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youunravelme · 1 year

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drops of jupiter pt. 2

author’s note: lol i accidentally posted the beginning of this part in part one, so if you saw that, no you didn’t. again, this is not a super light read, deals heavily with depression, though it’s never explicitly stated. think liability by lorde/this is me trying by taylor swift. also i’m sorry for the amount of shrugging and sighing in this fic and the first part. every character is in a constant state of idk.

warnings: cursing, drinking/getting drunk, depression

summary: being friends with your ex wasn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, breaking up with him took that slot.

prompts: “I thought I was going to lose you.” / “i just need you.” / “what the hell were you thinking? / “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving.” / “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

then

“we need to get up,” jack mumbled into your neck, his arm strewn over your waist.

“why?” you asked. “we’re on vacation.”

“vacation with my family. i wouldn’t put it past my brothers to harass us any minute now.”

you hummed and snuggled further into your pillow.

a bang pounded on the door that had you both flinching. you clutched the comforter to your chest even though you were both fully clothed.

“jack get up! we’re going to work out.” you heard quinn’s voice on the other side of the door, and if you listened closely, you could hear luke snickering.

“we’re on vacation!” you called back. “come back at a reasonable hour.”

“7 is reasonable!” quinn replied.

"in what world?” you groaned. but jack got up anyway, tossing on a clean shirt and a pair of joggers. “wait, where are you going?”

jack walked over and kissed your forehead. “go back to sleep, i’ll see you later.”

you watched him walk out before shutting your eyes and succumbing to sleep once more. when you woke up next, you went downstairs and were met with ellen standing at the kitchen island eating toast and eggs.

“you’re awake!” ellen greeted. “want some breakfast?”

you nodded and took a seat at the island. “but i can make it--”

“absolutely not. you’re a guest here, and guests don’t make breakfast for themselves.” she turned around and started cracking eggs into a pan before tossing some toast in the toaster. she seasoned the eggs and let them cook before turning back around to you. “did you sleep well?” she asked. you were fully expecting a teasing tone since you did sleep in the same bed as her son, but she was being genuine.

“slept fine,” you said.

“i bet,” ellen started. “all of you were very busy yesterday.”

and she wasn’t wrong. you spent most of the day on the lake, whether that was sunbathing on the boat or wake boarding. by the time the sun set, you were exhausted.

you glanced around the downstairs. “they still aren’t back yet?”

ellen tossed her head back and laughed. “sweetheart, it’s only been an hour since they’ve left. if anything, they’re probably headed to the ice rink by now.”

“but it’s summer, the rink should be melted?”

ellen grinned at you knowingly. “there’s a public indoor ice rink just ten minutes away. they probably went there after working out at the gym.”

“did jim go with?” ellen nodded. “so it’s just us?”

“just us.” she turned back around to plate your toast and eggs before she placed the plate in front of you. “how have you been? how’s school?”

you shrugged. “it’s been alright. nothing to write home about.”

“jack said you seem to be enjoying it.”

“it’s a step to getting where i want to be.”

“that’s what life’s about, hon. taking it step after step.”

now

you stared at your phone for what felt like years. there was no way this was your life, no way that you deserved any of the kindness that’d been shown to you. there was no earthly explanation for why jack hughes was insisting on you attending one of his games against ahaheim.

“you need to be social,” was his explanation. “besides, the boys missed you.”

quinn was in town for his game happening the next night, trevor was playing against jack and nico that night, and the plan was to go to dinner afterwards.

you were nervous to see quinn again, this being the first time you saw him since the break up. you weren’t sure how his family took it since you made a point not to text or call regardless of how much you missed them. it just wouldn’t be fair to jack.

but he met you outside the arena with a small hug and smile. “it’s been awhile, how have you been?”

you really wished people would stop asking you that.

you shrugged. “nothing much has been going on. how’ve you been? i haven’t kept up with hockey much lately.” truth be told, you didn’t want the reminder and couldn’t bear to keep using jack’s logins. you wondered if your account was still on his netflix.

quinn shrugged as well and nodded his head toward the arena so you both could start walking in. “life’s been normal, busy, but normal.”

“how’re your parents?”

quinn tucked his hands in his pockets. “they’re fine. they ask about you, miss you.”

you almost stopped walking. you never once considered yourself important enough to be noticed, let alone missed. “and luke?”

“still at michigan.”

you fell into a comfortable silence after that, something you’ve always loved about quinn, your ability to just be without any expectation of conversation. as you made your way to your seats, quinn stayed quiet, waiting until you were seated to finally say something.

“what made you come to this game?” he asked.

you wanted to shrug off his comment, to say something flippant, but you’d always been honest with quinn in the past. “jack invited me and i couldn’t say no.”

“but why?”

“i--” you paused. “i don’t know. i don’t think i could deny him of anything if he asked me.”

he nodded, seemingly content with your lackluster answer, maybe because it was the most honest one you’d given in awhile.

as the game began, quinn would make little comments here and there, mainly about jack and his performance. “he’s playing really well,” he’d say.

after jack scored a goal, you saw him scanning the crowd as nico and his teammates rushed him. but he didn’t smile until you two locked eyes. and if you smiled as well, who was to blame you? surely they’ve never seen jack hughes embody the full weight of joy. in the corner of your eye, you could see quinn smirk, but you ignored it in favor of looking at the players.

the both of you walked down to the locker rooms, flashing your lanyards jack had given quinn earlier that day. you stood outside, bouncing on your toes.

“what’s got you so antsy?” quinn asked.

you stopped. just now noticing that you were wringing your hands together. “i--uh--”

“you made it!” nico came out first with his hands open and arms spread wide in greeting.

“why wouldn’t we be here?” quinn asked. “we made plans.”

it was a brief second, but you caught it nonetheless, the glance nico made toward you that said everything all at once. before you could comment, trevor and jack appeared, the latter having the biggest shit-eating grin you’d seen in awhile.

“who’s ready for dinner?” jack asked.

then

“if i was a worm, would you still love me?”

“what?” jack laughed, hands buried in your hair as you rested you head in his lap.

“if i was a worm--”

“no, i heard you. i was just giving you an opportunity to say something else.” you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and abruptly sat up before scooting towards the other side of the couch. “hey no, come back.”

“not until you say that you’d still love me as a worm.”

“would i even know it was you? how did you turn into a worm?”

“an evil wizard came down and turned me into a worm. does that answer your question?”

jack grabbed ahold of your ankles and dragged you back to him. he pressed his lips to the side of your head and smiled. “i’d love you even if you were the smallest worm.”

now

jack picked out a small italian restaurant twenty minutes away from the arena. when he finally pulled up to the building (all of you riding together), your stomach sank. it looked all too familiar.

the last time you’d been there, was the last date you had before you broke things off. part of you wondered if he selected that place on purpose, but the more rational part knew it was his favorite spot in town.

the five of you walked in and got a table. it didn’t go unnoticed that as you all sat down, the only seat left was next to your ex boyfriend.

“it’s nice to have the gang back together,” nico said. “i missed you guys.” you wanted to look down at the table, but when nico made eye contact with you and smiled, you were glad you didn’t.

“are you ready to order?” the server came up and asked. “i can give you a few minutes if you’d like.”

you panicked and looked down at the menu. you hadn’t been here in so long you couldn’t recall what you enjoyed the most. by the time it made it to you, you were no closer to figuring it out.

“you okay?” jack mumbled.

you looked up to see his earnest eyes focused on you and you alone. not the boys, not the pretty server, just you.

“i can’t remember what i usually get.”

jack reached over and pointed to the top left spot on the menu. “you used to get the carbonara.” but you weren’t looking at the menu. no. you were looking at his profile, how focused he was at reading the ingredients to make sure it was something you liked.

you knew it because it’s what he used to do all the time.

“i’ll get the carbonara, please,” you said with a small smile.

the server walked away to place the table’s orders and conversation picked up again.

“so,” trevor started, staring you down across the table with something akin to smugness on his face. “are you seeing anyone?”

“trev,” jack cut in.

“no, i think we should let her answer,” nico said. “i mean, it’s been awhile since we’ve all been together and caught up.”

“i--” you choked out, your heart beating hard in your chest.

“guys cmon,” jack started. “just leave it.”

there was something in you that sparked up at hearing his insistence you keep quiet. something that rebelled against the idea of staying silent.

so you spoke.

“i’ve been on a few dates.”

and the absolute devastation of jack’s face was enough to make you want to take it all back.

then

“do you really think that baseball cap is gonna hide your very recognizable face?” you asked him as you walked into yost ice arena.

“i’m hoping people will be too busy focusing on the game to look at me.”

“how could anyone ignore this handsome face?” you asked, taking your hand and squeezing his cheeks into a fish face.

he smacked your hand away and gripped it in his own, swinging it between both of your bodies. the both of you walked over to the row of seats his family saved.

his mother and father smiled at the sight of you. bringing you into a hug like you were a part of their family. and maybe, to them, you were. you and jack had been together for the better part of three years at that point.

despite not having seen his family in a few months, jack still sat on the outside with you tucked in between him and his mother with his hand resting on your thigh.

a shiver went up your spine spontaneously. jack shot you a look before he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you in as close as he could with an arm rest between you two.

“you okay?”

“just forgot how cold ice rinks are,” you replied in hopes he wouldn’t notice your flushed face. three years and that man could still do that to you.

"you get used to it after awhile,” he said as he kissed the side of your head.

no, you thought. i don’t think i will.

now

dinner wasn’t as lively as it once was after your confession. trevor and nico tried to compensate, hell even quinn was making an attempt at conversation, but it was obvious you and jack’s hearts weren’t in it.

he wouldn’t stop staring at you from the corner of his eye and you couldn’t help but stare at the food he remembered you loved right before you shattered his heart again.

it wasn’t long before the five of you were headed home after nico covered the bill. jack drove, leaving you in shotgun, and everyone else in the backseat pretending the tension wasn’t suffocating. jack dropped the boys off at the arena, with nico saying he could take quinn and trevor to their hotels before they all but scrambled out of the car.

which just left the two of you idling in the parking lot.

after jack saw them get into nico’s car, you fully expected him to drive off and take you home. but he just sat there.

“how long did you wait before trying to find someone else?” he asked while staring out the windshield.

“it wasn’t like that--”

“then what was it like? what was i supposed to think? we’ve been broken up for five months now and you’ve been on multiple dates?” his voice escalated.

part of you wanted to shrink back into the seat until you disappeared into the leather, the masochistic part of you fully believed this was what you deserved, the third part felt like a cornered predator.

and that’s what won out in the end.

“oh don’t act like you haven’t gone out with some girls--”

“i haven’t!” that shut you up really quickly. “i haven’t so much as looked at another girl since you broke up with me.” he finally looked at you, but you wished he wouldn’t have. the tears in his eyes triggered that part of you that you’d stifled the past few weeks, the part that constantly reminded you how fucked up you were.

so you did the only thing you knew how to do.

you unlocked the door--

and bolted.

then

you were signing discharge papers when jack burst into your hospital room sweating and disheveled. you smiled when he came in, using one hand to wave him closer.

“what the hell were you thinking? falling off a ladder? what was so important you couldn’t wait until i got home?” he walked over to you and straight into your arms anyway, despite his chiding tone.

the nurse took the papers away to be filed and left him with you.

“it’s just a broken ankle,” you said like one would talk about the weather. “it’ll be healed in a matter of weeks.”

jack pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “i don’t like it. i hate that you got hurt and i wasn’t there.”

“the only one at fault here is me, jack. i was trying to hang up...” you trailed off.

“hang up what?” he asked.

but the nurse came back in with a wheelchair and a smile. “you’re free to go, hon.”

jack wheeled you out to the lobby. the nurse waited with you while he pulled his car up. when his car was parked in the front, he ran back inside and helped you get settled onto your crutches, walking behind you with his hands prepared to catch you should you slip. he helped you into the passenger seat before jogging around the front of the car to drive off.

“so what were you hanging up when you fell off the ladder?”

you smirked. “you’ll see.”

jack rolled his eyes. “if it’s the pictures we got printed, i told you i’d get to it.”

“like i said, baby, you’ll see when you get home.”

he parked in the driveway and told you to stay put until he could help you get out of the car. once you were situated on your crutches, he glanced at you, your leg, and the stairs you would inevitably have to climb before he squatted down and gestured for you to climb on.

“jack, i don’t think this is necessary--”

“i think it’ll go faster if you just hop on and get it over with.”

you sighed and climbed on his back with one arm loosely wrapped around his neck, the other holding onto your crutches, his arms holding your legs in place around his hips. jack went up the stairs with little to no struggle, which just baffled you. even after living in your third floor apartment for eight months, you still found yourself winded after going up all those steps.

“each and every day you find a new way to impress me, hughes,” you commented,

“yeah? what is it this time?”

“how you don’t feel like dying every time you walk up these stairs.”

he laughed but didn’t offer a response.

“no, i’m serious,” you said. “what’s your secret.”

“being a professional athlete,’ he deadpanned.

you threw your head back and laughed as his foot hit the final stair. jack gently placed you down on the ground while you got situated on your crutches again.

“you good?” he asked.

you nodded. “i’m fine.”

jack unlocked the front door and nearly fell backwards into you when a loud “happy birthday” erupted from inside your apartment.

you nudged him forward with your non injured foot but he took a moment to glare at you. “you broke your leg to hang up birthday banners?”

you leaned in and kissed him. “happy birthday, jack.”

now

“get in the car.” jack had opened his door and gotten out almost as fast as you had.

but you shook your head and kept walking. “no.”

jack caught up to you rather easily, being in better shape than you for professional reasons. he gently grabbed your wrist and turned you around. “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving you here. it’s late, we’re in the middle of a parking lot--”

“it’s well lit--”

“and you’re not wearing a coat,” he continued on like you weren’t even talking. “you’re gonna get sick or kidnapped so please just get back in the car.”

“i can’t,” you whispered.

“why not?”

“because you keep looking at me like you hate me.”

that stopped him dead cold in his tracks. any movement he had, whether it was his hands running through his hair or his pacing back and forth. “what?” and you wanted to take it all back just so you didn’t have to hear how broken one syllable could sound.

and then the tears started, the embarrassment and humiliation and the shame from your confession earlier catching up to you finally. “and i don’t blame you because i was awful to you."

“why would you think that?”

“because everyone does!” and you’re so close to tearing your hair out in frustration. with whom? you weren’t sure if it was frustration aimed at yourself or jack or the situation.

“i’m not everyone,” he said in the quietest tone you’d ever heard him speak. “okay? i could never hate you, even if i wanted to.”

you kept sobbing. “you are way too good for me, jack hughes.”

but he shook his head and brought you into his chest, lips pressed to the top of your head. “that’s not true,” he said. “not even remotely close.” a beat passed. “i love you.”

“jack--”

he took your hand and placed it over his chest. “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

“i can’t do this,” you whispered.

“why not? do you not believe me?”

“i’m no good for you, jack! this won’t work. please, just take me home.”

then

a knock drew you out of your reverie from staring at the mirror and obsessing over your flyaways.

“it’s for you!” your roommate called. you giggled. actually giggled to yourself at the idea of jack standing in your living room with your roommates.

you rushed out, dress flaring at your thighs. jack turned around at the sound of you coming out of your room and smiled with a bouquet daffodils in his hands.

“you uh--” he stuttered. “you look amazing.”

“do a little twirl,” your roommate giggled.

you spun around before walking over to jack. “hi.”

“are you ready?” he asked once he got his bearings.

you nodded. “just let me put these in a vase--”

“i got it!” your roommate said. “you two have fun!” she said before all but shoving you out of the door.

“so what do you have planned?” you asked once you were on the road. you weren’t nervous per se, having known jack for a year before he finally asked you out.

“would you stop?” he laughed. “you’ll find out when we get there.”

you huffed and sat back in your seat, looking out the window while jack played some country music on his phone. when he finally parked, you recognized the arena almost immediately as the one he played in regularly.

“you took your day off from the ice rink to bring me...to the ice rink?”

jack rolled his eyes. “have some faith. stay here,” he said before popping out of the car and jogging around to your side to let you out.

“i could’ve gotten out myself,” you said.

“i know,” he shrugged. “but thank you for waiting anyway.”

you walked inside together, hand in hand. jack led you to the locker rooms where he picked up a bag and took your hand again before leading you to the rink.

before you was a blanket in the middle of the rink with a basket full of what you assumed was food.

“you didn’t,” you said.

jack shrugged.

“but how are we gonna get out there? i don’t have skates.”

he unzipped the bag in his hand and pulled out a pair of skates. “your roommate told me what size shoe you wore. i figured we could eat and then i could show you how to skate.” he explained.

“you bought these?” you asked.

he shrugged again. “yeah, but it was nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing to you. it was everything.

now

you get the call at 4pm from an athletic trainer asking for your name. your heart settles in your throat when you hear the mention of jack’s name.

“there’s been an accident at the game tonight, he’s being rushed to the hospital right now. we called because he has you listed as his emergency contact.”

“o-okay,” you whispered into the phone. “which hospital is he going to?” the athletic trainer gave you the information as you hurried out the door in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and slippers.

you didn’t remember to go the speed limit, hell by the time you got to the hospital, you weren’t even sure if you ran a red light or not. all you could focus on was jack.

jack was hurt.

you needed to call ellen. you needed to call jim. you needed to call that old lady who lived across the hall and ask her to check if you locked your front door. but all of that took a backseat because jack was hurt.

when you parked, you were taking up two spaces, but didn’t give a fuck because you were sprinting to the front doors of the hospital. “hi,” you greeted the front desk woman. “i’m here for my boyfriend?”

“you’ll have to be a little more specific, baby,” she said.

“i--”

you heard your name being called and whipped your head around to see the athletic trainer standing there. “i can show you to his room, follow me.”

you nearly cried in relief and followed the trainer. “do you know what’s going on?”

the trainer shook her head. “we had an idea, but we’re not doctors.”

you nodded, unable to say anything else, even as you entered the elevator. the both of you walked out of the elevator and headed down a long hallway to the very end. she gestured at the door and nodded for you to go in.

you couldn’t breathe. not when even when you saw him laying in bed laughing at a tiktok on his phone with his left leg propped up.

he looked up when you walked in the room. “hey--” but he didn’t have time to finish before you were sprinting across the room, grabbing his face in your hands, and kissing the life out of him.

it took him a second, but he responded fairly quickly, his own hands winding around your waist. you weren’t sure how much time passed before you were pulling away and looking him in the eyes.

“are you okay?” he nodded, rendered speechless by your display of affection. “i’m sorry, they called me and i freaked out and i didn’t even get to change--”

“did you--” he looked at you, more specifically what you were wearing. “you’re not wearing pants or a coat. are you insane? it’s freezing outside and you’re not even wearing real shoes!”

“they said you were hurt,” you said like it explained everything. “i couldn’t think, i just dropped everything and...”

“why?

“i--”

“you rejected me the other night, which is fine, it sucked, but it’s fine. but it doesn’t explain why you showed up. i think i at least deserve an answer.”

you do, you thought to yourself. that and so much more.

“i’m your emergency contact,” you replied.

“shit,” he said. “sorry i forgot to change that, i’ll--”

“and you’re still mine.” he stopped his rambling as you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “when i got the call, i thought i was gonna lose you.”

“you’re never gonna lose me, baby.” he moved your hands off his face so he could hold yours. “i’m yours, always have been, always will be.”

“i love you,” you smiled.

and it was like the sun came out in the middle of that hospital room when he smiled back at you. jack pulled your lips to his, or at least tried to. you both kept smiling too much for it to fully be considered a kiss.

“do you remember,” you said against his mouth. “do you remember when you moved out and took all our stuff?”

“mhm,” he hummed, but he was too busy chasing after your lips.

“i kept the skates.”

#jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #my writing

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rainydaymiscellaneous · 4 months

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“Little Light” (Astarion x Fem reader)

Note: sorry for me being gone, I now have two jobs and I also kind of fell down the BG3 rabbit hole. So. Yeaaahhh. Don’t worry you guys, I am still writing for Into the Fire I just am trying to work on the other chapters so it’s actually complete and I don’t have to worry about it being incomplete.

But in the mean time if you have any astarion related requests feel free to send them bishes in.

It was a dark night when Tav came into camp. A night no one expected to remember but gods, it would forever be seared into Astarion’s mind. It was different from the average night of his work. You see, he brought back a girl. Not unusual for the hero after saving the grove but it was unusual this night.

Bloodshed seemed to naturally follow the ragtag group of chaotic heroes. It was something they all got used to after a while, typically resulting in them washing their armor in a river trying to get the crimson stains out and the metallic smell to leave.

Tav said he was going to a tavern, which no one batted an eye at. Hells, Karlach joined him so he’d have a drinking buddy. But now they had come back with an unconscious woman in Karlach’s arms.

She was bleeding, that alone alerted Astarion to her presence from the mouth watering smell. He could control the urges, he never let them go out of control since he escaped the clutches of Cazador. Around blood, though, Astarion would become aware of his teeth. Like his senses would overwhelm him. Typically this would result in his little looks to Tav to quietly let him go off and find a willing victim, which he’d give a nod to so he could subtly slip away.

This night was different. Tav seemed more panicked than usual. He was asking Karlach to be careful. He kept trying to keep the girl’s eyes open. Karlach kept shooting Astarion a panicked “help” look. He walked over confused as Karlach laid her down.

And there was you. A girl who had been stabbed that he had never seen before. But why did Tav care? There was a difference between him worrying for random strangers versus this girl. There was a clear familiarity between the two but considering the tense situation, Astarion wasn’t asking right now.

“Y/n, keep your eyes open.” Tav demanded.

“I-I’m trying..” he heard you say quietly. Your eyelids felt like lead.

“Is magic not working?” Astarion asked.

“His powers are shot from the battle earlier!” Karlach says. You lazily looked at the unfamiliar voice.

“Red… eyes…” You muttered.

“Halsin! Make yourself useful!” Astarion yelled. You saw the fangs when he yelled. Most people when bleeding out would be freaked the fuck out by a vampire lingering so close. But you felt weirdly safer with him being the one to help.

Halsin rushed over, muttering incantations. A blue glow engulfed your vision and you finally succumbed to the urge to sleep. Halsin let out a small breath of relief.

“The girl will be fine. She needs to rest, regain her energy.” He says. Tav looked relieved by this.

Finally, Astarion felt it appropriate for some questions.

“Tav, who is this?” He asked. Tav sighed, looking down at your resting face.

“My sister. Y/n. She wanted to travel with us, which I said yes to. But then we were ambushed and Y/n took a stab meant for me.” He said. He sounded guilt ridden. Like he wished it was himself lying there instead of you.

Tav rarely mentioned his family. When he did, the only positive light seemed to be about you, his sister. Though in his tales of his childhood, he never mentioned a name. It was always “my little sister” or “my sister” instead of “Y/n”.

Astarion saw the emergency end, him standing up fully. “I need to feed.” He said before dismissing himself.

Hours passed, he finally returned to camp and you were fully awake. You were sipping on tea, Karlach wrapping a blanket around your body. “Thank you, Karlach.” You said softly. Your voice was light. Like a breeze on a summers day in a meadow.

“So you’re the sister?” Astarion asked, sauntering over in his usual manner. You gave a warm smile to him, something he hadn’t seen from anyone.

“I suppose that is me.” You nodded. Something was different about you.

“And you’re fine? Traveling with a vampire?” Astarion asked.

“Should I not be?” You asked.

“Most would be off put by it.” Astarion said. You simply shrugged, sipping your tea before saying

“I’m not most, I suppose.”

He rose a brow at this. He noticed the new staff, off to the side. “You’re a wizard?” He asked.

“Cleric.” You said. He chuckled.

“Tav’s sister is a cleric?” He asked.

“Indeed.” You nodded.

“I suppose that must mean you’re devoted to a deity.” Astarion said.

“Eilistraee.” You answered.

“Oh gods, you’re not like Halsin are you? Constantly speaking about the ‘joys of nature’s gifts’” he asks. You let out a snort at his tone before laughing.

“No! No. Though I understand him, I don’t believe us to be the same. I don’t operate on the Oakfather, that would be Silvanus. I have less strict rules on good and evil compared to followers of the oak father.” You shrugged.

“Ah. So if I pickpocketed an evil man, you’d allow it?” He asked.

“Of course, if he was truly evil. Think of it as balancing the scales. With unconventional revenge.” You shrugged making him chuckle.

“I think I’ll enjoy having you around.” He said with a smile. You smiled back.

“You are different.” A voice said. Astarion jolted, looking behind him to see Withers, the confusing undead creature that hung around camp.

“You must be Withers.” You said not turning around.

“Indeed. You see things others cannot.” He said. You nodded. “Pasts. Present. Futures. All you can peer into. Yet you do not bear the tadpole as your brother does.” Astarion looked over at you.

“I’ve always been able to. Hear things others can’t. See things, others can’t.” You said.

“You’re a seer?” Astarion asked. You nodded.

“Unfortunately.” You said.

“Oh? What do you see in our futures? Do we get this wretched thing away from us?” He asked, pointing to his head. You chuckled.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I must touch the person to see.” You said.

“Ah. Well consider me an experiment.” He said. You paused, setting down your cup.

“Are you comfortable with this? I must see everything before being able to see the future. You’d be sharing your past.” You warned. He hesitated but found himself nodded. Everyone in camp already knew the extent of Cazador. One more person didn’t make a difference, right?

You held out your hands, him slowly putting his over yours. You closed your eyes inhaling. As if nature itself was speaking, there was a breeze, petals of pear blossoms flowing in it. The sweet smell filled his nose as he slowly relaxed.

“You suffered. Made a choice that landed an attack from angry people. You made a deal with a vampire… you were his… Six others fell victim as well. His reign was a terror. You would feed from whatever you could. You were frightened. Scared that that was what your immorality would amount to.” You muttered. Your grip on his hands grew stronger as Astarion noticed your expression with your closed eyes.

Empathy. Sadness. Sadness for his experiences.

“You were captured while looking for prey by mindflayers. You don’t remember much from it but you were almost… grateful. Something would finally drag you out from his clutches. The tadpole, it did something. Severed that urge to follow his command. To obey his will. To your surprise you find a friend in my brother.” You spoke softly.

Your fingers slid into his, him seeing a light yellow glow from your hands. “Your future is…” you jolted opening your eyes, the light of your abilities dying. Your face flooded with a blush staring at the vampire shocked.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned by the almost alarmed look in your eyes.

“Y-yes I… Erm. Aha. Took a lot out of me. Never did a reading on a 200 year old vampire.” You chuckled nervously. “I should go! Tav wanted me to help him with something!” You said getting up and almost sprinting away.

Withers cocked his head looking over. “She has seen something in you.” He says. Astarion seemed confused by the statement. Why lie to him about what you saw..?

This was a question that Astarion wanted to ask, but held off on it. But you seemed to wiggle your way into his heart over the course of a few weeks of traveling. He loved how chaotic you were, cracking jokes about imminent death and “if Tav dies, I call dibs on his sword.”

Shadowheart of course was disturbed by your odd nature but put up with it, due to your relation with Tav. You had made Astarion smile, laugh a few times as well. All in all, you seemed to be a light in darkness. Which was quickly turning his perspective ironic once they had all made their way into the shadowy parts of the forest, touched by a curse.

You seemed deeply drained as you walked, despite holding a torch. Everyone else seemed fine but you seemed so tired. You were walking when you stumbled, Astarion catching you. He passed his torch off to Karlach.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Astarion asked.

“The nature here. It-It hurts. Like a f-fever that won’t die out.” You winced.

“Gods… Y/n, the harper is taking us somewhere safe, do you think you’re able to make it?” Tav asked clearly concerned.

“It’s- It’s getting harder to walk.” You said, panting from trying to fight off the dark energies of the forest. Astarion lifted you onto his back.

“I’ve got you, little light. Don’t worry.” He assured. That little nickname. That sweet tone. You knew when the cocky bastard was joking. But that tone had been more sincere than anything anyone in the group had heard.

They followed the Harper into the darkness, torches in hand as they eventually reached the last light inn. You held onto Astarion, feeling the cold skin of the undead man. You put your forehead on his back, him feeling the warmth of your body. It was too warm for this to be normal. Whatever plagued the forest was making you sick.

“Stop! Who are you?” A woman halted as they crossed the bridge.

“My name is Tav- look, my sister is sick, something is-is wrong she needs help!” Tav said stepping forward. The woman drew her sword.

“Jaheira! They saved my life, they’re not the enemy.” The harper guide said. She hesitated.

“Is this true?” She asked. She heard the coughing of you, walking closer and seeing your newly feverish state. She noticed the symbol on your arm.

“Cleric…? Your sister is a Cleric?” She asked.

“Yes! Please, we don’t mean harm, we need help!” Tav practically begged.

“…Speak to Isobel upstairs in the Inn. She can help you.” She said. Tav nodded, motioning for Astarion to go. Astarion practically sprinted up the stairs to the room, finding the woman.

Isobel turned around. “who is this?” She asked.

“She’s my friend, please- something is wrong.” He said. She paused noticing the vampiric appearance. Why did a presumably blood thirsty monster care?

“Lay her down, I will see what I can do.” She said motioning to a bed. Astarion obeyed, watching as Isobel hovered her hands over your body as you writhed in your feverish state.

He felt nervous, watching you slowly relax. “She will be fine. As long as she stays here.” Isobel said. “She will be protected by the magic in the field but if she leaves it while the curse still stands, it will prove lethal within days.” She said.

Tav had found his way into the room, looking at you. “…We could use Shadowheart until we fix this.” He said, watching you slowly fall asleep.

“I want to stay.” Astarion said. Karlach looked over.

“Are you sure?” She asked.

“You can use whoever, hell use Withers but I am not moving.” Astarion said.

“Alright. Alright I hear you. I feel safer with someone staying with her anyway.” Tav said.

So there he sat by you for days. The goal was for you to fight off the fever so your body could adjust to the corruption. They moved you downstairs next to a man who was constantly singing in his unconscious state. Honestly made Astarion debate on shoving a blade through the man’s neck but thankfully he shut up after Halsin managed wake the bastard up with a lute.

Tav was preparing for a battle on the moonrise towers, finally gaining a lantern (that swore vengeance on him for not releasing the pixie stuck inside it)

You slept soundly in bed. Astarion would rarely move. All came to ahead when he heard a very loud thud and screaming “TO ARMS” from Jaheira.

Astarion stood up, unsure on if he should see what the hell was going on but there stood a winged creature in the doorway. It seemed set on killing anything in its path. Astarion drew his blades, staring at the thing before him.

It pounced like a cat to a mouse, Astarion stabbing it repeatedly. He kept trying to get it to possibly run off at least but it kept scratching, screaming that awful screeching noise. He struck again, when the creature managed to knock him down pouncing on him and drawing its claws out ready to tear out his heart.

That’s when a blade stabbed through its head, killing it instantly. He looked up, seeing you with his dagger that was knocked out of his hand when it pounced. You stood there, shaking as you shoved the creature’s corpse off of Astarion and he took your hand, standing up.

“When did you wake up?” He asked.

“When you started fighting that thing.” You said panting. “Are you okay-“ he gently wiped the blood off of your cheek, ignoring your concerned tone “I-I saw the thing on top of you and I-I thought you were-“

He cupped your cheeks. “I am fine, Little Light.” He said softly. You looked in his eyes, dropping the blade. “You’re shaking.” He noticed.

“My legs haven’t left the bed in days…” you said softly.

“Mm.” He nodded. You couldn’t move. You found yourself enraptured in those crimson eyes. He kissed your forehead and hugged you. “I’m alright. I promise.” He assured. You slowly hugged him back, surprised by the man’s manner. He hadn’t been affectionate before. What changed?

You let out a relieved breath, feeling his hand travel into your hair, gently moving his fingers as if to soothe you. He kept whispering reassurances. “I’m alright, I promise” or “We’re safe. It’s okay.”

You had never felt this amount of safety, especially since the entire separation from your brother and the dark forest. But here you were. Safe in the arms of the one you knew you’d come to love.

You loved him. You knew this would come to happen. When you saw his future, you saw yourself with him. Loving him, with yourself on his arm with a smile that was almost glowing. You pulled back because when you saw his future and he asked for his reading, it was technically the first time you had spoken. You didn’t want to come across as flirting, you didn’t want it to seem like you were almost manifesting that you two would come to love one another. You kept this secret to yourself. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Sometimes when you gave readings, people would become cross, claiming you took the autonomy of their choices away because you knew the outcomes. They didn’t understand that you had no ability to control what you saw. That that wasn’t your intention. But to many it came across as rude, especially when the readings were negative.

You knew after seeing the visions of Cazador’s evil acts upon him, that he must’ve struggled with feeling like he was never in control. To say that you saw him with you, you felt as though it’d almost seem like you’re forcing yourself onto him. You could never do that to him. Never.

You pulled away looking into his eyes. You also felt that by keeping this to yourself, you were robbing him of his right to know what he asked. “Astarion I-“

The door flew open, Tav standing there panting. His armor was covered in blood, though it was clear it wasn’t his own. “Some flaming fist bastard tried to kidnap Isobel!” He said.

“Did they succeed?” Astarion asked.

“We’d all be dead if they did.” Tav said sheathing his sword. He looked down, seeing the dead creature.

“We saw one of them go down stairs. We thought for sure that you were-“

“Y/n had it handled.” Astarion assured. Tav nods, noticing Astarion’s hands on your waist. He rose a brow, looking at the hand on his chest.

“…Did I interrupt something?” He asked.

“Aha! Uh- n-no—“

“Oh yes you did. I was just about to ask your sister for some blood but noooo! Someone had to enter without knocking!” Astarion joked. Even with the with the obvious sexual tension, you started laughing, rolling your eyes.

Gods he loved that sound. It was like music every time he heard your laugh. He smiled, not removing his hands from your waist as he looked down at you. Tav was increasingly suspicious.

“Right. Well. Uhm. We’re going to head off.” Tav said.

“Stay safe.” You said. He nodded before leaving, closing the door behind him. He paused, seeing Karlach.

“Wow, damn. That was crazy.” She breathed, clearly still dealing with the aftermath of the battle.

“Have you noticed anything with Y/n and Astarion?” Tav asked. Karlach looked confused.

“No? Why? Walk in on something?” Karlach asked.

“I don’t know.” Tav muttered.

“Were they like… doing it?” Karlach asked and Tav grimaced with a snort.

“What!? No! No it’s… Astarion had his hands on her waist. And her hands were on his chest.” He explained.

“Well how close were they?” Karlach asked. Tav sighed, pulling Karlach over. Ever since they made the temporary fix with the infernal engine, he had touched her hands quite a bit. This was going to be quite the difference…

He pulled her close, pulling her hand to his chest and put his hands on her waist. “Like this. This close.” He said looking up at the tall tiefling. She paused and once he realized how close they were he made the same expression.

“Well. You definitely must’ve walked in on something!” She said with a nervous laugh. Due to her red tone, it was hard to tell if the woman was blushing. But he did take notice in the glowing pattering of her engine speeding up.

He chuckled nervously back in response nodding. “I figured.” He said.

“Well would it be so bad? Ari is a good man. Wouldn’t hurt her.” Karlach shrugged.

“I just… She’s never showed an interest in men before. Honest. Never any childhood crushes, no secret boyfriends as a teenager. She said romance was dull and didn’t interest her.” He said.

“Maybe something changed.” Karlach said.

“I don’t know… Maybe.” He said. She nodded mindlessly.

“We should go to camp. She can’t leave the inn until the curse is lifted and I have a feeling that even though she’s awake, Ari’s not leaving her side.” Karlach said.

“Good point. Maybe it’s time to put Wyll back out there.” He said walking with Karlach.

You finally separated from Astarion after Tav left, getting back into bed as Harpers carried the creature’s body back.

“Do you want food? You’ve been out for days, maybe it’ll do you some good.” Astarion said.

“Soup..” you muttered. He rose a brow.

“Soup? You want soup?” He asked. You nodded sheepishly, feeling as though it was a dumb request.

“I will get you soup then,” he said softly. You watched him get up, leaving and returning with soup in hand. “It was too warm but I cooled it. And I brought bread, you need something else on your stomach.” He said.

You nodded, slowly eating the foods he got for you. You seemed to relax when you finished your food, laying in the bed.

“Why do you call me ‘Little Light’?” You asked after a moment.

“Ah. Right.” Astarion nodded mindlessly. “There’s a bit of hopelessness going around. Like the world itself is being consumed by darkness. But you, my dear, are a little light in the darkest parts of it. Normally I’d roll my eyes at your heroic nature. But the way you handle yourself compared to Tav? It’s entertaining. It’s nice. You don’t just see black and white, you can see the grays in it too. You know when a situation is tricky and you don’t try to avoid it. You make light where there is one. Hence ‘Little Light’.” He shrugged.

“Well now after hearing all of that it’s only fair that I give you a nickname too.” You said. He chuckled, shrugging. “Hmm. I’m thinking on this.” You pondered. He chuckled, watching you. “I could call you chompers,” you said. He blinked. “cause of the teeth.” You said before biting down loudly making him shake his head with a laugh.

“Call me that and I might be forced to bite you.” He teased. You chuckled thinking.

“Oldie?” You suggested. He rose a brow with an amused look on his face.

“Are you trying to make me suffocate you with your pillow?” He asked making you laugh.

“Middlemist.” You said. He looked confused. “It’s a rare flower. It can withstand many things, some have even seen battles. And they’re red. Like… Like your eyes.” You said. He smiled nodding.

“Much better.” He said.

“And they need a little light to grow.” You added. That made him pause. “Not that you need me or anything-“

“I do.” He said. You stopped, swallowing hard. “I have changed since I have met you. Into what I think is a better man. I’ve grown. I didn’t think I could do that again. But I did.” He said softly. You looked in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?” He asked. You nodded.

“What did I look like in my past? I can’t remember how I looked before I was turned.” He asked. You smiled, looking at him. “You had brown hair that was almost black. Your eyes were a deep green. Just like your mother’s.” You said softly. His mother. Oh how he forgotten that sweet woman. She died when he was young but he could remember her kindness. How far from it he must’ve strayed.

He seemed almost sad by your words. He must’ve been such a disappointment for his mother. For him to become a conniving little bat that really didn’t care about other people as long as he gained something in return.

“She would be proud.” You said. He paused hearing this. “You overcame everything that monster put you through. For that she would be proud of you.” You said. His gaze softened, looking at you.

“I’ve hurt so many people-“

“You did what you had to, to survive.” You said. “You are not a monster.”

He had never heard someone say that. In all of his 200 years of life. Someone gave him the reassurance that he wasn’t a monster.

His lips connected with yours in an instant. You were shocked of course. You froze in place but once you registered what was happening, you relaxed, your hands cupping his cheeks. He pulled away after a moment, it dawning on him who he was kissing.

“Shit. Shit shit shit-“

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“You’re Tav’s sister! I-I shouldn’t have—“

Then it sunk in. Astarion was your brother’s closest friend. Oh gods. Oh Gods.

“Shit.” you muttered. “We shouldn’t do this- We should act like this didn’t happen, right?” You asked.

“…If that is what you want.” He muttered. You saw that expression. Almost hurt. Like what just happened didn’t mean anything. But it did. Gods it did. It meant the world. The stars themselves.

“It isn’t but… I don’t want to hurt Tav when he helped me.” You said. Astarion rose a brow. What did you mean “helped you”? He knew there must’ve been a reason you had been with Karlach and Tav. Maybe you meant the medical attention you received but… Something in your eyes seemed to say otherwise. Whatever your brother did, made you feel as though you owed him. Something less trivial than Tav’s typical heroics.

“What did he do?” Astarion asked. You seemed to halt, closing your mouth. You felt as though if he knew your truth, he might see you as less than. Course that was ridiculous, you two suffered in similar ways. But you didn’t know how to even begin to talk about what was done to you in the “Name of the Absolute”.

You looked down, away from his gaze. What happened before you ended up with them? What exactly went on that made you so tight lipped that you wouldn’t even talk to him?

You hesitated but kept closing your mouth. “Those monsters didn’t just want Isobel.” You muttered. Astarion looked even more confused. What the hell did they want with you.

“The Absolute has been tracking me. Trying to find me, they want me to ensure their victory. The natural abilities I have can be weaponized. But Halsin… I know him, he was my teacher. And he told me that if I used them at full power it’d kill me. Destroy my body. I wouldn’t be able to withstand that much power.” You muttered. Astarion blinked.

“Tav had heard my name mentioned by one of the goblins apparently. They had plans to kidnap me and drag me to the towers. By the time he had found me, so did the Absolute’s lackeys. They tried to maim me just enough so that I could be dragged unconscious.” You said. He couldn’t believe this. Tav didn’t go out to drink that night. He went to actively find you.

“He saved me from that group. I was surprised Tav even wanted me here in the first place all things considered but I think he feels that the safest option is to have me nearby. Astarion you mean so much to me but I can’t betray my brother’s trust. Not like this.” You muttered. Astarion felt so many things at once. Sadness. Anger for the fact that they hurt you so badly you nearly died at camp. But understanding to your emotions.

So you ignored them. The feelings that were bubbling like water in a hot pot they were just there. You two tried to ignore it. Over the next two days, Tav returned with a lantern, clipping it to your side.

“LET ME OUUUUTT!”

“Tav why is your lantern screaming at me?” You asked.

“It’s a pissed off pixie.” He said.

“I WILL END YOU ASSHOLE!”

“She sounds beyond pissed.” You said staring at the pixie inside. She was clearly fuming. “It’s like a pissed off pet.” You snorted. Astarion chuckled, finding it funny.

“PET!? I AM NOT A PET! FUCK YOU!”

“I wonder if I can give it something to make it chill out.” You said looking into the lantern.

“Dunno. She’s mad though.” Tav shrugged.

“Thanks but why this?” You asked.

“Isobel said that the reason you’re unable to handle the lands was because mere torchlight wasn’t enough. This should be the best thing.” He said.

“Tav, we both know I can’t go into those towers.” You warned.

“I know. But at least this way, you can travel around without fear of death.” He said. You nodded.

“Thanks.” You said.

“Of course.” He nodded.

So you started joining everyone back at camp. Tav noticed a newfound sadness in Astarion. Staring of longing for you. But he wouldn’t go near you. Tav finally decided to start asking questions.

“Hey, Ari. Can I ask you something?” Tav asked.

“What’s on your mind?” Astarion asked, clearing his throat.

“I’ve noticed something. Between you and Y/n.” He said. Astarion tensed up.

“Wh..what do you mean?” He asked.

“I mean you seem to really like her.” He said.

“Well… Uh… I-I… I don’t want to disrespect you Tav.” He coughed out.

“Do you intend on hurting her?” Tav asked.

“No! Never.” Astarion said quickly.

“Do you intend on drinking her blood and leaving her to die?” He asked.

“No- Gods no Tav!” Astarion said.

“Do you love her?” Tav asked. Astarion paused. He froze. He watched you laughing with Karlach, smiling as you sat next to her.

“…How could I not.” He said.

“Then how is you falling in love disrespectful?” Tav asked. Astarion looked at Tav surprised. He approved? He wanted this?

“You wouldn’t hate me?” Astarion asked.

“No- Gods no. Astarion, Y/n doesn’t like people easily. I’ve never seen her take interest in someone. Ever. But she likes you. And if you like her too, you need to say something. Especially if this whole battle plan Jaheira has goes south.” He said.

Astarion’s gaze went back to you. “Talk to her. Tell her it’s okay with me.” He said. Astarion nodded getting up.

You stood up, walking over to your tent when you noticed Astarion behind you. You jumped. “Gods! You scared me.” You gasped.

“Oh! Sorry I-“

“No-no it’s okay!” You said.

“I wanted to talk to you.” He said.

“Oh… erm… About what?” You asked.

“Tav spoke to me.” He said. You blinked.

“About what?” You asked.

“You. And me. Us.” He said.

“…Oh.” You breathed. He felt already that he might’ve misread everything. Maybe the kiss was something that you didn’t like and you were using Tav as an excuse as to not hurt his feelings. Maybe you didn’t like him at all, maybe he read too much into this. “what did he say?” You asked.

“That… He doesn’t want to be what sets us back. That if we feel… strongly for one another we should pursue it.” He said.

You looked relieved. You didn’t hesitate, you just hugged him. “Thank the gods.” You muttered into his chest. Relief hit him instantly as he hugged you back. You felt safe again in those arms.

He kissed your head and you looked in his eyes as you pulled away slightly. “Stay with me tonight? Please?” You asked quietly. He smiled gently.

“Of course my dear.” He said, kissing your nose.

That night, he stepped into your tent, pausing as he saw your back. It was like his almost. Not infernal writings but something different. Writings of preachings of Shar. Which was odd. Because he knew you didn’t hold high opinions of Shar. You turned, jumping.

“Gods! I need to put a bell on you or something, you scared me!” You said. He shook himself out of the focus of the preachings on your back. You turned back, your shirt clutched in your fingers. “I suppose you’re wondering why Shar’s preaches are on my back?” You asked.

“…You don’t have to indulge my curiosity.” He said gently.

“I was kidnapped years ago when I was a child. Tav and I were playing in our village, I lost my ball and I went to grab it. I was known as the druid magic girl. So one of Shar’s followers grabbed me. Branded me with Shar’s words against my will to remind me that Shar would be superior.” You said.

He stopped, staring with wide eyes. He couldn’t believe that someone would brand someone like that because of their beliefs, much less a child. “It’s why I bathe alone. Last time I was with the girls, Shadowheart kept making remarks about it.” You muttered. He frowned.

“Shadowheart will have my fangs in her neck if she opens her mouth about it again.” He said. You sighed.

“You shouldn’t turn against her just because I have a problem with it.” You said.

“I would do it anyways. The girl is far too chatty.” He shrugged making you chuckle.

“I feel… hideous sometimes. With these scars. I hate them. It’s like I become painfully aware of my skin.” You muttered. Gods they really were two sides of the same coin.

He walked over, gently wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed the back of your neck. “I know how you feel.” He said softly. You dropped your shirt after a couple of seconds slowly turned in his arms.

“Cazador branded me. Though I don’t have a mirror. Don’t know what exactly is written.” He said. You looked at him sympathetically. You never wanted anyone to know that kind of pain. But there was someone who did. You rested your forehead on his.

“We truly are fucked up individuals, aren’t we?” You muttered.

“Indeed my dear. Pained by others.” He muttered.

You held his cheek, kissing him. “No harm will come to you as long as I am near.” You assured. He chuckled.

“I should be saying this to you.” He said. You felt a familiar tinge of pain, wincing and gripping your head.

A vision. Something in the strings of fate was near. You gripped Astarion’s arm, closing your eyes. What was fate telling you?

You saw yourself, in Astarion’s arms. Dead. With vines everywhere. The shadow curse lifted. You pulled away, panting.

“What happened? Are you alright?” He asked. You frowned looking down. This didn’t make any sense. You were perfectly alive in your first vision with Astarion. Something was going to happen, something so large it changed the strings of fate themselves. You panted, trying to catch your breath.

“Love, are you alright?” He asked again.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Just a vision.” You breathed. He looked at you concerned. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” you said looking in his eyes. He looked confused.

The next morning you woke up in Astarion’s arms. Completely naked of course. Your legs felt… well they felt sore. Like your core muscles had been pushed past your typical limit. You were the first to wake up and you took your time to yourself thinking on what the vision meant.

Was it meant to happen? Was it a warning? No, anytime a vision like that occurred spontaneously, it meant it was fate. So what was Astarion’s future if you were dead? How were you going to live out your days if you were destined to die?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the red eyes looking into yours. “Morning, my love.” He said softly.

“Morning my darling.” You said back, kissing his forehead.

“You’re thinking. I can tell.” He said.

“I am.” You nodded mindlessly.

“About? Do indulge me.”

“… How much longer do you think we have before Tav attacks the towers?” You asked.

“I’m uncertain. He hasn’t had me with him that much, he wants me to look after you.” He said.

You nodded again. “I have questions for him… I’ll be right back.” You said getting up. Astarion seemed confused. Last night you seemed like this too. I mean, not entirely, eventually your focus went to him. A lot. Which surprised him. He had no idea a tongue could even do that but that was beside the point. Something had claimed your attention this morning, judging by the look in your eyes it was serious.

You got dressed, walking out of your tent. “Tav, I need to talk to you.” You said.

“Well you sound serious- wow you’re shaking.” He noticed your legs wobbling a bit. Damn it Astarion. Damn it.

“Aha. Well…. that’s not… important.” You coughed out.

“Uh huh. Sure. What’s going on?” He asked.

You looked back at your tent. You looked around the camp. “Not… not here.” You said. You grabbed your lantern next to the back. “Come.”

Tav followed you away from the camp, wondering what had you so serious. “When do you think you’re attacking Moonrise?” You asked. He paused.

“What?” He asked.

“Moonrise. When do you plan on attacking?” You asked.

“…I just got the Nightsong. So probably soon.” He said.

“I need to be there.” You said. He rose a brow.

“You want to be there or you had a vision where you are there and I need to take you before I piss off a nature god?” He asked.

“The second one.” You said.

“You had a vision,” he said.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Gonna tell me what it was?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do, you will try to stop me.” You said. He frowned.

“Y/n, what did you see?” He asked.

“I will not tell you.”

“What did you see?” He asked again.

“Tav-”

“Y/n. What. Did. You. See?” he asked.

“I died. I was dead. But you succeeded. The only way this succeeds is if I-”

“No.”

“Tav. We both know what happens when you try to change fate.” You said. He sighed running a hand over his face.

“…Okay. Okay. You seem serious about this. I’ll respect it. Does Astarion know?” He asked.

“No.” You said.

“You haven’t told him?” He asked.

“No. Please don’t say anything. I… I don’t want him to try to stop it,” you said. Tav sighed. But he nodded.

You didn’t realize Tav planned on leaving for the towers soon. Or that he’d do it without you. He couldn’t lose you. Not like that. Not in a place like the dark forest. He already almost lost you twice. Three times if you include the massive event that happened when you were kids that got his clan killed because he tried to change fate. He did. But at the cost of everyone else. The two of you promised to never try that again. But Tav was too stubborn for his own good.

The next week, it was decided. Gale, Astarion and Karlach would go with him. You, Lae’zel, Shadowheart and Halsin would stay behind. You were gathering water into a bucket when you realized they left.

“Where’d Tav go?” You asked Shadowheart.

“Dunno. Said he had things to handle before the towers.” She shrugged reading a book.

You shrugged it off but then realized Astarion was gone. Whatever your brother was doing wasn’t small. He took Astarion with him when he had to hide. You noticed the heavier armor Tav wore before handling large fights was gone. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Tav, I thought you told Y/n that she’d be here for this.” Karlach said walking next to Tav.

“I lied. I can’t…” even if he did go back on one promise, he couldn’t let the other one go. That’d be hurting you twice over. “The lands make her weaker. I just felt like she’d be better off at camp.” Tav shrugged.

Astarion knew when Tav was lying. There was another reason you weren’t here. But for whatever reason, he wasn’t saying it.

“Gale, do your powers feel okay?” He asked.

“Yes, I’m alright for now,” Gale shrugged.

“Good. Want you feeling alright for this.” Tav nodded. Astarion sighed. This was going to be a long fight, he could feel it.

Sure enough it was. He fought through hoards of angry and pissed off creatures. He pushed through though, thanks to Tav’s insistence that Gale learn a healing spell or two a while back. Then came Ketheric. Who was pissed by Tav’s interference with the Nightsong.

He stood face to face with Tav, glaring at the man with contempt. Tav hoped that if he died instead of you, the fates would be satisfied. They wouldn’t need your life any longer. But that isn’t the way fate works.

Long were the waves of battle that Ketheric threw at them. Each one knocked everyone down. The first wave, took out Gale. The second was Karlach. Astarion was knocked to his knees as Tav bared his teeth at the bastard with his sword in hand with enemy blood on his face.

“You will die, little boy. You will die a heretic. A non believer in the Absolute.” Ketheric said.

“I will die knowing you died with me.” Tav growled back.

Astarion gripped his dagger, coughing from being winded.

Then he noticed. The moss slowly growing up from the stones. The small little blooms that were rising from the cracks of the ground.

He heard something. Your voice. And suddenly it was like he breathed in fresh air. Everyone felt better within an instant. Karlach slowly got up, gripping her war hammer as Gale used his staff to rise.

“Lay a hand on my brother and I cut you where you stand, Ketheric.” Your voice said. Everyone turned to you standing behind them all. You looked different. Your eyes were glowing green, your bird tattoos on your cheek were glowing white. You looked as though a celestial being had touched you.

You stepped forward Tav showing a new kind of fear in his eyes. Astarion had never seen Tav this scared. Not even as he was facing Ketheric did he seem scared. But right now, this man seemed terrified.

“No! Y/n-“ you flicked your wrist, ensnaring Tav. You couldn’t let him stop you. Tav struggled in your vines as you stepped forward with an incredibly calm look.

“You have turned this land. Corrupted it. Eilistraee is unhappy with you. I am unhappy with you.” You said walking. Karlach looked at Astarion with a surprised look, almost questioning if they were seeing the same thing.

Y/n, their sweet chaotic little cleric was walking towards a man that nearly killed them mere seconds ago as if he was a child about to be scolded. But something was different.

“Do you know what happens when the balance of nature is disturbed?” You asked, picking up a dead foot soldier’s sword from the ground. “it does anything it wants” You walked, dragging the sword across the stone of the tower. “For as long as it takes” your eyes glowed brighter. “To set the scales back.”

“Was this supposed to scare me, child?” Ketheric spat. You gave the most unsettling smile anyone in the group had ever seen.

“Oh no, Ketheric.” You said.

“And you expect to just stab me?” He scoffed.

“Oh you’re once again wrong, Ketheric. This is your grave marker.” You said, slamming the sword into the ground. “My words aren’t meant to scare you.” You said.

“Mine are.” It was if you were speaking. But it wasn’t your voice. This was different entirely. Tav struggled harder.

“You wanted her powers? Fine. Here they are.”

Within an instant vines erupted through the ground, the glow of your eyes becoming brighter as you began floating.

“Y/N NO!” Tav screamed. This was what Ketheric wanted you for. This is what he wanted to use. Astarion’s eyes widened as it seemed like wings made of pure light formed behind you. With a flick of your wrist, Ketheric was obliterated. But that didn’t end there.

You let out a loud scream, light erupting from your chest blinding everyone for seconds before finally they all heard a thud. Astarion blinked a few times to regain sight. He thought whatever had been going on was still happening until he realized… that was the sun.

He gaped turning to look at you before he realized you were the thud. You had served Eilistraee‘s purpose. Now, you were dead. Astarion dropped his daggers sprinting over as Tav, Gale and Karlach all did the same.

“No no no no, Y/n- darling don’t do this to me don’t you fucking do this to me!” Astarion said frantically shaking you.

Nothing. Not a stir.

Tears flooded his eyes, him holding your body close. “Y/n wake up. Please fucking wake up.” He begged. Cold. You were so cold.

Tav looked at Gale “Isn’t there something you can do!?” He asked.

“I-I can’t— when someone takes this much power from a god it-it destroys the vessel— I’ve never even witnessed a god possess a human like this!” Gale said.

“Withers c-can bring her back right!?” Tav asked.

“Her soul had to be what costed all of this…” Gale said.

“Damn it Gale! Can’t you do anything useful!?” Tav snapped.

“Tav I don’t think there’s anything we can do-“

“Unless you have something useful to say, shut up!” Tav snapped.

“Stop snapping at him like he’s nothing!” Karlach defended

“I don’t see you trying to help—“

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Astarion yelled. Everyone turned. “Would one of you assholes just fucking help me bury her so she can rest, or do you all plan on being heartless fucks just screaming at each other when you know damn well that she wouldn’t want this!?” Astarion asked. Silence. Haunting silence.

Tav looked down at his baby sister in Astarion’s arms, cold and lifeless. She truly was gone. He collapsed to his knees in front of Astarion in tears, gripping the moss that was now growing. Karlach slowly kneeled, holding Tav as he cried. Gale bowed his head as Astarion pressed a kiss to your cold forehead, gently laying you on the ground.

Then Gale noticed it. The moss was still growing. At rapid speed. Like nature was claiming it fast. Only druid magic could do that. He didn’t want to build hope but Halsin was at camp. And the only other Druid was you.

He felt it. A surge of life.

Astarion wiped his eyes, when he heard metal clinking of armor. He looked up to see your body levitating slowly.

“Balance is restored through my vessel, her heart pure. May it be a use in destroying the Absolute.” A voice said. Everyone was confused as a pink speck of light hit your body. Then a blue one. Then a green one. Then yellow. Honestly it was beginning to look like a glitter bomb exploded onto your body before it glowed brightly

Your body dropped, Astarion catching you. Your eyes were still closed. You still seemed very dead. So what the fuck was that?

Then you gasped for air, coughing. Tav let out a relieved breath as you looked around.

“Did it work!? Is Ketheric dead!?” You asked. Astarion wasted no second in kissing you the moment you spoke.

“Okay that’s nice and all but is he dead!?” Yeah. You were definitely back.

“He’s gone.” Astarion said. Tav hugged you as he set you down.

“You fucking idiot! You died!” He said hugging you tightly.

“Well with the grip you have right now I might die again.” You wheezed. Tav let go wiping his eyes.

“Gave us quite the scare there, fire cracker.” Karlach chuckled.

“I still have no idea how you’re alive. I mean Eilistraee herself was in your body using the entirety of your magic, that should’ve killed you.” Gale gaped.

“I suppose she saw more use for me.” You said.

“I’m not complaining.” Astarion said, gently caressing your hair.

“Neither am I.” Tav said relieved.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Karlach said making you laugh.

“No, you were pretty terrifying out there actually. I’ve never seen anyone just waltz up to anyone and fucking use a celestial blast like it was a normal Tuesday before.” Gale said.

“Well, Eilistraee doesn’t take kindly to people interfering with nature.” You shrugged.

“That’s an understatement of the century.” Karlach chuckled.

You slowly stood up, Astarion gently helping you rise as you leaned on him.

“Let’s go back to camp.” You said. Everyone nodded.

“Let’s have a fucking celebration. You deserve it.” Tav nods. You smiled slightly was Astarion pulled your arm over his neck to help you walk. You all towards the stairs but you stopped, Astarion looked over with a confused glance. He followed your eyes to the remains of Ketheric with the embedded sword at his feet. Astarion looked down at you as your gaze changed to the sunset.

“We wouldn’t have won without you, you know.” He said gently. You said nothing, looking into his eyes. “But if you scare me like that again, I might actually die.” He said making you chuckle before kissing him.

“I’m being serious, don’t do that again.” He said. You slipped your arm off of him.

“No promises.” You shrugged walking.

“Wha- no that’s not a good enough answer little light- get back here!” He groaned. You kept walking and he grinned, scooping you into his arms.

“Oh get a fucking room!” Tav groaned.

“Yeah? Maybe you and Karlach can finally get a room too!” You teased.

“Hey!”

“I mean it’s not a bad idea Tav.” Karlach said.

“See even she’s- wait what?!” Tav said making everyone laugh.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x female reader

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thelastofhyde · 1 year

Text

ii. the revving of engines.

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller’s not made it this far in the age of the apocalypse just to die at the hands of some adrenaline-crazed, no-brain-having fool who barely knows where to place her hands on the steering wheel. hind-sight fully intact and ever-so eye opening, he should have said no before frank could even finish his question: can you teach the girl to drive? read part one, the likeability paradox, here !!

warnings. no use of y/n ( joel’s nickname for the reader is sol ), panic attacks, perv!joel, slightly dark!joel, soft!joel ( for like a second ), a smidge of fluff, gun violence, murder, smut ( unprotected piv sex- don’t be silly, wrap that willy-, public sex, car sex but also not, exhibitionism, possessiveness, murder kink [ kinda but not really, joel just gets... more enthusiatic at the thought of protecting the reader], mentions/implications of panty stealing, male masturbation, sex as a form of payment, glory-holes, dubcon. joel has a massive c*ck because i said so <3 )

word count. 16.7k ( my dumbass really thought this would be shorter than part one- )

hyde’s input. this took criminally too long to write but i did warn you that i’m a slow writer, so hopefully this makes up for the wait. think i may be a little in over my head with this one because, woof, there’s a lot going on. i’m still trying to wrap my head around how many people enjoyed the first part, i’m speechless. thank you for every like, comment, reblog, ask that has given me the motivation to not just write a second part but to turn this into a whole series. i’m really looking forward to sharing joel and his sol’s story, and i hope i’ll be able to write it in a way that not only conveys the love i have for these two idiots in love but will also make you guys fall in love and root for them too. more to come of these two soon ( soon = whenever hyde feels like it ) <3

taglist. @kayleezra , @newavenger , @luthienaliceisilra , @str84pedro , @baebee35 , @aheartgonewild ( if you’re crossed out, i couldn’t tag you for whatever reason ) + add yourself to the taglist here !

read on ao3. (capitalisation available )

the journey has been one of silence.

it all begins three days prior to arriving at their destination, with a dishevelled joel startling awake. sitting himself upright, a string of grunts and groans flow from him as several new pains in his back make themselves known, one for each year he’s lived. sleeping on the couch is no place for a man of his age, but it has become his abode more frequently as of late whilst tess has let herself get acquainted with the likes of a recently widowed woman.

why on earth the two women seem to insist on occupying his and tess’ shared mattress for their sweat-provoking and sheet-tangling endeavours when the widow’s own bed now harbours one less occupant, joel is none the wiser.

“you sly fox!” it occurs at an hour much too early for tess’ level of excitement, a spark of something in her voice he’s not quite heard in nearly a decade now, back when she’d let it slip that she’d made contact with someone over the radio. “keeping this all to yourself!”

blinking out the sleep-induced blur in his vision, his hands rub over them in a further effort to clear his sight. the couch squeaks beneath the weight of him as he leans forward, elbows coming to rest on his pointed knees. confusion leaves him in a questioning grunt.

“c’mon, joel, the jig is up!” she’s insisting on maintaining her enthusiasm, and the man has to wonder just how good her night must have been for her to be so chipper come barely an hour past sunrise. “so, who is she?”

with only the sparing of a clueless, sleep-filled glance, joel’s risen to his feet and shouldered past his companion. headed straight for the minuscule kitchen, where once he would have boiled a kettle and prepped himself a mug of instant coffee, nowadays he’s lucky to find enough water to fill a single unwashed cup. he does just that, watching the water fill only a third of the plastic before downing it in one gulp.

tess is hot on his heels, following him through their cramped living space. he sighs, resigning himself to the reality he’s faced with: this is not a conversation she will let him walk away from. be whatever it may be, the woman is hunting for some answers. “what’re ya talkin’ about? ain’t keepin’ shit from you.”

he’s reminded, much to his own dismay, of a time she’d accused him of cutting deals on the side without her, back when her distrust and his aloofness had kept their newfound partnership on edge.

“oh, really?” her voice never loses that sense of excitement, and he’s beginning to wonder whether he should be grateful or resentful of this. the smile on her lips spreads wider over her face. “then explain these, casanova.”

there, dangling over her extended pointer finger, lays a blur of lace.

it is a dainty little thing, a blush of some pastel colour that’s oh so feminine it makes his toes curl at the thought. a tangle of fabrics so delicate he fears they’d fall apart with just a taste of his calloused touch.

it is delicate, it is soft, it is dirty.

and it is yours.

was yours, till he’d ripped it down your legs and stuffed the fabric into the back of his jeans. it was a mindless action, at the time, and one he’d forgotten about, tucked away in the unmarked box in his mind where he’d learned to place most things involving you. sleep-filled eyes, and wine-stained lips, and serenity-inducing laughter, and heavenly-soiled lace. forgotten about, until he’d been stripping himself off at the end of the night and the garment stumbled to the floor at his feet, calling for him like tess’ lover cried her name in pleas of more.

he’d tasted the softness of lace that night, first on his lips and then around his cock, tangled in the unforgiving grip of his frantic hands.

the fabric had not been forgotten since, always within reach of the man. where some kept trinkets of silvers and golds as their symbols of luck, he kept your lace, tucked safely in the back left pocket of his jeans, awaiting his nervous fiddling in times when stress ran high and only the softness of the fabric would pull him back down to earth

“they ain’t mine.” still, he snatches them out of her grasp.

back left pocket, tucked back into safety.

“never said they were,” she has a point, but it only serves to frustrate him. because of course she wasn’t implying they were his to wear- never in a month of sundays would the likes of joel miller fit himself into such well-kept lace-, but she sure as hell believes they are his. “thought i’d be nice for once and clean some of your clothes, since you seem to have forgotten how to. they fell out your pocket while i was busy folding some trousers.”

convenient.

that’s what it is, considering that in their who-knows-how-many years of partnership, the woman has not taken the time to tend to his washing. he’d asked her, once, body recovering from a near-fatal stab he’d taken to the abdomen. she had not said no to his request. or, rather, she had not simply used the word no. ask me again and i’ll finish what those raider’s started.

every surface of the room captures his attention, from the ripped wallpaper to the tattered remains of what once were curtains, anything other than tess, who hovers at his shoulder like a fly to shit.

he needs something to do, to distract.

thinking of the days ahead, he begins a list of things they’ll need- gauze, food rations, water, more gauze. joel has still yet to sharpen their knives, displeased with them since the moment he’d noticed tess’ struggling to cut through a cable wire. did they have enough ammo? maybe he’d need to grovel for some more off of bill-

“who’ve you been fucking, sunshine?”

frozen where he stands. mind in disarray, heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, blood somehow both everywhere and nowhere in his body at once. all he can think is that tess knows. sunshine. she knows, she knows, she knows.

she knows and she’s going to tell frank, who’ll tell bill, who’ll place a target on joel’s head and hit bullseye the moment he so much as tries to step anywhere near you, and then where will joel be? back to facing only the dull grey skies and locking himself away in bone-chilling solitude.

clarity befalls him.

she’s teasing. sunshine. it’s not an answer to her question, it’s a name meant to mock him. tess has no clue, not a single incline to guess what events had transpired in the stillness of the night the last time she’d dragged them out to bill and frank’s. she doesn’t know.

“if you don’t want to tell me,” the words leave her in a sing-song tone, and for a moment he needs to remind himself this is a woman his own age, not a teenager. it would be easy to confuse the two. “i’ll just have to figure it out myself!”

he won’t be the one to tell.

“laura silver.” it’s the first name that comes to mind, and the image it paints in his head brings forth a repulsion unlike no other. he’d rather lick shit off a stick than subject himself to her company willingly. by the twisted-up look on tess’ face, she seems to agree.

“really? isn’t she a bit... chatty for you? and, like, way too happy?”

she has no idea.

the questioning glances only amplify once the two set off, each stop they make along the way- to eat, to sleep, to rest their deteriorating joints- punctuated with that feeling in the air that joel dislikes so much. the unsaid, the unfinished, the more. it makes his stomach lurch with anxious thoughts and his heartbeat cease under the stress they bring.

birds tweeting, wind howling, leaves rustling becomes the soundtrack to their travels, guiding them onwards with encouraging notes and filling the empty pockets of silence that sit between the four, five, six steps he walks ahead of her, fingers curled around a weapon and eyes trained on anything that moves the wrong way. the guts and gore of clickers stabbed and bloaters beaten wet their clothes in the early hours, yet they dry come noon, coating their every inch in a sickening syrup.

“you both got another thing coming if you think he’s gonna let you through the door like that.” joel had not experienced anything like it since the ages where he’d arrive home hours past his curfew, knees scrapped on gravel and clothes stained in mud, stood beneath the dimming porch light as his mother washed him.

only, it is bill who holds the hose instead of the woman who’d raised him.

freshly hosed down, a trail of dripped water marks the space he crosses through the house out into the backyard, losing tess along the way as she calls dibs on showering first- as if joel wouldn’t immediately put himself last in any scenario that involves her.

what he finds is a garden in gloom, infant rosebuds so young and new to life they’ve yet to lose that tinge of green that separates them from the rest of the bush they inhabit. it is the image of winter, casting its blue hue on everything it touches, from the leafless trees to the wolf-eyed dog, who’s tail begins a slow wag from its place upon the floor before the mutt’s jumping up all four paws and bounding its way over to him.

the german shepherd crashes into him like a wave, nearly sending him stumbling backwards. it’s grown in the past weeks, he realises, large paws a little more suited to the length of its stretched back. he fights a fearsome battle to contain the man within him who longs to clap his hands down on the dog’s fur, with an inhale of breath he hopes will drag down the words of praise and greeting aimed towards the pointy-eared creature, joel manages to dismiss the animal with a shrug.

it follows him, even so, as he takes another step out into the yard.

frank’s familiar figure sits within a chair. he’s calm, staring out at his decayed world as though he’s merely waiting for the passing of time to bring back the colourfulness his flowerbeds once possessed. his hair sits the same, his clothes look the same and, yet, something is off. joel can’t quite put his finger on it, all he knows is that this man is half the man he’d bid goodbye to weeks ago.

“sorry for dragging you guys out here again so soon,” his words are gentle, like always, yet his voice is ragged. joel wonders if he too had caught that damn cold. maybe him and tess brought it into the house, leaving behind a tally of germs for the three occupants of the home to choke on. maybe you’d caught it too. maybe you were in need of someone to make you soup and fret over the temperature your body keeps. maybe he should have returned sooner. “but i’m sure bill’s already filled you in.”

bill has done no such thing.

joel shakes his head. frank’s never one to push him to talk, accustomed to the likes of a man who’s short on words and spreads any dose of warmth his soul may posses sparingly. it’s a trait he appreciates, the patience to never expect more. frank talks, joel listens, both of them agree on this dynamic.

“we’ve got nothing for you this time, i’m afraid," joel swallows a snarky then what d’ya call us out for. he’s not subtle enough to go unnoticed by the man who’s known him too long, who chooses to combat the raising of his hackles and the frowning of his brow with calmly spoken words. “but we’ll owe you one. a favour, i mean.”

that recaptures his attention. his shoulders lower in tow with his hostility and the dog nuzzles its muzzle into his hand, forcing him to uncurl his fist. “what’s the catch?” he asks because he knows frank, and he knows that frank knows him, that frank chooses his words wisely when they’re alone. he wouldn’t be beating around the bush, keeping his words vague and his tone secretive, if it weren’t for the fact that joel, likely, will not enjoy partaking in whatever favour they’re about to ask of him.

“we’ve got a truck, in the garage,” he shares, like this is news to joel, like he’d never seen the vehicle in question. “and it’s been a while since it’s had a run-around, breaks are probably squeaky as sin, and-”

“get to the point.”

frank smiles, less uneasy as joel’s usual candor nature gets in the way of his brooding image, interrupting his silent streak with a rushed out jumble of words the man’s sure would sound harsher were they directed at anyone other than the friendly-eyed artist. “can you teach the girl to drive?”

joel’s ability is not being questioned, in truth, but rather his willingness.

the request is sensical, understandable for a girl your age- whatever that may be- to have no experience behind the wheel. the damned mushrooms had likely already taken hold of the world by the time you’d reached the legal driving age.

it is not a difficult task either, he supposes, with no need for every intricate little road rule to be passed down. so long as you can learn to spin the wheel, shift the gears and control the pedals, you’d be good to go.

agreeing to it would also, in theory, be agreeing to the prospective scenario where joel miller finds himself trapped inside the small, four-wheeled confines of a moving vehicle with someone who grinds his gears and haunts his thoughts. there’s so much room to suffer in the solitude of your presence, so much potential to think up what-ifs and if-onlys in his head as you stare back at him, eyes beaming rays of pure-heartedness. i don’t like you, joel. it’ll echo in the distance between you.

“bill can’t do it?” his question is met with a grimace, and he wonders if the man had already attempted. perhaps you are beyond teaching in his eyes and so they’ve settled for calling in joel to deal with your unsalvageable driving skills. perhaps they know you already dislike the man and figured there’d be no harm in giving you more reason to, when he loses his patience and scrutinises your driving skills.

“she won’t let him,” joel’s head snaps up from the floor, eyes shifting from the mutt enjoying the carding of his fingers over its head back to frank. the greys in the man’s hair seem to have multiplied, the wrinkles on his face a little deeper. joel’s struck, his stomach twisting up, with the reality of noticing his friend is growing old. “said she’d sooner trust a clicker behind the wheel than bill. she asked us to call you guys.”

you called.

you wanted him here.

you guys. sure, it may be the collective of both him and tess. but he’s still a part of that equation, meaning you’d willingly brought him close, beckoned his return to the heaven he’d left you in.

one shower later and he’s wadding his way out back, into the garage. hair still a mess of towel-dried curls, clothes fresh and a little unfitting- he’d stolen them from frank, after overhearing the man inform tess he’d taken the liberty of burning their blood soaked clothing.

he’d agreed to the deal, much to frank’s delight and his own shame, mind too enraptured by the prospect of solitude with you to judge the situation at hand clearly.

the door creaks, a beg for oil, and announces joel’s arrival far sooner than he would have preferred, stumbling upon the scene of you. more specifically, the back of you, doubled over. everything from the waist up digging through the backseats of the vehicle, seemingly searching for something, while everything downwards sits on full display for his starved eyes to feast upon. boot covered feet, the hem of the most nonsensical skirt resting upon bare calves, the curvature of thighs beneath silk, the stretch of tightened fabric against your ass.

joel thinks himself a strong man, but he is weakened by the sight.

you startle at his entrance, rushing to straighten yourself so quickly your head smacks against the top of the car’s door frame. a hiss and a pressing of a hand to your head is not enough to comfort the witness of your harm, crossing those three steps forward needed to grip your jumper-covered shoulders and spin you to face him, eyes immediate with their scanning of your features, frantic to confirm you’re not teary-eyed, nor pouty-lipped, nor in the beginnings of a concussion.

“i never heard-" you pause whatever you wish to say when one of his hands covers your own, cradling the back of your head. he’s well-aware this is too close, too unlike him, too noteworthy. but he can not seem to care enough to welcomed back the distance that so often sits between you. “oh, it’s you.”

“sorry to disappoint ya.”

he surely is.

disappointed, confused, conflicted. here you stand, no runny nose, no bloodshot eyes, no scratch in your voice, no need to be cared for. it’s a selfish thing, to feel his heart lurch at the fact you’re in full-health, no pesky cough in sight, but his distaste towards the feeling only makes it double in size.

“no! sorry, i just,” you’re the first to inch back, head tilting to meet his stare with your own. he follows suit, taking your unvocalised desires and stepping away from you, hands back by his own side and vowing to keep themselves there. “i thought it would be tess teaching me.”

so maybe you’d never called for him.

he’s just the tag-along, the con to tess’ pro, the consequence to tess’ presence. you view him like the sun views the moon: a small, dim, lifeless rock that sits in wait every waking day, orbiting around tess’ planet.

it is not news, yet it stings like it. a fresh wound added onto the litter of marks that ache his soul. the pain leaves him in the only way he knows how anymore; a face devoid of emotion.

“not,” you’re uneasy. thrown-off. squitterish. hands tuck up into the sleeves of your sweater and eyes glass over with worry. the possibility that he scares you both lights his soul on fire and sends it to drown in a lake made of his sorrows. “that there’s anything wrong with you! i just... figured you’d have better stuff to do.”

he doesn’t.

“yeah, well, i ain’t doin’ it for free,” his proverbial foot shoots into his mouth, slamming shut whatever small window of opportunity he’d stumbled upon to say the kind thing, to do nice by you for once. i don’t like you, joel. but he could change that, if he just changed his attitude. and his nature. and his sense of being. so, just about everything about himself. it would not be much for the promise of a piece of his sol. it’s much too late for that now and, so, he commits to the role life’s already chosen for him to play, the heartless bastard. “let’s get this over with.”

“jesus christ, sol, didn’t your daddy ever put ya behind the wheel?”

joel’s anger is unjustified.

he’s aware of this, in the back of his mind, yet any rational voices burn into silence at the heat of his ire. only twenty, or thirty, or forty minutes since you’ve hit the open road, since he’d buckled himself into the idea of being alone with you, and the car feels like it’s closing in on itself. every inhale a struggle for oxygen, every exhale a subdued desire.

perfectly manicured nails grip the steering wheel.

counting trees had worked, if only for a while, to keep his focus off everything occupying the driver’s side. the novelty wore off as you passed the thirty seventh in a row, where joel’s eyes finally drifted off from the view ahead to the one on his left.

a pair of lips sit parted in concentration.

he’d needed a new distraction, one he found as he popped open the glove compartment and found a man of his taste’s holy grail. well, at least the holy grail that was found in materials rather than between the thighs of- cds! rock, country, punk. the 70s, the 80s, the 90s. fleetwood mac, the rolling stones, johnny cash. that’s what he’d found, a collection bill must keep to hold an emblem of what the world once was: loud, rhythmic, lively. now static, quiet, lonely. not even a full verse into ring of fire and you’d switched the volume off. “i can’t concentrate with that crap playing.”

half a thigh, exposed by the slit up a skirt.

now he has nowhere to turn, to let himself run off to in thoughts that promise the sweet salvation of distraction. facing forward is not an option, the empty road ahead holding no ounce of his attention. focusing on the right as the world passes by outside the window holds no merit, and no amount of trinkets nor garbage that litter the nooks and crannies of the car helps. his eyes always find their way back to you.

breathtaking in the most painful way, you sit unaware of the effect you have on him. as you shift from third to fourth gear, as your thigh tenses to press down harder on the gas pedal, as nimble fingers unnecessarily practice using the indicators. you don’t see how his frown deepens and he scorns you with his stare.

“he was a bit busy making a name for himself,” you utter a reply minutes too late, when he’s already convinced himself you hadn’t heard him.

your focus is strict, eyes glued on the road as if you’re afraid an obstacle- be it something infected, or something animal, or something malevolent- will come your way. and all the while, joel’s sat in shock, pure fucking eye-widening shock, as the words you utter slowly seep into his brain. minute as it may be, it’s the first detail, the first piece of history you’ve offered of yourself. an absent father, the words cause a dull ache in the left side of his chest.

god, he’s being too quiet, he needs to ask more while you’re willing to answer.

you switch to fifth gear with a delay that would have cost you points back in the days of capitalistic civilisations. the gear-box makes an ugly noise of which the engine follows up with a growl of its own.

panicked, your hand shoots straight back to the gear-shift, curling around it so tight the white bones beneath your knuckles threaten to rip through your skin and put themselves on display. the car slows with the release of your foot off the pedal and he presumes you mean to lower the gears too- perhaps, you’ve thought it best to maintain the safety net provided in the third gear- but you must not be thinking straight, must lack proper motor-control over your body, as your hand pushes down on the stick and, slam!

the car comes to a complete stop.

the sharp pain that cuts up his neck as whiplash takes over, the weight of his upper-half flying forward and stopped only by the seatbelt that crosses over him, it becomes near non-existent as a strangled cry and a whimper of pain comes from the driver’s seat.

a scrambling of hands, a forceful push onto the pedal, a handful of panicked breaths and fearful mutterings of something involving bill and kill and will. none of it helps in the face of your problem. you’re stubborn, however, trying once more to push the stick forward, and getting nowhere. joel tells himself to remain delicate in his touch and composed in his heart as his hand clamps down on top yours, curling his longer digits around the gear-stick and giving it a tug upwards, effortless in his attempt to shift the car out of reverse and back into the first gear.

your eyes meet his. watery, and big, and full of fear.

“musician?” conversation, that will distract you in your moments of panic. he’ll talk you through the fierce currents of racing heartbeats and sweaty palms, till your waters are calm as can be.

the hand that still sits atop your own gives a soft squeeze.

“deep breath, sol,” he leads by example, filling his lungs with a sharp, deep inhale through his nose. you follow, nodding as if you’re in a trance yet you mimic him nonetheless. deep inhale, through the nose, inflate your chest. “atta girl. you’re fine. car’s fine. ya just stalled it, s’all. happens all the time.”

he’s hopeful to be helpful, but then the first tear wins the war over your composure, slipping down your cheek as you shakily exhale. another few- four, he thinks, but can not say for sure- follow suit, staining ugly cristaline rivers down the globes of your cheeks. another inhale from joel, another exhale from you. you breathe in tandem, as if relying on the other to remember such a human act is necessary for survival.

it’s purely instinctual, something as uncontrollable and unpracticed as the beating of his heart or the blinking of his eyes, the way his free hand captures ahold of your cheek. the rough pad of his thumb swipes over the bottom of your eye, so close that he feels the tickle of your lower lashes, collecting whatever tears threaten to fall next.

let them stain his skin instead of yours.

“ya dad,” maybe you need clarification, something to stall the rapidly speeding thoughts that race through your mind. “was he a musician?”

at first, silence. more deep breathing, less shaky exhales. your tears still wet his thumb but they no longer seem to be spilling down your cheek, collecting on your lashes like the dust on a shelf. he thinks of wiping the tears off the untouched side of your face, mostly to settle whatever part of him feels shaken at your distress, yet, as he slowly raises the hand that sits atop yours on the gear-stick, you halt him. fingers tangle messily with his own and squeeze so hard he feels the pressure deep in his bones, threatening to snap like twigs.

and, then, you shake you head.

no.

nonverbal, yet entirely understood by him.

your dad was not a singer. you hear him as much as you feel him. you’re slowly returning. to the car, and to a rational state of mind, and to him. a few moments pass, slipping between you with as much ease as his thumb stroking over your wrist, pushing down just that little bit till he feels the fading thrump-thrumps of a panicked heart. he speaks once you’re ready, once the slow rise and fall of your chest lulls his own self into a state of calm. “gonna need ya to turn the keys in the ignition, think ya can do that?”

you do as he says, inadvertently placing your trust in him and his words, and turn the key. when the car shudders yet fails to come alive, your head snaps right back to him, eyes a pleading mess for answers, guidance, help.

it does wonders to his ego, to that caveman mentality that sadly resides in some corner of his mind. needed, useful, protective. things he doesn’t get to feel with tess, doesn’t need to feel with tess. she takes care of herself, and him, and never asks for a damn thing in return. but you need him, need his calming words and his knowledge of vehicles.

for once, he’s a necessity instead of a casualty in your life.

“foot on the clutch, sol,” his pointed words hold no mockery, becoming a metaphorical rubber-dingy that he tosses your way, one more thing to pull you into the safety of a calm shore.

this time, the engine roars back to life.

you’re elated, a smile splitting up your cheeks even as you let the car crawl to a start, wheels turning slowly as you give the gas a light tap. he sees the way your shoulders sag, like a ten-ton weight has just been stripped off them.

“told ya, s’just a stall,” it’s the nicest i told you so he can offer, especially as the lingering of that nasty feeling still creeps over your actions, subduing you in a way he doesn’t quite enjoy. you should not be meek, nor placid, nor doubtful yet that is all he sees as he watches you hesitantly drive the car into second gear. “used to happen t’me all the time. at the worst times, too. like... intersections and shit. can’t count the times i got flipped off by some truck driver.”

you giggle. quiet, girlish, subtle. joel almost mistakes it for a tickle in your throat, a discomfort you catch yourself coughing over. but, no. your shoulders dance, your lips tilt up, rapid little breaths sneak out your nose. it doesn’t even matter that it’s at his expense, the fact he’s the one to rouse such a delicate reaction despite his rough voice, and rough words and, well, rough everything, it’s enough to settle his soul with a deep contempt.

you continue slowly, not daring to test the power of the car. he says nothing, not a word about the waste of bill’s fuel nor the painfully boring pace at which the world flies by outside the window. you’ll speed up, he knows it, once you get your momentarily lost confidence back. talking seems to be your first approach to easing the tension in your stiff arms. “actor.”

he hums in question, quirking a brow despite your gaze being fixated on nothing but what sits ahead.

“he was an actor. a wannabe actor,” you’re soft spoken, trying your best to keep that shake in your voice under control. “my dad. so... you almost had it right.”

“anything i might know him from?” he tries, and fails, to match the lightness of your voice, his own far too gruff, and dark, and jagged to replicate the smooth edges of your own.

“not unless you had a thing for cheesy teenage romcoms.”

the words seem to take control of him, forcing their way out before he can so much as recognise their existence. “i didn’t but my dau-” if you notice the way he halts himself, you say nothing.

“wanna know the most ironic thing?” he senses no real humour behind the few chuckles you let out, eyes lost ahead. joel wonders if you’re truly seeing the road, or merely looking at it, letting the world blur as your focus sits elsewhere. you await no response before continuing. “the only role he could never master was the present father.”

a father placing his dreams over his child, the idea is one he can’t quite wrap his head around.

joel had had big dreams, once. dreams that involved world tours, and golden records, and screaming fans. those dreams were shoved aside, not even a whisper to be heard in his mind, the moment he held his bundle of joy for the first time. screaming her little lungs off, tiny body covered in fluids he could never name, eyes staring wide back at him as she took in the image of her father for the first time. she became his new dream, his only dream. to hold, protect and love.

just like the stage, he eventually lost that dream too.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes the words out, quiet beneath the hum of the engine.

“why?” you’re not harsh with your delivery. in fact, you even glance momentarily in his direction and shoot him one of those smiles, the ones that steal the spotlight away from everything else and render him frozen beneath it’s shine. nonetheless, joel fears he’s done it once more, offended you without even trying. “it’s not your job to apologise for someone else’s mistake, joel.”

the silence which settles between you once more feels less like the awful quiet of drowning beneath crashing waves and more akin to the static of an untuned radio, with its antenna out of place and detecting no signals. it’s calming to sit like that with you and somewhere between the hum of the engine and the world passing by outside the windows, joel’s mind wanders off into dangerous territories.

territories where he thinks of this exact setting, you driving and him sitting in the passengers side fighting off the sudden languid feeling that grips his soul, only in his imagination it’s later, deep into the night. you’re not alone on the road, a collection of cars passing by and driving ahead, and the smell of cheap beer fills the car. snoring from the backseats, a sleepy girl finally given into the call of sleep after a long day. the image of his hand reaching over the console to find yours, matching silver bands clinking together as he lets himself entwine his fingers with yours.

he jolts up straight, head no longer resting on the window and eyes blinking away whatever make-believe daydream he’d inflicted upon himself, when a sound of anguish comes from your seat.

selfishly indulging in his silly fantasies, joel’d failed to notice your silence was not the same as his. while he bathed in warmth, you quivered in coldness. your nails now threaten to leave marks on the steering wheel, your lips point downwards in a frown, your thigh shakes nervously with each measly push of fuel you give the car.

it’s cruel of him to keep you driving in this state.

“there’s a gas station a few miles from ‘ere,” his words are punctuated by a defeated sigh, already beating himself up mentally for not noticing soon enough the state you’ve been sat in. “pull into it.”

if joel had a nickel for every time he’s seen you in this position, he’d have two nickels.

your chest heaving with every breath, your back pressed to his front, your closed legs stood between his own. flashbacks to the kitchen, all you’re missing is a knife in your hand and a counter-top for him to box you in against.

he’d believe the idea of popping the car’s hood and teaching you a little about the interior of a vehicle was a good one, a smart one, a chance to gain some knowledge that may prove itself useful. the plan was to show you where things sat- the engine, the dip-stick for the oil, the battery- and hope the momentary distraction would be enough to unravel your nerves, leaving you primed and prepped to drive you both back to the home joel would never share with you.

as marvellously innocent and simple as his plan was, he’d failed to take into account one important detail: you’re your own person, capable of things he’d never think to predict. so, when you’d stepped out the now parked truck a few minutes after him, sweater left behind and nothing but some flimsy, practically see-through white tank top, he’d just about felt all the blood drain from his face- and head straight to his crotch- while his eyes done little to hide the glaringly obvious staring at your breasts they indulged in, the blush of colour from pebbled nipples beneath the fabric enough to have him salivating at the thought of putting his mouth on them. “i’m not staining my favourite sweater with oil”, that had been your excuse for torturing him so cruelly.

he’s no better than the old perverts who used to drool over a woman jogging down the street.

“ok, so, this,” you shuffle forwards, feet crunching down on some crumbling gravel below. before joel can let relief flood over his senses at having just that slightest bit of distance between you both, you bend at the hip and lean across the vehicle, hands grabbing at a familiar yellow stick. “is the dip-stick?”

hearing your voice but rendered incapable of listening, he’s frozen. the fingers at his side ball into fists as that familiar beast seduces itself over his senses, flashing images in his mind of all the places he’s yet to place his hands. your neck, your waist, your thighs, the wanton desire to map out your every trace and burn it into his memory is endless, all-consuming.

your voice calls out his name.

he hums, you repeat your question, to which he huffs out an agreement, tongue too heavy to form words.

“then this,” you stretch further, fingertips reaching for the top right corner. not quite reaching your desired object, you shuffle two steps back and send him into turmoil as your ass presses tightly into his crotch. like a wounded animal, he sucks air in through his teeth and clamps his hands down on your hips. initially he means to move you but, inevitably, he holds you against him. “must be the battery.”

the jeans he wears seem to have grown a little tighter. uncomfortably so. still, he can’t bring himself to care, nor to readjust them, grip only clamping itself down tighter on you at the sheer threat of removing them.

he’d thought back to that night, more times that he cares to admit to himself. at first, it was a means to an end, a memory of lustful images to drive him towards some quick pleasure and relieve the pressure of stress off his shoulders, giving him the chance to actually get some sleep. your taste on his tongue, your hands in his hair, the weight of your body keening back into him. he felt it for days. weeks, even, ghosts that haunted his skin.

then came the guilt, seeping in like rain through the crack in tess’ and his ceiling.

he had no right to touching you the way he had. here you are, a glimmer of light that brings warmth into the coldest of place, while there he is, a thunderstorm of emotions all wrapped up in the darkness of rain clouds, threatening to stain and dampen everything he puts his care into. his daughter, dead. his brother, gone. and, hell, even tess has nearly slipped through his weak hold countless times. so, how dare he subject you to the danger of his caress, mark you with the touch of death his heart seems to bring?

hours of tossing and turning, unwrapping himself from tess’ arms as he’d crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to go wear his footprints into the floorboards of their living room, pacing back and forth as withered hands ran through greying hair, searching for some solution to this... this swelling in his heart, ache in his bones, longing in his loins at the memory of you.

bill had asked him once, years ago, what his greatest weakness was. he’d been wise enough to gruff out a harsh nothin’.

his answer has changed, since then.

you reach into the darkness of his spiralling mind and drag him back with three words. “texas, you good?”

he doesn’t quite give you an answer. not a vocal one, at least, settling for giving each of your hips a squeeze when words fail him. he’s gazing in admiration and wonder, eyes trailing themselves over the way you’re struggling to stretch further, the tips of your fingers fighting to reach the object you’d been trying to identify. one moment, you’re huffing over the fight to touch the car’s battery, and the next, you’re sending two tidal waves down joel’s spine: panic and arousal.

maybe, you don’t mean to do it. it could be purely accidental, an action you don’t even take a second to consider after years of living solely in the presence of two men who bare no interest in bending you over any surface. but, you do it.

you whine.

it’s born from pain, your entire frame shooting upright while clutching your hand close to your chest. joel knows that alone should be enough to vanish any explicit thoughts from his mind. the hunger only grows though, his insides twisting up at the notion of you being hurt, needing comfort. a kiss to a bleeding wound, he’d deliver it no questions asked.

his hands are still around your waist. your bodies are still pressed together. he feels every shaky inhale, every heaved exhale. it’s a struggle to pry your injured hand away from the safety of your chest, pulling backwards till your elbow juts outwards and your open palm sits level with his mouth.

it’s your pointer finger, a dark, angry looking mark running halfway down your fingerprints.

“‘s the matter with ya,” worry has always been something joel expresses loudly. raised voices, frantic movements, heavy steps. his brother had called him out on it, the morning after his parental care led to a heated argument and the slamming of doors, from both the pre-teen and the adult in the miller household. it’s a flaw that’s only worsened, with time and circumstance, and it keeps him from saying what he really means. are you okay? “you some kind of idiot or somethin’?” i can’t stand to see you hurt.

“i didn’t think-”

“clearly fuckin’ not!” be more careful. “touchin’ the damn battery like the car ain’t just been stopped!” please.

he’s better with actions, gentle in the physical even as he berates you verbally. he pulls in air through his nostrils before blowing it out through his puckered lips, directly onto the mild burn imprinting itself on your delicate skin. you hiss as his cooling breath makes initial contact and your hand jerks back, fighting to stray away from him. joel fixes his grip, making sure you don’t get too far before he blows a second breath.

“i’m fine,” you’re an awful liar, the grimace on your lips doing nothing to reassure him. at least you’re smart enough to not waste any more energy on fighting against him, slumping forward to rest your hand on the truck’s open hood. “didn’t even hurt that much. i just wasn’t expecting it to be hot.”

with no acknowledgement thrown your way, he huffs out another couple of breaths, mind already running off in thoughts of what comes next. a superficial burn, it should heal in a matter of days. if you’re lucky, the injured skin will merely peal away to reveal a fresh layer. if you’re unlucky, a blister will swell in it’s place.

joel only aims to ensure your luck.

bowing his head and leaning down, he captures your finger between his lips. your breaths catches in your throat as this new angle, new proximity to your face allows his eyes to take in the way your own seem to roll back, lips parted with something unsaid. he drags the tip of his tongue over your wound, which pulses and burns hot beneath his muscle. his tongue flicks back over only for him to lick at the burn once more, this time with a flattened tongue, smothering it in his saliva.

the suckle his lips give is purely selfish.

“that kinda-” a fluttery sort of noise leaves you, a pleasant little thing that seems unable to decide if it wants to be a giggle or a moan. it settles for something in between, unknowingly spurring joel on to suck around your digit again. “it kinda tickles.”

the hand he holds against your hip travels north, halting abruptly as the top of his thumb reaches the swell of your breast. being so affected by a braless chest is something joel thought he’d left behind in teenage-hood. the way his cock twitches in his pants at the knowledge that yours sit bare beneath the thin cotton camisole gives him deja-vu.

in a rushed- and entirely unthought over decision- joel switches the direction of his trail of fingerprints to move south, slipping down past where cotton sits tucked beneath silk. the skirt is soft and inviting. all his sick mind can do is picture you lain across a bed with silk sheets, your naked curves, and pert nipples, and dribbling cunt a whole different kind of soft and inviting.

skin meets skin when he arrives at the top of the skirt’s slit. he wastes no time, fingers dragging themselves under the material to feel the recently discovered terrain of your full thighs. with supple skin, warm and pliable beneath his hold, he indulges himself in letting his grip dig in and squeeze the meaty flesh.

all the while, his tongue licks over your burn.

“otis does that too,” you’re struggling to keep your grip on the car, a delightful realisation for joel. you’d played the innocent for far too long last time, hardly exposing your desires till push came to shove and your knife went clattering out your hand. now you force yourself deeper into his touch, your finger applying pressure to his tongue as it pushes down on the muscle and tickles his tastebuds with the bite of your painted nail. the quiet voice of his subconscious wants you to push deeper, till your digit hits the back of his throat, his eyes sting with tears and he’s gagging around you. “tries to lick wounds better-”

the sight of you shutting up, lips parted in some unheard noise as his hand cups the entirety of your clothed pussy, sends a wave of heat to joel’s already burning loins.

the furnace of your two intertwined bodies shields you both to the slowly dropping temperatures, with no time to spare and no care to give to the grey skies that roll in while he rolls your concealed clit beneath two fingers, pinching once or twice, possibly thrice, in hopes of pushing his emotional aches onto you physically.

fighting against the tight squeeze of your underwear’s band around his wrist, two fingers, a pointer and a middle, smooth their way past your pubic bone, over your aching mound and dip down to swipe over your slit. a soaked mess, a warm and sticky coating, welcomes them as joel strokes the outer surface of your cunt in a lax manner, taking his time to admire how soft your lips feel, how warm your skin burns, how hard your entrance throbs, all the while he’s coating your cunt it’s own liquid pleasure. his mouth drops your hand, the grip his own has on it tightening once more. though, this time, it’s not from the need to keep you in place but from a primal, possessive desire that seduces his rationality. “quit comparin’ me to your fuckin’ dog.”

the hand down your pants has a mind of its own, trading the teasing strokes up the length of your seam for the tight squeeze of your walls around his fingers as they penetrate you- two at the same time, no consideration for the discomfort the sudden sting of breaching your entrance brings.

you seem to like the pain, enough to let go of the vehicle and melt back into joel. your head meets his shoulder as your eyes roll back and your mouth falls slack, legs writhing to fight for more friction. he remains frozen, face a stoic slab void of expression if not for the crease in his brow where his eyebrows have furrowed. the fingers in your cunt curl, slightly, testing your patience with the way they press into the spongy tissue.

“joe- ah...” you fail to say his name, your two lips barely getting the chance to touch as he curls his finger a second time. this time harder, with more certainty in the way he’s touching you. “move, please.”

your lips, parted in gasps and cries that threaten to cut his fun short with the way they likely have his cock staining his briefs in precum, become public enemy number one as he decides they need to be shut, silenced, occupied so that he can hold off blowing his load again before he’s even had the chance to feel you clench around his cock.

with your finger still drenched in his spit, a fat bead of it dripping down the back of your hand, he shoves it into your own mouth, disgustingly intrigued with the way you welcome it so eagerly and drink down the taste of his saliva.

now you’re silenced, joel gives an experimental thrust of his hand, dragging both his fingers out till only the tips tease at your entrance before slamming them back in. the moan you let out is muffled, a sound that titillates him yet no longer threatens his sanity. you find another way to ruin him, however, body jolting and ass rolling back into his form when he starts to set a steady pace to leisurely fuck his fingers into your cunt.

“tried to be fuckin’ good. kept my hands to myself, didn’t- fuck!” he must reach something inside of you, knuckles deep and slick spilling down his hand, that has you mewling, eyes no longer shut as you crane your neck to stare up at him and your hips roll backwards, momentarily smothering his clothed cock between the swell of your silk covered cheeks. “didn’t bring up anythin’ ‘bout the last time i saw ya. but you just ‘ad to go and ruin it now, didn’t ya?”

“leasehmm,” you hum the incoherent babble around your own finger and joel can’t stop himself from forcing it further into your mouth, laser stare sharp enough to burn holes into your throat as he watches you gag.

“c’mon, you can do it,” you’ve got him trapped between your legs, both your thighs and the walls of your cunt clenching his hand in a vice grip as he continues his ministrations, satiating the taste for warm flesh he’s been craving since he slammed the door to the kitchen and tried to fool himself into thinking he could simply make his way back to tess in her drunken state, crash down to sleep on the couch and wake up the next day as if everything that had transpired in the moonlight was just another one of his perverted fantasies. awakening with the taste of you still on his tongue threw all hope out the window. “use your words, pretty girl.”

with an awkward bend, the pad of his thumb brushes over your neglected clit in a gentle circling motion, coaxing you further and further to that ledge of ecstasy he aims to throw you off, plunge you into the heavens of a blinding orgasm. crooking his fingers and grinding his cock into the base of your spine become practiced movements, a kind of push and pull dance his body plays with yours, guiding you both to the beats of your erratic hearts.

“mmmoel,” bless you, really, for trying so hard to speak while chocking on yourself, yet making no attempt to shove his hand away. your well-mannered nature has never made him so hard- and, trust that it has done so plenty of times- as you melt yourself into a writhing mess in his arms, blown out pupils and spit dribbling out the corner of your mouth all the while you do as he bids. “mmhop.”

“‘s the matter, sweet girl? hmm?” you’re close, he knows it. feels it, when your free hand shoots down to grip his wrist through the soft skirt, nails biting flesh even through the layer of silk. he half wonders if this is it, this is where you’re going to rip him off you and slap him in the face with the harsh truth: you’re too good to be touched by the likes of him. only, you simply clutch onto him and let him continue to play you like he’d once played a guitar, fingers plucking at the right strings and pressing on the right cords to make you sing a melody so sweet even the angels themselves would cry at its sound. “cat got your tongue? feels good, i know. ‘s okay, you can let go f’me, not gonna hold it against ya. just gonna hold ya through it, yeah? keep ya real safe in my arms while this pretty little pussy of yours takes what she needs, m’kay?”

the longer you take to tell him to stop, the more debauched the images of you in his mind become. once wishes of butterfly kisses and sweet surrenders beneath his naked embrace, now desires to have you on your knees crying, begging, praying for him to smother you with his sins.

with another thrust, he fucks a third finger into your cunt, stretching you even wider and trying his damn best to ignore the fact you’re still so tight despite the thickness of his fingers. that’ll only lead to his thoughts derailing to how much tighter you’d feel clamped around the girth of his cock.

he’d been modest, back in his younger years, shrugging off the cries of past lovers regarding his well endowed state as nothing more than flirtatious fiction, the kind of thing women would tell their man to make him feel special. only a few years ago he’d started to second guess his assumptions as he began to chase his highs with faceless bodies and all kinds of holes- mouth, cunt and ass.

most of the time his concubines get no chance to truly see his cock, too busy having their face shoved down into gravel, or into some brick wall in a sketchy alleyway, or, simply, the darkness that consumed the walls of the cubicle which kept them from seeing just who exactly they were fucking would also take away their chance to know what they were getting themselves into, what was about to get in to them.

their first reactions always seem to be a crying sort of sound, a sick pleasure washing over him and having his balls tightening. then comes the complaining of too much, too fast, too good, their bodies at odds with themselves and unable to decide if being impaled by him is their worst nightmare or their sweetest dream.

before they can ever decide, he’s ripping away from them and fucking himself to completion with his own hand. a mumbled thanks and- if it was one of those kind of deals- a drop of a med kit or some food rations to their feet, joel would be tucked back into his worn jeans and out of their sight before they’re able to catch their breaths and realise he’d left them there, stretched open and fucked out with no orgasm to show for it.

with you, he’d be different though.

there’s no need for his own pleasure if it came down to choosing between it and your own. the sheer thought of nuzzling his mouth between your thighs and lapping at every inch of your pussy, till his muscle aches and his jaw locks, is enough to have him on the precipice of cumming untouched. so, to think of a scenario where he slips his cock inside your velvet walls and doesn’t leave you a spasming mess after several earth shattering orgasms, over and over till a ring of your mixed juices decorates the base of him and you’ve milked him dry, that feels impossible.

“wait, joel, ah! please, please,” your head thrashes to the side, ripping away from your burned finger. you’re trembling, feet pushing up onto their tippy-toes as he fucks higher and higher into you. the hand around your wrists finds a new home curled around your jaw and his thumb begins it’s torturous circling of your clit once more, pushing and guiding and bullying your aching cunt towards an orgasm that’s sure to leave you breathless and- “stop!”

this time, it’s joel who’s recoiling his scorned hands.

pants fill the air, a desperate fight for oxygen as you stand before him, legs shaky and perked nipples chafing against the see-through fabric of your camisole. thunder cracks above, a deep and trembling noises that joel can’t help but feel fits the ambience, turmoil in both the sky and his heart.

he knows its for the best, to have you put your foot down and put an end to this ridiculous pursuit of lust joel’s imposing on you. not only have you made it clear you do not like him, but you’re younger, full of life, heart too mellow for a soul as dark as his. still, disappointment floods his bones.

both hands back at his side, he clenches them. wrong move, only serving to remind him one of his hands is smothered in your wetness, a schlick squelch bouncing up to his eardrums. you’ve turned to look at him, at some point. he notices the slight swell of your lips and the blown-out pupils, try though he might to ignore it.

staring right at him, you seem to be almost waiting on a reaction.

“‘s gettin’ dark, should prolly think of headin’ back,” joel won’t give you the satisfaction of hearing him beg, not when he knows it’ll get him nowhere. the hood, that’s what he should be focusing on. he shoots a hand up and slams the hood shut, fighting the urge to let his stare linger on the stain his pleasure soaked fingers leave behind on the blue painted metal. “bill and frank’ll be wonder-”

you call his name.

he can’t look at you, fingers fidgeting with some scab on his hand.

you try again. louder.

a sigh of resignation. he turns to face you, leaning back against the truck. the quirk of his brow enough to encourage you to get on with it, say what you need to say. paint him in shame, call him some names and then let you both be on your way.

you seem to take it as an invitation to approach. one step, then two more when he fails to back away. with a final step, you’re stood right before him, forcing yourself between the space of his parted legs. he’s never had you this close before, at least not with you facing him, and it’s almost too much. the familiar anxious pit in his loins creeps back, leaving him all too aware of the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.

you smell... christmassy. burnt wood, dusted cinnamon, mulled wine. warm.

he can’t remember the last time he even thought of christmas.

he jolts at the feeling of your hands on his thighs, the coldness of them burning through the rough material of his pants. he’s not sure when it happened but he somehow finds himself sitting on the truck’s hood, hands splayed out on either side of him and knees bent over the edge as he parts way for you between them.

your hands smooth up the muscles of his thighs, up and down in repeated motions. soothing, calming. his heart beats a little slower with each movement.

only to jackhammer against his ribcage as your touch begins to move higher.

“i didn’t mean stop as in, stop touching me,” you breathe out the words like they’re the most delicate of secrets, only for his ears and your own to know. fingers threading through belt loops. a pull or two. he’s vaguely aware of the sound of metal clinking as you release him from the strain of it’s buckle, and the biting sound of teeth unzipping. “just... just wanna see you... feel you this time, when i... if that’s okay with you.”

he’s nodding his head before you can even finish your words, nearly crumbling as your fingers brush against his bulge. “‘smore than fine by me. shit, that’s... yeah.”

a pathetic man, that’s what he’s become, a meek shadow to the man who moments ago had you on the precipice of cumming around his fingers while you babbled incoherently. you seem to have turned the tide, whether you’re aware of it or not, hand sinking beneath the withered band of his boxers.

you don’t give him the relief he wants- needs- instantly. instead, you tease, fingertips dancing down the underside of his shaft and following the trail of a vein he doubts you’re even aware of. sliding back up to his tip, you revel in the weakness he displays as you brush over heightened nerves, sensitive to your touch and stained in earlier excitement.

“you’re warm,” is not exactly what he’d expected you to say, if he’s honest. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it, mind firing into overdrive as you fully wrap yourself around his cock. ignoring the chafing, you work your hand over him, grow familiar with the length of him, tip to base. “big.”

with your free hand, you do your best to peel back the layers of fabric till nothing stands in your path of gazing at his cock, heavy in your palm and red at the tip.

“yeah? ‘s bigger than you’re used to, ain’t it?” joel coos, you nod, tongue darting out to wet your lips as your eyes meet his. wide, glossy, intrigued, a mirror of the scared look you’ve worn when you’d stalled the car.

joel groans at the memory, the way he’d taken care of you, coaxed you back to a rational state of mind.

he wants more of that, more chances to protect you.

even if it’s against your own mind.

“‘s okay, sol, you’ll learn to take it,” you keen at his words, sinking closer to him, shoes scratching on the gravel beneath you. you squeeze your hand around him and he chokes on an inhale. “gonna teach ya to take it like a champ.”

he reaches behind him, tugging the gun out the back of his trousers. he was stupid to place it there in the first place, a rushed action he’d made when stepping out the vehicle. he hadn’t wanted you to see the weapon, to be reminded that the world outside bill and frank- the world joel resides in- is not safe, not from infected and certainly not from people.

before he can put it to rest on the hood, you snatch it out his hand.

you’re inspecting it like it’s the first you’ve ever seen, yet the way you perfectly wrap your hand around it and point past his shoulders tells him otherwise. there’s familiarity in your stance, like you’d once lived under rules where bill didn’t prohibit you from touching a firearm. it has him wondering, longing to know who you were before. where you’d come from, how you’d met the two men you share a roof with.

you play with the safety, snapping his attention right back to the present.

the sight of the gun in your hand fills him dread. and misery. and a sense of nausea. you’re far from weak, no matter how much he’d like you to be, but there’s just something fundamentally wrong with the image of you holding such a destructive weapon.

you should be holding otis’ lead. or a canvas depicting frank’s recent masterpiece. or the end of some wine bottle bill’s struggling to open.

or joel’s hand.

instead of speaking his mind, he pries it from you with a huff- from both of you- and lays it to rest somewhere towards his right, out of sight and out of mind. “‘s not some toy for a girl like you to be messin’ about with.”

“neither are you,” you make a point to rack your pretty nails over the untamed curls of his pubic hair, the occasional flash of silver a reminder of his aging state. you don’t seem to notice, or care, too busy bringing the attention back to his leaking tip.

a sound adjacent to a growl escapes him, feral and domineering. shame exists within him, for a moment, witnessing himself be at such a loss of control. when his hands find purchase on your waist, the feeling dissipates and what takes it’s place is pure adulterated need, throbbing in his very core.

he tugs you forward, closer, catching the way you’re struggling to reach him, hand gripping his thigh for support.

“y’gonna hurry on up ‘ere,” impatience punctuates the soul, driving him off the cliff of sanity and plunging head first into the rocky territories below. “or d’ya need me to do all the work? lay ya down, nice and pretty on the hood so i can fuck you?”

you deny his offer with actions, clambering your way into his lap, legs splayed out either side of his thighs. the skirt bunches awkwardly between you both and steals his view as you rest down against his stiffness and smother it in the warmth of your clothed cunt.

there’s dampness on your panties, teasing him as you give an experimental roll along his cock, holding it tight between both your bodies.

“shit, joel,” a hiss through your clenched teeth and your face twisting up in something- pain? arousal? both? he can’t quite pinpoint it. your hips roll again, this time reaching higher, teasing him with a visual of what’s to come. “feel so thick, don’t know how i’m gonna-”

“didn’t i already tell ya-” he grabs at your skirt, irritation clear in the way he rips it up the length of your legs, exposing your skin inch by inch. “you’re gonna learn to take it?”

your hand dives under the fabric before his can, fingers curling around his cock once again and giving him a salacious stroke, taking your time gliding over the smooth skin and sensitive head. “mhmm. you gonna teach me?”

he nods, affirmative.

the next few minutes are nothing but messy grinding. like a pair of hormone-crazed teens, you explore the joys of rubbing up on each other. two pieces of wet wood searching for that spark in between. you make the most effort, working the muscles in your thighs to slide up the length of him and to grind back down, the wet patch in your panties growing with each stroke. joel sits back, allows himself the rare luxury of being taking care of. the last time he had a pretty girl in his lap, she had solace in her eyes and a couple twenties stuffed down her sparkly bra.

“what d’ya bring me ‘ere for,” he’d berated his younger brother after, his anger seemingly coming across as unserious to a giggling tommy, “was fuckin’ depressin’. kept lookin’ at those girls and thinkin’ bout if their poor dads knew what they were up to.”

he can’t help but wonder if bill and frank know what you’re up to.

“hey, hey, wait,” the words tumble out of him erratically as he catches up to your actions, the hand around his cock suddenly holding it still as you raise your hips. his hands pull and grab at the fabric of your skirt, a frustrated grunt slipping out of him as he hoists it up past your waist. this time, you’re covered by a shade of baby blue cotton instead of lace, less sultry yet far more appealing in his eyes. comfortable, that’s what they look like, the kind of pair he’d find you wearing stood in a kitchen in the early hours of the morning, one of his wrinkled old t-shirts the only thing keeping your frame concealed. joel’d always had a good imagination, and it serves him well, decorating his mind with several images of a domestic bliss he’d never get to share with you. “lemme see.”

you’re a smart girl, it’s one of your best qualities, and so you need no further instructions to understand what joel’s asking for.

he watches like a hawk as your fingers tug your panties to one side, a pretty window of slick covered skin that has him involuntarily jutting his hips up off the truck, his head slipping up your seam and pressing into your clit, an action that sparks the reaction of your own hips grinding down. you recover quick, hand back on the task of gripping his base and holding him, while your over reaches back to grip his knee, giving you a grip to steady yourself on as you straighten your thighs.

“this what you want,” your voice calls through the lustful haze in his mind as he takes in the sight of you sinking down onto him, the head of his cock fitting snuggly between your velvet walls. it’s almost enough to make him cum on sight. “to watch? me sitting on your dick?”

joel wonders if you’re trying to shame his desires. ultimately, he’s too lost in the way you cling around him to really care. if anything, he almost wants you to be disgusted by him, making the act of devouring your pleasure that much more sinful.

hands grip at your hips, with moon-shape indents forming around where his nails dig into your flesh. patience is a virtue he scarcely possess but he forces it on himself, fighting back the need to slam you right down on him and carve a home out for his hot cum inside your empty womb. he can’t allow himself the fast-paced indulgence he’s used to, not when he sees the deep breaths you need to take or the pained wrinkle in your brow with each inch you sink deeper and deeper down on him with.

he let’s you take your time, eyes starring with a crazed expression at the point your bodies meet. once he’s fully nestled inside the warmth of your cunt, your forehead rests against his own and he’s forced to look into your eyes and once again notice the way your pupils sit dilated in lust.

it’s a sight he’d like to get used to.

“kinda regretting this,” dread plummets through his heart and a ball forms in his throat. your walls hold him in a vice grip that seems to contradict your statement, until you clarify. “thinking i could take it like this. i’ve never, you know, in this position before-”

“you’re doin’ great,” joel’s own voice sounds pained, straining beneath the buzzing energy that’s begging him to relinquish control to his lust. it would be so easy, effortless even, to grip your hips and fuck you down onto him like you’re nothing if not a hole to get himself off in. unfortunately, his heart stands in the way. “shit, fuckin’ better than great.”

neither of you keep time of how long you sit like that, pelvis to pelvis, his cock buried into the hilt and a puddle of your wetness collecting along his pubic bone, the bristle hairs providing a rough friction for your clit.

eventually, initiative is taken, and you work up the nerve to roll your hips.

the view he’d been enjoying is stolen as your skirt slips back down to pool around you both, his hands too occupied gripping at your waist as your own find home on his sturdy shoulders.

another roll of of your body, slow and steady, lighting every nerve in his cock on fire with the sweet burn of your cunt fighting to keep him inside, refusing to let him slip too far out before you’re filling yourself back up again. your lips fall open in a pathetic moan, the sweet smell of your breath hitting his nostrils as you sit forehead to forehead.

and joel wonders if there’ll ever be a part of you he’s not enamoured by.

your confidence grows as you begin to set a pace, bouncing yourself up and down in his lap as joel grips here, there and everywhere on your body. a pinch to your hardened nipples, a trace of your hidden thighs, a cradling of your face. there’s not an inch of you he wants to neglect, staining his fingerprints all over you with every frantic touch.

this is nothing like the back-alley exchanges of body heat he’s grown accustomed to, this is nothing rushed and everything felt. it’s a carnal hunger for the feel of flesh and the taste of sweat. it’s feral, and lustful, and downright intoxicating. it’s the need to get his fill of you over, and over, and over again, till the fountain of your velvet warmth overflows with his seed and has nowhere else to run but down the length of your full thighs and dripping onto his emptied balls below.

“joel, please,” he decides he likes you much better like this, your whole body gripping itself around him-arms, legs, soaked cunt- in search of a sweet salvation only he can bring as your usual bright smile and quick tongue become reduced to nothing but whimpered breaths and desperate prayers. “i’m- god, i can’t-”

your thighs tremble as he tightens his hold, keeping you steady when the exhaustion of exhilarating yourself on top of him begins to take a hold of you. the need to take over becomes primal, blunt nails tearing into the meat of your thighs and bouncing you down on him with an effortless look he hopes will fool you out of noticing he’s seconds away from blowing his load prematurely, mind and body too close to the edge of nirvana from simply having the weight of you on him.

he just needs to get you there first.

“hate this fucking skirt,” the grumble was meant to be a thought he keeps to himself, but the giggle it rouses out of you makes it worth the slip-up, your own hands delivering the mercy of helping him drag the length of it farther up, marking a clear path for his own to sneak under and find your pulsing clit. “don’t wear it again.”

a few tight circles with just the right amount of pressure has you melting deeper into him, your arms curling around him as your head lays itself to rest upon his shoulder. your every breath delivers a brush of heat against his already burning skin and he wishes there were no plaid shirts nor camisoles resting between your heartbeats.

“but it’s so,” he must have struck gold, found some hidden gem in the combination of the pressure of his fingers on your clit and the rhythm at which he’s fucking you down onto his cock, for you clamp down on him so tightly he worries you may cut off his circulation. “soft and, oh, yes! and it- it fits me so perfectly-”

“not sure if you’re talkin’ bout your skirt or your pussy,” he grunts out, a teasing smirk on his mouth that dies the instance his lips press to your neck, nose chasing the scent of your lingering shampoo.

“you’re so-” he’s so, what? you don’t get to finish, hand fisting into his hair and moans falling from your lips like autumn leaves.

“tsk, look at ya,” he certainly is, and loving every inch of you he sees, hips rolling down with the guidance of his hands, head tucked safely away from the world in the crook of his neck, hands gripping any part of him they seem to reach. if art is subjective, then you’re the damned mona lisa, the starry night, the birth of venus. “can’t even fuckin’ speak properly, mouth’s good for nothin’ when you’re full of cock.”

you nod into him, hips moving faster, nails digging deeper, moans getting louder. he’s got you so close, a few more thrusts till he’s sure to have you flying off the handles and cumming around him.

you whine his name.

he meets the roll of your hips with the raising of his own.

a pull of hair, a bite of skin, and then you’re-

“oh shit, ain’t this a pretty sight.”

joel’s blood runs cold.

you’re frozen against him.

just past your shoulder, directly in joel’s eye-line, by the gas station’s entry stands a man. he’s younger than joel, maybe even younger than you. his clothes are stained in all sorts- sweat, dried blood, mud- and are tattered, as if he’s been wearing the same thing everyday. the strap of a backpack sits over one shoulder and he seems to be carrying no weapons but the hunting knife in his belt.

the intruder- if he can even be called that out in the openness of the world- takes a couple steps closer but they’re not full of confidence. if anything, his frame seems just as shaken as you both, fingers fidgeting with the adjustable cord of the bag’s strap.

“please, don’t stop on my account,” he seems to be trying to play it cool, but fails to let out the light-hearted chuckle he intends to, a noise more similar to a choke taking its place. “heck, give me a little performance even”

joel’s not sure what’s gotten into him- if it’s the fact he’d been moments away from making you cum, or the dropping temperatures that have you sinking deeper into his warm body, or the sheer desire to possess you so intimately under someone else’s knowledge- but he finds himself rutting up into you again.

you don’t join in, limbs still locked in shocked, yet a moan is breathed into his neck.

“shit, man,” the stranger sounds amazed, as if not even he thought joel would gift him such a sight. his hands find something new to fidget with, struggling to undo the buckle of his tattered leather belt. “pull up her skirt, lemme see how she’s taking you.”

he obliges and bunches the fabric up in his hands, exposing the sight that lays beneath. it’s not the explicit sight the man must be hoping for, the snug fit of his cock inside your cunt mostly concealed by your pushed-aside panties.

unable to stop himself, joel wonders if this man would prefer you in something more scandalous than the blue cotton that he so deeply adores.

“sorry- fuck! just, it’s just been a while,” the buckle comes undone at last, a button and a zipper follow. one hand dips beneath the waist band of the man’s boxers. “swear i’m not trynna be a creep, or nuffin’. can you... could you squeeze her ass? wanna see how much of a hand full she is.”

this time around, you let out a sound that’s less pleasant to joel’s ears, a far cry from pleasured as he so greedily cups a handful of your ass. the realisation that, though your body may contradict you with the canting of your hips into his or the continued arousal you drip between your pelvises, you’re not enjoying this, hits him like a truck.

you’re not moaning in pleasure, you’re whimpering in fear. you’re not shaking because you’re cold, you’re shaking because you’re scared. this man is scaring you.

joel is letting him scare you.

“swear i’ll just- a few minutes and i’ll be out your hair, ok?” the man’s fumbling, bag dropping off his shoulder down onto the floor as he works over his cock. joel wonders if it’s uncomfortable, stroking himself without the help of spit to ease the slide, and scoots his hand over to his right, fingers slipping over the hood in search. “just really need this, man, you’ve no idea how it gets out here on your own-”

nothing usually crosses joel’s mind when he pulls a trigger.

becoming numb to it, blanking one’s mind, treating it as normal. it’s the only way to come out the other side of it without it weighing on your conscious. it was built over time, the first few months a struggle to even touch a gun after what happened on outbreak day. shooting humans had always been the easy part, reminding himself there’s an evil in them he doesn’t need to meet to know it exists. the infected, he’d struggled, compassion sinking deep into the pit of his stomach as he’d glance at their once-alive eyes, now nothing but a breeding ground for some mushroom.

the shot rings out, moments after the bullet hits its target and, this time, you cross his mind.

defenceless, shaking, clinging onto him. it’s shameful to admit that it turns him on, has his balls throbbing with unloaded cum, to protect you. to play the role of saviour, supporter, guardian to the fearful girl in his lap.

he doesn’t even care enough to spare the dead man a look, eyes back on you.

you’re already staring right back at him, shock written all over your face. “you... you killed him.”

“he was holdin’ a gun, sol,” he’s not sure if it makes you feel any better. you do, however, seem to shuffle closer to him, chest to chest as you take in what he’s telling you. “was gonna fire a few rounds into me and then where would that leave ya, huh? free for the taken.”

thunder roars above your heads.

your brows furrow, conflictive expressions taking over you while you assess what’s just happened. he tries not to think too much about the fact his cock is still very much nestled inside your soaked pussy, throbbing with the impending release life keeps stealing away from you both.

“you killed him.” you repeat, more sure in your words this time.

“i did.”

lightning lights up the darkening sky.

“i should be scared of you.”

“you should.”

one last rumble from the storm clouds.

“but i’m not.”

the heavens above seem to open as cold, thick drops of water fall from the sky, quickly soaking everything they meet. the gravel, his shirt, your hair. the rain seems to have no boundaries, slipping between you both and filling the little gaps it manages to find.

neither of you move from where you’re seated, letting the cold overtake your bodies. you both use it as an excuse to move closer, arms tangling around one another as you stare each other down with judgement, assessing what either will do next.

you call the shots, experimentally rolling your hips, testing the waters to see where he’s at.

joel meets you just where you want him to, touches more frantic than before and far more sloppy, neither of you conscious of the goosebumps that line your skins as you indulge in one another’s bodies, fucking beneath the pouring rain like some silly scene out of a romance film.

“i was protectin’ you,” he breathes onto your neck, mouthing at your flesh and enjoying the thudding of your pulse beneath his tongue. “keepin’ you safe, sol. ‘s what i do, what i’ll always do.”

it’s unclear if the words are meant to assure you or himself.

it doesn’t take long till you’re both back at the edge of glorious relief, the unmet orgasms from earlier rearing their heads all at once and flooding over both of you. one of his hands snakes it’s way under your skirt to rub at your clit, while one of your own threads itself in his hair and tugs sharply, till he feels a sting in his scalp.

what a sight it is to behold as you cum, eyes rolled back, lips parted in a mute scream, soaked hair sticking to your forehead and every other place it touches. joel wants to see you through to the very end, hold you while you shake and break completely on his cock, but the warmth that creeps up his loins takes that priviledge away.

only as the first spurt of thick cum shoots out of him does joel manage to rip you off him, jostling you further up his lap and providing him with the friction of your ass cheeks to sooth over his spasming member as he paints your lower back and inner skirt in his pleasure.

he watches you falling apart in the heat of your orgasm and his bones ache a little less, his soul feels a little lighter, his heart seems to beat a little better.

joel never manages to put his thoughts into words quite properly.

“you’re not,” he breaths out, shaky. you’re still rutting against his limp cock, soaking him with your slick and whimpering into his shoulder as his head bumps against your aching clit, the come down from your orgasm hitting you harder than his. he’s vaguely aware of how tightly he’s gripping you, arms holding you flush, anchoring you down against him as the rain continues to pour. “you’re not real.”

you’re mumbling something but it falls on deaf ears as joel fails to reel his thoughts in, eyes skittish as they jump from watching water crash against the windows of the deserted gas station to the limp body of the stranger, cock still in his hand and a bullet straight through his forehead, a sick red washing away along the gravel.

“...here. i’m real, joel,” a kiss pressed to his forehead. you’re gentle with him, whispering into his good ear and he wonders if you know he can hear you better on this side, he’d never mentioned it. a hand coaxes his own off your waist and guides it upwards, pressing against the left side of your chest. rapid thumps. you mimic the movement, hand pressing against his own heart as you rest your forehead against his. “i’m here. we’re both here.”

joel drives back.

there’s no prior discussion where you agree on this. he simply cleans you both up- to the best of his abilities-, sits you down in the passengers seat and walks his way round to the driver’s side. it’s silent, and this time it’s the uncomfortable kind. the kind that wrestles with his mind and puts discomfort in his heart. there’s something unspoken between you both and he does not know how to begin to talk about it, not without the risk of messing it all up.

you don’t protest this time around when he turns on one of bill’s old cd’s, and, so, billy joel sings you all the way home.

at some point, he convinces himself you’ve fallen prey to sleep, eyes closed and head slumped to the side, searching for the safety of something to rest itself on. slowing to a stop, he takes his time undoing your seatbelt and maneuvering your lax limbs till your head meets his shoulder. the drive onwards is slower, more careful as he drives over any bump in the road and each turning he takes less sharp.

“i owe you a thank you,” you eventually mumble, weight still leaning against him and eyes very much shut.

he nods, though you do not see it. “okay.”

it’s all he can think to say, unsure what a girl like you could ever thank him for. all he’s done since the moment he met you is dampen your shine and stain your kindness with rough hands and a rougher heart.

“for, you know, not telling tess,” your response brings more questions than answers. not telling tess what? “i just... she’d hate me, if she knew, and she’s some of the only family i have left. i couldn’t stand to lose her over a few... mistaken moments between us.”

joel wonders if he’s part of this short list of family you have.

he doubts it.

“don’t see why she’d care,” he’s choosing to ignore that word, mistaken, yet it’s not enough to stop his fingers from twisting tighter around the wheel, tension in his wounded heart.

“of course you wouldn’t,” you wrestle down a yawn and nestle your head deeper into the crook of his neck, body hunched in a position he can’t imagine to be too comfortable. he keeps this thought to himself, decidedly enjoying this false image of tender touch. you ground him, weight down on his paper-thin mind-state like a rock that promises to keep all his pages in place. “you’re careless.”

there you go again, displaying such casual cruelty.

you’re careless.

how twisted life is to give him everything he’s worked so hard to be- a man feared, untested, unmessed with- only for his every want become his waking nightmare as it sits on your own lips.

i don’t like you, joel.

“‘s that why ya don’t like me?” he can’t help himself, even if he wanted to.

“i don’t like you because you-” a pull of breath. an opening of eyes. a raise of a head. you don’t make it far before he’s raising a hand off the wheel to encourage you back down to rest upon him, half-worrying he’ll be strown apart by the next gust of wind should he lose the weight of your head on his shoulder. “i can’t tell you.”

“why not?”

“you never brought me that dress.”

there’s no answer he can give that won’t incriminate him and steer you on the clear path to see just how caring a man like him can be. every fabric he’s seen the wrong colour, the wrong length, the wrong style for you. the closest he’d gotten to finding a dress worthy enough of slipping down your skin was stripped from the corpse of a woman joel’d been tasked with disposing of. in a moment of weakness, he’d nearly taken it, till his skin began to crawl with the implications of gifting you a dead woman’s dress, the last piece of clothing she’d worn while her blood was still warm and her lungs filled with air.

you fall asleep, for real this time, not even stirring as he maneuvers himself out of his jacket and drapes it over your damp figure, body sinking deeper into his own- as deep as the console between you allows.

night has taken hold of the sky by the time he pulls into the fenced community, headlights lighting up the path back into the garage. pulling the car to a stop, joel eases your weight off him and steps out the car, mindful of how he closes the door over. he makes his way around to the passenger side and pries the door open to find you still sleeping, peaceful as can be, the dull army green of his jacket contrasting the pastel shade of your skirt.

he takes a moment, sinking to his knees, and let’s himself indulge in the image of you like this a little longer, before the watchful eyes of bill or the curious glances of tess stand between the ways joel longs to look at you. softness greets his thumb as it brushes over your cheek. you seek out his warmth, chasing it even as he moves downwards to swipe at the dribble of spit threatening to spill out your slacked lips.

if he were a better liar, perhaps he’d claim this was his way of attempting to wake you up.

“what happened?” frank is the first to greet him, eyes blown a little wider than usual as he takes in the sight of you curled against joel, one arm round your back and another under your knees keeping the weight of you off the ground. “is she okay?”

“nothin’s happened,” the man’s reactions to joel’s return to the house has brought on more pairs of eyes, tess and bill flooding out the kitchen to catch a glimpse of him in the hallway. “she’s just tired. ‘s been a long day and-”

“your clothes are wet.” bill’s eyes are glaring, tearing apart every detail they can pick up: the gentle grip he holds you with, your sweater thrown over his shoulder, the peaceful manner in which your sleeping form sinks into his warmth, the jacket that’s slowly slipping down your form to reveal bare shoulders and soaked cotton.

his tongue feels heavy, his mouth turning to sandpaper as the anxious feeling of being watched dries up his senses. hardly aware of it, he’s straightening his spine and puffing his chest, staring the older man down before flickering over to where tess stands, face much kinder looking as she watches you sleep. “you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna show me her room ‘fore my back gives out?”

that seems to get the ball rolling, all questioning and staring left behind as frank guides him three doors down and slips the door open, stepping aside to let joel in. he doesn’t bother hitting the light, a part of him not wanting to pick up any details to linger on around your room, using what little light the moon provides to find his way over to the bed. frank’s gaze is burning a hole in joel’s back even as he drops you down onto the mattress, and it’s almost like he can hear the buzz of energy radiating from everything the man wants to ask him.

it’s not till the four of them sit the dining table and joel’s shovelling a fork-load of food into his mouth that the next question comes.

“why was her sweater dry?” it’s tess who asks, punctuating it with an obnoxious sip from her glass.

all eyes are on Joel, a spotlight she’d shun directly on him and leaving him on display. bill, in particular, seems to be clinging to his every movement, anticipating his answer with the clenching of fingers around the steak knife in his hand.

“what?” it’s all he can manage without the fear of saying too much.

“your clothes were all wet. but her sweater, on your shoulder, it was dry.”

how had tess even noticed that?

“she took it off,” it takes a couple minutes to answer, a pause he tries to play off as simply his need to chew on the food he shovels into his mouth at last. it feels heavy, slipping down his throat, like he can already anticipate it’s return to the surface alongside his bile. “said somethin’ bout not wantin’ to get oil on it when i told her i was gonna show her the different parts of the engine.”

silence.

eyes shooting back and forth.

tess looks at frank.

frank looks at bill.

bill loathes at joel.

and then, “oh.”

tess says it like it’s the start of a sentence, an audible ellipses that she’s refusing to elaborate on.

“oh.” joel parrots, hoping they’ll drop the topic and allow him to go back to the raging waters thrashing around in his thoughts.

luck is not on his side.

“that makes sense,” the woman continues, attempting to cut the tension with an airy chuckle and a shrugging of her shoulders, as if doing so will shake the tension out of everyone else’s. “was worried that poor girl was running around with her tits out in front of the likes of you.”

bill grips tighter around his cutlery, knuckles white under the dining room light.

straightening up, a momentary lapse of judgement and a foolish flash of red hot possession shoots over him, embarking him on the road to saying perhaps the dumbest thing he’s ever said.

“would that be so bad?”

a hand smacks down on the table. a chair scrapes, another following right after.

“bill,” frank’s tone is nothing if not a warning, hand on the man’s forearm as he soothes his thumb over his skin.

“it’s late,” it comes after a deep breath, the kind a shrink would teach you to use in times of stress, or fear, or anger. bill isn’t even acknowledging tess, fully focused on joel. “you should get going.”

plates half full, bellies half empty, the four of them step away from the table. tess slips on a jacket, one she’d not had prior to arriving, and passes joel a loaded bag. he figures she must have had her pick around the old clothes shop, loitering whatever was left that could either fit them or keep them warm through the remainder of the cold months.

he throws it over his shoulder without question.

the air has shifted, a tense feeling floating around the atmosphere that exists between him and bill. tess and frank are seemingly unaware of it, laughing and talking amongst themselves as the group makes their way to the front door.

joel is the last to step out and, in doing so, he pauses, glancing backwards into the open doorway.

he calls out to tess, all three heads turn.

“need a piss.”

“take your time,” it’s the friendlier of the two men who responds, threading his arm around bill’s and dragging him along with him. it reminds him of why he likes frank more. “we’ll walk tess to the gate.”

he watches the three figures fade away into the dark of the street, carefully stepping back into the house once he feels the safety of distance. he tries to keep his footsteps light, suddenly aware of how quiet the place feels without the panting of a dog or the rustling of someone in the kitchen. he counts the doors as he goes- one, two, three- and turns the handle of the third.

the room is still dark, but that’s okay. he’s used to darkness. his eyes carefully scan the floor with each step he takes closer to the bed, watching out for any discarded dog toy or worn clothing splayed across it. at some point, his steps meet carpet instead of cold floor. he’d not noticed it earlier, but then his sense had been rather focused on the precious cargo he carried.

he finds you where he left you, hair a mess upon your pillow and chest rising steadily in the breaths of deep sleep. only, you’ve gained a companion, the unmistakeable beady-eyed stare of the german shepherd meeting joel’s in the dark. the dog makes a noise, half whimper half whine, and the tip of its bushy tail begins to beat against the mattress, matching the rhythm of joel’s heart.

like before, he lets his hand brush your cheek. instead of wiping saliva, he brushes a few stray hairs away from your peaceful face. you shift and he panics, fearful you’ve awakened, only to relax as you sink deeper into the pillow.

his hand lingers longer than necessary.

another whine from the mutt gives him the will to at last pull away from you, trading your soft cheek for the smooth fur along the dog’s head. his fingers card through it, nails digging a little to scratch at otis’ scalp.

“you take care of her,” for me. “alright bud?”

he must be losing his mind, for he swears he feels the dog nod.

the steps he takes on his way out are less careful, though he’s slowed by the amount of times he seems to insist on turning back to glance at the bed. maybe it’s for comfort, the peace of mind of knowing he’d brought you back safe and sound.

maybe it’s with longing, his aching joints begging for him to crawl his way in beside you, cocooning you between himself and the ball of fluff behind you.

shaking his head, an array of self-aimed insults plough through his mind, joel curls his hand around the wooden frame of the door, steadying himself to glance back one last time.

“joel...” he freezes, caught in place. how long have you been awake? how do you know it’s him? how are you so softly spoken when your voice is hoarse? “turn the lamp on,” a yawn. he hears rustling and imagines you readjusting yourself into whichever position brings you most comfort. the thought of if it ever gets lonely, sleeping with no one to hold, crosses his mind. he refuses to let it linger. “don’t wanna wake up to the dark.”

he shuffles over to where he sees the outline of a lamp, fingers sliding around in the dark till they hit a switch and a lovely orange hue overtakes the room, bringing it to life. little trinkets, scattered papers, a couple pictures in frames line the desk in front of him. he’s seen too much for comfort, avoiding looking at anything else in your space till he finds you, curled up in the bed too big for one, otis’ head resting on your hip.

you still have his jacket over you, ignoring the warm comforter you lay upon.

he thinks he musters up a smile. if he does, you’re returning it, eyes sleepy and lips lazy in their movement. it’s a peaceful moment, the kind joel doesn’t get many- if any- of these days. he won’t waste it by speaking what’s on his mind. your eyes slowly drop once more, surrendering to exhaustion.

the bedroom door creaks behind him on the way out.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal smut

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 1 year

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‘Cause You’re a Sky Full of Stars (I’m Gonna Give You My Heart)

Part Two of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: After your whirlwind meeting at the bar, you and Jake finally go on your first date.

Disclaimer: Insecurities on the part of Gorgeous Girl,

Warnings: afab!reader

Word Count: 4460

A/N: Hi! I'm back! This concept took over my brain and I had to write Jake and Gorgeous Girl's first date. Like the last installment, I listened to a song to get the creative juices flowing. So without further ado, this part is sponsored by Coldplay's A Sky Full of Stars and this picture of Glen Powell. Thanks to @bradshawsbaby for their service and for bringing that sinful image to my dash! Also I have a billion thanks to @roosterbruiser for proofreading and feedback as well!

AO3: Cross-posted here! My Masterlist

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You wake up slowly, with your mouth fuzzy and eyes screwed shut. Your limbs feel heavy as you sit up, wrapped in a cocoon of your blankets. After detangling yourself, you shuffle into your bathroom and mechanically go about your morning routine. The sun is dipping through the slits in your blinds as you traipse downstairs and wait zombie-like, mug in hand, in front of your coffee maker as it finishes brewing your coffee. The first sip of the rich and dark brew reminds you of the whiskey you’d shared with Jake the night before. Flashes of the night before whirl through your mind as you contemplate whether 10 AM on a Saturday is too early to text him. To let him know that you’re thinking about him. At the very least, you can see if he’s texted you back after all, right?

“Text me, gorgeous girl!” His parting words from the night before sound even sweeter, ricocheting through your mind in the stark morning light as you stand barefoot, in your pajamas and bedhead, on your kitchen tile. Your toes curl unbidden as you think of the look in those green, green eyes as you said goodnight. The thought of those eyes has you unlocking your phone and navigating to your messages. His contact makes you grin. A tipsy, man-drunk you had picked the right choice, leaving 🤠💚 after his name. While the three messages you’d sent the night before are cringy, you’re half expecting there to be no response from Jake at all. But there they are, received at 6:30 in the morning.

You gawp unflatteringly at the screen in your hand. Did he say he dreamed? Of you? It’s official. Jake Seresin is terrible for your mental clarity and your sanity. His messages are giving you whiplash outright. You’re haunting his dreams in one second, and he’s bantering with you about Batman in the next.

You’re not expecting any more responses from him. Anyone awake at 6 AM on a Saturday is sure to have a busy day planned. You, yourself, have plans to meet your best friend for brunch in the city. So you knock back the remains of your coffee and head back upstairs to get ready.

You see Jake’s response when you’re collecting your things with sunglasses perched on your face nearly an hour later. You’re fully dressed in a graphic t-shirt, cut-offs, and sneakers for brunch.

Butterflies run rampant in your stomach as you hook your phone up to your convertible’s sound system and blast music on the way to the restaurant you’d decided on with your friend for brunch. You meet her there promptly at 11:30, greeting her with hugs and laughter. It isn’t until you’re at the table and each holding a drink, fresh-squeezed orange juice and coffee for you and a mimosa for her, that the Spanish Inquisition begins. Callie, now back in San Diego permanently, broaches the topic of your date with James. She’d been the chief architect of your Tinder profile and your biggest cheerleader as you agonized over what to wear the night before.

“Sorry, Cal,” you grin at her, “James sucked!” At her glare, you spill the whole tale. Her glare softens into a wince as you mention all the things James said about his ex and his mother. It’s when you mention Jake that something changes.

“Jake?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you’re smiling that giddy fond grin again, unable to make eye contact.

“And he's in the Navy?”

“Yeah.”

“A Naval Aviator?”

“That’s what he said, Cal.” There is a pause as you digest what she’s getting at. “Wait. Callie! You’re a Naval Aviator. Do you know him?”

You grasp your friend’s hands as you plead for more information. She carefully extricates herself from your grip, rotating her wrists, and primly pushes her sunglasses up her nose. She’s letting you stew in your realization, the bitch. If only she weren’t your best friend since you were twelve. As much as you hate her need for suspense at the moment, you also know you wouldn’t trade her for anyone else in the world. So you sip on your juice and wait. It isn’t until the food is on the table that she responds to your frantic questions.

“I know a Jake, who is a Naval Aviator. But a knight in shining armor, he is not. If I had to describe him, I’d describe him as a complete and total dick.” She lifts her hand at your falling face, gesturing at you to stop whatever your face is doing. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when I was back on North Island for that secret detachment mission?”

“Yeah, Cal, I do.”

“And do you remember that one night when we met for dinner at that place with the pitchers of spicy margaritas and the mouth-watering tacos? I was venting about this complete and utter asshole, callsign Hangman, who persisted in leaving everyone behind?”

You nod.

“That’s him. He’s changed over the past few months since the squadron was permanently assigned to North Island. But I’m still worried about what he’ll do to you. He goes through girls like he does those damned toothpicks he always has in his mouth. Sweet and gorgeous girls who want forever aren’t really his thing.” She’s serious now. There isn’t a hint of the laughter usually on her face. “But, I also know you. He’s your type. He has been since we were giggling about boys for the first time. I’m not going to stop you from going out with him. You deserve to have someone who makes you smile like you were earlier. This is just a warning, and I want you to know I have your back. I will beat him up if he makes you cry. I also expect to be named your Maid of Honor if this relationship goes that far.”

You smile tremulously at your best friend and rock, grateful to have her support even if she isn’t happy about you seeing him again. The both of you begin to scarf down your meals in companionable silence.

When there’s barely any food left on the plates, you pick up the conversation again. “Cal, I should probably mention that he asked me out to dinner this morning. He’s picking me up at 6 at my place. Would you please, please, please help me pick out something to wear?” you beg, now, batting your best puppy dog eyes at your friend.

“Sure,” she grumbles, finishing the last of her mimosa. “What did he say was the dress code?”

You pull out your phone and check your messages.

You hand Callie your phone, letting her scroll through your messages with Jake. Her eyebrows climb as she scrolls through the messages.

“It looks like he’s trying to impress you by doing something on the beach. What do you think about heading to that boutique downtown? The one where I found that gorgeous sparkly blazer you love so much?” She asks as you split the bill. Both of you get into your car and drive into the city with the summer breeze ruffling through your hair and the sun shining brightly.

It had taken three hours for you and Callie to decide on an outfit for your date. You’d tried on what felt like hundreds of sundresses before ultimately picking out a green flowy dress and strappy sandals. Cute and casual but not sloppy. It felt like no time had passed between when you headed home and now as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You touch up your makeup and pursed your lips to apply lipstick in the same burgundy shade as the night before.

The doorbell rings, and the butterflies in your stomach decide to swarm up your esophagus. You open the front door to see Jake standing in front of you, wearing a pair of aviators and clutching a bouquet in his hand. He hands the bouquet to you with a heart-stopping grin. The arrangement is gorgeous, dark red carnations interspersed with sprigs of white baby’s breath.

“Hi Jake,” you grin, bringing the bouquet to your nose, inhaling deeply to get a whiff of the flowers’ delicate fragrance. “Please, come in. Let me put these in water, and then I’m ready to go.”

Jake steps in, and you close the door behind him. He’s wearing a soft sage-colored Henley t-shirt rolled up his forearms, a pair of worn jeans, and cowboy boots. You can hear him stomping behind you as you walk into the kitchen and grab a vase from a shelf. There is something different about seeing Jake Seresin in your house. He’s carefully examining everything, from the pictures on the walls to the books on your shelves. You finish up with the flowers and stand next to him in front of the bookshelf. He’s got your worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands.

“Have you ever read it?” you ask, curious.

“I have. It’s my twin sister’s favorite book.” His eyes are fond as he flips to the bookmark you left the last time you’d picked the book up, right at Darcy’s first confession of love to Elizabeth.

“My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I'm fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need add, my own better judgement.” His voice is perfect. He manages to portray every emotion in Darcy’s voice while staring deep into your eyes. The moment stretches into something tender and heavy. You’re barely breathing, cataloging the flecks of gold and brown swimming in his eyes. You nearly kick yourself for breaking his gaze when you gently grab the book from his hands, close it, and set it on the shelf.

“Dinner?” you ask, grabbing the last of your things and putting them in your bag.

“Dinner,” Jake murmurs back, voice soft. He’s the perfect gentleman, pulling the front door open for you, waiting at the bottom of the stairs while you lock the door, and helping you into his behemoth of a truck.

The windows are down again, with the radio still tuned to the same country station. Instead of heading towards downtown San Diego, Jake points the truck north, driving up I-5.

“Where are we going?” you ask, enjoying the evening breeze as you cruise effortlessly on the roads.

“La Jolla. There is this amazing Italian restaurant on the beach. I thought we’d eat dinner there and then walk along the beach?” There’s a pause, and then, “But if you don’t like Italian, I’m sure we can find other restaurants in the area.” He sounds flustered.

You shouldn’t be feeling amused, yet you can’t keep the smile from your voice as you place your hand over his and say, “Italian is perfect.” You glance over at him, seeing that his aviators are once again snugly perched on his nose. You can see the light nervous blush coloring his golden cheeks. As much as you’d like to see how far his blush goes, you change the subject instead, asking, “How was your day?”

He seems too eager to respond, mentioning running in the morning, eating brunch, hanging out with some squadron members, and playing dogfight football on the beach. You’re not quite sure what dogfight football entails. Callie has mentioned it before too. When you ask Jake, his explanation, which involves two footballs and keeping score while defending your team from the opposing team's football, sets your head spinning. Keeping track of the rules for American Football is already too much. He’s scandalized, green eyes peering at you from over the rim of his aviators when you tell him as much. The rest of your trip to the restaurant is spent with him trying and failing to portray the football field verbally and describe plays to you. You’re smiling uncontrollably, regardless, when the truck pulls into a spot in front of the restaurant. As promised, the restaurant is on the beachfront. The sun is setting in blossoms of red and gold that transition to violet in front of your eyes.

“It’s a stunning view, isn’t it.” You startle at the sound of his voice, a little surprised to see the driver’s seat empty and Jake standing next to you in the open truck door. “Ready for dinner?”

“I’m famished,” you grin as you take his hand and hop out of the truck. You conclude that Jake draws attention everywhere you go, especially when you hear the giggling from the hostess and your waitress as she leads you to your table. Your waitress’ eyes goggle when Jake pulls out your chair for you before folding gracefully into his own across from you.

"What can I get you, sir?" she simpers, pressing her arms together to get Jake's eyes on her bosom.

"Darlin', do you know what you'd like to drink?" Jake asks you instead, ignoring the display from your waitress in its entirety.

"I'm not sure. I'd love to order a glass of wine." You waver, second-hand embarrassment for your waitress' peacocking melting into your tone.

"Can we have a couple of glasses of your house red, please?" Jake asks your waitress, once again keeping his tone polite and eyes on her face and not her over-exposed assets.

Her downcast face and Jake's smug, mischievous grin nearly have you laughing at the table as she walks away. Behind Jake, you can see a desperate powwow as your waitress, hostess, and other waitresses desperately try to get a game plan together to attract his attention.

"Sweets.”

“Doll.”

“Gorgeous?!" You snap back to Jake and your table with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," You’re grinning shyly as you respond, "our waitress, the hostess, and a few other waitresses all look like they're going to war behind you."

"War?" He drawls, eyes still looking right at you. "What exactly would they be going to war over?"

"You." You murmur, embarrassed to have brought it up. You continue at the sardonic tilt to his raised eyebrow, "They're going to wage war against me over you. I'm sure it's happened to you before. The waitstaff deciding that the girl you're having dinner with isn't as pretty as you deserve?"

There is an understanding look on his face now. You're unsure if you should say anything further, but save yourself the embarrassment and effort when your waitress returns with the wine. The next moments are full of Jake tasting the wine, deeming it acceptable, and your waitress pouring each of you a glass. You sip slowly at the rich, tart, sweet liquid and wait until your waitress has stepped away again.

This time, when Jake utters, "Gorgeous girl," in that Texan growl, your eyes are on him already. His hand is held upright, halfway across the table, fingers wiggling imperiously.

"Take my hand, beautiful?" You can't say no when asked like that and place your hand in his.

Satisfied, he continues, "I'm only going to say this once, so I hope you hear me and completely understand what I'm saying. Yes, it has happened before. But the waitstaff at a restaurant isn't who I'm having dinner with. When I'm out to dinner with a girl, all my attention is on her. I could care less if the sky is falling or elephants are roaming the restaurant and acting as the sommelier. My attention tonight is on you and only you." He punctuates that entire impassioned statement with a squeeze of your fingers.

You're flushed again, cheeks hot under his knowing gaze, and you evade his eyes by dipping your head to peer at your menu. Things are quiet as you order your entrée, something the menu says is lightly dressed in the house marinara sauce.

Once you're both alone at the table again, you murmur, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. Just chalk it up to my rampant insecurities. I really like you. And I’m trying not to sabotage this, but I guess I just did.”

“Hey, sweets. It’s alright. You’re only human. And gorgeous. If I have to tell you that every day, I will.” He’s smiling now, a tender sweet curl to his lips.

"Jake? I realized today that our worlds intersect far more closely than I thought they did. And I need to tell you this before we go any further."

"What do you mean?" He murmurs back with his voice pitched low to accommodate the serene environment in the restaurant.

"I mean, that I had brunch with my best friend today. Her name is Callie, Callie Bassett. I've known her since I was twelve years old. As I'm sure you know, she's a Naval Aviator, too. Her callsign is Halo, and she's on your squadron." His shoulders tense, hunching towards his ears as you continue. "She told me that I should be careful with you, that you aren't the type to look for forever in a girl. And I like you. I really like you, more than I thought I would, and probably far too much for how long we've known one another. But I want to give you and me a shot. I just need to know you're looking for the same thing."

“Gorgeous girl,” his voice is husky and a bit scratchy as he responds to your plea, "I know it may not look like it to my squadron, but I am looking for forever. The Navy has kept me moving all over the country and the world for years. It never felt right to look for forever when I knew that at a drop of a hat I could be sent anywhere in the world. How could I leave somebody to go through a life we built, all alone with me a million miles away? So I stuck to girls who weren’t looking for anything serious. And as my career grew, so did my reputation as a womanizer. Now, no matter how I look, I keep finding girls looking for one night, not forever. At least, I hope, until I ran into you in that bar last night."

His eyes are unbearably soft and sad as he sips his wine. You tug his hand forward and press a kiss on his knuckles, nuzzling at his hand just a little.

“Jake, I can’t say I have any experience in moving around the world and not being able to put down roots. But for now, all I have to say is, I hope we can build something good between us,” you murmur back. His eyes shine at your words.

Your entrées come out in a cloud of sweet tomato, garlic, and basil. After the serious conversation you had just had, the rest of the night is light. You compliment the food, share bites of each other's entrees, and chat about work, your families, about everything you can think of, including the likelihood that Jake is Batman. He pays for your meals despite your protests, leading you out onto the beach hand in hand. You both take your shoes off and walk barefoot through the sand, continuing to chat lightly.

You're about a quarter of a mile from the restaurant when Jake pulls you to a halt, tugging on your hand and pulling you towards him. His hair is windswept, as is yours, and he's smiling. You're both smiling, honestly, and have been for much of the night.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks. He reels you further into his embrace at your nod until your hand is splayed over his heart. He slowly brushes your hair aside and tips your head up. He carefully brushes his nose against yours and waits, letting you feel the lightest brush of his lips.

"Gonna kiss you now," he groans before capturing your mouth with his. You melt in his arms, eyes fluttering closed as his tongue presses insistently against the seam of your lips until you part them. Your head is wholly occupied with Jake; his hands on you, his mouth on yours, his tongue, the taste of the wine you’d shared, the heady scent of his cologne, and the feeling of his muscular body holding you impossibly close.

Your breathing is ragged when he finally pulls away. You're desperately sucking in deep breaths of air because you're sure you forgot to breathe mid-kiss, your mind chanting Jake, Jake, Jake in a worshiping manner. When you glance at him, his lips are spit slicked and bitten red. He looks fantastic, and you nearly haul him back down for another kiss. You hold yourself back, though. Public indecency charges wouldn't look good on either of your records. He seems to be deliberating the same thing if the look in his eyes as he subtly adjusts the front of his jeans says anything.

But rather than act on your mutual desire, he grasps your hand securely in his and leads you back to the truck. He'd nursed a single glass of wine all night, so you let him drive. He helps you up into the passenger seat, though this time, you stop him before he can close the door and tug him into another kiss. This one is softer, more chaste than the one you'd shared on the beach. As he finally pulls away and takes his place in the driver’s seat, you feel it will be impossible to keep your hands off him. Clearly, he's just as affected when he curls his palm over your knee, fingers tracing circles over your kneecap unconsciously.

The I-5 is quiet, for once. The roads are busy but not congested as Jake takes the exits toward San Diego. Instead of taking you home, though, Jake drives you towards North Island. The guard at the base gates greets him cheerfully and lets the truck through. Rather than go onto the base proper, Jake pulls the truck onto a small gravel-lined inlet that lets out on a small, deserted beach.

"In Texas," he starts, nostalgia deep in his tone, "when we're out in the land surrounding the ranch, you can see the stars for miles. Since I left, I've been searching for a spot to see them. So every time I'm at a new duty station, I search for the perfect star-gazing spot. This is the one I found on North Island. I was hoping you weren't tired of me yet and that you wanted to stargaze with me for a while before I took you home?" He’s smiling as he tucks a toothpick into his mouth.

You grin back at him, murmuring. "Do you know any constellations? I've always wanted to be able to look up at the night sky and point out something. I don't think I can even point out the North Star."

“I know a few. My older brothers taught us how to point out the big ones. Things look a little different here than when we were in Texas, but I can teach you a few. I will make sure you can identify the North Star.” His eyes shine as he peers up to the sky, “It’s the perfect night for stargazing, clear without a cloud in the sky.”

“Is this why you wanted me to wear something I wouldn’t worry about getting sand on?” you ask, grinning at the wonder in his eyes.

“Partially,” he hums, getting out of the truck, helping you out of your seat, and walking you to the tailgate.

“This,” he’s grinning again, toothpick grasped between his teeth, “is what I wanted you to wear something comfortable for.” You wait as Jake unlatches the tailgate and hoists himself up into the bed of his truck. He pulls out a couple of blankets from a steel crate behind the cab, unfolding one for the two of you to sit on and the other to place over your laps. He then hops off the truck bed and holds his hand to you.

You’re smiling again, laughing at the child-like wonder on his face at the thought of seeing the stars. You step closer, by-passing his outstretched hand, pluck the toothpick out of his mouth, and curl a hand around the back of his neck. His eyes flutter close at the gentle caress. You pet the short, spiky hairs at the base of his neck before dragging your hand down his throat. His eyes stay closed until you work his dog tags out from where they’d been lying against his skin. The metal is smooth and skin-warm in your hand. His name, call sign, and blood type are embossed on them. But you hadn’t gone for his dog tags to examine them. Nope. You wrap the chain in your fingers and tug, pulling his mouth, now smirking, down to yours. You peck his smiling lips, smattering soft kisses across his face as he hefts you easily onto the tailgate, his biceps bulging as he lifts you with hardly any effort. His hands stay on your hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles over you as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

“Stargazing, sweets.” At your confused moue, he continues, voice gravelly, “I brought you here to show you the stars, not kiss your lipstick off. Can I take your shoes off?”

You nod, watching as he slides his hands down your legs, undoes the straps of each sandal, and pulls them off. He sets them on the tailgate and hauls himself into the truck bed beside you before toeing his boots off. Jake crawls into the truck bed, sitting with his back against the cab. You join him. He pulls you to sit between his legs, your back pressed against his chest.

You tip your head and imperiously order him to show you some stars. His laugh vibrates through you from your position nestled against his chest. Looking at the stars with Jake is an enlightening experience. He knows where the constellations are, even in San Diego instead of Texas. He even tells you some of the various myths about the constellations. The highlight of star-gazing with Jake is when you see a shooting star streak across the sky.

“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” He rumbles out, “Make a wish.”

Make a wish? That you can do. For more enchanting nights with Jake. For more days and nights to get to know Jake. For a chance to show your friends and family the sweet nerd you’d seen underneath the muscle, the boy with stars in his eyes. It’s a thought that sticks with you even as you fall asleep alone that night.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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#star writes #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin imagine #reader insert #top gun hangman #hangman seresin #hangman fanfiction #sometimes all you need (a getaway car)

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andreafmn · 1 year

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In the Heat of the Moment | Part 4

Word Count: 4.8K

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader, mentioned Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Story Description: Every month female Omatikayans go through their heat whilst men go through their rut. It’s a time for mates to engage in the most animalistic desires. But when one of the two is gone, it can be a rather painstaking endeavor. With Neteyam gone on a hunting trip, (Y/N) has to go through her heat alone for the first time. Or does she?

Warnings: SMUT (+18, minors DNI), infidelity, p in v sex, oral sex (fem and male receiving), rough sex

A/N: Another part is out and we're getting closer to the end! Let me know what your theories are for how all this mess will end up like. I love the drama 🫣 Also, sorry for the very late night post My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing🥺👉👈. Hope you enjoy, and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Dedicated to @jake-sullys-whore! For following the story since the beginning and showing it love 💖💖

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In the Heat of the Moment | Part 4

Waking with a heavy heart had become easier for (Y/N). The warmth that enveloped her eased her enough into a false sense of security. Strong arms wrapped around her body, the sound of his heartbeat keeping her in a calm slumber, and the heat from his body comforting her in the coldness of daybreak. The pleasant feeling pushed away any thought of Neteyam from her mind.

And the warmth was accompanied by a fullness that took her breath away. They had fallen asleep with Jake still buried deep inside her. As her mind woke, she groaned at the feeling of her cock growing hard inside of her wetness. It stretched her walls, burning its way through until he reached his fullness.

Instinctively, (Y/N) started rolling her hips. Her body needed the friction, chasing the sweet release of pleasure, even if it was with her father-in-law. With her eyes still shut with sleep, moans started spilling from her mouth as her body rocked against Jake’s member. Her body moved without much input from her brain.

“Well, that’s one way to start the morning,” Jake croaked against her ear, his voice still deep from waking.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she groaned. “I just couldn’t, mm, help myself.”

“I’ll take this over any other wake-up call,” he chuckled before letting out a moan of his own. “So, don’t you dare stop. Take from me whatever you need, baby girl.”

His hands gripped her hips, pushing her body to meet his deep thrusts as he pushed his hips into her. With his mind fully awake now, Jake enjoyed waking to her body pressed against him, her warmth engulfing his length, and the moans that made his ears flicker.

Heat and wetness hugged his cock as he hurried his pace, still surprised he got to wake up this way. He loved Neytiri, of course. That was a fact he could never deny. She was the reason he had the life he had, the family he had, and the power he had. He owed her everything he was and would become.

Yet, (Y/N) stirred something inside him that he had not felt since he was much younger. The insatiable hunger that clawed at the inside of his stomach that had gone into hibernation sometime before had been abruptly awakened two nights before. And as much as he had wished that it had been his own mate that had ignited that flame inside him, fate had a much different idea.

But he knew his time was counted. Two days and a few hours, that’s all they had left to live in their fantasy. Just a bit of time and their bubble would be burst by their reality. Their mates would come back home and their adventure would have to stop.

So, Jake pistoned inside her, savoring the feel of her walls around him, committing to memory the moment. Make every second count, he told himself. Every second.

But he wouldn’t last long. He could not. Not when she whimpered against his ears, her hands gripped his cheeks as her lips met his in a hungry kiss, or when her insides clenched tighter and tighter around him. Jake simply would not last long.

“Eywa, you have no idea what you do to me, sevin,” he groaned. “I feel like a boy. I’m ready to bust.”

“I’m getting better,” she purred with a chuckle. “And you’re getting worse, sir. Might have to teach you some things now.”

“Don’t push it, baby girl. I’ve still got years over you.”

He thrust harder into her, the thread that held him together ready to snap. He rutted in hunger, pushing harder and harder until he burst. He groaned as his release filled her, her walls siphoning every drop.

But she wasn’t done, and he knew that.

Without another thought, he slid out of her. She groaned in response to the sudden feeling of emptiness as he left her. But it wasn’t for long.

Jake flipped her suddenly and got on his knees, his mouth face-to-face with her wet core. He licked at her folds tentatively, grinning as her body shuddered at the contact. As he tasted her and him all mixed homogeneously, he moaned. The salty essence that seeped from her entrance was the best liquid he had tasted, and he thought maybe this was the ambrosia the Greek gods spoke of – the secret to immortality.

His tongue lapped at her clit as his fingers promptly pistoned inside her to push and hold any remnants of his seed into her. He attacked her slowly at first, getting her used to the motion before he assaulted her bundle of nerves from the inside as well as the outside. As his fingers curled at the tip, his mouth sucked and circled the aching mound. A starving man wanting nothing but to be fed.

(Y/N)’s hands fell to the back of his head, her fingers curling into his braids as she pushed him deeper into her. Her back was arched, her eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and her mouth parted as she panted. The pleasure was irrepressible, somehow her arousal growing rather than dying down. Still, she could feel the bubble building inside her, ready to pop.

Jake never stopped his assault. His tongue lapped at her as his fingers thrust into her, over and over and over again. He could feel her clenching around his digits, losing control over her body and mind as he gained it. She was putty in his hands, allowing herself to neglect all reason and feel what it was that she needed to feel at that moment.

She writhed and moaned under his touch, her legs closing around his head as he continued to devour her. All she could think about was what she felt at that moment. The way Jake’s hair tickled her thighs, the way his rough tongue circled her clit, the way his long fingers stretched her insides. It was the perfect influx of pleasure, a moment she wanted to stay in for as long as she could.

But, the bubble had stretched as far as it could, and in a split second, it burst. Her breath hitched in her throat as her back raised from the bed in an arch, her feet planted on the mattress. As (Y/N) tried to ride out the orgasm, Jake gripped her hips tightly and held her. His tongue continued his onslaught as she panted and mewled.

“Too much,” she cried. “It’s too much, Jake.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckled. “I’ve seen just how much you can take, baby girl.”

Once his mouth was fully away from her core, (Y/N) could see her sleek glistening on his chin and dripping from his swollen lips. With a satisfied groan, he placed the fingers that had been inside her into his mouth, savoring the taste on his tongue. The only flavors he wanted dancing in his taste buds until the end of forever.

“You’re still not done,” (Y/N) cooed as she noticed his hardness. With his eyes still closed, Jake hadn’t noticed that the girl had crawled toward him and rested on her kneed, face-to-face with his length. “I guess I’ll help you with that.”

Before he could process her words, (Y/N) had taken hold of his shaft and stretched her mouth to allow his tip to fit in. She used her tongue to circle the dark tip, swallowing the precum that had already seeped from the head.

Jake let out a shuddering breath as he felt the warmth of her mouth surround him. That feeling alone could have been enough to force his release, but he wanted the moment to last. It was already the beginning of the end of their entanglement. So much he wanted to experience with her, but their hours were limited. The timer was set for the return of their mates.

“Eywa, you take me so well, baby girl,” he spoke through gritted teeth. (Y/N) had lowered herself onto his complete length, stretching the limits of her body’s capabilities. “And you look beautiful doing so.”

He wiped away the stray tears that had fallen from her eyes at the pain, her yellow eyes looking directly into his. It was an addictive image for the man. Her eyes staring up at him; her ears pressed to her head in submission; her sprawled on her knees; her tail swaying rapidly behind her in delight. The most enchanting vision he had ever witnessed.

She bobbed her head slowly at first, finding the right rhythm for him. The tempo that would beckon his moans and groans. She swirled her tongue around him as she took him in and pulled him out, a mess of saliva dripping out of the corners of her mouth. She was messy and still learning, but what she already knew how to do was enough to have Jake bucking his hips to meet her own speed.

He was powerless when it came to her. Even in his state of dominance, all it took was a simple word, a simple action from her and he’d do anything she wanted. In this game of arousals and limbs, she held all the power, whether she knew it or not. The man that had led the Omatikaya people to victory against the sky-people, the same man that was the head of his clan, the Toruk Makto, was defenseless against the wife of his firstborn.

“I’m so close,” he panted as her pace grew faster. The image of his cock thrusting into her mouth only worked to edge him on. “So fucking close, baby girl. Don’t stop.”

All it took was the smile (Y/N) gave him as he said these words to have him bursting deep into her throat. He held her head still, gripping the sides with both of his hands, as he emptied himself inside her. He groaned as he felt his seed filling her, forcing her to swallow it down to not choke.

“You’re perfect, (Y/N).” He pulled her to her feet, his lips planting a rough kiss onto hers. “So fucking perfect.”

“All this praise might start getting to my head, sir,” she chuckled. “Although I do not mind it.”

“You deserve all the beautiful words that exist in my language, in yours, and all the ones that have yet to be invented. That’s how perfect you are.”

(Y/N) couldn't help the deep color that overtook her cheeks, warming her skin and exposing her embarrassment to his words. They were entering a territory that was too dangerous for both of them. Treading the thin line between a casual sexual encounter and romantic feelings. A line neither of them could afford to cross.

“Well, the day has broken, Olo’eyktan,” she smiled, disregarding everything Jake had said. “It’s time you tend to your duties and I tend to mine.”

“Very eager to have me leave your nest, little one,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace. “I’ll see you tonight, okay? After dinner, we’ll come straight here.”

“Only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself at the table,” she commanded. “And on the walk back.”

“You’re tying my hand, but I promise.”

“Well, then, see you tonight.”

He kissed her lips once more before leaving the tent, the entrance flap swaying slightly as it finally closed.

As her day transpired (Y/N) grew scared. Terrified of how easy it was becoming to go on about her day feeling the uneasiness in her heart overtake her. She should have been in pain, writhing in remorse for what she was doing with her husband’s father. Instead, she was fulfilling her chores and her lessons as if nothing had happened between them.

She glided through the day with a grace only delusion could give. Believing that everything would somehow work out without any backfire or horrible repercussions. Because if she could trick her brain into thinking that nothing could go wrong, maybe it would be enough to bend fate to her own will.

“(Y/N)!” Kiri yelled as she saw her friend making her way to the family’s tent. “We’re over here!”

Behind, over, and just to the right was a small clearing the kids often visited. It was close enough to the village that the parents could call their children but hidden enough that they could get into enough trouble.

Tuk, Lo’ak, and Kiri were waiting for their friend. The oldest was weaving a new poncho, the boy was sharpening arrowheads, and the youngest was braiding strands in Kiri’s hair.

“(Y/N)!” Tuk dropped her sister’s hair and tan to hug the girl. “Can I do your hair now?”

“Of course, Tuk. But I forgot the feathers you got me.”

“That’s okay,” the little girl smiled. “I can redo it tomorrow. I love your hair.”

“Well, if you insist,” she chuckled.

(Y/N) sat crossed leg in front of the girl, who was already sat on a protruding tree root. Kiri got closer, placing herself next to her as Lo’ak abandoned what he was doing to rest his head on her lap. As she often did, the action now becoming an unconscious trigger, she ran her hands through his hair.

They had always looked to her as an older sister, even as close in age as the oldest were, her calm and wise demeanor made them feel she was older than she actually was.

“How have you been, (Y/N)?” Kiri questioned. “Truly. I know we already questioned you about this last night, but now that dad isn’t here, I wanna know how you really feel. I know you were holding back.”

(Y/N) tensed slightly, not enough for any of the kids to notice. But Kiri had been right, she had been holding back, just not from what she believed.

“I honestly just feel like my brain is muddled and hazy. Like I can’t really think straight,” she sighed. Her eyes were focused on Lo’ak’s hair, his braids falling through her fingers. “Neteyam has only been gone for four days but I feel like it’s been far too long. I even feel like I’ve changed myself. I don’t know. I’m rambling.”

“I understand,” Kiri comforted. “It has to be such a surreal experience to be far from your mate. You’ve been by each other's side your whole life. And I’m sure that your connection through Eywa only strengthened that bond. It’s almost like you are missing a part of yourself.”

“I just wish he’d never gone,” she admitted. And though her words weighed with truth, her body knew the lie that was laced into her words. “I’m afraid he’ll come back and I’ll be different. I don’t want to get used to him being gone.”

“All you have to do is train to be a hunter then,” Lo’ak interjected. “That way you can go with them and maybe you can convince mom to let me go too.”

“So, I’ll be stuck babysitting you? No, thanks.”

“When we were kids you were one of the best hunters in the group,” he said. “If you had continued your training I’m sure you would have been the one to join mom on the expedition.”

“Why did you leave your hunting training, (Y/N)?” Tuk perked from behind her. “If you were that good.”

“Well, since I had been promised to Neteyam and he was already working so hard on his training, I decided to train as a healer instead with Mo’at,” she explained. “It didn’t make sense for the both of us to be great hunters. And I enjoy healing. I feel more in tune with our Mother Goddess and the people I’m the village. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Not even for spending more time with a Neteyam?” Kiri teased, bumping her shoulder with hers. “You could be with him right now, you know?”

“I can go if you guys are that tired of me.”

“Oh, please,” she chuckled. “I’m just saying, (Y/N). It’s just because I know how much you do miss him.”

“I know, Kiri, and I do. But, at least I have you guys to keep me company.”

“And dad too,” the girl added, unbeknownst to the breath that got hitched in (Y/N)’s throat. “He’s been so worried about you these past few days. I’m glad he’s been so attentive to you.”

Warmth rushed through her body at the mention of Jake’s devoted attention. The three kids had no idea just how diligent he had been in Neteyam’s absence. They could not fathom how the man had helped in her lonely nights.

“Yes, your father has been quite… accommodating these past days,” she smiled, swallowing the guilt that was rising up her neck. “But I’m sure it’s because he is missing Neytiri as much as I’m missing Neteyam.”

“Well, at least there’s only less than three days until he is back,” Kiri smiled. “I’m sure you can hold off for that long.”

“I think so too.”

They spent some time together at the clearing until the sun had gone farther down and they knew it was time for dinner. In the tent, Jake kept his promise. He kept his hands to himself and ensured that the meal went smoothly. The family enjoyed a calm and joyful dinner without suspecting why the two oldest were rushing to finish.

As (Y/N) waited outside the tent, her good nights already said, Jake tucked his children into bed. Something he had not done the previous nights.

“I know you're busy, dad, but I’ve been having nightmares,” Tuk peeped as her father wrapped her in her blanket. “Do you think you could sleep here tonight?”

He didn’t want to say no. He couldn’t say no. As much as he wanted to spend another night tangled between (Y/N)’s limbs and her sheets, his family was too important.

“Alright, baby,” he smiled at his daughter. “I might come in a bit late, but I promise I’ll come back tonight.”

“Thank you, dad.”

“Of course, Tuk. Good night, baby.”

“Night, dad.”

As soon as his children had all gone to bed, he left the nest. Outside, he gripped (Y/N) by her wrist and pulled her toward her own nest. He hurried through the village, the burning inside him already twisting his insides. He barely gave the girl any time to register his speed before he zoomed to her place.

“Why are you rushing, Jake?” (Y/N) panted once they had stopped inside her tent. “You barely gave me a second to breathe.”

“It’s Tuk,” he said as he messily kissed her lips. “She’s been having nightmares and wants me to sleep over there tonight.”

“Oh,” she responded. But he couldn’t decipher if her words were sewn with understanding or disappointment. “Then, let’s not waste any more time.”

She stood on her tiptoes as her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips collided roughly against his. Their tongues swirled around each other’s, their tails tangling around their waists to pull them closer together. They wanted more, to be as conjoined as much as they could. But there was only one way they could be.

Jake snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her body up as he carried her to the mat. He laid her on the bed without breaking the kiss, their bodies flush together. He wanted to prolong the moment as much as he could, but he knew he had to be quick. Even against everything he was feeling.

He left her mouth to kiss down to her jaw, then to her neck, taking a second to enjoy the mewls that rolled through her tongue as he sucked in the spot he had discovered. She gripped the hair at the base of his nape, tugging softly as his mouth left marks on her skin.

He traveled after from her neck to her breast, ripping away the necklace that covered the mounds. The beads exploded all around them, dropping in tandem as Jake closed his mouth on the hardened peaks. He pressed his tongue flat against her, earning a loud moan from the girl. A sound she tried to dampen by slapping a hand against her mouth.

“Don’t you dare,” Jake growled. “I want to hear all of your sounds, baby girl.”

With one hand, he took hold of her wrists and caged them above her head. His grip was tight, ensuring she could not use her limbs to quiet her song. With the other, he kneaded the breast his mouth had left unattended. He rolled the nipple between his index finger and his thumb, pulling at it slightly as his teeth pulled the other.

(Y/N) keened and gasped as her sensitive mounds were assaulted by the man. Her body squirmed under his, her limited movement only aiding in tightening the desire inside her. The profuse feeling took over her, drenching the heat between her legs. She felt powerless as he held her, but it excited her. So, she submitted. Allowed him to use her body in any way he saw fit because that’s what she wanted as well.

He abandoned her breasts, satisfied with the marks he’d left on them. Purple blotches that would darken over time. He continued his journey down her stomach, his tongue leaving a trail on the path he coursed through. He kissed the flatness of her belly, the peaks of her hips, the softness of her thighs, and he breathed her in. He inhaled her intoxicating aroma and let the essence infiltrate his nostrils.

“Jake, please,” she whined. “We don’t have much time.”

“Goddess, I know,” he groaned. “I wish I could stop time right now. Let it be just you and me here, forever.”

“Come here,” she beckoned. As he released her hands, she pulled his face to meet with hers. Her lips pressed against his in an effort to comfort him. “The time we have is here and now. Let’s enjoy however much we have left.”

“I just wish…”

“Stop wishing,” she shushed him. “Just take me, Jake. Tomorrow is a new day.”

His eyes searched hers for any sign of deception or regret, but all he found was her burning desire. She wanted him just as much as he did, yearning for the same connection. Her body craved him and he would give it just that. Because she was right, tomorrow was a new day. Another chance for him to show her everything she was missing with his son. Everything she deserved to feel.

He quickly undid his loincloth as she untied hers, and thrust inside her. They both gasped at the sensation of being interconnected. He’d been inside her a handful of times already, but every time felt like the first moment. The tightness of her insides, the warmth of her core, the pulsating of the muscles of her wetness. It was all as novel as the first time he’d felt her.

Their foreheads were pressed together as they panted in sync, reveling in the feeling that coursed through their bodies. The rhythm he started with was slow at first, his hips moving carefully to help her adjust to his length. He slid in and out of her wet core, focusing on not releasing before she had a chance to finish.

But he couldn’t hold himself back for too long. His movements grew in fervor, the thrusts growing in speed. He could not quench the instinct that was triggered inside the second he entered her.

In a split second, Jake flipped (Y/N) onto her stomach, drilling into her harshly. He placed his arms by her sides, balancing his body as he rutted into her like an animal. His hips met hers roughly, the sound of skin slapping onto skin resounding in the tent as it mixed with the squelching sound of her wetness.

His pace turned punishing, hitting her deeper and harder than he had ever done before. She could barely breathe between his pistoning and the pressure of her front being pressed onto the mattress. As the arousal mixed with her lack of oxygen, she could feel her sight grow hazy. And she was loving it.

Suddenly, a hand of his snaked around her neck, pulling her upper body up by her jaw as his lips met hers in a rough kiss. It was messy and sloppy, but it did not take away from the heat of the moment.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he grumbled. “You feel so fucking good.”

A sleuth of praise and adorations fell from his mouth as he felt the rise of his end building inside him. He released her jaw to slide a hand under her and stimulate the button that would push her right over the edge. His fingers swirled over the bud, using her slickness to trace figures on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh, Goddess!” (Y/N) screamed out, her voice muffled against the mattress. “Jake!”

As her climax ran, Jake pounded three harsh times into her until he felt his seed coating her insides and coalescing with her own release. He panted as he emptied himself inside her, the force and speed he used finally dawning on his body.

He collapsed beside her as he worked through the shockwaves that ransacked his body. His eyes fell closed as he steadied his heart and his breathing. He was simply not as young as he used to be.

In his aftermath, Jake didn’t notice how (Y/N) crawled up the mat and laid her head on his chest. When he opened them, she had both arms tucked under her chin, her eyes tracing the lines and speckled dots on his face. She studied his features as if it was the first time she had seen him up close. And maybe, to her, it was.

His heart fluttered at the traces of adoration that danced in her eyes. She looked angelic as she perused the marks on his face. The way her eyes danced from spot to spot trying to find any defining pattern. Too beautiful and perfect for the perverse things he was having her do. She deserved love, she deserved kindness, she deserved someone who could give her everything.

Jake lowered his head, giving her a soft kiss. Her lips were warm and soft, and just as perfect as the rest of her. He now had so many wishes that involved her and only her. But he pushed them down, deep into his subconscious. Because she had told him to stop wishing. It wasn’t something they could afford to do. It was useless and, in the end, simply disappointing.

“You really have to go?” (Y/N) spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper.

“Tuk is waiting for me,” he responded, his hand brushing back a few strands of hair that had glued themselves to her forehead. “But tomorrow is a new day like you said.”

“That’s true,” she smiled. “I know your family needs you.”

“You’re my family too, (Y/N). Say the word and I’ll stay.”

“No,” the girl chuckled. “Go be with your daughter. She needs you now more than I do. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jake. I’m sure. Go.”

“Alright then.” He kissed her lips one more time before he got up from the mattress. He covered her body with the fresh sheets she had only placed that morning and would need to change once again. “Where will you be tomorrow? I know it’s your day of rest.”

“I will probably use the time to sleep,” she sighed as sleep slowly started to overtake her. “After that, I still don’t know.”

“No worries. I’ll find you.” Before he finally left, Jake turned to look at her. “Sleep well, sevin. Good night.”

“Good night, ma Jake.”

Jake had never planned for any of this to happen as it did. Especially not the way his heart started to beat at the thought of her, how his body reacted to her, how his mind started thinking of her. Everything that he was feeling was forbidden, immoral, and went against everything he and the Na’vi people stood for.

But he couldn’t ignore the swell of his chest or the warmth in his body that had been born a few days back. Yet, he had to. Three days and he would have to forget about her. Three days and the adventure would end. Three days and everything between them would be over.

Next ->

Taglist: @uwunuggetchan @ellabellabus07 @sweetllamaparadise @irisskies @crazy4books1

192 notes · View notes

sunshine-on-marz · 2 years

Note

Hellooooo I'm back again XD Can I request 8 from the dialogue prompt for Ranboo? :D I don't know if I'm supposed to pick a theme to go with it so if I need to I can go back and pick one for ya :)

Ranboo x Reader

I’ve been waiting for someone to request this!! Also I’m writing at school so sorry if it’s rushed

———

Tw: stress, nightmare, panic attack (?) separation anxiety (?)

———

It had been a hard week, a few fights with your parents, you just wanted to be with your boyfriend, but sadly that wasn’t an option as he was out doing a vlog with Tommy and Tubbo.

You wouldn’t say you were upset at anyone but you were definitely upset that he wasn’t home. I mean who wouldn’t want to be cuddled up with their boyfriend rather then laying alone of the couch? Because you surely weren’t one of those people. But oh well, there’s no use in sulking around, might as well be productive.

After 45 minutes of cleaning, you decided to say fuck it and go to bed. Laying down you set your phone to charge, got comfortable, it did t take long for you to fall asleep.

A while later, and hour give or take a few minutes, your boyfriend got home. As soon as he saw you asleep he felt awful, he wished that he had been there to put you to sleep, laying in bed with you was always his favorite. He slowly sank into bed after changing his clothes, wrapping his arms around you and falling asleep with you in his arms.

Later in the night, roughly 3am , you woke up with a start, shooting up in the bed as you gasped for air, as soon as you registered that you were awake, the panic set in. Your breathing shallowed and tears started streaming down your face. Ranboo woke up from all the shaking and turned over, assuming to see that you’d gotten out of bed for something, but instead he saw you in a ball sobbing.

He quickly grabbed you and held you in his arms, whispering in an attempt to give you some sort of comfort.

“Hey now, shhh, you’re ok, I’ve got you love, I’ve got you. You’re safe”

It was only then he fully processed you incoherent sobs as actual words.

“Please d-on’t leave me, please, I’m sorry I- I’ll f-fix it I swear”

His heart shattered as he realized that you had probably had a dream where he left you.

“I’m not planning on it love, I’m not going anywhere honey”

Slowly your sobs quieted down and he both of you got a few more hours of sleep.

———

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!! MY MENTAL HEALTH IS CRUMBLING AT MY FEET!!

Remember that you are deserving of good, and I love you so much/p!

-toad

#dsmp #dsmp x gender neutral reader #dsmp x reader #dsmpblr #ranboo #ranboo x y/n #ranboo x you #ranboo x reader #nightmare #tw

241 notes · View notes

lovebombs4life · 8 months

Note

Can you do some sort of smut involving Michael and the reader. Maybe something like, you help him when he is stressed out? Btw, I absolutely adore your writing 😘

treat you - m.g.c.

requested: yes 😏 i’m so happy you like my writing <3

a/n: i forced my friends to listen to 5sos in the car while i drove them around :) also this is kinda just a quick blurb before i go to work, oops

cw: college AU! SMUT!! oral (m), praising

———

michael had been stressed all week. it was finals week and he was stressed about failing, despite knowing he was the smartest in all his classes.

i had tried to help him with studying, and helping him relax, but he told me it was important, and that we’d hangout this weekend.

it was now wednesday, and we were supposed to have our study date night. i knocked on his apartment door, not getting a response. i grabbed the handle, swinging the door open to see michael sitting at the table.

his head was down, and there were light snores coming from his lips. i poured my lip at the sight, taking in his adorable he looked, but also worried for him.

“mikey, hey. mikey!” i spoke, shaking his shoulder. he jumped awake, gasping. “fucking hell y/n! don’t you knock!?” he yelled.

i shushed him, trying to calm him down. “i did, i walked in cause you were passed out. you need to get some sleep, darling. you can’t keep yourself up for hours on end like this.”

he shook his head. “no, y/n, i need to study, gotta get this locked in my brain.” he said, gesturing to his notes. i shook my head at him.

“you’re stressing yourself out babe. you’re stressing me out too. you need to find a way to relax.” i told him, an idea popping into my head.

i held back my smirk, watching him throw back his head. “i don’t need to relax, i need to- ohh.”

i cut him off, getting on my knees i front of him. i palmed him through jeans, making a tent grow. i smirked up at him, starting to unbutton his jeans.

“fuck, y/n.” he breathed out as i pulled his jeans and boxers down. i grabbed his semi hard cock, guiding it to my mouth. he groaned, bucking his hips forward.

his cock was now fully hard as i took him down my throat. i moaned around him, sending vibrations down his cock. “fuck baby, let me fuck you, wanna make you feel good.” he begged.

i popped him out of my mouth shaking my head and chuckling. “no baby, tonight’s all about you. need you to relax, be a good boy for me.” i said.

that drive him wild. michael was a pretty dominant person when it came to sex, but he was a slut for being called a good boy every once in a while.

i squeezed my hand tighter around his cock, jerking it up and down. i ran my thumb over the prominent vain, kissing his red and swollen tip.

i eased him back in my mouth, swirling my tongue around him, hollowing my cheeks to create more pressure as i bobbed my head up and down. he shivered at the feeling letting a moan fall from his lips.

“f-fuck, think, ugh- think ‘m gonna cum.” he panted, his cock twitching in my mouth. i pulled off of him, smiling.

i continued moving my hand quickly. “yeah? wanna cum for me good boy? cum on my tongue?” i egged him on, his thighs twitching now too.

“go ahead and cum for me baby.” i spoke, sticking out my tongue. he watched me do so, sending him over the edge. he spilled out onto my tongue, making me moan at the taste.

he huffed as he tried to catch his breath, his cock now softening. i helped him pull his boxers and jeans back up, giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

“better now?” i asked him. he nodded his head.

“better.”

#michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #5sos #5sos5 #michael 5sos #ashton 5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford smut

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renaroundarosie · 1 year

Text

This Love is Alive (Back from the Dead)

Every Summer since Lorelei had been able to walk had been spent with Alicent and her family at a province amidst the sea. Lorelei had longed for the day she leaves her rainy hometown all year. It was the perfect escape from her normally hectic life. But naturally people change; the real question is can Lorelei change with them?

“If only you were this nice to me when you sober and had half a brain.”

A/N: I really wanted to start writing this but I have like no time atm. I’m currently in tech week for my schools musical and then I have softball. I might come back and edit this later because there are mistakes.

___________________________________________________

Chapter 1

The sun was beginning to set as Lorelei looked out the window of the car. The sky was pretty but she was sure it would be prettier when she was fully awake. She smiled at the thought of swimming during sunsets as she had done so every summer for the past 16 years. The thought alone was enough to force her to sit up and check her phone. Only thirty more minutes until she reached the wonderful oasis she called her home for the summer. She cringed as she checked her appearance as the twelve hours in the car had not done her hair justice. Her long strawberry blonde hair was beginning to fall out of the low braid she had thrown it into when she left her home in Arizona.

“Good Morning sunshine.” Her mother laughed as Lorelei groaned, “If you're hungry I’m sure you can find something in the back, though I’m sure Alicent has a full course meal waiting for us.”

“Oh for sure. Hey I think I’ll call her and give her a warning we’re getting close. I don’t want our arrival to give her a heart attack.”

Her mother laughed, “Why would we do that when it’s so much funnier to scare her in her very own kitchen.”

“You’re evil and I’m going to get some more sleep.” But she couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t think about anything other than seeing her life long friend who was only two years her elder. Heleana and Lorelei only got to see each other once a year for two months so they made it their mission to spend almost every second of it attached at the hip. They rode bikes, swam, surfed, shopped and hiked together almost everyday. Lorelei had been there the day Heleana passed her drivers test, she had also been there when she totaled the car on the way home but it was still a very fond memory they shared. Their friendship always warmed Alicents heart. Lorelei had always reminded her as a younger version of herself, while Heleana was more like Lorelei’s mother. Alicent and Heleana loved the two girls seeing as they were heavily outnumbered by the boys in their life.

Naturally she was excited to see Aemond who was the same age as her, she always enjoyed the boy's presence even if he was quiet and a little moody. Heleana had always teased him when he was a child and the boy used to throw the most hilarious fits. Now he was older so he was less fun to anger but he was still fun to mess with. Dareon was the easiest to troll. He was only 14 so he of course was more fun to bother.

Then there was Aegon. He being the eldest of them all at 18 with his dashing smile and intense gaze. Lorelei had always had a subtle crush on him, it wasn’t something she was proud of. She came to this realization when he took her for ice cream when he was 16 and her 14. Heleana had gone on a date leaving Lorelei with no plans for the night, so Aegon—who also had no plans—insisted on getting ice cream. While he was not a good driver, he was a good listener. He listened to her talk about anything and everything she talked about. It made her feel great, being heard. She felt like the most important girl in the world. She assumed Aegon had made every girl feel that way. She wasn’t oblivious to his player persona. She was aware that she was probably the 13th girl he’d taken for ice cream in the past week. So she wasn’t too surprised when he began to blow her off after that outing.

Her mothers voice pulled her out of her thoughts, “Okay sleeping beauty we’re here.”

The sight of the beach house never got old to the girl. The house was beautiful. She could only imagine how much it cost. Before the car is even in park Lorelei is opening the door and running to Heleana. Since Lorelei could remember the girl never enjoyed being touched so she always made a note of that when they had their annual reuinion. She gifted the girl a book about insects that she knew Heleana would want to read. Since she never saw the girl for her birthday, or christmas she made an effort to bring her a gift every summer. The blonde's hair had been cut but still reached past her shoulders. Her skin was already tanner since she had been at the house two weeks prior.

“Lauren? My God, your hair is so much longer in person!” Heleana exclaimed with a beaming smile and Lorelei’s heart singed at the nickname Alicent’s family used for her.

“You really didn’t have to buy me a gift. You do this every year and I get you nothing.”

“Heleana I stay at your family's beach house every year. This is the absolute least I can do.” Alicent embraced Lorelei’s mother first and after grabbed the girl and told her how much she had grown. She told her this year but she could tell Alicent truly meant it this year. Lorelei had matured a lot this year. Her hair was longer and healthier, she finally grew into her nose and was an even more beautiful version of herself than the years before.

“I can’t believe you've just finished your junior year of high school, I beg you to stop growing up.” Alicent laughed.

“No please continue to do so, now that you have your license you are actually worth my time.” Daeron said as he came out of the house to hug her.

“I know you really regret calling me a bad driver now.”

Daeron laughed, “You can’t possibly be worse than Aegon.”

Just then Lorelei’s gaze shifted to Aegon who was leaning against the door frame. There was already a faint smirk on his face, his features were sadder, beautiful still but worn down. “I thought I heard a spoiled brat here somewhere.” He opened his arms and before she even knew it she fell into them. The girl couldn’t help but notice how much more muscle his arms held. He was almost a head taller than her, and as he held her he failed to notice how much time had passed.

He leaned his head down into her hair, it smelled like lavenders which he remembered to be her favorite flowers. He remembers his mother buying a bunch for her 16th birthday party last year. He specifically remembers the way her orange hair contrasted with the purple flowers. Similar to now, he was mesmerized by her. He took the close proximity as an excuse to whisper in her ear, “Missed me?”

She pulled away when she saw Aemond behind him, “No, I did miss your car though…and your brother.” Aemond laughed as he pulled her in for a hug. The remainder of the meet and greet Aegon's gaze remained on Lorelei.

Alicent knew of her son’s fatuation with the girl. It was hard not to notice the lovesick look in Aegon's eyes, or the way he looked her up and down when she walked away. Alicent adored Lorelei too much to approve of Aegon’s little crush. She knew of his alcoholic tendencies and the way he blew through women like they meant nothing to him. She didn’t want that for the sweet girl she had known for 16 years. Alicent still loved her son, he was her son she’d always love and be proud of him. However she had always hoped he would settle down and change his ways.

That's what Alicent was thinking as she watched Aegon carry the girls’ bags inside. She knew her son had it in him to be better and truly hoped she would see it more often. She smiled as she heard the two laugh up the stairs.

“You bring all these clothes and I know for a fact you and Heleana are going shopping after you're unpacked.” Alicent heard him counter.

“How do you know we're going shopping? You're totally obsessed with me.” She said

“Yeah you wish. I asked what you two had planned before dinner because I wanted to make sure you two didn’t take my car for a joyride again.”

Lorelei had remembered last summer when Aegon had upset Heleana and she begged Lorelei to go for a night out with his car. Lorelei, who is always down for a night out, said yes. The car came back in perfect shape but the girls forgot to fill the gas tank. Needless to say Aegon was not thrilled.

“You hardly noticed,” she scoffed, “now please bring that last bag up so I can get dressed.” He did as she said and paused after leaning on the doorway.

She couldn’t help but notice the way his veins stood out on his arms as he put his hand on top of the doorway. He looked good, so good that she couldn’t tear her eyes away. He smirked at this and when she noticed looked away. “I have to change.” she said.

“Go ahead.” he marveled.

“Aegon!”

Aemond walked by and rolled his eyes, “Aegon you're a pervert, please she’s been here what? All of five minutes?”

“Thank you Aemond, if only he was more self-aware.”

“Please if only you were worth being a pervert over.” he joked and closed her door. Leaving her to change.

_____________________________________

“So when you told me you saw him often…you meant everyday.”

The two girls were currently standing outside the frozen yogurt store on the boardwalk near the beach. It was a 15 minute walk from the house and the weather was glorious. Lorelei took a nap and quickly threw on a pair of jean shorts and her favorite free people top and best pair of sneakers. The girls didn’t have any intentions on buying anything other than a slushie. Helena had told Lorelei about the boy she really liked on the phone and wanted her to see him in something other than discreet poor quality photos she captured when he wasn’t looking.

In all honesty she just didn’t want her overprotective brothers to camp outside the shop (which they would have done had she told him.

“Well I walk by everyday but I don’t go in. His name is Cregan. His favorite color is blue and he spends his breaks at the surf shop across from the lemonade stand.” She paused, “I only know the last part because I asked him, I didn’t follow him.”

“He’s cute. Are we going to go in? You could invite him to dinner tonight”

“Are you shitting me? Have you met my family? He would never speak to me again.”

“Well why not go in and ask when he’s free this week? Just ask if he wants to hang when he gets off work.”

“You think he’d say no?” Heleana gulped.

“To a girl like you? Never.”

Ever the good friend, Lorelei stood outside in support as she watched her strut in and ask the boy. She was happy for the girl. It’s not often Heleana takes an interest in relationships, sure she found people attractive and had fun but she was never one to be interested in labels or relationships. From what Lorelei understood over the FaceTime calls, she spoke with him frequently and she gathered that Cregan had liked her too. So she wasn’t surprised when Heleana basically skipped out of the store 10 minutes later.

“We’re going on a hike tomorrow!” Heleana beamed.

“Did I not tell you? God, I love when I’m right!”

She heard him before she saw him, “Right about what?” Aemond asked. She turned around and saw him holding a bouquet of flowers, probably for a date with Alys.

“Lorelei has a date! She was right about the guy liking her back.” Heleana blurted out.

“A Date? With who? You’ve only been here for three hours.”

“You wouldn't know them.” Lorelei said but she forgot that they’ve gone there every summer since they were mere newborns. They all knew everybody.

“Try me.” He inquired.

She closed her eyes thinking of the first person who wasn’t in Aemond’s circle. “Eddison Lannister.”

“Eddison Lannister? I didn’t think you had a thing for Football guys.”

“She does! She really can’t get enough of them!” Heleana pleaded, she felt guilty but she wasn’t quite ready to give her and Cregan up yet.

“Huh…isn’t he a little old for you.”

“You and I are the same age.”

“Well he’d be old for me if I were interested.” He chuckled.

“Ugh!” she groaned. “It’s none of your business really.”

“Sure…I’m going to pick up Alys for dinner. Mom told me to tell you not to be late.” He looked at Heleana, “Why are you so red?”

“Bye Aemond.” Heleana grabbed Lorelei's hand and dragged her back towards the house before she could be questioned further. When they made their escape Heleana turned to her, “Hey I’m really sorry. I just wasn’t ready to tell them yet. I haven’t gone on a date since I was 13 and I really don’t want them to ruin anything.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have to actually go on a date with Eddison Lannister.” Lorelei took her silence as a confirmation that she in fact had to go on a date with Eddison Lannister. “That's fine too. I don’t mind, what if he says no?” She said with mock enthusiasm.

“To a girl like you.” She smiled, “Never.” The two girls laughed for all of the 15 minute walk to the house to get ready for dinner.

#aegon targaryen #aegonii #hotd au #hotdau #aegon x oc #aegon Targaryen x oc

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winderlylandchime · 2 months

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Hello, how are you? I hope life is going good and that you are spending your Saturday relaxing. I am coming to you with just a tiny update on my brother as a proof of life but also because it made me laugh when it happened and I thought maybe you’d appreciate it since you are the one who told him ao3 has a lot of shows he’s a fan of…I feel like a snitch right now but he discovered 2 things about ao3 by complete accident. And that is omega verse and that some people write incest fics.. I got a text that just read ‘werewolf porn?!?!’ So that was a nice way to start my day. And then like two hours later he found out some people write about incest and I’m not gonna lie it took me a minute to convince him to continue using ao3. When I called him about it he said that he wanted to look into the other stuff he’s a fan of aince he remembered you told him so and he unfortunately discovered a dark side of it. So now he swore to himself that he’s only going to use ao3 for Britin. BUT he did also discover like a true grandpa with no social media presence that he got replies on his comments from you and Hannah Montana (his words, he only refers to them as that and I’m supposed to just know who he’s talking about) and he was very delighted because he didn’t realize it at all and then horrified that he didn’t realize it. He also got really mad when he realized you can’t leave kudos on each chapter which tbh, I fully agree. He’s genuinely still confused by ao3, It’s kinda like watching someone who is 60 try to use instagram or something like that. And then on top of that a few days ago he told me that he is worried that his love for qaf has died down since he hasn’t seen the show since he left and can’t watch it with the original soundtrack. And he was genuinely worried about that and then today at an ungodly hour I got a call saying ‘YOOOOOO BLONDIE WAS IN MR ROBOT!’ I don’t think he was even fully sober or even awake when he called me for that. Turns out he was at his friends house and his friend’s girlfriend had Mr Robot on and then she just left it playing while everyone hung out. And then Randy showed up on the screen and my brother -mid conversation with a friends new girlfriend who literally met him that day!!!- yelled across the entire apartment from the kitchen ‘BLONDIEEEEE’ and then apparently he proceeded to talk about qaf to the poor woman. I’m talking full breakdown, story lines, characters, actors, the fact that season 5 (and I quote) ‘sucks hardcore ass’…. So he got excited and happy to report to me that the love (and hyperfixation if we are being honest) is still very much alive. As if HE, the owner of many self made shirts, could somehow manage to escape it…And if you were wondering, yes he was wearing his Brian shirt during the party so I don’t know how he thought he was over his love for the show. Btw he was telling me about a fic of yours he was reading and he went ‘you don’t get it, they’re doing therapy together…Fuck I can’t believe real life Blondie is gonna be doing shit like this for a living now’ and that gave me a mini wtf moment because I completely forgot about Randy’s new career. So bottom line is: he is now scared to look up any shows he likes, he got a bit scarred because he didn’t read tags/doesn’t understand them AND he still talks about everyone’s fics the same way he did when he was living with me. Aka he just starts talking about it without any context or titles or links.

Dear sweet anon! I’m so sorry it’s taken ages to respond.

Oh sweet summer child brother anon! Yes, omegaverse and incest porn are on AO3… as he commits to using it only for Britin fics, warn him (or don’t!) about mpreg fics. Sooooo many pregnant!Justin fics out there and at least one pregnant!Brian fic that I can think of. All the wonderfully horrific fics on AO3 are exactly why I love it. Banning incest fics is a slippery slope to making any explicit content, especially queer explicit content (and all queer content is explicit to bigots).

I feel the anger about not being able to leave kudos on each chapter. And I also fully feel the excitement and joy of getting a response to a comment. Reminds me that I need to go respond to his comments!

I didn’t realize that one Mr. Randolph Harrison was in Mr. Robot, but there it is on his IMDb page!

Haha I’m only halfway sorry I put Justin in therapy so often in my fics because now Randy is on the other side of the couch!

I’m so glad his enthusiasm only temporarily died down. Unfortunately, it looks like you need to copy your DVDs for him because I got an ask a few days ago asking for resources to watch the series with the original (only correct) soundtrack and the fandom agrees that it’s no where to be found.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023 #2024 edition

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comradelup · 3 years

Note

Hey bruh can we get an epic infodump about that BOTW au, because I am HERE for some self indulgent content, hit this niche Zelda/TAZ fan audience with that tasty au over here

i just woke up so this might not be too legible but :3333 also obviously spoilers for botw for ppl who haven’t played it and don’t wanna be spoiled

(most of it is under the cut though because WOW this got long akdnajfnsjf)

okay so taako is link and lup is zelda. instead of being a princess and knight they’re a king and queen co-ruling faerun. there isn’t really a king rhoam figure in this? like they don’t have a parent/guardian they pops up in the memories, it’s just them ruling the kingdom. when the prophecy came, they knew one of them was the royal with the goddess’ blood in them and the other would be the hero with the darkness sealing weapon. obviously both of them would have the same blood or whatever since they’re twins, but it comes down to who can properly wield the magic. as it turns out, lup is the magic twin and taako is the weapon wielding twin. their enemy, usually ganon, is instead the hunger.

there is still an old civilization of ppl with ancient technology, though i don’t really have a name for them, so i’ll keep calling them sheikah. BUT, there is a modern day group of people dedicating themselves to learning all they can about the sheikah technology in order to prepare for the return of the hunger. they are the institute of past research and exploration, IPRE for short. it is made up by the rest of the seven birds, among a few others.

the champions are davenport, merle, magnus, and barry. lucretia is kinda how she was in TSC canon, just sorta tagging along to write everything down, but that changes once they make the grand relics. speaking of, the light of creation replaces the master sword in this instance. it has the power to fight off the hunger, as well as take the shape of any weapon taako can imagine. that’s how we get the flaming raging poisoning sword of doom and the krebstar. but lup and barry, ever the scientists, are like “is there any way to… break the light into pieces? so more people get super powerful weapons against the apocalypse?” so they do

some of the relics are different, though. the philosopher’s stone doesn’t change things, but it changes itself, keeping that weapon-changing property of the original light. obviously, since it’s a seventh of what it used to be, it isn’t as powerful. but it’s still pretty damn powerful compared to the rest of the weapons in the world. the gaia sash is different too, adding healing on top of the plant magic. the animus bell basically makes undead armies instead of the soul switching magic from canon. basically, the relics’ powers are altered to better fit a combat situation. also they’re the gifts given to taako after the divine beasts (replacing urbosa’s fury/daruk’s protection/etc) so they would need a more combative/practical use. the healing part of the gaia sash is basically this au’s mipha’s grace akfnajfnsj

one relic in particular is interesting, and that’s the phoenix fire gauntlet. with lup’s struggle to unlock her powers, she created the gauntlet as a sort of conductor for magic energy. she’s incredibly proficient in normal magic (esp evocation) but this goddess magic is tricky to unlock, and it’s super frustrating. the other stuff came so easy to her, so why is this hard? unfortunately, the gauntlet didn’t help with that :-(

lucretia and her relic are also interesting in this au. as i mentioned in the ficlet i posted, she intended to use the bulwark staff to protect the champions, and she couldn’t, so she blames herself for everything that happened. obviously, it’s not her fault and i make myself sad thinking about her being sad T_T but as a result of this, plus a bit of good ol paranoia, she uses the bulwark staff to create a big bubble shield around phandalin (this au’s kakariko villiage) the rest of the IPRE live here (basically the BOB, so killian, carey, johann, etc)

i won’t go too into detail for the rest of the story, as it’s fairly similar to botw canon other than that, but some things to note are this: the divine beasts are different, so as to suit the champions better. magnus and merle have a bear and owl, respectively, but idk what’s for barry and davenport (definitely open to suggestions akdnajdns). also, the yiga clan is called the shadow brethren, because i love me a good amnesty reference. it’s leader is kalen, and he’s an actual threat to taako, unlike kogha. i’d imagine the brethren tie to magnus’ divine beast because kalen ties to his storyline. also, the gauntlet basically becomes the bow of light in this au, aka what taako uses to defeat the hunger once and for all

other characters to note are:

kravitz and the raven queen, basically purah and symin in the hateno ancient tech lab. they’re a mother and son duo, with TRQ living through the calamity and kravitz being born afterwards

lucas and maureen are in robbie and jerrin’s place as another mother-son duo in the same position as krav + TRQ; maureen lived through the calamity and lucas was born after

(everyone is basically human in this, or at least has human lifespans, so 100 years is definitely a long time for someone to live through. maureen and TRQ developed magic to prevent them from aging all those years. lucretia was the first volunteer to use this magic, but it kinda failed and instead only slowed down her aging. that’s why she’s her older self when taako wakes up.)

the goddess hylia is instead istus. not much changes there, she’s just the goddess everyone references akdnakdjs

yknow the characters that help link get to the divine beasts in canon? like sidon, riju, etc? they’re replaced by other characters depending on what relic taako is going after, and it correlates to canon. so when he’s going after davenport’s divine beast/the oculus, he meets angus. when going after the owl/gaia sash, he meets hurley and sloane. so on and so forth. though he DEFINITELY meets julia in refuge and she DEFINITELY does NOT have a crush on the hero of legend who piloted the bear divine beast 100 years ago ;)))))

differently from botw canon, taako actually develops a strong relationship with lucretia, who is pretty much impa with a different backstory. as he gets his memories back he realizes he had six incredibly close best friends and now five of them are gone, so he kinda gravitates to her when he’s with her

one more thing to note is that after taako defeats the hunger and lup is free, she combines the relics into the light and uses it to bring the dead champions back because FUCK death separating this family. lup “phantasmal and resplendent” adventurezone would never allow it. if her brother gets brought back from the dead, so do her friends and her husband, thank you very much

and that’s… basically it! i could go more in depth with the taakitz/blupjeans side of things, but this is long enough akfnskfnskfn but if anyone wants to know anything else i’m always open to talking about it :D

#i didn’t even get into the angst…#balance #botw au #ask #anon #honestly? tysm for letting me dump about this au i’m more or less always thinking about it skfnsjfjs #also this took me like an hour to write. i’m now fully awake

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maizumis · 3 years

Note

Hii! Another Haikyuu dad au! Can it be with the miya twins, Bokuto, Iwa, and Suna? They get into an argument with their pregnant wife so the wife tells them to leave her alone. The boys find a loophole so they talk to her baby bump about how sorry they are to their mama :)

— HAIKYUU BOYS ARGUING WITH YOU WHILE PREGNANT AND APOLOGIZING

ft. timeskip!miya atsumu, iwaizumi hajime, suna rintaro

note: female reader‼️ angst to fluff ‼️different format cos I wanted to write more 🥴 thanks anon! hope you like it 😽 I think I'm gonna do a part two cos this got longer than expected and I couldn't add all the characters! not edited, that's work for tomorrow!

# MIYA ATSUMU

atsumu came home after a rough day at practice, excited to spend some time with you and baby boy that was about to come in just a month

all happiness he had quickly erased when he saw that the home was on the same that when he went to practice, dishes without washing and clothes without fold

" ‘tsumu you're home! we missed you!" he walked past you, he didn't even give you a side look, going directly to the bathroom "‘tsumu all okay? I made your favor–" "could ya please shut up? a come home after working and entire day for ma family and the house is like this? what did ya do the whole day?"

you were stuck in your place with wide eyes and hands over your belly "I'm sorry ‘tsumu, my back hurts a lot today and—" "save it, don’ wanna hear yer excuses"

"go fuck yourself then, miya, sleep in the comfiness of the couch today and don't you dare talk to me until tomorrow" with that you were gone to the master bedroom, fighting the tears that were in your eyes

he thought nothing about it and went to the shower, thinking what was he gonna eat for dinner then go to sleep, tomorrow is a new day

freshly out of the shower with pajamas on, he went to the kitchen to eat something, mesmerized when he saw the little note on the oven glass

"enjoy your meal! we love you!<3"

not only that, but that you made his favorite, knowing he was gonna come home late and exhausted after practice

memories of the recent fight came to his mind, he didn't even let you talk your mind, his throat feeling heavy with the guilt that he was experiencing, maybe he should let you talk after all

contradictory to your words, he went runnint to the shared bedroom, ready to apologise for being an ass "baby, yer awake?"

"not for you" you told him trying to hide your sobs, the day was awful, your back didn't let you do anything, the meal you cooked was an hour of fighting the back pain, thinking your ‘tsunj would be happy if he found this

"okay then, good thing a have a baby I can talk to"

he knelt down in front of you, carefully placing his head on the baby bump, caressing it from time to time

"I was an ass, sorry, a bad person to yer mom today baby, a came home and told her bad things, she was hurting and a Didi care, can ya tell her sorry for me?" he felt a kick on his cheek and a smile on his face when he saw you laugh, even with the tear-stained cheeks you were beautiful

" ‘tsumu, not cool what you did today, I wasn't feeling okay and I missed you, we missed you" your voice still a little wiggly after that crying session you had with your maternity pillow

finally, first name privileges, he thought "a know, am sorry, am so sorry, ya deserve so much better angel, am sorry"

"‘s okay tsum, cuddle me as an apologize, yeah?"

he never got into bed at that speed, quickly cuddling you with hands on your tummy while giving little pecks to your neck

"ya don't have to tell me twice"

# IWAIZUMI HAJIME

before and during pregnancy you joined iwaizumi on his works out or runs from time to time, you knew he enjoyed his time doing it so, why don't join him?

today you were not feeling like it, morning sickness took over you and the bed seemed like the best place to stay all day, one day in bed wouldn't hurt, you thought

apparently it stroke a nerve on hajime "what are you doing in the bed? up! we need it go out! " '‘m sorry haji, not really feeling like it today, why don't you go and I make something when you return home?"

"what do you mean 'you don't feel like it' the only thing you do all day is laze around"

you took a deep breath before answering, knowing didn't meant what he say "well I'm sorry I'm pregnant iwaizumi, I can't help it. go on your run and we can eat something together when you return"

"fucking Clara wouldn't put this excuses on me" he murmured under his breath, hoping you didn't heard the mention of his ex partner

"repeat yourself iwaizumi hajime, I'm waiting"

"no baby— I'm sorry, I didn't mean it-"

"go out before I go out by myself iwaizumi, don't bother talk to me the rest of the day, I'm gonna make dinner and leave it on the fridge, I'm also gonna sleep in the guest room. fucking low of you iwaizumi, so fucking low"

he went out with a knot on his throat, he didn't need to bring that up— he knew you weren't feeling your best and then he still played that ex-girlfriend card. on the way back home he picked up flowers knowing you loved them, praying to anyone who was above him for your forgiveness

"I'm home"

"and I told you not to talk to me, iwaizumi"

being petty was right, the mention of his ex while carrying his first daughter because you didn't feel like going out today was bullshit, he didn't have an excuse

he looked down to the floor before closing the door and going to the living room to think about what he did, cheeks red of embarrassment because of his childish behavior

he waited for you to be asleep before going into the room, with the idea of carrying your to the king bed instead of this one, after all, he was the one that deserved the uncomfy room

before picking you he saw the pregnant belly, the shirt you were wearing rolled up so it was exposed to the cold air

" ‘m sorry baby, your mama doesn't deserve this, you have the right to be angry with me" tears were pricking his eyes, maybe he was thinking too ahead but would you leave him for this?

"I'm such and asshole, I hope you don't remember that lady's name" he told the fetus as if he was having an actual conversation face to face "behave for mom yeah? don't put more pressure on her than already did" with that he picked you up, without knowing you were fully awake the whole conversation

you let yourself be carried to the big bedroom, once you felt him place you on the bed, you tugged his shirt while looking at him with teary eyes "we need to talk tomorrow but please,stay hajime" you were still mad, but his company is what you were craving right now

"there's no way I'm not staying forever with you"

# SUNA RINTARO

rintaro was coming home late this past weeks but he finally had a free night! so you were excited to spend a bonding time with him and your unborn baby

finishing the little detail on the table such as the dry flowers and the candles, you hear the door being open "rinnie! you finally home! it felt like forever while waiting for you!" he gave you a sweet peck in your lips before going to his room to change his clothes

"oh~ I see you dressed fancy for the occasion! wait for me I think I have a dress that stills fits me!" "what do you mean? I'm going out with the inarizaki boys, kita is in town"

you stopped midway the hall that ended in your room, quickly walking towards your boyfriend again "what do you mean you're going out? what about what I made?"

"you made something?"

it was ridiculous to keep begging, maybe you should call it a day and watch some movies in the couch with a tube of ice cream, alone, again.

"okay then, have fun rin, don't drink to much and come home safe"

rin came home after a few hours out, he indeed had a good time with his old teammates but his mind was all the time one you, maybe he should have stay with you, eat some homemade food and cuddle all night while talking about nothing

he entered the house and saw you spread on the couch, huge blanket on with his highschool jersey on, long forgotten night snacks on the night table and Netflix on the tv

it wasn't only that what caught his eye but the table in the kitchen too, he walked towards it and saw it, the candles, the flower carefully placed on the middle of the table, the matching napkins and fancy plates, so that was what you were referring to earlier

guilt creeped all over his body, he didn't acknowledge your efforts to make a night for the both of you, was this negligence? he thought

going again to the couch, bending over so he would be at your height, he placed a hand on your belly before speaking

"you're allowed to be mad at me when you're born baby" he paused for a few seconds, thinking what was he gonna say next "papa is a fucking asshole— sorry, don't say that, papa is very clumsy from time to time"

"Rin?"

there you were! his hand came quickly behind your neck, pressing your forehead and noses together, lips brushing each other

"I'm sorry I'm so stupid— fuck, I really don't want to cry right now, I'm an horrible person"

you cupped his face with both your hands, eyes teary about to cry for a second time that day "you're not horrible Rin, it's just it feels lonely you know?" tears already going down your cheek, the sight made his heart ache, you were crying because of him

"I know you're out there trying to be the best for us but" your voice wiggly, you were really trying to hide the sobs you had inside "but sometimes it feels like you're not around anymore, I can't share the little moments I have because I wake up to an empty bed and go to sleep with the thought of you being out" full sobs were coming out of you at this point, days of pain finally reaching their point "and it hurts so bad not to have you around"

rintaro was crying along with you, you could feel his wet tears on your neck, where he was placing his head "and your absolutely right angel, I'm gonna be better for you– for the both of you, what about I take the day off tomorrow, yeah?" his quavering voice betraying him, even if you knew he was crying he wanted to be strong

"that sounds perfect rin... come cuddle me?"

carrying you bridal style to the bedroom, he lit your favorite candle and snuggled you under the cost sheets

"cuddle you, all day long baby"

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corpsedaydream · 4 years

Note

Hi! Thank you for writing for Corpse!

Anyway, how about scenario when after some stressing things (like going for groceries or medical treatment etc) corpse came home just to see s/o in his hoodie that just too big for her?? Fluff and all??

Thank you again and sorry for bad eng :D

thank u for reading them cutie!! 🖤

oof this is a cute idea, here we go

update: this turned out longer than i planned, but i’m not mad about it! hope u enjoy

word count: 1.3k

_________________________

cold hands, warm neck

You had no idea what time it was when you awoke. You’d been spending your time off at your boyfriends house and after four days of trying your best to match his sleep schedule - not wanting to miss out on any moments with him - it finally caught up to you and you had crashed hard.

The night before, Corpse told his friends he was taking a quick bathroom break from streaming, except it wasn’t a bathroom break, you hadn’t replied to any of his messages he’d sent you while he was in there and he was getting a little worried. He was surprised to hear no noise around the house. Usually when he opened his office door for the past few days, he’d hear you watching something quietly from the couch, or facetiming one of your friends, or laughing at something on your phone. He’d gotten so used to it that when it was dead silent, the anxiety started to build ever so slightly.

The living room and kitchen showed up empty, and as he turned around, he caught that his bedroom door was opened.

“(Y/N),” Corpse called your name as he began walking closer, but you didn’t respond and his anxiety grew.

“Baby?” He tried again, reaching the doorway and looking in and that’s when he saw you and relief flooded through him.

He had gotten used to you staying awake with him these past couple of days, but he knew himself you couldn’t keep that up the whole time you were there. In reality, he was expecting a moment like this to happen.

You were deep asleep, not moving an inch and chest moving so slowly but rhythmically to signal how peaceful you were. There were telltale signs that you unintentionally fell asleep. You were still atop his covers, and he’d come to learn you loved to be curled up under a duvet. Your hair was still up in it’s scrunchie and he’d come to learn you slept with it out or you woke up a little grumpy because of the headache it caused. Your water bottle was leaning against your arm and he’d come to learn you always placed it on the floor before sleeping, you’d told him about the few times when you woke up freezing after they’d leak. Your phone was still half in your hand, but it was dead, signalling that you were probably scrolling through Tiktok or Twitter and fell asleep doing so.

He took a moment to look over you, he wanted to remember this picture in his mind, before he went into action to make sure you were sleeping how he knew you preferred.

First he removed your water bottle, second he grabbed your phone and plugged it on charge for you before placing it on his bedside table. Next came the actions he was worried would wake you.

With gentle hands, he pulled the scrunchie from your hair, allowing your hair to sprawl over his pillow and next he went to work with trying to get the covers out from under you and over you, instead.

It seemed Corpse really underestimated just how deep asleep you were, because you didn’t stir once through this process. If he was honest with himself, there was a part of him that had selfishly wished you had woken up, just so he could kiss you and hold you for a moment to tell you good night and hear your sleepy voice. But he knew you needed this, he couldn’t expect you to keep up with his sleeping pattern. So he settled with leaving a gentle peck against your forehead and whispering a quiet “sweet dreams, baby,” before going back to his stream.

You were somewhat delirious when you did finally wake up. After a few nights of barely sleeping to catching up on all those missed hours in one night, you couldn’t even be sure what day it was.

“Corpse?” Even your voice was a little croaky, laced with sleep. You rubbed your hands over your eyes before spotting your phone on charge. Slow hands grabbed it, unplugging the charger seeing that it was now on 100% before looking to see if Corpse had messaged you anything. And sure enough, you discovered he had gone out, but he promised to be home soon. Something you didn’t doubt, knowing he didn’t enjoy being out of his place.

Whilst waiting, you took a shower but when you got out, it was seemingly a lot colder today.

Did I even pack anything warm? You wondered to yourself, Corpse lived somewhere it rarely became cold and you were left empty handed when looking through your own belongings for a hoodie. Then you spotted a hoodie of Corpses sitting on the end of his bed and without thinking twice, you slipped the black article of clothing over your body. It made you miss him, it felt right to be wearing his clothes, but it made you want his arms around you, too.

You decided on waiting for him on the couch, it was close to the front door and you had just spent well enough hours in his bed.

It wasn’t long before you heard the locks of his front door being switched opened and instantly the smile grew on your face as your heart fluttered with excitement. You’d spent almost every minute with him since being here, so the time spent sleeping and him going out felt long.

You watched him as he walked in the front door. He hadn’t noticed you at first. And you could see why in his face, he was distracted, stressed from the task that really took a toll on him and you wished he’d woken you up so you could’ve gone with him or even for him.

“Hi.” You greeted your boyfriend.

“Fuck,” You caught him off guard, and you couldn’t help but to laugh as he made a little a stumble and dropped the bag that was in his hand. “You’re awak- is that mine?” He quickly cut himself off, his eyes landing on you and dropping down to look over the familiar black hoodie that completely engulfed you in the most heart warming way.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t bring anything warm.” You spoke, lifting your arms as you spoke and looking at the material that was so baggy all over you, but so comfortable. “I should’ve asked, sorry.” You apologised but all he could focus on was how perfect you looked. So cozy but also fresh and well rested after the deep sleep you had.

“No, no. It’s okay. I love it.” He assured you and you began blushing, placing your hands that were completely covered by the sleeves over your face.

“Corpse, stop.”

“I’m serious, you don’t know how much better this has made me feel.” He told you honestly, and that’s when you brought your hands down from your face and instead opened your arms to him.

“Come here.” You told him simply and he didn’t waste a second before he accepted the invitation and embraced you fully.

Your body automatically moved back to lay against the arm of the couch as he joined you by resting on top of you. You jumped slightly as his arms rounded you and his cool hands slid under the hoodie, his touch wanting to feel your bare skin.

“Sorry baby, you’re just so warm.” Corpse told you before leaving a kiss against your neck and resting his head there. “Every part of you, too.” Even his nose felt cold as he nuzzled it against where he’d just left the kiss.

“Why are you so cold?” You asked between laughs, bringing your own arms around him, too, wanting to be as close as possible.

“I had to go outside.” He sighed and his reply took the humour out of your words.

“Are you okay?” You didn’t hesitate to ask him, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He nodded his head against you. “Don’t wanna talk about it right now. Just want to be with you.”

“Okay.”

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse imagines #corpse husband imagines #writing #mine #request #castedorrsgraveyard #answered #1k #2k #3k #4k

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katacanons · 2 years

Note

I hope I’m not too late aaah 😭 Can I request a letter from reader who is Ace’s best friend & also former crewmate? Like they miss him so much so they just write a letter. Lots of angst plz.

Thanks!!

Thank you for this request! I hope this wasn't too technical. I made it gn! And I sort of just tried to express all of our feelings about missing Ace lmao i hope that makes sense

Ace x gn! reader DIARY: Reader writes a letter to Ace after his demise. They miss him badly and writes to pour their grief/love onto paper. A/n: Reader and Ace are kind of implied to have been in a romantic relationship SFW Word count: 639

My Dear Captain,

How have you been?

Happy birthday! You turn 24 today, the same age as I was when we first met. Let's celebrate tonight!

There are plenty of things I regret, things I wish I’ve done, things I wish I’ve said, especially to you. But I no longer blame myself, not as much as last year at least... I know you never like it when I’m sad.

Besides, I ask myself what I would’ve done anyway if I knew what was going to happen.

I’ve long since strayed from the narrow and straight path of what my life was laid out to be, until you stumbled upon it and pulled me out of the water. I was hardly awake before you, spending all my days looking over the horizon in my little, quaint island. Only dreaming of bluer skies and the broad, open seas, I was fully prepared to lead an unassuming life, free from trouble, from deep pain and heartache. Much too afraid to seek adventure on my own, you were the the encouraging push I needed.

When we’re together, you make me feel invincible. I feel like I could do everything, and do everything we did! You shooed my anxieties away, lifted the blanket of fear that surrounded me. In your warm embrace, you coaxed my soul out of the shadows. You continually challenged my grit (and patience) with every journey we treaded. I miss seeing your annoying little smile and proud freckles. I miss scolding you for sleeping like a log at random places, barging into my quarters in the wee hours of the night and in the morning to bother me, the sketchy food we concoct in the kitchen (much to Thatch’s objections), the way you beg me to visit a new island together, your dumb idea to poke that beast in Little Garden. Heck, I even miss your smug face when you beat me at cards.

Thank you for choosing this life for me.

But now that you’re gone, I often wonder how big of my heart you took with you.

It’s been over two years. Walking around the ship sometimes feels like a daydream: seeing your clothes in the closet, your boots by the entrance, the cold evenings make me feel as if I’m only waiting for you to come home. I wish we had more time. What I’d give to spend just one more hour, one more minute with you.

Thankfully, I still have your old letters and gifts (including the piece of hair you creepily made me store “just in case”) for when times are extra hard. They still smell of you, a little bit, so I only take them out from time to time.

I’m still getting my momentum back. I’d want to have a plethora of stories to recount when we meet again, and I’ll make sure they’ll knock your socks off and make you cry with jealousy! Heh. I’ll take your dreams along with mine, and make them all come true on your behalf! For our sakes, that is my promise.

I wouldn’t change anything with what happened. You passed with a smile, and I hope everyday you hear all of us sending our love to you. You must be greatly annoyed in the afterlife because I keep speaking to you in my head. But don't take that as an invitation to haunt me.

But you already knew that: you know that I would still do it all over again, as long as it’s with you.

Hopefully this letter reaches you well. Look after me, Ace.

Eating good for two at your party tonight. :P

Counting the days til I can hold your hand again, Y/n

P.S. I’ve left you flowers and your favorite wine which was expensive, by the way. You owe me a damn good drink.

#loveletter♡#sweetthing♡#portgas d ace #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace scenario #one piece x reader #portgas d ace angst #one piece angst #whitebeard pirates #spade pirates

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writing-blog-iguess · 3 years

Text

Harley Quinn

Summery: The batfamily hears three stories about batmom and Harley. How they met, how they started dating, and how they ended.

Warning: fluff, angst.

A/N: This bish is 4847 words. I did not mean to write that much.

Man, the amount of love I got from Stories...I'm so happy people enjoyed it. So, I hope you enjoy this one just as much.

Feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

-------

There were only two weeks left of summer, and she wanted to move onto campus as soon as possible. But her friend, Selina, had made it a little difficult for her. On the first day the campus was allowing their students to come, Selina had come over and stopped her from packing. And they spent the day together shopping, seeing a movie and eating. Selina ended up crashing at her place after they had binged a show.

When she started packing the next day, Selina did the same. But after a promise of hanging out when she was settled in her dorms, Selina conceded and helped with the packing. And after some whining and pizza, Selina came with her to campus to help as well.

Struggling to keep the heavy box in her hands, she made her way towards her dorm. “You can help me, you know,” she grunted, shifting the box as it was slipping out of her arms.

“I am,” Selina said, holding up a couple of garbage bags full of clothes. “My hands are just full to help you carry your box.”

“You’re funny,” she deadpanned. Selina flashed her a smile, to which she returned one of her own.

“And that’s why you love me.”

“No, no I don’t think that’s it,” she mused, looking at each dorm number. “I think I love your cat more. And that’s why we’re friends.”

Selina gasped mockingly, and bumped her shoulder. “I knew it!” She laughed just as she found her dorm room.

Fishing out her key from her pocket, she handed it to Selina and waited until Selina opened the door. The minute she walked through the door, she was eloped in a hug. It caught her by surprise that she dropped the box she was holding.

“Hiya! I’m your new roommate!”

“And they were roommates,” Dick gasped out, interrupting the story.

“Oh my god, they were roommates,” Tim finished, and three out of the four boys burst out laughing.

“You two are hilarious,” she said, slumping into her chair. They had just finished dinner when the boys started bombarding her with questions about her and Harley. And after teasing them a little about which story. She started with how she met her ex-fiancé.

“Are you two done?” Bruce asked, and the laughter slowly downed a little. Until they caught each other’s eyes, and it started again.

Damian rolled his eyes, and turned to his mother. “I didn’t know you and Selina were in a relationship,” he said, and that had caused Dick, Jason and Tim to stop and look at her.

“No, no we weren’t dating,” she answered, shaking her head. “I didn’t know my sexuatilty until I started dating Harley.”

“And how long did that take?” Jason asked, rolling his cup on the table.

She blew out a puff of air and sighed. “When we were twenty-one. Even then I needed help.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one,” Bruce said with a smile. She flushed in embarrassment and looked away before recalling the story.

——

“Pumpkin,” her roommate sang from the other side of the room. She hummed, blinking at her homework trying to keep awake. She was currently laying on her stomach with her chin sitting on her hand. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at it for hours.”

“Pft, I’m fine,” she answered, though the words were starting to blur together. “Hey!” she said, as Harley yanked the book from her. “I need that.”

“And you need a break,” she pressed, closing the book with a snap. “Come on Pumpkin, let’s get something to eat.”

She pouted trying to grab her textbook. Harley giggled and held it out of her reach. “Harley,” she whined, “the test I'm studying for is supposed to cost half of my grade.”

“You should know that taking care of your body is more important than school, doctor,” Harley teased. She stuck her tongue out, causing Harley to poke it. “Come on, we’ll go to your favourite café.”

She lit up and quickly got out of bed, almost tripping on her feet doing so. Harley laughed and tossed the book onto the bed. “You gotta be more careful, pumpkin.” She made a face, and grabbed her stuff before the two of them left their apartment.

She looped her arm through Harley’s as they walked. Talking about everything and nothing that came to mind. On occasion, she would check her phone, hoping for any messages from Bruce. But there were none.

She hasn’t spoken to Bruce since the last time they hung out, and she wondered if it was something that she did. Though the thought was ridiculous. They’ve only met up a handful of times since he’d been back. And even then, she couldn’t think of a reason why he was avoiding her.

The only thing she could think of was their first conversation they had together. But that was back when he first arrived in Gotham.

Bruce had found the apartment she was sharing with Harley, and decided to pay her a visit before the tabloids caught wind of him being back.

It had caught her by surprise when Harley called, saying there was a billionaire holding pizza. Confused on what she meant, she rounded the corner to find Bruce Wayne standing in her hallway.

After giving him a hug, and a little catch up, the three of you spent the night hanging out. And it felt like nothing had changed between the two of you.

It wasn’t until Harley had gone to bed, that Bruce told you everything that happened since leaving Gotham when he was fourteen. He told you how his training had gone, and all the people he’s met.

It was one thing reading about them through Bruce’s letters. But it was a different experience hearing them from Bruce. When he had finished, he told her it was time to start fixing Gotham his way.

With a sigh, she had hoped that he had changed his mind. Instead of talking him out of it, she suggested waiting a little bit before doing so. Make Bruce Wayne into a public figure, or more then he already is. And then have his second persona make an appearance. Only so people didn’t connect that the two were related.

That had been two months ago. And sure, she’s been busy with school and midterms were just around the corner, and Bruce was busy running a company and….well, being a playboy from what she’s read in magazines. She didn’t read the articles, it hurt a little reading them.

And he was also busy with being Batman. She laughed at the name the media had dubbed him, it almost made her call him up just to tease him about it. But she refrained from doing so. She was unsure where she fit in his new life, and at this point she was too afraid of the answer to ask.

When they arrived at the café, she found a table for them while Harley ordered.

Harley looked over the rim of the coffee cup in her hand when her friend sighed again. “You’re in love with Bruce!” Harley accused.

She dropped her bagel on her plate and stared at Harley in shock. “I am not!”

“You totally are! You keep checking your phone like your love sick, waiting for someone to call you.”

“I am not in love with Bruce,” she stuttered out, “why would I be? He left to go to school abroad, and shows up eight years later! And so what if I thought about him during those years, and was worried about him. That’s what friends do, they worry about them. It’s not like I noticed how much he’s changed or dream about holding his hand or...or kissing him or…or...” she trailed off as she thought back to all the times her heart hammered in her chest when he smiled at her.

Or all the times Bruce made her blush. She thought back to how she smiled when she saw Bruce’s letter in the mail, or how happy she felt as she read them. Or how relieved she felt when she saw Bruce in her apartment or how hurt she was when she saw him with different girls every night.

Then she thought about all that when she was with Harley. Could she be in love with Harley too? But she quickly dismissed it, thinking it wasn’t possible.

She slumped into her chair as Harley set her mug down, and smirked at her in satisfaction. “Holy hell, I’m in love with Bruce Wayne.”

“There it is,” Harley said, giggling as she received a glare. “You’ve known Bruce since you guys were little, how is it only now that you're realizing this?”

“I don’t…” she trailed off, hands picking up her cup. She twirled it around the table as she tried to come up with the right words, “I’m not...when I can’t pick up the cues when it comes to stuff like that.”

“So someone has to tell you that they love you. Like your parents loving you,” Harley mused, she shrugged.

“I know they do and I can see that they love me. But for whatever reason, when it comes to romantic feelings, I have a blind eye,” she explained, letting the cup go in favour of pulling apart her muffin. She huffed out a laugh. “It’s funny. Back in high school there was this guy who asked me out on a date. But he didn’t use those words, he used ‘wanna hang out?’

“I said yes. It wasn’t until he kissed me that it was starting to click. Even then I didn’t fully understand. Selina told me what it was that I knew. I was so embarrassed I couldn‘t face him. I feel like there’s something wrong with me.”

Harley leaned over and took her hands, she stilled her hands and her eyes flitted up to Harley. And her heart stuttered as Harley looked at her. “Nothing’s wrong with you pumpkin. People process things differently, you just happen to need someone to tell you.”

Relief washed over her and she smiled. “Thanks, Hars.” Harley hummed and leaned back, letting go of her hand. She missed the warmth of Haley’s hands, but didn’t think anything of it, especially when she noticed a twinkle in Harley's eyes.

“So, are you going to tell Brucie?” Harley teased, she made a face and shook her head.

“No, I will not,” she said.

“But he might love you back!” Harley exclaimed, “pumpkin, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looks at you like you hung the moon every night.”

“Even if that’s true, I don’t think it’ll work. At least not right now,” she mumbled, and quickly added when Haley gave her a confused look, “he’s not interested in anything serious right now.”

Harley nodded in understanding, and she looked away when she saw pity in Harley's eyes.

That weekend, she found herself in the school library with Harley and Jonathan doing homework. Harley had just left for drinks, leaving the two of them alone.

Jonathan looked up from his homework and studied his friend. She hunched over her books and tapped her pencil on her head as she was going over a question.

“Are you and Harley dating?” Jonathan blurted out. She froze and lifted her head to look at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her reaction, and stifled a laugh. “I think you heard me.”

“Oh I heard. But what made you come to that conclusion?” she clarified, squinting her eyes at him.

“The way you two act around each other,” he explained, “you're all in love and shit. It’s a wonder you haven’t kissed yet.”

“I don’t….but I can’t….” she trailed off. The words weren’t coming and she wasn’t quite sure if she did or not. “Friends can act like that platonically!”

“That’s true. But with you two, it’s hard to tell. You both have heart eyes every time you either talk about each other, or just being in the same room.”

She stayed quiet, she didn’t have anything to say.

“You know, when Harley told me you process feelings differently than most people, I thought she was joking,” he mused, this time chuckling.

“It’s great to know you talk about me,” she deadpanned, setting down her pencil.

“But I’m serious, do you like her or not?” he asked, and she let her head drop on her textbook and groaned.

“I don’t know. The other day, Harley helped me discover I’m in love with my childhood best friend. And now you're making me question my feelings for Harley.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender, though she wasn’t paying attention. “Wasn’t my intent, I just figured you needed to know.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly, and lifted her hand and flipped him off. He laughed and gently patted her head.

“I’ll ask a question or two, maybe it’ll help.”

She nodded but kept her head on the table. Jonathan's smile grew wider, enjoying this a little bit too much.

“When you see her, what do you do?”

She took a moment to ponder the question. “My heart starts to beat faster and I can’t help but think how pretty she is. And I get all flustered when she gets really close or she gives me a compliment. And when she’s happy and smiling and laughing, and my butterflies explode in my stomach when that happens because I did that. And sometimes, when she’s pouting or just sad, I just want to pull her into a kiss.”

Jonathan raised an eye at her statement, and had no doubt that she was blushing. “What about Bruce?”

“The same thing! He winks my way and the next thing I know I’m a blushing mess. And when he gives me a certain look, it’s like I gave him everything and I melt and just want to kiss his stupid face! And I hate him for that, but not really and….hhhhh!”

“Damn,” Jonathan huffed out, staring at her. “You have it bad for both of them.”

“But I can’t love two people at once!” she exclaimed, getting shushed by other students. She paid them no mind, head racing on what she should do.

“Who says?” Jonathan asked, and she paused to think about it. “There's no rule saying you have to like one person at the time,” he continued when she didn’t answer. “Now the question is who are you going to pick? Bruce or Harley?”

“What if they both don’t love me?” she whispered, lifting her head up slightly. “What if it’s all in my head and they laugh if I tell them?”

“I don’t know about Bruce, but Harley won’t,” he answered, going back to his homework, “trust me.”

She spent the next week pondering over her conversations with Harley and Jonathan. And there were a few things she’s discovered.

She’s bisexual.

She’s really bad at feelings and seeing them for what they are. Though this wasn’t anything new, still she hated that she needed help when it comes to emotions.

If she did choose Bruce over Harley, it wouldn’t have worked out. Not only because of him being Batman, but because she didn’t see it as a long term relationship. And she didn’t want that.

And if she chose Harley over Bruce, she didn’t want to make Harley feel like she was second pick. She didn’t want that either.

By the weekend, she still doesn’t know what to do.

Sighing, she fell on her bed. She stared at the ceilings and groaned, pressing her palms to her eyes. “Why is this hard?”

“I don’t know pumpkin, maybe I can help?” Harley suggested, startling her. She sat up quickly and turned to see Harley leaning against the doorframe.

“Help me with what?” she asked, nervously laughing. Harley smiled and walked further in the room.

“Whatever you’re having trouble with,” Harley answered.

She sighed and fell onto the bed again, she took a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I don’t think this is something you can help with,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

She felt the bed dip, and felt Harley shift around until she stopped. “I could listen to you rant about it?”

She hummed, but shook her head. “It’s something I need to figure out.”

Silence fell around them as she thought. Harley brought her hand over her face and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She tensed at the sudden touch, but soon relaxed into it.

“Does it have something to do with what you and Jonathan were talking about last week?” Harley asked after a moment.

Her eyes flew open and she stared at Harley, panicking a little. If Harley knew, there’s nothing she could say that wouldn’t be a lie.

“But I…did he tell you?” she asked, Harley nodded. She groaned and stuffed her face into the mattress. “Damnit.”

Harley giggled and slowly moved her face so they could look at each other. “If it helps any, I love you too.”

She flushed, and looked anywhere but Harley. “But I don’t want to make you feel like a second choice. I don’t want you to resent me because you know I love Bruce too.”

“Hey I won’t,” Harley reassured. Biting her lip, she shook her head. Harley sighed, and moved to press her forehead against hers. “Can I tell you a secret? I loved you before I knew you loved Bruce, and I still love you knowing that. I just hope you can give me a chance.”

She studied Harley for a moment before closing the distance and kissed her.

——

“Ew! Mom! Gross! We don’t need to hear about that!” Dick interrupted. She looked up to see her boys looking at her in disgust. Jason and Tim gagged mockingly as Dick shuddered.

“What? It was just a kiss,” she answered, amused.

“Yeah but you kissed Harley. And that means you’ve done more than kissing,” Jason said.

“You knew this when your father told you I was engaged to her.”

“It’s one thing thinking about it, it’s a whole different thing to hear it from you, Mom,” Tim said, leaning back into his chair.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Shrugging, she picked up her glass and took a sip.

“So Harley figured out you loved me before you did? And this after meeting me once,” Bruce asked, amused. She felt her cheeks burn and looked away.

“Wasn’t my proudest moment, but yes she did,” she said with a shrug.

“And she was okay with it?”

She nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Yeah. She didn’t seem to mind too much about it. But I didn’t spend too much time being hung up on Bruce. I was too busy with Har-”

“Ma!” Jason exclaimed, stopping her from finishing the sentence.

“I wasn’t even going to say anything bad!” she defended.

“You went to school with Crane?” Damian asked. She turned her attention to the youngest and nodded.

“We had a few classes together, and Harley just sort of adopted him into the friend group,” she mused.

“What I can’t get over, is the fact that Crane had to tell you about your feelings for Harley,” Dick put out.

“Like I said, I have a hard time deciphering emotions. Especially when it comes to romantic feelings. But once I know, then I’m okay.”

“How long were you together before getting engaged?” Damian asked, though it was still hard to believe his mother had someone before Bruce.

“And who popped the question?”

She looked at the clock and back to the boys. “Doesn't the patrol start soon?” she asked. The boys looked at Bruce with their best puppy eyes. Well, Dick, Jason and Tim did, Damian seemed indifferent but Bruce could tell he wanted to hear the story as well.

“If it’s okay with your mother, we can listen to one more story,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at her husband. “What?”

“And I thought I couldn’t say no,” she said with a mumble.

“Shut up,” he said, but smiled slightly.

“So Ma, what’s the story?”

Her hand went up to her necklace and started playing with it as she thought back. “We’ve been together for almost eight years before I asked her.”

——

She fell on the couch once she got home from the hospital. It had been a taxing day, and all she wanted to do was curl up with Harley and sleep until the morning. But they had dinner plans they needed to get to, and if everything turned out as planned, she and Harley would be engaged.

Over the years of dating, conversation of marriage would come up. Whether it be just then asking about it, or their friends. They both wanted it, but they silently agreed that they wouldn’t take it seriously until they both finished school.

Harley had already finished her last year of residency, and she was one you last year. Granted, she still had a month left, but she figured it would still count.

“Pumpkin, I’m home,” Harley called as she walked in.

“Living room,” she answered back. A moment later, Harley walked in the room and plopped beside her. Harley laid her head on her lap and sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Tiring day?”

Harley nodded and closed her eyes. “I know we had plans to go out, but can we stay in? Arkham really took me out.”

She scrunched her nose, her hands stopped moving. “I thought you didn’t start there until next week?”

“I did, but something happened with the inmates,” Harley answered.

“And they needed a psychiatrist?”

“Apparently some of the inmates needed help and they couldn’t wait until next week,” Harley said, and sighed happily when she resumed playing with Harley’s hair. “So can we stay in?”

“Yeah, we can. We can order take out and watch a movie or something,” she mused, trying to think of a new plan. “What do you want?”

“Chinese.”

She smiled and reached over, grabbing her phone and ordering food. Once finished, she set the phone before turning back to Harley. She stared at her loving, watching as Harley was slowly falling asleep.

“You’re staring,” Harley mumbled with a smile.

“I can’t help, you’re just too gorgeous to look at anything else,” she teased. Harley blushed and snuggled into her legs.

“Shut up.”

Thinking it’s the perfect time, she went for it. “Marry me?” Harley’s eyes flew open, and she quickly sat down and looked at her.

“What?”

“Marry me,” she repeated, smiling at the bewildered look Harley was giving her. “I know we talked about it a few times. And since I have a month left of residency, I figured why not. So, marry me?”

Harley looked at her for a minute before smiling widely, and threw her arms around her, laughing. “Of course I will, pumpkin!” Harley said, kissing her all over her face.

And just like that they were engaged.

As the months went by, they planned a wedding. They had decided who was going to be in the wedding party, where the venue would be, and who was going to cater for them. They just needed to book everything, but they weren’t going to do so until they picked out the wedding day.

And for a while everything was perfect. Up until Harley started seeing Joker as a patient. She didn’t see it, not a first. She took it as Harley having bad days or long tiring days at Arkham. And with doctor patient confidentiality, Harley couldn’t talk about their problems.

But Harley could tell her how the day went. If it was bad, she’d drop it and offer to make Harley's favourite foods.

Then Harley started to become distant. She would come home later than normal, and would snap for no reason. She had tried to get Harley to talk to her, but she wouldn’t. She kept saying she was fine and it had been a long day. It was worrying.

All at once, it stopped. Harley stopped talking to her, and stopped coming home.

She was out of her mind, worrying for Harley. She hoped her fiancée would come home. It was to the point that she went out and looked for Harley.

But Bruce had stopped her before she could leave the apartment.

She had found him waiting in her living room after a long shift at the hospital. It had startled her seeing Bruce dressed as Batman standing there, he cowl down.

She was about to greet him, but the sad, pitied expression Bruce had stopped her. “No, don’t…don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, she stepped back. “But something happened to Harley.”

She shook her head frantically, covering her mouth with her hands. “Nononono, she can’t have…please,” she begged, as Bruce wrapped her into a hug when he was close enough.

“I’m sorry, but Joker got into her head,” he started, tightening his grip as she choked back a sob. “Convinced her that they were meant for each other. Made her fall in the chemicals he fell into. She’s alive, but she isn’t Harley anymore. Not the one you knew anyways.”

She broke down crying before Bruce finished his sentence. She clung to him like a lifeline as the words sunk in.

She expected to hear that Harley died, that someone had killed her. Not this. But this? This was so much worse.

——

A heavy silence fell once she finished. She was clutching the ring that was threaded on a chain. It helped keep the tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry, not now, not after so many years.

“The next day, Bruce told me the full story,” she whispered, and grimaced as the fight flashed before her. “We fought. Okay, I yelled and he just took him. I said some things I shouldn’t have and I avoided him for a while.”

“I remember that,” Dick said, leaning onto the table. “Bruce looked heartbroken during that time. And every time I tried to ask what happened, he shut me down. Even at gala’s when you were there, he looked like he wanted to go and talk to you.”

Bruce looked at him in surprise. Dick was only eight when that happened, he didn’t think he was paying attention.

On the other hand, she felt guilt crawling in her stomach, and slouched into her chair. She hid her face in her hands when Dick continued.

“That falling out thing happened for a few years, didn’t it?” he asked. She opted to stay quiet, letting Bruce answer the question.

“Three or four years, yeah.”

Tim was about to ask what had happened, but Jason nudged him and shook his head. Tim gave him a look, and Jason gestured to their mom, practically saying I don’t think she wants to talk about it.

“Sorry for bringing up the past Ummi,” Damian said softly. “We didn’t know.”

Rubbing her face to get rid of stray tears, she dropped her hands onto the table. “That’s okay sweetie. I wouldn’t have told you anything if it still hurts.”

“So, how’d you fix your friendship with Bruce?” Jason asked. She shook her head and stood.

“Bruce can tell you,” she said, stretching, “I have the night shift tonight. And I need to get ready.”

With that she left her boys staring at Bruce, waiting.

“It’s time for patrol,” he gruffed out and followed his wife. The boys groaned, saying that wasn’t fair.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he reached their bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her quickly change and grabbed her stuff before pausing. She clutched her keys and sighed.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she sighed, dropping her shoulders. “After ten years, it still hurts. Not as much as it did, but still.”

Bruce nodded, and pushed off the frame and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close. “I’m sorry again for everything.”

“You know I don’t blame you anymore, you don’t need to apologize for it.”

“Feels like I have too. You don’t deserve to have gone through that.”

“No one does but life sucks that way,” she said, giving him a smile. “I have to go.”

Bruce frowned, tightening his hold a little. “I wish you didn’t.”

“I’m a doctor Bruce, but I’ll be careful,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. “You be careful too tonight.” He nodded and dropped his arms and watched as she left the room.

“I love you,” he called. She popped her head back in and smiled.

“I love you too.”

Running out of the manor and to her car, she didn’t notice a figure standing in the distance. Harley signed as she watched, glad that her ex-lover found happiness again. And promised she’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

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