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ozzgin · 5 months

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Yandere! Monster x Reader [Werewolf]

In Romanian mythology, Pricolici is an evil spirit believed to be born after the death of wicked humans, able to transform into certain animals such as ferocious dogs and wolves. The etymology is unknown, although it's suspected to be of Dacian origin, thus going as far back in time as the 1st century BC. An ancient creature has set its predatory eyes on you.

Winner of the Folklore Monster Poll celebrating Romanian history!

TW: obsessive behavior, violence, death

[Horror Masterlist] [More Headcanons]

He can tell it's a dream. Nonetheless, it always feels unbearably real. He can smell the incense, hear the hurried trample of feet underneath him. He wants to open his mouth and demand they stop. No words ever come out, the throat is dry and flattened by heavy despair. It's a dream, after all. The priests march on, and the spears are lifted. For a moment, he's blinded by their powerful, sharp glisten. As he gazes at the sacred circle, it occurs to him just how uncomfortable the shackles are. He becomes somewhat distracted by this irritating friction, so much he doesn't register the instructions given by the mysterious men.

Centuries later, he would stumble upon an old history book by Herodotus that detailed his misfortune:

"The Getae are the bravest of the Thracians and the most just. They believe they are immortal, forever living, in the following sense: they think they do not die and that the one who dies joins Zalmoxis, a divine being. Every four years, they send a messenger to Zalmoxis, who is chosen by chance. They ask him to tell Zalmoxis what they want on that occasion. The mission is performed in the following way: men standing there for that purpose hold three spears; other people take the one who is sent to Zalmoxis by his hands and feet and fling him in the air on the spears. If he dies pierced, they think that the divinity is going to help them; if he does not die, it is he who is accused and they declare that he is a bad person. And, after he has been charged, they send another one. The messenger is told the requests while he is still alive."

The foreign hands tighten around his limbs and he takes a deep breath in, ready for the plunge. Truth be told, he's not too anxious. The first time was terrifying, but one becomes accustomed to death if it repeats itself, night after night as the years pass and millennia settle over it, like a thick blanket of ash and bone and dust. He doesn't remember the pain anymore, only the bitterness. The wrath. He had no business playing God's messenger. He hadn't wished to be choking on his own blood, rippling violently at the corners of his mouth as his eyes dart over the excited masses. There are claps and cheers, and hope, and peace. Just not for him.

No matter, if they long so dearly after eternity, he'll become their very proof. A tangible undead, a creature of eternity. Let them gaze at their ardent desire as it claws their bowels out for the birds to feed on. Let them sing praise before their God as their soft throats detangle under his fangs. Before he knows it, the corpses lay mangled at his feet and he notices his horrid reflection swaying in the puddles of fresh blood.

He has become a beast.

And just like that, the nightmare ends. It always ends here. He pats the sweat off his forehead with the monotonous vigor of habit. It's already noon and the narrow street flocks with curious tourists and natives on their stroll. Every now and then he will venture into the city, just to get a glimpse of the world. He twists the knob and opens a window, enjoying the breeze that cools his skin. His tired eyes wander around with no purpose.

That's when he sees you. Your wide, carefree smile as you converse with your friend. You're drawing circles along the edge of your coffee cup, propped over the table, entranced by your discussion. Your gentle laugh rings unexpectedly loud against his ears. He finds himself frozen in place, unable to contract a single muscle.

"Oh, this trail is supposed to have some really nice sights." Your friend is shuffling through unfolded maps, spread out onto the small café table. "We should leave pretty early though, otherwise it'll get dark before the return."

You groan at the idea. Your friend responds with a chuckle.

"Remember, our tour guide joked about werewolves roaming the outskirts. Do you want to be eaten?" She inquires with a cheeky grin.

"You know I have a thing for monsters." You answer with a wink.

The jokes carry on until the bill arrives, and you eventually stand up and merrily make your way down the street. For a brief moment you feel a cold shiver running down your spine, so you peek back inquisitively. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Ah. By the time his focus returns, the sun is setting, reflecting its crimson rays over the old cobblestone. You've been gone for a while, so he must've been staring into the nothingness for good hours. He clears his throat, mildly embarrassed by his absent-mindedness. He isn't hungry, so he has trouble explaining his sudden captivation with a random human.

Even more bizarre is the consequence of the accidental encounter. The following nights are devoid of the usual torment. Has he ever had a peaceful slumber before? He can't recall. And yet here he is, vacantly eyeing the ceiling without the labored breath or cold shivers, faintly reminiscing about your amused expression. He frowns slightly at the realization that his recollection seems to contain less details compared to yesterday. Your face is smudged by the intense light of the noon, titled at an angle that allows no shadows to discern the features. What will he do when it's entirely gone? A faceless memory, anchored in the depths of his heart as a reminder of what could've been. Is there some universal law that dictates only misery remains unforgotten, or is he just exceptionally unlucky? Infuriating.

The overwhelming sensation creeps upon him again. A primordial vengefulness that hasn't yet released him from its cold, bony fingers. For once, can't he be granted fairness? His jaw clenches and he marches out of the room.

Tonight shall be a feast.

The lights are still on in the little tavern inn, and through the small windows he can make out the lively movement of the people inside. He glances at the waning moon one final time. The world may change, and the years may pass, but one thing has never left him throughout the centuries. Always bearing the same pallid, melancholic countenance, his taciturn companion rises, indifferent to the Universe.

His back arches outwards, the bones tear and twist, the joints dislocate and the skin is giving way to coarse, thick fur. His eyes now carry an amber glow as they rest on the modest building. Without further hesitation, he pounces on the door and it folds like cardboard under his inhuman strength. The room goes quiet and all heads turn to him. He recognizes that look. A fleeting second of fear and curiosity, before true panic settles in. But they rarely have the time to scream. Just as the vocal chords contract and vibrate, their chests are trashed and limbs are tattered. Splattered visceral remains and blood coat the ground under his feral attack.

You squeeze your eyes closed and force your hands over your mouth to ensure your stillness to the massacre. You were just returning from the bathroom when you heard the wails and the wet sounds of mutilated flesh. You'd ducked behind the wall and hid under an end table. What the hell is that creature? You initially thought a wild wolf had somehow made its way into the tavern, but no animal can be this large. There is a backdoor, but on the other side of this hall. You'd have to sprint across the archway that leads into the main room. Then again, if it's this busy ripping the others apart...

No need to ponder your options much. Silence falls behind you, which means the creature must have finished its horrid sport early. His snout picks up a particular scent and he tenses up, expectantly. Could it be?

The wooden parquet tiles creak under the weight of foreign footsteps; a human approaching you. You look up from under the table. Has someone dealt with the beast? Although you immediately regret revealing yourself. You freeze in your spot, hands propped on the ground, like prey awaiting execution.

The man is unnaturally tall, having to crouch under the ceiling, with wild black hair and rough features. His chiseled face is painted red, and his clothing is torn apart and soaked in blood. His large hands end in sharp claws, and amid his ruffled locks you can distinguish animal ears.

There you are.

Well, quite the irony to meet you here of all times and places. From this distance, you look even prettier. He bends over slightly to examine the details that have faded since the first encounter. A surreal experience, really. Seeing you kneel right in front of him and not as a figment of his imagination. He extends his fingers over your face and presses his nails in, leaving a vague trail of swollen, red skin. What a frail being you are.

"Your friend is alive, by the way." His deep, dissonant voice pierces the silence.

"O-oh." You gasp. You were so anxious you barely understood the meaning of his words.

"You may check on her if you so desire, however..."

He considers it. Normally, even after allowing his anger to seep into cadavers and ruins, all he's left with is disgust and emptiness. Yet your presence seems to fill him with unfamiliar comfort. If one is drowning, is it truly selfish to hold onto the first thing that keeps them afloat? The only people who'd condemn such beggar are the ones that have never been underwater. They don't know what it's like to have your lungs tighten and collapse under the heavy pressure, waving your arms towards a surface that's never reached.

"...You'll be coming with me afterwards."

You can only stare.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you." He attempts to simulate a smile. "I suppose I'm not too convincing like this", he jokes as he gestures towards his body, "But you have my word I'll never harm you."

"Why, though?" You manage to stutter, frowning in confusion.

He's taken aback by your inquiry. Perhaps his statement is indeed more threatening than anything else. On the other hand, he hasn't conversed with humans in...longer than he can remember. What might pose as convincing in this case? Drawing out a rose and confessing his undying love among the bodies he murdered feels rather ridiculous. Suddenly, a passage he's once read comes to mind. At the time, it depressed him greatly. Now it feels like the only fitting reasoning.

"Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?"

"Isn't that from Stoker's Dracula? How is it-"

You pause and search his eyes. Golden trenches of loneliness and gloom. Your heart is heavy and your mouth curls into a grimace the longer you stare into these pools swirling with agony.

"I understand." Is all you can mutter as you stand up.

Have you had a choice to begin with? Not even the frothing waves of a storming ocean can come between a dying man and his only raft.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #werewolf x reader #yandere werewolf #female reader #gender neutral reader #yandere horror #horror x reader #yandere oc #romanian folklore

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writersblockiskillingme · 5 months

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Peace | Coriolanus Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader (fem!District12!Baird!reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow never thought that he would find peace, until he did.

Warning/s: Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, talk about death (reader is alive, don't worry), possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: Inspired by one and only Taylor Swift.

Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly the summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions

As long as danger is near

And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me

No, I could never give you peace

Coriolanus Snow could swear that the rustling of the grass beneath his shoes couldn't be louder as he walked in the Meadow.

However, even though he felt an odd irritation towards that, he felt good. He was finally able to get rid of his Peacekeeper white uniform which he replaced with a simple white shirt and some gray pants that he found. His dog tag was still hanging from around his neck. He forgot to take it off from all of the haste when he was trying to find you as fast as he possibly could once his shift ended for the day.

The wind was dancing gracefully across the leaves on the trees surrounding the always oh so peaceful Meadow just a little outside of the border of District 12.

District 12.

Coriolanus Snow was still a little bit doubtful when it came to the loser District.

He could remember his hated towards, well, everyone and everything when he found out that he was going to be deported for the Peacekeepers. He could still remember that empty feeling when he sat at, what seemed like, the most uncomfortable chair in the world as someone started to cut his blonde locks away.

He lost everything. Every hope for the better.

That is up until it was reported to him that he could chose any District in all of the Panem that he wished.

Coriolanus could've been deported to a nice, clean District like 1 or 2. Yet he chose the poorest District of all. The words "District 12" left his mouth without the second thought when the authorities asked him where he wanted to be deported. He didn't even speare one single thought as he said it.

He asked himself, why did he do it? The question wouldn't leave his mind. It haunted him every day. It clouded his ever racing mind.

Why did he do it?

Yet now, he finally spotted a figure sitting on a giant rock, playing the guitar while muttering the words as she tried to write yet another masterpiece that he was going to cherish forever.

Your hair was flowing around in the wind as your fingers graced the strings of your guitar that Coriolanus got for you from the Capitol.

He tried to stay as quiet as he possibly could. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want you to stop singing so he froze once he got close enough so he could listen to you for a bit.

Even the mockingjays on the trees seemed to quiet down as you played the guitar. They were soaking up every melody, every note that you decided to grace the word with.

"And it's just around the corner, darling

'Cause it lives in me"

Your melodic voice rang around the Meadow. So quiet yet so powerful. Graced with softness and pure care. He didn't deserve you. He knew that.

Suddenly nothing mattered anymore. The only thing that truly mattered was the fact that you were alive.

Every doubt he had racing, cursing, his mind vanished forevermore as he listened to you sing and play your guitar, when he saw you performing with the rest of the Covey, your family, the night after he got deported to 12.

Right now, nothing was more important to him than you. He didn't care about his deportation, about Dr. Gaul, about Highbottom.

Maybe he was clueless. Maybe it was his fault for letting himself feel vulnerable in this very moment in the Meadow outside of 12. Or maybe he was just young and dumb for finally letting his guard down... but he felt like there was hope for him at last. Because you were here. You were alive, and if he had to mess up his reputation and lose everything once more just so he could here the sweetest of melodies leaving your lips he was sure that he would do it.

"No, I could never give you peace"

But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Coriolanus felt himself freeze completely.

His brain nor his body was working anymore as he watched the screen along with the rest of his classmates that were chosen to be mentors for this year's tributes in the Hunger Games.

The scene was tough to watch. He wanted to look away yet he found himself unable to do so.

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't rip his eyes away from the screen that showed reaping the tribute he was supposed to mentor.

A girl from District 12.

He felt uneasy the moment he found out who he was supposed to be mentoring, he felt like his hope was lost. His hope for winning the Plinth Prize and repearing his reputation was ruined. He was ruined.

But now, as he watched you step in after your name was called out, he felt unfamiliar feeling of pure warmth growing and spreading in his chest, consuming him completely. The feeling was unknown, it made him feel weak. Out of control. He hated it.

Yet, as Coriolanus watched your hair bounce as you stepped out of the crowd in the middle of the square, he felt like he would fight the devil himself just so he could make sure that you were safe, that you were going to get out of the arena alive.

He watched your expression and your posture. You were trying to appear as calm and unbothered as possible. You were successful in your attempt, but he saw right through it.

Perhaps it was because he found himself in the similar position as he watched you or perhaps he simply observed a bit too closely.

Whatever it was, it did not prepare Coriolanus Snow for what was about to happen.

Why am I here? What am I doing?

These are the questions Coriolanus asked himself as he unintentionally, yet at the same time quite intentionally, tried to seek some warmth from his red Academy's uniform in his pathetic attempts to warm himself up a bit in the middle of a very cold night on his way over to the zoo where you were forced to stay before the games started.

The food wrapped in a handkerchief that had his father's initials on it started to feel too heavy in the pocket of his uniform.

Feeling the cold shiver run down his spine he realized that it's not from cold or from the fear of the Peacekeepers blocking his way over to you in the middle of the night. No. It was something else. Something he was aware of, but couldn't yet admit it to himself.

He watched every step he took so as to not startle you in the cage of the zoo.

As he got closer, he realized that he saw a figure in the dark leaned against the bars of the zoo's cage.

It was you, of course. You were looking up at the sky as your hair slightly flew around in the light, cold night's breeze.

At first he thought that his plan to play star-crossed lovers was a dumb call. That it was bad. Mentor falling desperately, hopelessly in love with his tribute was just madness and quite a desperate attempt to draw some good public's attention to give you a shot at surviving in the arena was quite pitiful, truly. Where was his head at, at that moment? Who would ever fall for that nonsense?

But as he saw how the people thrived for a tragic pair of star-crossed lovers and as he realized that good citizens of the Capitol loved a good tragic story, he came to a conclusion that maybe all of this was actually worth it.

More importantly, as he called out your name quietly as to not startle you and alert other tributes he figured that it was a right call after all.

Especially when, even tho a part of him didn't want to, as he came over to you on the other side of the bars, gave you food that he smuggled from the Academy, wiped your long lost tear as it streamed down your beautiful cheek, as he soked in your beauty, admired your gentil kindness and finally as he kissed you like he needs you more than an oxygen that he has to breath over the empty space in the middle of the bars, he wasn't really pretending after all.

Yet when it was time for him to go home just so his absence doesn't go noticed by grandma'am and Tigris, he asked you one thing that was bothering him, eating him alive. One thing that caused him absolute despair from the moment he met you.

"Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?" He whispered in the darkness as he held his hand against your cheek like you were the most delicate rose.

Your integrity makes me seem small

You paint dreamscapes on the wall

I talk shit with my friends

It's like I'm wasting your honor

Coriolanus Snow was hurrying towars the room in the Capitol's Academy in which he will be able to monitor the games along with some of his classmates.

He had to stay at home to help his grandma'am much longer than the would've liked. He was in such a hurry that once he got to the door he literally pushed it open with full force.

He strolled down effortlessly over to his chair so he could look over you as he heard the voice of one and only Lucky Flickerman.

"Now that is an entrance I'm jealous of."

Coriolanus ignored him.

He sat down next to Sejanus Plinth as he reasted his head on his hand as soon as he did that, the look of pure stress overflow his features as his piercing blue eyes locked themselves on the screen watching you.

"I may be wrong." He heard the voice of Sejanus Plinth as he stared at the screen, not looking away. "But it seems to me that you actually, genuinely care about whether or not she makes it out alive."

Coriolanus felt himself freeze for a moment, but he quickly forced himself to gain his composure back.

"I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, Coryo."

He kept his mouth shut after that.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough?

Coriolanus Snow could still remember the feeling of slight cold breeze as he hoped off of the train in 12 for the first time ever.

His boots stepped right into mud and he closed his eyes for a moment in slight annoyance. What an amazing way to alive here and do the things he was ordered to do.

He gripped more tightly just in hope to gain more confidence that he could actually pull through with this.

He stepped forward, letting out a puf of breath to steady himself.

Just as he was about to step after the rest of the new recruits as the one who is last in line he heard something that he hoped he would hear again. A voice which belonged to the person for whom he decided to go to the poorest District, paying the last bit of money he owned.

"Coryo!" Your voice shouted and he turned around slowly, almost not believing that you're here.

You ran as fast as you could just to get to him as fast as possible.

Your hair was flying around as your ran, the back of your dress dragging itself after you. The lightness of your steps, the graceful way you carried yourself, your eyes, your lips, you.

You collided against him, throwing your hands around his neck as you gripped on his shoulders as tightly as you possibly could, afraid that he will disappear from your grasp once again.

You looked so out of place. You were like a finest, most beautiful rose of all, but that rose grew in the middle of the mud. It fascinated him.

He wrapped his arms around you instantly, gripping your body strongly yet at the same time gently as he brought you to his body even closer. You felt like if he pulled you any closer the two of you would become one person.

He hid his face into your neck, breathing in your flowery scent. It smelled like home. Home which he was forcefully ripped away from, but now he was finally able to return.

"How did you-? What-?" He stuttered, couldn't get the words out.

"Tigris told me you were about to become a Peacekeeper." You got out, still holding onto his arm, your gripp still tight, afraid of losing him again. "However, Sejanus told me that you would arrive to 12."

This took him a back a little.

"You spoke with Tigris?" He asked, his voice not hiding his utter, but non the less happy, shock.

"We wrote to each other." You answered with a smile. "She's amazing, truly."

He couldn't be happier at this moment, he was so happy that it scared him.

But maybe, as he watched your smile and took your hand into his, pressing your palms against each other, he realized that just maybe life in the poorest District won't be as bad as he was afraid.

But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west

I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best

But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me

One thing was for sure, life after the games was not easy.

You would have nightmares. He didn't know about them, you wouldn't told him. That is up until the rest of your family met up with him on a picnic day.

You looked so tired, so pale, you weren't acting like your usual self. It scared him.

That's when Lucy Gray pulled him aside after she saw his worried gaze on you the entire day. What she told him ripped his heart and shattered every piece.

"She's screaming at night." Lucy Gray whispered just so you wouldn't catch them, not that you could, you were so tired you were barely awake. "She has nightmares about the arena."

When he later on confronted you about your nightmares just so he could help you somehow you broke down.

You told him that maybe it wasn't the best idea for him to be with her. You were sad a lot more often, the screaming because of nightmares and everything else haunted you.

Before you could say anything else, tho. He kissed you like he would die without you.

"You're safe with me." He mumbled against your lips. "We can have a future here together, that is if you will have me."

"Of course I will Coryo, but-"

"No but's, then, my love." He told you, taking the handkerchief out of nowhere as he wiped away your tears that continued to stream down your face.

"Here, away from every harm, away from the games... maybe I could finally give you peace."

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

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iamafanofcartoons · 1 year

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Tumblr Folklore Stories/Blogs Directory/Masterlist

There are so many great Tumblr Blog stories here! But things are best when organized! Here you are! I’m going to use Tumblr Blaze in a couple weeks to spread this to everyone, but if all of you can reblog this to everyone you know, we can spread the joys of Tumblr to EVERYONE!

Credit to https://www.tumblr.com/dannnnnnnnnnnnex/700073427344736256/love-how-tumblr-has-its-own-folk-stories-yeah-the

The God of Arepo (graphic novel 1 / 2 / 3) (ebook)

The Monster of Sentan

The Witch’s Cat

Raise Both Children

Stabby the Roomba (honorable mention)

Cinderella Marries the Prince (comic)

My Arch Nemesis Cynthia

Pirates and Mermaid

Eindred and the Witch

The Demon King

The Cornerwitch

Grandmother Beetroot

Apocalypse Daycare Worker

Grandmother Accidentally Summons a Demon

New Year Saga

A Story About Changelings

Ranger in the King’s Forest

The Difference Between a Hare and a Rabbit

Goblin Men (Canines)

Faceblind Prince Charming and Cinderella

The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship

The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed

Doctors Without Borders

The Queen with Three Cursed Children

25. Tiny Dragon with one coin hoard

26. Haunted house

27. Shark hero was about to go rogue

28. Grandma lives in the woods comic

29. A Different Aftermath comic

30. Battery (microstory but I love it so much)

31. It’s A Date comic

32. Supervillian kidnaps rival’s kid and they want to stay

33. Narrative Town

34. I have been hired to clean the wizard tower comic

35. Robot Apocalypse

36. The Statues That Do Not Weather

37. Kushiel

38. Tooth Fairy

39. Alien abduction

40. Felonious wish-granting

41. When humans met actual space orcs

42. Space cousins

Well, now they’re categorized.

https://www.tumblr.com/inkvoices/700033965299531776/love-how-tumblr-has-its-own-folk-stories-yeah-the

https://www.tumblr.com/lightningladybug/699931426130444288/love-how-tumblr-has-its-own-folk-stories-yeah-the

https://www.tumblr.com/blitzlowin/699840636252225536/love-how-tumblr-has-its-own-folk-stories-yeah-the

Also, this is a RWBY-positivity BLOG, so please watch RWBY

#tumblr folklore #tumblr stories #tumblr #tumblr blaze #tumblr prompts #tumblr fics #tumblr folk tales #tumblr folk stories #tumblr directory #tumblr masterlist #tumblr master list #iamafanofcartoons

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hugshughes · 5 months

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invisible string L. Hughes

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

synopsis - Luke had been one of your closest friends since childhood. Somehow, everything in both of your lives just came back to each other.

wc - 3.8k

contains - cursing, literally nothing, extremeeeeeeeee fluff, kissing, hugging, cuddling, (im just a girl ok), obliviousness, this is a bittttt cliche... THEY CONFESS AND KISS IN THE RAIN OK???? idiots in love, eating and drinking. TAKES PLACE SUMMER 2023 (like end of May???)

an - SLIGHTLY EDITED!!! im hunrgy. anyways THIS WAS SO FCUKINF CUTE TO WRITEEEEEEE. my luke baby is so invisible string😇😇😇😇. ugh i miss him. i (possibly intoxicatedly) karaoked better man by Taylor Swift the other night just fyi. my author notes are like my personal diary because i assume no one reads them. i could prob say my ss number and full name address and no one would ever know. do u guys know how fuckign embarrassing it is to reread a fic u posted a few days ago and find typos like u guys probably think im stupid and hate me now. this was not at all about Luke Hughes or Invisible String... ENJOY BABIES!!!!

green was the color of the grass, where i used to read in centennial park. i used to think i would meet somebody there.

You were what some would call a hopeless romantic. You loved love. You loved reading it, watching it, seeing it in real life, it was just beautiful to you.

You'd grown up with the Hughes boys. They were your neighbors during the summer, your family's lake house being next to theirs. You were the same age as their youngest son, Luke. You two were ride or dies during the summer, and when you finally got a phone in seventh grade, you two texted the rest of the year.

It was finally summer, your school year at Notre Dame had come to a close and you were able to fly home and go to the lake with your family all by May 13th. You watched the final Canes games against the boys, you were sad for them, but so proud of your best friend.

It was nearing June, and you were alone in the lake house, opting out of the afternoon boat ride for some peace and quiet. You walked through the halls, stopping at the dresser covered in summer photos. You and your brother, you and Luke, more you and Luke, and some of your brother and the Hughes.

teal was the color of your shirt, when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop. you used to work at to make a little money.

You noticed one of your favorite photos wasn't there, the one of you and Luke when you were about 16, you're both standing behind the counter at the ice cream place you two worked at during that summer. You spent all day with Luke during those days, and it was the best.

You opened the dresser the photos sat on, seeing more photos. The ice cream shop one, and one you weren't anticipating. You didn't know your mom had printed and framed it. It was you and Luke the summer you were 18, both smiling at the camera with the sunset in the background as you sat on his lap in an Adirondack chair in the backyard of the Hughes' house.

The photo gave you crazy butterflies. That summer was the last time you saw Luke during the summer. Last summer you two were both at the lake at different times, you'd seen his whole family, minus him. His mom told you how he was still with his college teammates on a different Michigan lake. You had to act like you didn't really care, even though you did, so much.

Since the picture was just sitting in the dresser, not on display, you decided to take it to your room. You placed it gently on your bedside table, smiling then leaving to go down to the pool.

time, curious time. gave me no compasses, gave me no signs.

It was weird how you and Luke always seemed to be pulled together. There was some driving force between you two that was unbreakable, not even if you wanted it to. When it wasn't the summer, you lived three hours from the Hughes family, so randomly bumping into Luke was even more bizarre than anything else.

You remember when you were 15, you and your mom were picking up dinner one night at a local place and in walks Luke, Jack, and Ellen. You squealed when you saw him, running over to say hey. The boys had been in town for hockey, weirdly enough.

Interactions like that happened way more often than normal, you randomly bumped into the boy at least once every two or three months for years.

were there clues i didn't see? and isn't it just so pretty to think,

You remember when you were surprised by Luke at age 17. He came and surprised you as your prom date and you were floored. He had flowers and a corsage for you, and his tie matched your dress perfectly. Your moms thought it was the cutest thing ever, how you both blushed and giggled when near each other.

all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?

Even though you two couldn't seem to get away from each other, neither of you ever made a move romantically. It just didn't seem realistic, you already lived hours away from each other and were going to colleges even farther, well Luke was going to the NHL but you get the point.

You guys were just best friends, always best friends. Your families knew, especially his brothers. They were your biggest fans, probably because they saw how you made their baby brother, how soft he was with you. You made him gentle, but also made him more comfortable and talkative, which Quinn and Jack loved.

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Luke made you weak, and your family noticed. You could jokingly bicker with him, but when it came down to real disagreement, you never could with Luke. He just gave you those deep hazel eyes and you were melted on the floor. He was just that person for you. The one who could ask you to do anything under the sun and you'd do it for his praise.

You spent long nights with Luke, sitting in the backyard of one of your lake houses and watching the moon and stars and talking about anything. You could listen to Luke talk about property tax for hours and probably never get bored, that's how much you admired him.

bad was the blood of the song in the cab, on your first trip to L.A. you ate at my favorite spot for dinner.

You remember the weirdest instance of your bumping into each other, you were in Los Angeles with friends during the very beginning of winter break and saw Luke eating in the same restaurant as you with a couple of his friends.

You texted him, not believing what you were seeing. You asked him if he was in L.A. When he responded 'Yes just for a few days why' you were shocked. You stood and made your way across the noisy restaurant and went up to his table, where you put your hand on his shoulder and when he turned around, he was the most surprised he'd been in a long time.

You remember he jumped up, hugging you so tightly, pulling away with his jaw still dropped. You guys always told each other you had to stop meeting 'like this', but it never seemed to stop.

The next day, you two planned to branch out from your friends and meet up for lunch. You guys drove a little ways from Los Angeles, east into the country, and ate at the cutest restaurant that had a view of a lake. You two always found yourselves together by lakes.

bold was the waitress on our three year trip, getting lunches down by the lake. she said i looked like an american singer.

You remember how bold your waitress was at that restaurant, immediately boasting about how she thought you two were the cutest couple she'd ever seen. Your face was burning hot, trying not to have a breakdown in the middle of the restaurant. It got even worse when Luke didn't correct her and just said 'Thank you', instead.

That was the last time you saw Luke, you were hoping to see him very soon, though. It had been almost two weeks since the loss to the Canes, so it made sense for the boys to be arriving soon. You'd already seen Ellen and Jim a couple of nights on the back porch with your parents, but no 6'2 boys named Luke were to be seen.

time, mystical time. cutting me open then healing me fine. were there clues i didn't see?

You'd had two boyfriends in your life. One in your 8th-grade year and freshman year of high school, then one in your junior year of high school. You'd broken up with boyfriend #2 because you realized you compared him to Luke, every move he made, you compared to Luke. It made you feel terrible, but you were head over heels for another boy.

You and Luke had your senior sunrises on the same day during your senior years, and decided to skip them and drive to the lake to watch the sunrise together. Your moms were furious, but it was one of the best memories you had with him.

Your interest in each other was so painfully obvious that most of your and his family referred to you as his girl during the summer. 'Where's Luke's girl?', or 'We're just waiting for Moose's girl.' It was never when you two were in the same room, so your reactions were always priceless.

and isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string, tying you to me?

Your family was back from their afternoon boating escapade and you could hear them all bustling in. The second they walked in you heard your brother shout for you.

"Moosey's girl! Come down here!"

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You blushed madly, getting up from your bed and walking down the stairs with an annoyed look on your face. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you could see your sister-in-law slapping your brother across the back of his head, telling him to leave you alone.

"What do you want?"

You immediately went from annoyed to overjoyed when your almost two year old niece ran over to you, shouting out your name. You picked her up, giving her a kiss on her tubby cheek, embracing her sandy and salt water ridden love.

"We're going out to dinner in like, an hour and a half? Honestly just whenever we can get that little monster bathed and dressed."

You nodded but immediately jumped to defend your little best friend.

"This thing? This baby is an angel, aren't you?"

The little girl nodded, a sassy smile on her face as she tried to say 'angel, dada.' in her slurred toddler speech.

"See?"

Your brother gave you both a look, before springing into action to grab his baby, tickling all the giggles and sqeals out of her.

You talked and played for a little longer before getting ready to go. You quickly showered and dried your hair, putting on a little linen white summer dress, and your old pair of Birkenstocks. You drove with your brother and sister-in-law on the way to dinner, sitting next to your niece in the backseat.

a string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms, right into that dive bar.

You guys were seated immediately at the restaurant, you sat between your sister-in-law and dad at the table, just close enough to talk to your favorite niece.

The restaurant was a popular spot for locals and tourists near the lake. It had a big bar in the middle and lots of tables surrounding, it was loud, but not obnoxious, and very homey. You'd probably been there over a hundred times in your life.

You were watching a random golf tournament on one of the many TVs in the bar when your brother called out your name. You looked up and the look on his face was excitement and shock.

"Look who happened to show up!"

something wrapped up all of my past mistakes, in barbed wire. chains around my demons. wool to brave the seasons.

He pointed behind him, and your eyes followed the trail to the entrance, where you saw none other than Luke Hughes standing with his family, waiting to be seated. Your jaw dropped, and a smile came over you. You saw Quinn hit Luke and then point directly at you, and when your eyes met Luke's, you could've fainted. He was in khakis and a white polo and looked so handsome.

You stood up, mumbling something to your family before practically running over to the entrance, throwing your arms around Luke.

one single thread of gold tied me to you.

"Holy shit."

Luke had his arms wrapped around you so tightly, he was so surprised to see you. He knew he would have seen you tomorrow if not tonight but he still just missed you and was shocked.

"We have gotta stop meeting like this."

You giggled when you pulled away from him, as reluctant as you were on the inside. You quickly hugged the rest of his family, not without Jack whispering, 'hey Moose's girl' to you.

You pleaded with the bar staff to push more tables together so you could sit with the Hughes, and it didn't take much convincing, seeing they'd known you since you were 6.

You sat next to Luke after the readjustment for the new tables, now sitting between him and your niece, who had all but thrown a fit about how she wanted to sit by you, not her dad, which made you laugh in his face.

At some point, you'd taken the baby from her high chair and brought her into your lap. You and Luke were both in your little world with her, she was so cute and loving. You guys didn't notice how practically the whole table stared at you with knowing eyes, they all knew, everyone except for you two.

The food came, and the baby was back in her seat. You just talked and talked and talked to Luke. You'd last seen him in December, and there was just so much to say. You'd both had tons of stuff happen to you, his NHL career, your career, everything was so exciting to tell him about.

Luke was so heavily infatuated with you, it was funny. His brothers watched as he folded for you so easily, admiring every syllable that left your mouth, nodding like a man possessed. They mumbled to each other, making fun of their baby brother's obliviousness.

cold was the steel of my axe to grind, for the boys who broke my heart. now i send their babies presents.

At some point, dinner got a little bit boring so you pulled out your phone, and what popped up was the baby registry you were buying something off of for your ex-boyfriend's pregnant wife. It was funny, how everything boiled down. Luke saw the infant clothing on your phone and gave you a questionable look.

"'S there something you're not telling me?"

You looked up at him, then back to your phone, your eyes going wide at the insinuation.

"Oh my God, Luke, no! This is for Darren's soon to be born baby, with his wife.

"Darren? Like your ex boyfriend Darren?"

You nodded, laughing and explaining the whole thing to him. You'd somehow become friends with his now wife in your freshman year of college, her junior year, and with the way the world worked for you of course she was married to your ex-boyfriend.

The rest of the night was perfect, and ended with your whole family, minus your sleeping niece, in the Hughes' backyard around the fire pit. That night you ended up right back where you were in the picture on your nightstand, right in Luke's lap in your favorite Adirondack chair.

You spent the next week with the Hughes boys, specifically your Hughes boy. You drove the boat out on the lake, wake surfed, Luke even convinced you to go golfing, not that it took him very long because you would say yes to anything he asked.

gold were the color of the leaves, when i showed you centennial park.

You sat by Luke at the end of the dock while you two watched the very cloudy sunset. There was supposed to be rain soon, but it didn't mean the sunset wasn't still pretty. Your thighs were pressed together with how close you sat to each other, giving you both warmth in your chest.

Neither of you said anything, but you both felt something when you let your head rest on his shoulder.

"This is so pretty, Lukey. I missed this with you."

It wasn't much, but it was a way to say that you loved him without saying the real words. I missed watching the sunset with you, I've always loved you.

hell was the journey, but it brought me heaven.

"I missed you."

You closed your eyes, you just wanted to be with him, didn't matter where. You could be watching a sunset on the lake or climbing a mountain, if you were with Luke you were happy.

"Think it's gonna rain soon?"

You looked up at him when you asked, your head never leaving his shoulder. He looked down for a second, before looking out at the sky.

time, wondrous time. gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies.

"Probably, but let's just stay for a few more minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

You relaxed into him further. His arm went to your back, rubbing back and forth. It could probably be pouring down rain and you wouldn't even notice, not when you had Luke with you, like this, you were Moose's girl after all.

It started sprinkling, causing you to look back at Luke, waiting to see if he reacted. He didnt, so you just stayed. Rain never hurt anybody, you'd be the last person to ruin this moment complaining about rain.

This was so strange. It felt like you were stuck in time, the gentle rain made you feel encapsulated in the moment. You sat there, staring off at the sky, the sunset was not as clear now with the thick clouds rolling in, but the colors were still there. The rain kept on passing through, the drops gaining weight and speed.

Luke didn't mind the rain, but he didn't want you to feel like he was forcing you out here, so he shifted to stand, grabbing your hand.

"C'mon, you can't get sick during summer."

You sighed, letting him pull you to your feet. He didn't let go of your hand as he turned to pull you back to your house. You don't know what came over you, but the circumstances seemed perfect, you felt like you had to tell him. You pulled him to a stop, and he turned to look with a confused face.

"What's wrong?"

You looked from him to the ground, looking at your feet, the worn dock you'd run around on summer after summer, the lake you grew up swimming with him in. This place was so full of Luke, of you and Luke.

"I, I really like you Luke. Like literally since we were 12, and I, I just.."

You trailed off, looking anywhere but those eyes.

Luke was flabbergasted. That's the only word to describe how he felt. The girl he was in love with, just said she liked him since they were little. He just stared at her, not believing what he heard.

"Are you for real?"

You would've been embarrassed, had you not heard the pure hope in his voice. You nodded, feeling your face heat up. You covered your face with your hands self-consciously. If you could look at Luke's face, you would’ve seen how he was red all from his neck to his ears.

Luke gently grabbed your hands, pulling them away from your face, and replacing them with his own. He tilted your head back so you looked at him, staring at you for just a second before pulling you in, kissing you, finally.

and it's cool, baby, with me.

Holy shit. You were freaking out, you were probably gonna be jumping up and down whenever he decided to stop kissing you. He did pull away, after a long while, when the rain started pouring. The colors of the sunset had been drowned out by the thunderclouds but you two still felt all sunny on the inside.

There was a rumble in the far distance, while you stared at him, and him back at you. You couldn't contain your excitement, you felt like running a marathon.

"Oh my God."

Your hands went back to your face, and you literally jumped. Luke laughed as you surged with happiness. He felt the same way, his smile bigger and brighter than ever before.

You grabbed his hand, tugging him back to your house quickly. You were finally under the cover of your back porch, out of harm's way. You grabbed two towels from the outside cupboards and wrapped yourselves up, you dried your feet off before running up the stairs, Luke hot on your tail.

You two got upstairs and sat on your bathroom counter while you dried off. You talked quietly, giggling an awful lot.

Once you got dry enough, you led him to your bedroom. You grabbed one of his sweatshirts you had before going to take a pair of your brother's shorts, throwing them to Luke when you got back to your room.

"Here, go change so you don't get sick."

You noticed he had more than the stuff you'd just thrown at him in his hands, he had the picture that previously sat on your night stand.

and isn't it just so pretty to think,

"I like this picture, you have to send it to me, baby."

Baby? You could've died. You nodded, mumbling out an butchered agreement, gesturing for him to leave and get dressed again.

While he was gone, you changed into some sweatpants and another one of Luke's sweatshirts, one you'd had for almost two years. When Luke came back into your room, he'd noticed your sweatshirt immediately. It was from his travel team when he was 16, and it made him so happy.

all along there was some invisible string,

You smiled at him sweetly as he walked back over to you, grabbing your face and kissing you for the second time in the last thirty minutes. You got the same butterflies you'd had living inside you since you were a little girl. This boy had been living in your head since you'd known him, and he was finally yours after you'd been his girl for so many years.

tying you to me?

You both pulled away, wrapping each other in a hug. Luke rocked you two back and forth, leaving kisses on your head.

"I love you, Moosey."

"I love you."

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh he-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

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picnokinesis · 7 months

Text

"if there is any man left alive here, speak up and tell me: who killed all this mighty force?" and the dead replied: "child, it was you."

Finally, some art?! Yes well actually I drew this one all the way back in May for The History Between Us, a fanzine, which is being organised by the fabulous @77yearsteam! It's going to be included as a print to go with the special edition of the zine, along with a ton of other fantastic merch - and if that wasn't enough, the zine itself is going to be SO incredible! I've already had a sneak preview and it's full of a ton of incredible stories and artwork from some, following these two disaster timelords throughout their long and complicated history. Pre-orders open on 7th October, so make sure you check it out!

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ghost-bxrd · 2 months

Note

It's so funny that fae!Dick was trying to take care of Jason, but ended scaring him like

Dick likes me now: 😃

Dick likes me now: 😨

Pfpfpf definitely. Jason still thinks Dick is the best thing since sliced bread but there’s some instances where is just like?? 😨😱😨😵‍💫 like one time he could SWEAR Dick was trying to eat him. Dick swear it was just a loving little nibble (and in his defense, it totally was) but for Jason those sharp rows of teeth came way too close to his jugular for comfort.

(Jason retaliates by biting Dick full force, but all that achieves is Dick tearing up and bursting into tears because “Jason loves me! Bruce! My little brother loves me!” Jason just gives up at this point.)

#I love that we have all these headcanons but no actual fic lmao #at this point I’ll have to at least do a one shot or something lol #ghost talks #fae dick grayson #faerie folk #pagan folklore #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #robin

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obligatedart · 9 months

Text

Prince Steve is lost in the deep dark forest.

Decided to draw Steve inspired by Ayes and Kleo’s fic However Wild - and heavily inspired by the art of John Bauer.

The fic is a fairytale, so I wanted to infuse this piece with some Swedish fairytale vibe, as a little twist is my own :)

#stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington #steddie #however wild #swedish folklore #folklore #john bauer #tuvstarr #pond #prince steve harrington #fae art #fae #dark fairytale #fic ref #fic rec

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proxima-writes · 10 months

Text

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes.

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly.

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have. She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully.

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them.

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer.

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe.

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story.

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street.

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you.

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places.

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters.

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening.

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks.

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him.

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you.

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face.

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.”

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning.

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch.

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all.

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue.

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him.

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins.

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries.

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate.

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me.

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him.

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside.

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands.

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age.

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open.

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do?

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza.

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce.

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address.

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color.

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him.

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?”

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar.

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you.

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs.

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway.

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover.

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head.

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou fic #taylor swift folklore #folklore anthology #joel miller folklore

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mxqlss · 3 months

Text

BETTY. — LH43

Sypnosis: In which, Luke realizes how he misses reader after cheating on her in August and now has to deal with trying to get you back.

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Reader (Song-wise: Betty)

jess’ song choice:

September of 2020.

Betty, I won't make assumptions About why you switched your homeroom, but I think it's cause of me

Luke sat in class, listening to the teacher speak until he noticed reader wasn't in the room. With that he raised his hand "Uhm, Miss where is Y/N?" he asked in confusion as to why she wasn't there.

"Ms. L/N has switched homeroom classes, she will no longer be in this class anymore," she said as Luke's eyes widened. He knew exactly why she switched classes after that, he knew he fucked up big time but he didn't think that she would switch classes because of it.

You heard the rumours from Inez You can't believe a word she says Most times, but this time, it was true

Everyone was whispering around her. Luke always wondered why, because every time they whispered to her they always pointed at him. Till he found out that everyone knew about what he did this summer.

He looked around him to which he found Y/N's eyes staring right at him, her eyes looking glassy and her lips trembling, once her eyes met Luke's she turned around and walked away.

Luke always tried to find a way to talk to her with no one else around them but everytime he would see her she would end up walking the opposite way from him, completely ignoring him at all costs.

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself

Luke sat in his room in the middle of November with a box in front of him. A box he wanted to give her for her 17th birthday. It was filled with memories of them and her favourite things like candy and things they did together, along with a letter to her about how much he loved her.

He kept contimplating wether he should go or not, he wanted to go but he didn't think she would want him there after what he did. She kept ignoring him at school so why would he go? What would she say to him if he showed up at her doorstep? Tell him to go fuck himself? Would she want him there to begin with?

In the garden would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

Luke sat up from his bed and walked over to his shelf with memories and gifts from you that he kept as his trophies. In his head he kept asking himself why he did it when he was with her. As tears started to stream down his face he knew he fucked up big time and deep down he knows he misses her and loves y/n so much.

As Luke took deep breaths and wiped the tears off his face he yet again contemplated wether he should go or not, looking back at the gift he had for her. He wanted to go to her house so bad and just hug her and kiss her telling her how much he hated being away from her and how he hated what he did to you. He knew as a seventeen-year-old he didn't know what he was doing and for infact he knew nothing at all about how to love.

It affected him so bad that it interfered with his hockey. Making him mess up every game and practice, listening to his coaches yell at him not understanding how he went from becoming a great player to a messy and unorganized one, and even dealing with his brothers telling him how bad he's fucked up and how it affected him so bad he had to do something about it sooner.

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep And I planned it out for weeks now But it's finally sinkin' in

Luke stood there staring at the door in front of him. The door he would go to every few nights to take his girl to dinners and dates or even to hang out with her at her house. It finally sank in that he was there, holding her gift in hand as he rang the doorbell while loud music was playing in the house that you could hear it from outside.

It took him weeks to convince himself to go to her house, even if it meant for her to yell and scream at him to get out or go away and never contact her or approach her at all.

Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when You see my face again The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you

As the door opened, his gaze caught hers. She was wearing one of his favourite dresses he had bought for her. In his favourite colour. She stared at him briefly, wondering why he had come to her door.

"Luke.. you showed up?.." she asked, tears starting to form in her eyes. He let out a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, uhm.. here's your birthday gift. Happy birthday, Y/N" he let out one of his smiles, making her heart break even more. As she examined his face, she noticed his features, all the baggy eyes and puffy bloodshot eyes.

Luke had done the same and noticed how her face looked like she had been crying for the past month not getting much sleep. It had both affected them like crazy. They had both missed each other's simple gestures they would do for each other.

Behind Y/N was a picture frame of both of them, sitting at the lake house one year. Jack had taken the picture and sent it to his mom and her mom where they had both printed the picture and had it in their houses.

"You still have the photo framed.." Luke smiled softly again, making Y/N nod and give one of the smallest smiles. "Yeah, It never left that spot," she said as she looked behind her and back at him, tears now running down her face

Yeah, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch In front of all your stupid friends?

Luke and Y/N were now on the porch with the door still wide open, tears streaming down their faces as they talked. Luke had wiped his tears before wiping hers leaving his hand resting on her cheek. Her hand held the hand on her cheek, melting into his soft touch.

They both kept on talking and comforting each other till Luke had to leave as he had practice in the morning. As his hand left her cheek, she began to feel lost without his touch and him to guide her like he always did, they were perfect but it's always the right person wrong time.

As he began to leave he just wanted to feel her lips against his one last time, would it always be the same kiss he dreamed of when he kissed her? He stood there facing away from her before turning to face her again, she stood there as she watched him leave. Watching the one she wanted to marry and be with for the rest of her life walk away.

If you kissed me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

"I hope you know, I miss you.."

"I miss you too, Lukey."

authors note!

I thought of this today and finished today.. which was kinda odd but it’s whatever! I hope you liked it since its my first time writing something like this instead of insta posts!

I have more works but im trying to perfect them so its good and not all choppy like this one! Overall I hope you liked this! If not, thats okay!

xoxo jess

#Spotify #☾ ﹒✩ 𝖏𝖊𝖘𝖘 ‹𝟹 ﹕ʬ﹒∿#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #nhl fic #nhl #nhl hockey #new jersey #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd #hockey #angst??#folklore album #taylor swift song #betty taylor swift #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes smut #luke hughes angst

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auras-moonstone · 8 months

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august — ethan landry (part two)

word count: 1,674

pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: after a couple of days filled with avoidance and sadness, y/n and ethan finally talk.

author’s note: there was obviously no other way of ending august season than with part two. i loved writing these august stories, and i hope i didn’t disappoint with this second part <3

part one part two

DAYS HAD GONE BY SINCE THE TALK AT THE PARKING LOT, SINCE Y/N ACCIDENTALLY TOLD ETHAN SHE LOVED HIM AND SINCE DREW FOUND ETHAN CRYING IN THE HALLWAY. The boy had been completely honest with Drew, telling him all about their summer. At first he was really pissed at Ethan, but then realized that, even though the boy had messed up badly, his intentions were good. He didn’t want to humiliate Betty in front of the school, but he could’ve handled things a bit better.

The day after the fight, Ethan broke up with Betty, and the news flashed around the school in the blink of an eye. Y/N had heard the rumours from Inez, but since most times you couldn’t believe a word she says—she was the gossip of the school and her data was almost always wrong—, she tried to ignore it.

“I think this time it is true” Willow said, talking about the break up rumour.

Y/N shrugged “I don’t know. Mr. Golden Boy doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary drama near the match” she said bitterly.

“I can’t believe he said that” her blonde friend shook her head in disbelief. “I honestly thought you’d be together by the end of the day.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hard to resist those puppy brown ey- holy shit you look like you’re going to kill me” Willow laughed. “I’m just stating a fact, Y/N/N. I don’t have a crush on him or anything.”

“I was just too hurt to be deceived by his gorgeous, irresistible brown eyes” Y/N said.

“Even when you’re mad at him you’re simping” Willow laughed in amazement.

Y/N groaned “I’m hopeless. Everytime I compliment him, you have to pinch me in the arm.”

“Deal”

Y/N LAID ON HER BED STARING AT THE CEILING WISHING TIME WOULD SLOW DOWN. It was the day of the match, she had her brother’s jersey on—which made her sad because it reminded her of when she wore Ethan’s—and was waiting for his brother to be ready to go to the venue.

She wanted time to freeze, she wanted to avoid that hockey game. Obviously, the reason why she was dreading to go was Ethan. She hadn’t seen his stunning face since the parking lot disaster, she had been playing hide-and-seek with him, doing everything not to cross paths with him. Not that Ethan had tried talking to her—which made her both relieved and angry.

“This is too close” Y/N sighed, as they sat on the bench, very near the ice rink.

“Relax, he will be wearing a helmet. You’re safe from his charm” Willow tried calmed her down.

“His charm is also his ridiculous tall frame” Y/N replied.

“God” Willow groaned in frustration. “You two need to talk cause you’re driving me crazy.”

Y/N looked at her guiltily “I’m sorry, Willow. I’m the worst.”

“Fuck, no no. Now I feel bad, I was kidding, Y/N/N” she hugged her. “But seriously, are you ever going to talk about it properly?”

“I don’t know” Y/N looked down at her lap. “He hasn’t tried to… maybe he’s done with me.”

“I doubt that.” Willow said confidently.

“Do you think I should be the one who makes the first step?” Y/N asked.

The blond girl shook her head “No, he’s the one who should be apologizing.”

“Right” she said, shifting on her seat.

Willow eyed the action carefully. “You’re actually thinking about making the first step.” she accused her.

“It has crossed my mind several times, but I’m not going to do it” she assured her. “I really miss him, tho.”

“I know” Willow took her hand in comfort.

The players entered the rink, and Drew instantly searched for his sister, waving at her. She waved back just as enthusiastically as him.

“Golden boy alert” Willow whispered from beside her.

Right behind Drew stood Ethan. Y/N couldn’t see his face, as it was covered by the helmet, but his broad shoulders and large frame were recognisable. For a moment, she forgot what had happened between them, and she almost smiled. It was like a reflect, because that’s what she used to do every time he looked at her from the rink.

Ethan would be lying if he said he had forgotten how pretty Y/N looked on that hockey jersey, because the image of her in it lingered on his mind. Everything about her was tattooed on his mind. He wanted to skate towards her and hug her until his arms grew restless, and he probably would’ve, if the whistle hadn’t blown.

When Ethan scored the first goal, Y/N’s chest bursted with proudness and happiness and celebrated loudly with the rest of the spectators. And then, Ethan broke the group hug to look towards the seats—towards her. He raised his hockey stick to point it at her, and Y/N stood frozen on her place as she felt countless pairs of eyes glued to her frame.

“Did he just-“ Y/N whispered, to no one in particular.

“Holy shit, Y/N/N” Willow said, almost as shocked as her. “He dedicated you his fucking goal. In front of the whole university. And you thought he was done with you.”

She couldn’t help but smile widely. Was she weak? Maybe. But she just missed him too much to be mad anymore.

THE CELEBRATION PARTY WAS APPARENTLY HOSTED BY DREW, SO Y/N ARRIVED HOME AND SOON IT WAS FILLED WITH DRUNK PEOPLE AND LOUD MUSIC. She locked her room and decided to stay in her porch listening to her own music. People that passed by looked at her weirdly. Everyone was partying in their nice outfits and she was sitting outside alone, in her pjs and cardigan.

Ethan saw her as he got closer to her house, and his chest compressed. It was like he couldn’t breathe. He just showed up to the party to talk to her. The speech had been rehearsed in front of the mirror ever since he got home the day of their fallout. He had dreamed about this countless of times, and he had seen every possible outcome. Hopefully, the night would end with both of them kissing on the porch.

Y/N raised her head at the sound of the wood creaking, and there he was—standing in her front porch light, with his sequin smile, Levi’s and a hoodie.

“Hi” she said softly. Her voice felt like a caress to his ears.

“You’re here alone” Ethan said confused, leaning against the wooden railing, right in front of her.

“I hate the crowds, you know that.” Y/N said simply. “You’re not dressed for a party.”

“I didn’t come here for the party” Ethan confessed. Y/N looked at him expectantly. “I know that what I did to you was the worst, but I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I don’t have feelings for Betty, but I didn’t want her to be humiliated in the hallways, so I thought I should wait until the end of classes. And then she pulled my arm around her, and you saw it and-shit I messed up so badly, Y/N. I’m not proud of how I handled things. I don’t know if you’ll forgive me, but I don’t want you to doubt that I love you. Because I do, so fucking much. The only thing I want to do is make it up to you, so tell me what you need—time, not to talk to you ever again, punch me. Whatever. But I really am sorry and I miss you.”

There. He finally explained things, and now it was up to her. Would she have him? Would she still want him? Or would she tell him to go fuck himself?

“I’m not going to say I overreacted, because I didn’t. That day felt like a punch in the face, but I understand what you did. We both handled things horribly, we were so consumed by us that we should’ve realized it was something that needed to be addressed before classes started.” Y/N said, and then smiled so beautifully that Ethan wanted to cry. He didn’t want to stop having the privilege of seeing it. He needed her back. “You’re a good person, way better than me, because I didn’t even think about what it would be like for Betty.”

“Well, she has always been mean to you…” Ethan spoke.

“Yeah, but still. It was bitchy of me, and sweet of you. I’m sorry, I should’ve let you explain way earlier but…”

Ethan shook his head. “You were hurt, I get that. I understand, and you shouldn’t apologise for that.”

Y/N stood up, cardigan sliding from one of her shoulders, and slowly made her way to him. “Hi”

Ethan chuckled and the corners of her lips turned upwards. She had missed making him laugh, but above all she missed the way his eyes shone when he laughed. “Hi… hey, what happened to your arm?” he asked, dragging the fabric of the cardigan even lower to inspect her bruises.

“Oh… that was Willow” Y/N said, and the boy widened his eyes.

“Willow hit you?!”

“No, she just pinched me a lot… because I asked her to” she explained, but Ethan looked even more confused. “Never mind, just don’t worry about it.”

“Your kinks turned weird” Ethan laughed when she bumped her shoulder with his. Then, he patted the wooden rail next to him. “Sit here.”

“What are we doing?” she asked when he took a step closer, stepping between her legs. Ethan just lowered his head to press kisses on her bruises.

“There, I kissed it better” Ethan smiled. Y/N couldn’t believe how a human being could be so adorable.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested the side of her face on his chest. “I missed you. I love you”

“Missed you too, and love you even more” he put his forehead on her shoulder, embracing the confort that the girl’s touch gave him. A few minutes passed, and Y/N called his name to make him look up. “Yeah?”

“I want to kiss you” Y/N whispered.

“Do it. I’m certainly not opposed.”

Their lips met with eagerness after days of pining and longing, and they didn’t stop moving until a group of drunk players stepped on the porch.

“Want to go my car?” Y/N asked, and Ethan nodded immediately.

The back of her car was a bit small for both of them, but they didn’t care. Being with each other was all they needed.

tags: @yookayyo @kn1n3 @midnightmystic @1horrormoviewhore1 @bugballer @hwalllllllelujah <3

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kidvoodoo · 4 days

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He never should have gotten lost

Truthfully, it was not Bojan’s fault. The caravan was hurried across the icy roads in fear of the approaching blizzard, the mounted guards pushing the desperate people and stock animals alike. It wouldn’t matter, they were doomed across the Käsivarsi, it was always too treacherous for a band of inexperienced Traders. The panic and hurried chaos found some of the wagons sliding and the animals pulling them spooked and scattered. The guards shouted for the rest to grab the horses lest they be lost in the wilderness.

And so he found himself here, lost in the frigid woods following hoof prints that disappeared under the freshly falling snow.

Bojan shivered as he moved silently as possible through the trees, afraid to whistle for the missing animals lest he attract unwanted attention…

“Susia,” the gruff voice of a bearded hunter warned, they had stopped briefly in a village overlooking the Kilpisjärvi. “Wolf packs. They travel together, hunting animals like your horses. Will kill you in your sleep, they stay away from fires. Sleep in shifts.” The guards took any advice from the locals, trusting their knowledge of the wilds.

“And boy,” the hunter addressed Bojan who startled at the sudden attention. “You watch for Väki. He hunts for people like you. Foolish people.”

The guards all snickered at that, Bojan huffed and pulled his coat tighter, stomping out of the hunter’s shack.

Foolish indeed, he scowled as his fingers and toes froze. He could find the road again, to hell with the horses-

BAM

Something slams into his back, throwing him face first into the snow. For a brief and panicked moment he thought one of the horses had charged him, the force was so strong it knocked the wind from his lungs, but as he scrambled to crawl away, he heard a deep growl.

Wolves

In his panicked state he let out a yell and felt a powerful grip grab at his shirt collar, wrenching him onto his back.

Oh God it’s gonna tear my throat out-

The cold press of metal against his windpipe startles his screwed shut eyes open.

Green.

Bright, glowing, inhuman green irises bore into his hysterical brown ones. A deep snarl, like a wolf erupts from human lips. Human?

No, not this creature.

His skin is a pale greyish-blue and his ears are pointed and curved, he’s shirtless save for a thick cloak of pelt’s around his neck and shoulders, strong and powerful looking arms level a curved and pockmarked knife to Bojan’s throat. The creature’s other arm is raised, his hand not flesh and blood but a twisted claw of tree roots and bark, fingertips hooked and wickedly sharp. His expression is pulled into a fierce glare, dark brows furrowed over even darker eyes that hold two glowing orbs at their center, a hypnotic and terrifying stare meant to shatter the bravery of any foolish man who strays from the path…

Just like Bojan did.

“P-please-“ Bojan stutters, grasping his barely-there knowledge of the Finnic language to attempt to communicate. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass-“

“Caravan.” The creature growls back, Bojan spots sharp, canine-like teeth behind his scowl.

“Yes! Yes I am with the Caravan on the road, we only need to find our horses-“

“Horses gone.” The strange being spits, slowly pulling the long knife away from Bojan’s throat. “They run far out in the forest, wolves will chase them down” He moves to stand back, not letting his guard down or stowing his weapon. “You not find them in time.”

Bojan slowly pulls himself up out of the snow, his back now soaked with melted snow and making his breath catch from the cold.

“Y-yes. You are probably right, I will go back to my people, I-I’m so sorry I disturbed your territory-“

“Not mine.” The creature says, Bojan sees now that he’s actually taller than the creature, but it doesn’t make him any less intimidated.

“You die before finding horses, too cold for your kind.” The stranger huffs and sheds his wolf pelt cloak, handing it to the shaken human. “Take. I find your horses”

Bojan looks dumbfounded, shivering hands grasping the cloak.

“But-“

“I bring them when your people asleep. You tell no one about.” The being glares, his burning eyes piercing through Bojan. He raises his twisted root hand and curls his fingers open, Bojan swivels around to the sound of cracking wood and stares in awe as the forest’s dense trees bend open to reveal a path.

“Follow, your people not too far away.”

Bojan shakes himself out of his gawking to turn and thank the creature-

But he’s gone.

His gaze darts around for any signs of the strange being, but not even footprints are left in the white blanket of snow. He is pulled out of his shock by a harsh shivering of his frozen body, quickly pulling the thick coat of furs around himself.

Warmth.

It’s unnaturally warm. Smelling of thick pine and iron and something undefinably sweet. He burrows into it further.

As he goes to follow the path in the parted trees, he spares one more glance behind him, a small smile on his face.

“Thank you” he whispers to the empty air.

<><><>

I’ve been reading all about Finnish folklore lately and what better way to express my excitement than to make an au no one asked for :D

#my art #kidvoodoo #käärijä #jere pöyhönen #bojan cvjetićanin #bojere #new to this fandom please be nice to me lol #it’s a meetcute with folklore creatures and traveling merchants way out of their depth :D #apologies if the Finnish was terrible I am pulling from some books on national parks lol #also I’m so sorry this will never be a full fic because I am not a confident writer :( I will make up for it by drawing more pictures tho

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wangxianficrecs · 1 month

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One for Heaven and Earth by cerbykerby

One for Heaven and Earth

by cerbykerby (@cerbykerby)

T, 7k, Wangxian

Summary: An incredulous "Whoa," behind Lan Wangji yanks him out of his meditative state. He spins around fast enough for his wet hair to stick to his cheek. His eyes widen in horror. On the shore of the Cold Springs, Wei Wuxian stands, half-dressed in his own robes. He holds up Lan Wangji's heavenly robe, the fabric shining like spilled stars at midnight. "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian breathes, a whole constellation reflecting in his eyes. "What's this? It's so—" ---------- On the night Lan Wangji's mother left, she gave him a divine robe and told him to never let anyone see or take it from him. Kay's comments: Absolutely loved this re-telling of MDZS where Lan Wangji's mother was a heavenly maiden and made heavenly robes for him and his brother. A very creative look at the backstory between Lan Wangji's parents and I love the subtle ways it affected his relationship with Wei Wuxian as well. Beautifully written too! Excerpt: The Gusu Lan forehead ribbon means self-restraint. It is not meant to be touched by anyone other than one's fated person. Only with one's fated person can one truly be free. The heavenly robe is a gift bestowed on Lan Wangji by his mother. It is a status symbol as much as it is a part of his identity. Celestial blood flows through him. The robe is proof that he is entitled to walk among the heavens as he does on earth. To steal his robe would be to deny him his birthright. To even have permission to touch his robe would be a sign of complete trust. A forehead ribbon from his father. A heavenly robe from his mother. Both hold heavy significance. Neither can be given away without careful consideration. Which, to Lan Wangji's alcohol-riddled mind, is the perfect reason why Wei Wuxian should have both items.

pov lan wangji, canon divergence, madam lan lives, lan family feels, chinese mythology & folklore, fairy tale retellings, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, loss, angst with a happy ending, supernatural elements

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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jazzymin97 · 1 month

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Okay okay, hear me out; was watching an episode of SPN and lore hinged idea of the day(episode) was Zanna. Romanian folklore for good spirits that help children? IE Imaginary friends.

— please note I didn’t do further research on Zanna after this; I do plan to but my focus in it is probably gonna be gone tomorrow so please— if SPN fucked this folklore up or my supes basic understanding is very shitty; feel free to correct or add more to it ^^

Now imagine this:

Damian, off somewhere in the manor but easily findable— like the library or something and talking to Danny. Like Danny just shows up and for whatever reason— only Damian can see him. (Whether this be by Danny’s design or it’s some sorta magic thing).

Well anyway, Damian and Danny are chatting and anytime someone gets close enough to try to figure out who Damian is talking to— and they see he’s literally talking to an empty room?? He glares if he spots anyone. It started around the time Bruce was stuck in the timestream. Dick chalked it up to possibly zanna or just the kid making up an imaginary friend to cope with his dad being dead. Dick absolutely mentions it to the others when it doesn’t stop AFTER Bruce is back. Hes just like “be chill guys— he’s a kid. “He’s healing after all that assassin trauma and it’s cute— let him have his friend. “

He’s the only one that Damian has told about Danny. Like basic things

“He’s very knowledgeable about the stars. He glows. You remind him of his overbearing sister.”

And dick, clearly not coping well himself, just takes it as Damian trying to bond with him and encourages him. Doesn’t say one word about this “Danny” being imaginary.

I imagine Cass is like the only one who’s managed to see Danny but knows he’s not danger and Damian likes him.

I think this overly funny reveal would just be Danny appearing in front of the others and coaxing them to go to bed or like stealing food; and they spot him; register him as either dick or Tim, like at first glance because blue eyes black hair— (Like my cousin and my sibling used to have similar shades of hair and do still have the same body figure; so like without my glasses and when I’m distracted, I absolutely will mistake one for the other.) — and then their brain is like “wait no that isn’t right” and they think they absolutely hallucinated him because he legit disappeared right in front of them.

And when it comes to the reveal of “oh yes. This is my friend. Danny.”

Everyone is collectively losing their shit because what in the hell?!? Where did this kid come from?!? How did none of them find him out?!?

#dcxdp #DPxDC #Danny Phatom X DC #zanna #/screaming into the void #damian wayne #Danny Fenton/phantom #batfam X Danny Phantom #batpham #romanian folklore #supernatural #inspired this post #this post can be used as a prompt #please just send me the fic bc I wanna read it

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

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i didn’t know if you’d care if i came back ｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

gojo satoru x reader | wc: 1k | L’s FOLKLORE event

“I can’t believe you.”

You’ve heard these words from him before, but not like this. They usually drip like honey from his silver tongue, with faux and teasing disbelief weaved in and around them.

But right now, they sound cold, like a knife’s blade clinking against a glass table. He sounds hurt, you think, though you're not sure what that sounds like coming from him.

“Well, hello to you too, Gojo.”

“Don’t call me that,” he immediately heaves, as if your words burned him like a child touching a hot stove, “what is going on with you?”

He stands a mere few feet away from you, but something far creakier than the wooden floorboards separates the space between the two of you, making it feel like lightyears rather than a few measly strides.

His blindfold is off, it’s the first thing you notice. You can see his eyes—they're just as beautiful as they were when you left, but something about them now appears weary. Slightly bloodshot, sulking into the bags that weigh beneath his eyelids, he looks exhausted. You can only imagine the headache pounding away behind his flesh.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were back?” his question is desperate, almost as if he can’t believe he’s actually asking it to you right now.

You pick out a dirty t-shirt from your half-empty suitcase and throw it towards the hamper by your bed. There’s another shirt directly beneath it, one of Gojo’s old ones that he likes to let you sleep in. You leave it where it sits crumpled at the bottom of the carrier.

“I didn’t know if you’d care or not,” your voice doesn't waver.

He swallows down the bile that threatens to rise from the back of his throat. It burns, but somehow feels comforting compared to the statement that just fell from your lips.

“You didn’t think I’d care that you were back?”

It almost doesn't even sound like him, the way his voice fluctuates in pitch. It’s ridden with pure betrayal at the insinuation of him not caring about your arrival. He bores at you like he doesn't recognize where you stand before him, like can’t believe who he’s talking to right now.

“I didn’t say that,” you snap.

Gojo waits like a dog at your door for your elaboration, though he knows whatever you say will hurt him more than your silence.

“I said I didn’t know, I wasn’t sure,” a pair of unworn pants gets folded between your sighs, “we left things a bit weird. Didn’t know if you still wanted to know.”

Gojo frowns at your words, and it’s enough to avert your eyes from his face and to the doorframe behind him. He notices your lack of eye contact, but doesn't stutter as he rebukes your assumption.

“You could stick knife in my back and twist the goddamn blade,” he spits the words as if they’re sharp on his tongue, cutting him and bleeding down his throat, “and I’d still wanna know if you got back okay.”

You return your attention back to unpacking the suitcase before you. Busying yourself with stray pairs of socks, wrinkled jackets, and half-empty bottles of shampoo—focusing on anything that isn’t Gojo, who’s been slowly inching closer to you for the duration of the conversation.

“Well, I’m back,” you state matter-of-factly, as if the three simple words could fix everything that went wrong between the two of you, “and I’m completely fine.”

“Not completely,” his voice is much closer to you now as he stands beside you, but inevitably keeps his hands to himself.

With a shake of your head, your eyes remain locked onto the belongings before you. You scoff, sarcasm chewing your words and spitting them out, “All of my limbs are still attached. I’d consider that ‘completely fine’ given the circumstances.”

“You have a bruise on your cheek.”

His words instantly halt your movements, making your heart feel like lead in your chest. He’s suddenly far too close to you, you can feel the warmth of his skin just centimeters from yours.

Not knowing what to say, you stutter a panicked whisper. “Where?”

Gentle and hesitant, as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if you’re not really there, Gojo takes a shaky hand to your jaw. Barely applying pressure, he slightly turns your face towards him, before ghosting a fingertip over the height of your cheekbone.

“Here,” he whispers, eyes flickering between the purple mark and your lips.

You shouldn’t be letting him get this close to you right now, but you can’t bring yourself to separate. He’s barely touching you, you wouldn't even feel it if you couldn't physically see his skin on yours. He’s so light, you almost think he has his infinity on for a moment. Before that thought can break your heart, you feel his finger prod at the sensitive wound.

Wincing, but making no move from him, you reassure, “It’s fine, it’ll heal.”

His next sentence is one that would usually be smug, would be delivered with a teasing wink and lingering hands. This time, however, you think you might see tears in his eyes as his hands remain on your jaw.

“Will a kiss make it feel better?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you remind him. You didn’t even know you had it.

Gojo deeply exhales, “It’s not for you.”

The kiss isn’t meant to make you feel better, not meant to heal your cheek of the bruising blood vessels. It’s meant for him—to heal the tender wound in his chest from when you left him alone in more ways than just one.

With the realization, you simply nod. It’s the least you can do for him.

Satoru’s lips hover over the swelling for a moment, before he takes a shaky inhale and presses them directly to your wound. He feels warm, soft, the same. The simple kiss feels like a constant that your privileged to have. Time can change, but the feeling of Satoru’s lips on your skin won’t.

He pulls away when the spot becomes warm and tender beneath his mouth. He doesn’t look you in the eye as he pulls away.

“Did a kiss make it feel better?” your voice is faint when you ask him.

“Yeah,” he sniffles, wrapping a lanky arm around your frame and forcing you into the warmth of his chest, where he can keep you safe and protected and loved for a moment, “it did.”

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo drabble #satoru drabble #gojo angst #satoru angst #gojo fic #satoru fic #L's FOLKLORE event!

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hugshughes · 5 months

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illicit affairs J. Hughes

Jack Hughes x fem!reader

synopsis - You were his secret, and you loved it until you realized why he really kept you one.

wc - 2.6k

contains - crying, angst, no happy ending! (not for jack x reader anyway, you know i can't leave my reader hurt by boys forever), few mentions of sex but NO SMUT AT ALL!!!! manipulation, asshole!jack, cursing, drinking. let me know!

an - ugh. this one was sad, illicit affairs always hurts but this took the cake. this was smooth to write though, it came easily. the ending may be a bit rushed, i apologize. i think jack was a good person to pick for this, not that i think he'd do this, but it was easier to make him that way than who i was gonna use for this song before. ANYWAY, hope u love as always, thank you for reading!!!

make sure nobody sees you leave. hood over your head, keep your eyes down.

Jack had texted you. "I'm parked at my usual spot." Said usual spot was in the dark back corner of the parking lot for the apartment building next to yours. You sighed, you felt bad. Your stomach had a deep feeling you couldn't shake.

It was almost midnight, the only time he ever wanted you. Far after the sun had gone down, so nobody could ever have the chance to see you two. The last time you saw Jack, he was gone when you woke up and you just cried and cried.

You had realized that you weren't a secret because he just liked his life private like he told you. You were a secret because he would never want to be seen with you. Not even after spending almost a year of your time on him.

He emphasized his text, and you still sat on your couch, thinking about whether or not you even wanted to see him. Your makeup was done, your hair looked beautiful, just for him to take you back to his apartment, and not act like he knew you until you were safe within the walls of his bedroom.

tell your friends you're out for a run, you'll be flushed when you return.

You thought back to the night of the last time you saw him. It was one of your closest friend's birthday party, and you were having so much fun, until Jack texted you at 10:30 pm, asking to come pick you up.

It was like he had a spell on you, like you would do whatever he asked, for the hope that he would see your devotion and decide to make your relationship serious. Because Jack wasn't your boyfriend, but he acted like it. He acted like it when he would lose a hockey game and text you, saying he missed and even loved you, saying he needed you.

take the roads less traveled by. tell yourself you can always stop.

Back to the birthday party. Jack wouldn't stop texting you, telling you he missed you so much and couldn't sleep without you. You caved in, leaving the party early, telling the birthday girl you had an early morning and needed a good night's sleep. Jack picked you up, all smiles, leaving kisses on your cheek, holding your hand.

He held your hand on the way up to your apartment, and the hope you felt was unmatched. You thought this was the moment he realized how important you were to him. But then you woke up, alone and cold, with nothing but a text saying, "Left when you fell asleep, meet up sometime next week?" It completely ruined you.

You had met Jack at a party, it was a black tie for New Year's Eve and you had immediately caught his eye. He went up to you first, you honestly hadn't even noticed him. He acted very interested in you, talking to you for hours until the clock struck midnight, and he had made you feel special. You let him have your phone number that night, and it was the flap of a butterfly's wings that created the typhoon.

what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.

As time went on, Jack started to treat you worse, he expected more from you. You knew you couldn't expect anything from him, though. He was the hotshot playboy of the NHL, and you were simply a girl. A girl he could pick and choose when he wanted because if you did something wrong, there were hundreds more lined up waiting.

and that's the thing about illicit affairs. and clandestine meetings, and longing stares. they show their truth one single time.

You could never really tell if Jack's words were genuine. He was so hot and cold with you; so much so that it was more like scalding and freezing. If you ever asked him anything near that topic, he would shut it all down immediately. He reminded you he wasn't your boyfriend, then would try to ease the sting by telling you he loved you. He was the first boy to ever tell you he loved you, and it hurt every time he did.

He was just two different people. The guy you got during the night, when he was craving someone, and the guy he really was. He didn't love you, you knew it. He knew it too. But oh how you wished he loved you. You never loved him though, how could someone love a man who only ever cared for you when there was no threat of anyone else knowing?

It was worse during the summer. He was away for almost two months then came home and expected you to come running back, then got angry when you didn't. And even after all the anger, and the red flags, and the secrecy, you couldn't stop, even though you promised yourself you could if you wanted to. You wanted to. Jack was like your drug, an addiction you couldn't get through life without.

but it dies, and it dies, and it dies, a million little times.

He was a liar. That was what you knew. You knew he couldn't love you. If you love someone, you show them, you make them feel loved. Jack never made you feel loved, he did the opposite most of the time. You remember sobbing the first time he told you he loved you because he left you alone in your bed in the middle of the night just minutes later.

leave the perfume on the shelf, that you picked out just for him. so you leave no trace behind. like you don't even exist.

You remember the time he asked you not to wear your perfume when he picked you up anymore. He said it made his car smell like you and one of his friends had asked why it smelled like perfume. He couldn't stand the thought of anyone knowing you existed with him, that much was obvious. He wanted to live a double life, one with you, and one with every single other part of his life.

He would tell you not to follow him on social media, not to tag your location in posts if he did, and not to tell your friends about it. It made you miserable, and your friends could tell something had changed in you.

take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high. a drug that only worked the first few hundred times.

You knew you couldn't keep doing what you were doing with Jack. You knew he'd run you dry eventually. That he'd push you to misery and you'd have to leave him. You just held out hope that one day maybe he'd love you the way he said he did.

and that's the thing about illicit affairs. and clandestine meetings, and stolen stares.

One night he got really angry with you, and you thought you'd never see him again. With the way he treated you, you got to the point where you thought that maybe he had a girlfriend he was cheating on with you. It would've made the secrecy make sense.

You had sat him down and asked him if you were the other woman in his relationship. And he flipped on you, he was angry you thought he would ever do something like that. He shouted at you for the first time, he said things insinuating that you were sleeping around, not being "loyal" to him, and just wanted to spread your guilt to him.

It couldn't have been farther from the truth, he was the only man in your life. He was the one man you had ever let see you in the ways he saw you. The only boy you'd ever slept with. Then the next day he showed up at your apartment, a hood over his head and sunglasses covering his eyes, but nonetheless, he was holding flowers, and that's all you could focus on.

they show their truth one single time. but they lie, and they lie, and they lie, a million little times.

You snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. Jack was waiting for you, he had texted you twice now, and was currently calling you. You jumped to answer it.

"Hi."

"Hey? What are you doing? I'm here to get you."

Every word he said was like a stab to the stomach. You were past the point where his words comforted his bad actions. It all just hurt now.

"Um, sorry you came all this way. I don't think I'm feeling up to it tonight."

He scoffed pulling his phone from his ear to stare at the phone, then put it on speaker.

"What do you mean? Are you like mad at me or something? You seemed fine half an hour ago."

"Yeah um no, I mean I just don't feel great right now, and would rather not have a fast fuck at your place then get an Uber home."

You said it, you kind of couldn't believe you did. You felt proud of yourself for it. You finally called him out, even if it was just a little bit.

"Oh, so you are pissed at me? Baby, what did I do?"

Baby. It's what he called you when he wanted to get his way. You knew right now he was hoping you would just brush off your feelings and come get in his car.

and you wanna scream, don't call me "kid". don't call me "baby".

"No Jack, stop. Don't call me that. I don't-"

"What is your problem?! I didn't do anything wrong between thirty minutes ago, when you were sending me fuckin' heart emojis tellin' me you couldn't wait to see me, and now!"

You could feel the tears pricking in your eyes, the pain in your chest was overwhelming now. He just didn't understand how it felt to be cared for when it was convenient, because you always cared for him, part of you probably always would.

"I just can't do this fucking situationship we have anymore! You are ruining me, Jack. You are making me miserable, you only care about me when you feel like it, and you tell me you love me when you don't. You're making me crazy! And I just let you because I still for some stupid reason am holding out hope that one day you'll stop for a second and realize that you want me to be more than a late-night hookup when you're feeling bad about yourself!"

look at this godforsaken mess that you made me. you showed me colors, you know i can't see with anyone else.

You were sobbing, shouting at Jack through the phone. He was stunned. He was truly speechless.

"I- Shit, Angel, you know-"

"No! Stop! You do this shit, you make me feel special then you rip it out of my hands, you remind me that I'm just one of many girls who'd be forever lucky to be a doormat for you! You have made me fucking hate myself. I have never been less happy in life than I am right now, and it's because of you.

"You've forced me to create this secret life that revolves around the hope that you'll call me and tell me to walk down the street where your car is parked waiting for me in the middle of the night, just far enough so no one would ever see you."

Jack was forced to look back on all the shit he'd put you through over the past 11 months. He never really considered your feelings, not as often as he should've. He used you, he manipulated you, he made you depend on him.

"Shit, Jack. I just, I can't do it anymore. The secrets, lying to my friends, for someone who couldn't give two shits if I never saw him again. I've become someone I don't even like anymore."

don't call me "kid". don't call me "baby". look at this idiotic fool that you made me. you taught me a secret language, i can't speak with anyone else.

Jack was dumbfounded. He hadn't realized he was hurting you that bad. He hadn't thought for two seconds about how the regulations he'd put in place in your relationship would affect you. He just wanted to have someone when he needed someone, and not have to deal with the emotional turmoil that came with a committed relationship. He didn't realize you had all of that emotional turmoil on your shoulders.

Jack didn't realize it then, nor would he at this moment. But in the weeks, months, and years ahead, he would realize how important you really were to him. How much your presence really did comfort him. How lucky he was to have you. How he did love you.

"I- I'm sorry, I guess. I just, this is crazy to be honest."

You sighed, that response just confirmed everything. He never really cared, so why would he now? The second you hung up the phone he'd be able to find another girl in a matter of minutes, if he wanted to.

"It's fine, whatever. But um, yeah just lose my number Jack."

"Yeah, alright. Um, bye?"

You hung up the phone and immediately started crying again. Did he know all he had to do was fight for you? Did he know you would've stayed? He probably didn't care either way. He didn't need to fight for anyone, not when he could have someone else who didn't need any reassurance, who didn't care if he was invested in them or not, who could just be used for sex and comfort when needed and not bat an eye.

and you know damn well, for you i would ruin myself,

You felt that now you could finally breathe. The weight of him was lifted from your chest. You immediately called your best friend, telling her to come over as soon as possible, and even though it was midnight, she came. You explained how the last eleven months you'd been consistently seeing a guy who'd only wanted you in secret, and how you'd just broken it all off with him. She comforted you, and wasn't mad at you for lying, not when you'd explained it.

You started a new chapter of your life, one where you focused on your own happiness. The chapter could only last about a year though, because at a New Year's Eve party on December 31st, 2024, you met a man that one day you'd marry, have his kids, and love till death. Maybe not all relationships that begin on New Year's Eve are bad.

Jack had realized his faults and thought about them often for the next year or so after you broke everything off with him. He'd realized you were someone he should've appreciated more, and loved on more. He wished he would've changed his ways and fought for you, but was glad you were probably finally happy.

a million little times.

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