but the opposite for him.

"hmph- cub, stop." he says through muffled kisses.

"what? my legs are getting tired." she says as she pulls away carefully, leaving a string of saliva connecting the two still together.

"you can't be rubbing your hips against me like that when we're making out, kid." he lets out a breathless laugh as he licks his wet lips, breaking the saliva string.

"wait wh- oh." as she realizes, she quickly covers her mouth letting out muffled laughs.

"im- so sorry." she says she leans back, sitting in an upright position.

"it-it's fine. but, you're currently making it a lot worse. either get off or move up a bit."

"shit- yeah, yeah of course." as she finishes her sentence she quickly moves her hips up so she's straddling his upper torso. "better?"

"ye-yeah." he says as he grips her hips tightly, almost tight enough to leave marks. "come back, cub. miss you." he says softly, almost embarrassed of his clingy words.

"yeah? miss me?" she says as she laughs and leans back down, her chest directly on his as she connects with his puffy, cherry red lips.

"mm-mhm." he nods softly, running his hands up and down her back and thighs.

after a bit longer, she gives him a deep kiss, and pulls away. "we seriously need to study. no more kissing, seriously." she climbs off his lap, leaning down to the floor, grabbing their materials once again.

as she pulls away and climbs off, he lets out a small huff and looks up, redirecting his gaze to the white ceiling.

"chris." "hm?" "go to the bathroom." "why?" she lets out a small cough as he looks up, directing his sight to hers, as he notices her gaze go to this lower torso.

"fuck- i'm so-sorry." he says as he quickly stands up off the bed, and his rosy cheeks turn a shade of deep red.

"its fine, c. just go to the bathroom."

he nods and almost- painfully, runs to the bathroom.

she watches as he runs out, and lets out a small laugh, realizing their "strictly friend" relationship is never going to be the same after their first kiss, 2 months ago.

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi I didn't know who else to ask but I like your blog alot and was wondering If you could do Slashers with a lover who in their sleep subconsciously pats their back repeatedly like a baby while hugging them with brahms, Thomas hewitt, and the sinclair brothers included please🩷

a/n: thank you so much and thank you for the request <3 i'm sorry that it took so long, i've just had A LOT going on over the last year and have had barely any time for writing. and since i've been gone for so long, i will admit i'm a bit out of practice so i apologise in advance if this isn't to the standard you were hoping for

mentioned: brahms heelshire, thomas hewitt, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair

brahms heelshire

brahms has always liked to cuddle with you at night. in fact, before you both started routinely sleeping together, he would sneak into your room at night and simply hold onto you for comfort

he knows that you're not against cuddling, so when he wakes up with your arms locked around him, he isn't surprised

but he is slightly surprised to find that you're patting him on the back as though he were a baby

in all the time that you've been sleeping together, not once have you ever done such a thing

it's a nice surprise, because brahms loves nothing more than physical comfort. your palm lightly tapping against his back calms him, eventually lulling him back to sleep

thomas hewitt

thomas has always enjoyed any form of physical contact with you. since he rarely speaks, physical contact is the only form of affection he can rely on

when he wakes up with your limbs tangled around his body, the first thing he notices is your hand gently patting his back. he can tell that you're asleep from your usual deep breathing so he doesn't have to check whether you're awake

althought this is a new thing that he knows you definitely haven't done before, he doesn't think much of it

instead, he welcomes it and simply allows himself to fall back to sleep, your hand patting his back bringing him nothing but comfort

bo sinclair

when you and bo first started out, he wouldn't so much as let you sleep in the same room as him, so when he feels your hand gently patting his back one night, it's safe to say he's in a state of both annoyance and shock

he knows you know not to be too intimate with him when you're in bed together, so why the hell are you currently patting his back like he's a damn baby?

your face is buried in his chest so he can't tell if you're awake or not so he decides to carefully untangle your limbs from him to get a better look. and to his surprise, you're asleep

he isn't sure what to do, because although he's uncomfortable with it, he also finds it to be oddly comforting. and you're not exactly conscious so it isn't like there's any reason for him to feel awkward, you don't know what you're doing, you don't even know that he knows

in the end, after A LOT of unnecessary deliberation, bo finally decides to just allow you to keep patting his back with your arms locked around his body

he enjoys it, although there is no way he will ever tell you that

vincent sinclair

when vincent wakes up to you patting his back one night, he's confused. especially because a lot of the time, the closest the two of you get when sleeping is when he holds you from behind

so when he wakes up with your face crushed against his chest and your limbs wrapped around his body, his immediate response is to feel a little uncomfortable

he isn't sure if you know that you're currently patting him on the back like he's a baby but he doesn't want to check either in case you're asleep

so he just lays there for a long moment, painfully aware of your hand against his back

he isn't sure whether he likes it, he also doesn't want to stop you

in the end, he decides to just ignore it and go back to sleep

he'll decide if he liked it in the morning

lester sinclair

when lester wakes up to find you're gently patting him on the back, he doesn't even have to think about it before deciding that he loves it and would love for you to do it more often

lester had never really experienced much physical affection before you, so he could care less that your body is currently wrapped around his, with your palm gently beating against his back. he'll take whatever he can get

he loves you and he loves being as close to you as possible so he lets you keep patting his back and eventually drifts back to sleep, content with the fact that you're both so close, in every sense of the word

[Main Masterlist]

[iwantacoolusernameman]

Akaashi Keiji x Reader

『Haircut』

Notes: very short, fluff

Last night, after an exhausting day, you were sharing a quiet dinner together.

"I'm thinking about cutting my hair," he had said and gotten a wide eyed reaction from you in return.

"Not your gorgeous hair," you'd whispered and leaned forward to brush his fringe aside, causing a small smile to appear on his lips.

"It's getting too long, don't you think?"

It was true that his hair had gotten quite long and it must've been annoying having to brush away the strands all the time so they wouldn't poke his eyes. He wouldn't let his hair grow out this much to begin with usually, but when one works overtime it was only natural to let these things slip into the background without meaning to.

"Can I do it? Cut your hair I mean," you'd asked him. He knew you always cut your own hair and he was still to see a day where you'd mess up. He'd mulled over it for not too long before nodding to your offer.

"Okay."

ᚐ҉ᚐ

Your fingertips brush away the little hairs that fall on his shoulders as you snip. He lets out a long sigh, his stress melting away under your gentle touch. The dim light in your bathroom probably wasn't the best place to get a proper haircut but you trusted your self-learned skills enough that the bad lightning didn't bother you. As for him, he just simply and blindly trusted you.

As you're working with the scissors, his eyes follow you in the bathroom mirror. The way your fingers carefully wrap around the strands and your brows attentively narrow as you cut his hair has him unable to look anywhere else even if he wanted to. He's not very fond of being stared at and so tries to not be that person either but right now, and with you, he can't help it at all.

When you're done you place the sciccors on the vanity of the sink to adjust a few strands, and when you're finally satisfied with your work, you look up and catch his reflection staring back at you in the mirror. He feels caught and musters a little smile. You return it and bring your hands to rest on his bare shoulders, then ask: "And? Is my client happy with the haircut?"

His eyes flicker from you to his own reflection as he grabs his glasses from the vanity, putting the frame on his nose. He turns his head left and right as he intently takes in the changes. The magic you've worked. His dark locks are short but not short enough to stick up into the air, and the bangs are no longer annoyingly getting into his eyes but hovering over his brows. It's just a simple haircut, nothing too fancy, and the face staring back at him is also just the same face he's so used to seeing.

Ordinary, is the first word that should come to mind but knowing the artist behind the ordinary cut makes it feel not so ordinary after all for him. A bunch of words he wants to tell you instead spill into his brain within mere seconds.

Talented, wonderful, neat, perfect, remarkable, outstanding, fantastic..

He can't decide so he settles for, "I like it. A lot."

You smile at his reflection again and rest your chin on his head. "I'm glad."

[foibles-fables]

This is a little rambly, but: Do you have any tips for people who are trying to re-learn media literacy skills? It’s kind of disheartening to see the number of people I’ve seen in the arcane fandom on high horses doing the point and laugh at someone else for missing the deeper meaning/metaphors/symbolism. It’s alienating to be humiliated like that you know? (Maybe I’m just still fresh jn my post-election grief but it just reminds me of how, when someone becomes open to new viewpoints and new perspectives, we should meet them halfway and encourage these new questions and developing skills, instead of antagonizing them back in the other direction. Does that make sense?)

Hi nonny!!!!

First of all, I wanna say that these are some great questions and I'm truly flattered to have been asked! I can't say I'm a total expert here, so if anyone reading has other tips, please leave them in the reblogs or comments.

Second, you're also so right that nobody should be pointing or laughing at someone who doesn't "get it," if the person who didn't "get it" is giving their genuine analysis and is open for discussion and other viewpoints. It's when folks on either side of whatever the divide is slinging start insults that conversations become unproductive--which in and of itself is not conducive to media literacy. I am so sorry you've felt alienated by any of the back and forth happening; that doesn't feel good for anyone.

There are four pieces of advice I'll give. (and this is NOT assuming you're not doing these already, nonny!)

First, consume a lot of media. Read/watch/play with abandon. Consume things that are easy, consume things that challenge you. Reflect on them. Nothing fancy needed there. Ask questions--what is this trying to show me, and did it work? How could it have been seen differently, and why do I disagree with that view? Having a bigger reservoir of experience helps you evaulate everything you consume thereafter!

Second is pretty simple--pay attention. If you're planning on actively engaging with a piece of media, of course you've gotta actually immerse yourself in it! I'm guilty of being a phone-scroller while watching some things, but it's a detriment to getting the full picture of what you're watching or playing or reading. To be able to ask the questions, you have to do the work.

The third tip I'll give is to familiarize yourself with craft, whether that's writing, cinematography, etc. It helps you recognize the hows and whys of technicality, and allows you to evaluate what was attempted and what succeeded, or did not succeed. This also helps you take genre expectations into account as you assess the story's/creator's intention versus execution.

Finally--and this ties in with your concerns--allow yourself to think about other viewpoints, even if your own evalutations don't change.

One thing I'll say about Arcane in particular is that the long (and necessary!!!) development cycle led to folks having a close-held ideal of what the next season would look like--and when reality falls short of what they built up, that hurts. Such an impactful show means a LOT to people and it's unsurprising that it's bringing out a lot of strong convictions.

[thybirbman]

Sorry but I'm gonna ignore half the post bc I read the first two paragraphs and now can't think about anything else, so you're getting me trying to logic religion instead of Tobi!Kakashi (tho I will say I saw a fic once with the Obito-Kakashi role reversal where they had it that Kakashi was pretending to be Tobirama rather than Madara bc of the hair and smarts and it even fits with the Tobi nickname! It was amazing, don't remember it tho, so sorry.)

Anyway! Here are my Hatake religion thoughts, presented as facts rather than just my headcanons bc I love writing fake facts:

The Hatake do worship multiple gods/vague spirits of the land rather than one specific god, but like a typical pantheon religion where there's a buncha gods, but then there's the one special favorite guy that's in charge of everyone, and to the Hatake, that's Kaguya. Yeah, they worship the gods of plants and harvest and whoever brings the rain, but the Hatake are wolves first, farmers second, so Kaguya, the goddess of rabbits (aka usually the first thing a young cub gets to catch on their first hunt, something something a symbol of coming into their own and becoming their own person as well as a sign of good things to come and that they'll be powerful enough to live by themselves, just lots of good meanings to the Hatake) that also resides on the moon, is their special lil gal.

The Hatake's beliefs are kind of... vague? They don't really have a set mythology, or they didn't in the beginning, because they used to be a bunch of small vaguely connected family units all over the Land of Iron just doing their thing, but they slowly got whittled down to the few that are now left. And each of those units had their own spin on things, ranging from Kaguya being their sworn enemy who was cursed into a rabbit so they could hunt her for all eternity, to more positive stories of Kaguya either always being a rabbit, inventing the concept of rabbits in the first place, or willingly transforming into a rabbit permanently to be hunted by the Hatake for all eternity as a kind of game. (aka go with whatever suits the story, you want bad Kaguya where the Hatake were systematically wiped out by Zetsu bc those fuckers were literally engineered in a fucking lab by God to be perfect Kaguya killers? Want good Kaguya where Sakumo and Kaguya get to be freaky together and have Kakashi be a half god? Whatever works for you!)

Most of them, however, end with Kaguya either returning to her home on the moon right before dawn breaks or being sealed away on the moon by mean people who don't want the Hatake to have their fun ritual hunting game. Very sad. It's a tradition to not eat the first rabbit you ever catch, and instead wait for nightfall before holding it up to the open sky and then burying the thing in the dirt under the moonlight, to show Kaguya that they still remember their old hunts and that no earth rabbit will ever be as great a catch as her. Unless you were part of those guys that didn't like Kaguya, wherein you would wait with your first ever rabbit til nightfall before absolutely ripping that thing to pieces and eating it's heart raw while glaring up at the moon. And then go pray and apologize to Tsukuyomi for glaring at them (the moon).

Back when Kakashi was a kid, Sakumo always burried any rabbits he got, which was kind of extreme when usually it's just the first rabbit you ever kill. Sakumo's only explanation was that they'd never be as good as the first rabbit he caught, and it would be an insult to that first rabbit for him to ever try another.

(Picturing shittily drawn Kakashi frowning down at a scraggly rabbit in a dirt hole thinking damn must have been one good rabbit, rabbits don't even taste that good, meanwhile in the background in full renaissance style oil paint Sakumo is just on his knees absolutely sobbing his heart out at the moon)

Concept of the Hatake, as a wolf clan, worshipping Tsukuyomi, the moon god, as their god. Alternatively: it'd be incredibly funny and ironic if you leaned into Kaguya-hime as a moon rabbit, being worshipped by a wolf clan.

I have no specific thoughts (yet) bc I also love the idea of the Hatake not worshipping any one god but instead honoring just the vague spirits of the land (leaning into them as farmers) but like. Where's my "The Hatake worship Kaguya-hime" AU where things get really awkward when it becomes clear she's kind of trying to blow up the world or whatever from her prison in the moon.

Zetsu goes to a young Kakashi or Sakumo or smthn for help with freeing his mother bc the Hatake's have worshipped her for so long, so surely they'd help

Or if you have one of those role swap Kakashi and Obito aus, add a bit of flavor to differentiate between the villain, brainwashed, Akatsuki, Madara-impersonator Obito-- with brainwashed, Akatsuki, Kaguya-hime worshipper Kakashi, helping Zetsu, potentially with full knowledge of the eye of the moon plan bc he genuinely wants to free Kaguya.

In an AU like that, maybe Zetsu would be more open with him in general too, like, they share the same genuine goal, and also potentially the love for Kaguya. So I can see Zetsu maybe opening up to him a lot more than he would if he were fr just a puppet. At the very least, they could commiserate about "poor" Kaguya hime, trapped in the moon.

I just think it'd be interesting

[shuploc]

I keep seeing people draw Astarion in Neil's outfit he wore at the baftas yesterday, and I keep checking your page to see if you had done it too LOL

Oh LMAO, I haven't 😭 I would absolutely love to though, Neil KILLED IT in that suit, and Astarion would definitely rock it too!!

Isn't it a little too late for me to start now though? It'll take a couple of days to draw, and by then most will have probably already moved on...

It's so so sweet of you to check my page though, even if it did only leave you feeling slightly disappointed I hadn't draw him yet lmao, but thank you so much anyhow, that's very sweet! ❤️

[persephonbee]

One of my favorite/least favorite parts of being a case manager is going with people to their appointments with their shitty psychiatrists and helping them advocate to be taken seriously and have their side effects be addressed and be given accurate information and appropriate options. And tomorrow I have 3 appointments in a row where I'm going to the psychiatrist with people and it's all the same shitty psychiatrist and they're all newer clients so he doesn't know yet that they're all my clients and I can't WAIT for the look on his face when he realizes he's going to have to actually do his job for 3 consecutive hours