#bef!ellie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 2 months

Text

baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed.

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ.

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really.

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis.

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic

2K notes · View notes

bluerosefox · 5 months

Text

A Sibling Sacrifice

The JL were having a normal, for them at least, meeting when suddenly a portal rips opens and spits out a young teen with snow white hair and glowing green eyes and he's carrying a bundle as he's stumbles out and lands on his knees in the meeting room.

The two main odd things about this kid was floating above the kid's head was a crown made of stars, ice, and the colors shifting like a aurora borealis and the bundle in his arms was strangely made of stars somehow, almost like a blanket of galaxies plucked out of the cosmos.

Before anyone of them could say or do anything, the kid turns around and screams towards the portal as he scrambles for it.

"JAZZ NO DON'T DO THIS! I CAN STILL FIGHT THEM! NONONONO!" but before he could reach the portal it snaps close.

The kid lands again onto the floor when he doesn't reach it in time, pleading for the damn thing to open again, and the bundle in his arms begins to cry from the jolting and noise.

The baby crying was the only thing that stopped the kid from pleading and instead focused his attention on the bundle in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry Ellie. I should had gotten us out of there sooner, I should had saved you bef- I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything..."

Those were the rushed, raw words the kid said down to the bundle. The kid curled inwards a bit, to both shield the baby, who was calming down somewhat into tiny cry hiccups, and for himself.

Those with advanced hearing could tell the kid was still whispering apologizes under his breath as he held the baby close.

"I'm sorry everyone, I'm so sorry. I tried, I tried so hard to save everyone but in the end... I'm sorry- everyone's gone... I'm sorry."

-x-x-

[Pssst, read the tags, they clear everything up]

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #crossover #blue rambles #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #The GIW did something baddddd #basically it ended the DP world #and badly damaged the Infinite Realms in the process #Danny's family and friends and those in Amity Park all tried to stop the GIW #But in the end none were spared #Sam was accidentally killed when she spotted some GIW trying to unlawfully arrest and take a old woman and her ghost husband late one night #Tucker took out the GIW main base during a raid. He made sure to destroy their servers even as some agents were busting down his safe house #He also made sure none of them or himself left that house that night too.#The Fenton parents died during a raid to free their kids and Vlad. Jack died shielding them and Maddie stayed back to give them time #Vlad only held on enough to make sure Danielle and Danny could escape the GIW base alive. Before going out in a bang.#They escaped into the Infinite Realms but the damage done to Dani was too much and she started to destabilize #it was only thanks to both Frostbite and CW that they managed to figure a way to stabilize her. They had to deage her.#and feed her pure ectoplasim as a baby.#The upcoming months get worse with Danny still healing from the torture they put in him and Dani now a baby #Jazz decides they need to attack their main base and destroy their blueprints of ghost portals on their servers.#They needed to cut the GIW access to the Realms. Sadly only Jazz and a small handful of Amity Parkers and ghosts come back.#They thought it was finally over but they get word one of Vlad's portal is still open and the GIW are planning a all scale attack #By destroying the Realms in a single swoop #CW can't let that happen and calls in Jazz and Frostbite for a meeting and kept Danny in the dark. He can only see one good future #Because Danny is Ghost Prince he is connected to the Realms. if he lives and survives so does the Realms no matter how badly it gets hurt #Jazz makes the hard call of getting both Danny and baby Ellie out of the Realms into a new world. No matter what happens to her in the end.

620 notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 1 year

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Twenty Years Later

Plot: In the middle of the night, Y/n and Joel contemplate their future in Jackson.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: language, reference to violence, death, blood, guns, loss of a child (16+)

A/N: And here we are…the last chapter. I have a little farewell note posted at the bottom of this, and I hope y’all read it. Until then, enjoy this last bit of Joel and Rosebud’s story 💞

—————

Life in the apocalypse was noisy. Between public executions, FEDRA vehicles, work shifts, fights breaking out…Cordyceps was intended to silence the planet, but it had only made it louder.

Y/n was contemplating the silence of Jackson, holding a steaming mug of tea, sitting at the dining room table. Her dining room table. In her house. The house she now shared with Ellie and Joel. It would take a long time to get used to thinking of anything other than a backpack and whatever they were wearing as theirs…

They’d arrived at Jackson’s gates just before sunset, the guards escorted them in after having the dogs check them for infection. By the end of their hike, Joel was practically carrying Y/n, and the last bit of her strength drained as they got into town. Tommy, thankfully, had been working nearby and helped Joel and Ellie get her back to the house. Y/n had fallen asleep the moment her body was laid across the familiar bed, and she’d slept straight through the evening hours.

Until she couldn’t.

Y/n had woken up in the middle of the night with Joel snoring lightly, his arm draped over her hips. He smelled the best he had in months, the usual layer of dirt and grime missing from his skin. Any other time, Y/n could have stayed there happily and listened to him breathe, but her mind was restless and she felt suffocated by the sheets.

Naturally, when Joel stirred and found himself cuddling nothing but air, he was wide awake.

The staircase creaked and drew Y/n’s eyes up from her cup, Joel came through the kitchen seconds later. Dressed in sweatpants, a grey t-shirt, and with his hair mussy from rubbing against his pillow, Y/n drank in the sight much as she was her tea; slowly, letting the comforting warmth ease her into memories of simpler times.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Joel asked, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“Wonder why,” Y/n replied, looking back down at her mug.

Joel padded over to the dining table, pulling out the seat across from Y/n. There was a visible duality to her, tranquility in her posture, her movements, her voice…and yet, a two-ton burden on her back.

“Do you know what this is?” Y/n asked, warming both her palms on her mug.

Joel knew she wasn’t actually searching for any answer and stayed silent.

“Tea,” Y/n continued, “With herbs they grow here. And I boiled it with water,” she tilted her head back towards the kitchen counter, “Hot water.”

Joel chuckled, “Yeah, that’s gonna take some gettin’ used to.”

“I couldn’t tell you the last time I had tea,” Y/n shook her head, “Ten…fifteen years ago?”

“Maybe we work on coffee next,” Joel suggested with a smile.

“Oh, in the interest of preserving your temperament, I think it’s necessary,” Y/n smiled back, taking a sip of her beverage.

Joel knew they were dancing around whatever was weighing on her. They’d done enough intricate footwork around their own landmines the last three months.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Joel finally asked.

Y/n’s eyes were locked on Joel’s side, but she wasn’t actually registering what her gaze was focused on. A crack in the floor or a chip in the wall paint…something that was enough nothing to allow her thoughts the space they needed.

“That look,” she answered, her eyes finally flicking to Joel’s, “Joel, that look.”

Joel sighed, he didn’t need any more words to know what she was referring to.

“How are we going to do this?” Y/n asked, lowering her voice as if Ellie was in the room and not sleeping soundly upstairs. She’d poked her head through the girl’s bedroom door to confirm before slipping downstairs.

“We just do it,” Joel answered, shrugging a hand and letting it drop back to his lap.

“We just lie to her? For the rest of her life?” Y/n asked again, “Joel, there’s no way she doesn’t already know.”

They had their separate trepidations about the charade they would put on for Ellie. But Joel had constructed the lie, Y/n was simply trying to read from the story he’d written.

“I just…” Y/n shut her eyes and drew a breath that walked the line between trembling and steady, “I keep thinking about it, a-all…everything we did and I…”

Joel was unsettled by the hesitation in Y/n’s tone, “Are you sayin’ you regret it?”

Y/n’s eyes flew open, “No. Never,” she said firmly, “Ever, will I regret that. I just…it’s all so jumbled in my head.”

That was one aspect of what had happened at the hospital that Joel hadn’t thought to consider. He’d never been for the Fireflies, saving Ellie had just been one more act of rebellion against them. But Y/n had been betrayed by the people she trusted with her life, and in turn, trusted her with theirs. Rescuing Ellie had been her own act of betrayal.

Joel reached across the table and encircled her wrist, his fingers lightly massaging her pulse.

“I gave everything,” Y/n said softly, “I worked so hard for Marlene to trust me, and she only ever saw me as something to manipulate. I walked Ellie across the country, risked all of our lives when the whole time, I was just marching her to her death for a cure,” she pointed towards the front of the house as if the Fireflies were waiting in their living room, “That we had no guarantee would even work.”

Joel listened, absorbing the vague details of the years she’d spent apart from him.

“And now,” Y/n bit down on her lip, “Now we have to pretend like everything’s fine. Like we didn’t do what we did, like we’re telling the truth, until she figures it out.”

“C’mon, she’s n-“

“She’s smart, Joel,” Y/n argued, confronting his denial, “She can see right through us. And one day,” Y/n fought back the tears that wanted to speak for her, “We’ll lose her.”

Behind actually losing Ellie and Y/n to death, losing them to his own sins was his greatest fear. He was right beside her in the knowledge that if Ellie discovered the truth of what had happened in Salt Lake, she’d never forgive either of them. It made him want to lie all the more convincingly to keep it from happening.

Joel reached across the table, taking the mug from Y/n and setting it next to her. He held both her hands in his, gripping them tightly to drive his point home.

“We are going to tell her what we need to,” he said, his tone soft but the words were spoken with strength, “Otherwise we tell her exactly what you just said. That she would’ve been killed for something that wasn’t even guaranteed.”

Y/n swallowed, thinking over the two options. The second one worsened the ache in her stomach, the pain of Marlene’s deceit was still fresh.

“And we give her a life here,” Joel continued, “Where she can be with kids her age, go to school…be fuckin’ normal.”

The truth of it was, even if there had been a 100% guarantee that Ellie’s death would ensure a Cordyceps cure, Y/n and Joel still would have saved her. Because, whether they could admit it out loud or not, she was their kid. They hadn’t conceived her, they hadn’t known her for the first fourteen years of her life, but she was theirs in every sense of the word. And there was no length a parent wouldn’t go to for their child.

“Normal,” Y/n repeated, her lips quirking upwards.

“I know,” Joel chuckled under his breath, “Relative term.”

They shared a smile and Y/n took the opportunity to admire how the low glow of the nearby lamp softened Joel’s entire face. His wrinkles and frown lines didn’t seem so deep, the darkness of his eyes strayed from intimidating and became inviting.

“We give her what she deserves,” Joel finished, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Y/n’s hands, “Happiness.”

Happiness. The feeling had eluded them both for so long. They’d found some form of it in the small moments, in the few people they’d met throughout the pandemic, but it had never felt true. Perhaps because they’d kept distance between themselves and any possible source of joy, or perhaps because they’d thought true happiness couldn’t survive in a world like theirs. But regardless of their attempts or assumptions, Joel, Ellie and Y/n had a real shot at it now. They could stay happy for as long as they wanted.

Y/n eyed her backpack that was sitting on the chair at the furthest end of the table. Happiness was tied up in the last secret she was keeping from Joel.

Joel was confused as Y/n let go of his hands and stood up, bracing herself on the table as she rose with a grunt. The fight against the Fireflies, plus her stunt with the epinephrine, would cost her weeks more of healing.

He watched as she scooted the chair away so her body blocked it from his view. She unzipped it, reached in and pulled something out Joel wasn’t allowed to see yet.

Y/n inhaled and turned around, holding the object up for display.

Joel’s breath caught in his chest.

It was the butterfly cling that had hung in his window back in Boston.

“I figured when I took it, I’d be in for a screaming match eventually,” Y/n said with the smallest of smiles, she couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Joel had meant it when he said that Ellie and Y/n had healed him. They had brought back the pieces of him that he’d tried to amputate long ago. But the watch would still never leave his wrist, his eyes would forever catch on people that bore any resemblance to his daughter. He would never be fully ready to live without Sarah’s memory.

Y/n had stolen the decoration from Joel’s apartment in a moment of pure emotion. She hadn’t taken her chance to retrieve any of Sarah’s posessions from the Miller’s house, and she’d regretted it for twenty years. She had nothing to remind her of her daughter, and she needed to physically hold some piece of her. The butterfly, such a prominent part of Sarah’s personality, represented all that had been lost, but the beauty that was retained in remembering the sweet girl.

Joel’s chair scraped against the floor as he rose to his feet, coming to stand in front of Y/n. He ran his hand over the decoration, his throat clogging a little both from sentiment and understanding why Y/n had hid it from him. The worst version of him had tried to steal her memories of Sarah so long ago, and he was so grateful that she hadn’t let him.

“Where were you, uh,” Joel trailed off, trying to compose himself, “Where were you thinkin’ for it?”

“Kitchen window, maybe,” Y/n considered, “All that sunlight that’ll come through?”

Unable to take his eyes off the butterfly, Joel just nodded along. Y/n ran a hand over his bicep, steering the two of them towards the kitchen. They stopped at the sink, Joel pushed back the faded curtains and they saw the full possibility of the view. Sunbeams would shine through the glass pane, illuminating the butterfly’s indigo blue all around the room.

Y/n untangled the chain and took hold of the cling, reaching up and sticking it to the center of the window. She stood back, Joel’s chest waiting for her to lean back into, and the two of them rested in the quiet. Healing and misery were intertwined in the moment. The hole left in their hearts by Sarah’s death would remain, but instead of living despite her death, this felt like the beginning of living for her memory. In their everyday moments, cooking breakfast, washing dishes…Sarah could be with them.

Y/n rotated in Joel’s arms, reaching down to take both his hands.

“There’s only one way I’m doing all of this with you, Miller,” she said, referencing everything from lying to Ellie to sleeping in the same bed.

“Hmm?” Joel hummed.

Y/n sighed and smiled easily, if they were reclaiming all that they’d lost, they were reclaiming all of it.

She led Joel back across the room, returning to the table and reaching into her backpack for her flashlight before pulling them towards the front door. She let go of Joel’s hand only long enough to put her jacket on and for him to do the same.

“Where are we-” Joel started to ask as Y/n unlocked the door.

“Just…“ Y/n tugged him toward the front porch, eager to let her actions speak for her.

Joel shut the door behind them and followed her down the porch steps. The snow had returned and there was a light fall beginning to accentuate the edges of the house. Y/n turned on her flashlight and shined it in front of them, leading them out of their neighborhood and towards the center of town.

“You should be takin’ it slower,” Joel reprimanded lightly, worried that Y/n’s ribs stood to get worse.

Every step caused an ache in her abdomen, but Y/n’s steps refused to falter. She was on a mission.

She led them through town, the strands of lights from building to building helping to light the path to their destination. Through her memories, she tried to pick out specific pieces of the tour Maria had given them weeks ago, searching out one building in particular.

“I think this is it…” Y/n muttered under her breath, dragging Joel up the steps to peer through the windows, “Yeah, this is it.”

“What’s it?” Joel asked, completely lost and freezing cold.

Y/n made an educated guess that security weren’t a major concern within Jackson’s walls and tried the door. It opened immediately for her.

“Y/n, what’re we-“

“Come on,” Y/n tugged Joel through the door, using the flashlight to light their way inside the building.

Joel couldn’t see more than two feet ahead of them, but despite his confusion, he trusted whatever Y/n was up to. She walked them deeper inside, eventually shining her flashlight upwards of their path on an alter.

They were inside Jackson’s church.

Joel’s heart stopped counting time for one beat, he knew exactly what she was doing.

“Okay,” Y/n exhaled, putting her hands on both of Joel’s arms and inching him closer to the alter, “I think you’re supposed to be here…”

Joel watched her in a daze, pliant as clay in her palms.

“And then I…” Y/n looked back down the way they’d come, “Hang on.”

Y/n hurried back down the alter steps, taking small hastened steps down the aisle to get back to the grand wooden doors. Her empty hand hung in the air as she looked around for something, anything to hold, till she realized if this was going to be imperfect…it needed to be totally imperfect.

She held the flashlight under her chest in both hands, the glow illuminating her face.

Joel watched her from the alter and laughed.

“Ba-dum, ba-dum,” Y/n began to sing the familiar march, taking as theatrical of steps as her ribs would allow her.

“Y’know, I never envisioned you walking down the aisle to that song,” Joel smiled, allowing himself to fall into the fantasy of the moment.

“Oh, really, what did you envision?” Y/n asked, slowing her steps.

Joel shook his head, breathless and beaming, “I don’t think I care any more.”

Y/n tried to contain her grin, failing miserably as she continued the stroll that was fighting to become a sprint.

Eventually, she made it to the alter, her eyes never leaving Joel’s as she climbed the three steps and came to stand across from him. Y/n set the flashlight in the space between them, letting the light shine upwards to the ceiling.

Joel reached out and took her hands into his, his cheeks practically splitting from how hard he was trying to hold his smile back. “Don’t we need witnesses?”

“Mm-hm,” Y/n hummed, “And we’ll do it all over again with Tommy and Ellie and Maria…this is just for us.”

Even if they’d had the whole nine yards, Y/n in a flowing white gown and Joel in a tuxedo, roses and candles and music…neither one of them could have imagined a more perfect moment than the one they had.

“Okay,” Y/n cleared her throat and adjusted her grip on Joel’s hands, “Dearly beloved…”

“Oh, shit,” Joel couldn’t help but laugh at the formality.

“If we’re doin’ this, we’re doin’ it right,” Y/n laughed with him, “Dearly beloved. We are gathered here today, at the end of the world, to bring together this man and this woman in holy matrimony…without an ordained minister, or a license.”

Joel dropped his head and snorted.

“In this day and age, marriage sounds pointless,” Y/n continued her speech as if she were the preacher, “But I think it’s more necessary than ever. Because at the end of the day, everyone needs something to cling to. Some hope to hold onto when everything feels hopeless…” Y/n shakily inhaled, “Something to fight for.”

Joel was already on the verge of tears and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Y/n exhaled and tried to collect her thoughts, “I think we do the vows next…want me to go first?”

“No,” Joel whispered, “I’ll go.”

Y/n nodded and held onto Joel a little tighter, trying to steady them both.

There were a million things Joel could have said, and twenty years ago, he’d imagined saying to Y/n. How much he loved her, how excited he was for their future, his dreams for them and Sarah and the babies they’d have…he never thought he’d use his wedding vows to apologize.

“The day I lost you…was one of the darkest days of my life,” he began, speaking with a surprising strength, “And at some point, when I realized how wrong I was…I had to make peace with knowing I’d never see you again. With the idea that you might have…” Joel trailed off, unable to finish the gruesome thought, “And I thought I had, but…the second I saw you again, I realized I hadn’t put you away. Not for a minute. How could I?”

Y/n sniffled, wanting to wipe the building tears away but unable to let go of Joel for even half a second.

“I will spend the rest of my life,” Joel’s voice closed up, trying to swallow the lump of sorrow in his throat, “Knowing I can never make up for what I did…but I will do everything and anything I can to make you happy.”

Joel had sat on so many words for so long, but there was one thing he needed to make sure she knew.

“Then and now,” Joel confessed, caressing her with sentiment, “You’re my…everything.” he paused, a few uncontrollable tears escaping his eyes, “And you were the best mom to our daughter.”

Y/n closed her eyes, two tears falling down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear Joel call her what they both knew she was.

“And I love you,” he promised, “And I’m never lettin’ you go again. Ever.”

Joel sniffled and wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve, “Your turn.”

Y/n chuckled, blinking away the rest of her tears to attempt half of what Joel had.

“I know that everything’s different now,” Y/n began, “That we’re different people than we were when we met. But when I look at you,” she huffed a breath, allowing herself to be taken by the depth of Joel’s eyes, “I still see the same man I fell in love with twenty years ago. The one who only gets out of bed in the morning for his coffee and sleeps with the fan on and won’t let anybody take care of him.”

Joel chuckled, fiddling with Y/n’s hands.

“But I see this man too,” she continued, pulling one inch closer to Joel, “The one who I’ve spent the last three months trying not to fall back in love with only to find out…I never fell out of it.”

Y/n was confronting her fears from three months before and Joel’s ever-present one; that his sins were insurmountable and she’d forever be afraid of the darkest parts of him.

“I want you,” Y/n said with unmistakable sureness, “All of you. Every part. The good, the bad, and what you’ll never ever show anyone. Because even with all of this,” Y/n gestured around them, “All the blood and the sickness and what we’ve all done to survive…you’re still you. You’re still my Joel.”

Joel was certain that whatever was left of him died with Sarah, having Y/n there to look into his soul and see the true him was a gift he wasn’t sure he’d ever be worthy of.

“We missed twenty years together. We can’t change that,” Y/n shook her head, speaking quickly before Joel could begin to guilt himself, “But we can love each other with everything we have for however long we have left. And I promise you,” she squeezed their hands, “That there won’t be a single minute of a single day where I won’t love you with my whole heart.”

With everything Joel had in him, he wanted to pull Y/n into his body and kiss for everything she was worth. But in keeping with the show they were putting on, he restrained himself.

“We don’t have rings,” Joel whispered with a smile.

“No,” Y/n sniffled and laughed, “I figured we work on those tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Joel nodded, “Isn’t there somethin’ else? Somethin’ we’re supposed to recite?”

“Yeah, let’s see if I remember any of it,” Y/n chuckled, “Do you, Joel Miller, take this woman to be your not-quite-lawfully wedded wife-“

Joel couldn’t stop himself from laughing once more at the complete invalidity of what they were doing.

“In sickness and in health,” Y/n raised an eyebrow, “For richer or poorer, if either of those apply to communism, for better or worse ‘til death do us part?”

Joel refused to listen to the last five words, he wanted the very moment they were living to stretch on forever. And in a way, it could. They were safe, finally, and they could spend the rest of their lives growing old together. Joel’s long fight was over, his only job now was to love and cherish Ellie and Y/n.

“I do,” he grinned, matching Y/n’s, “And do you, Y/n Y/l/n, take this old man-“

Y/n snorted and shook her head at Joel.

“To be your not-at-all-lawfully wedded husband,” he continued, “In sickness and health and bad knees, for richer or poorer,” Joel drew strength from his next breath, “Even though we’re communists…for better or worse, ‘til death do us part?”

In Y/n’s mind, she saw a supercut of moments throughout her time with Joel that had stood the test of time. Meeting him in a downtown bar, dancing with him on their first date, their first kiss on the ferris wheel, countless nights at home with him and Sarah, holding her in his arms just a few hours before their lives had ended…except they hadn’t ended. They had always been on the road back to one another, even if they hadn’t known it. Despite the trials they’d faced, fate had always been waiting for them at an alter.

“I do,” Y/n whispered through her tears.

Even though the whole thing had been Y/n’s idea, Joel was still relieved by her answer. It was the final piece of forgiveness that he felt he still needed to earn from her.

“Do I get to kiss you now?” Joel asked, his hands nearly twitching with how badly he wanted to reach for Y/n.

“Not yet,” she laughed, “By the power vested in me and my impatience, I now pronounce us man and wife. You may kiss your-“

Joel was on her before she could finish her monologue, wrapping one arm around her waist and cupping her cheek in his palm as he pressed his lips to hers. Y/n both smiled and cried into the kiss, overwhelmed not only by the man she loved, but by the relief she felt. Marrying Joel was the healing of the wound she’d nursed for two decades, because it secured their future. It didn’t look just how they wanted it, but they had one. They never ever had to be apart from one another again. For the first time in a long time, Y/n’s mind, her body and her heart were completely at ease.

Joel had never been a believer in everything happening for a reason, but as he kissed his wife, his wife, he knew that he was sorely in the wrong. Every step he’d taken since walking away from her, from Austin to Boston, had been a step in the journey back to her. To her life-giving lips, her tender embrace, her fierce devotion and to the fullness of her love…to his Rosebud.

They stood as one at the alter, pouring everything they’d ever felt and ever would feel for one another into their kiss. Each brush of their lips and touch of skin took them back in time, transforming them to some hybrid of their current and younger selves. From meeting on an ordinary May evening and falling in love over a hot Austin summer, to losing one another and reuniting in a blood soaked hall with pistols aimed at one another. From saving one another’s lives throughout their trek and all the reluctantly tender moments they’d shared along the way, to finally losing the battle with their long buried feelings and sealing their fate to save their daughter, Y/n and Joel could have sworn it all happened yesterday.

Give or take twenty years.

————

A/N: Wow…I don’t know where to begin.

I wrote the first chapter as a one-shot and asked if anyone would be interested in me expanding to a series. The name Rosebud didn’t exist, there were no theories to be created, and all I had was a poorly constructed idea of Joel Miller and the love of his life having to trek through the country, hating and loving each other all at once. YOU GUYS turned it into what it ended up being. You asked for more and you cheered and encouraged me on to the finish line. This little world has blown up and it’s all thanks to you reading, liking, commenting and reposting each chapter. I will never be able to put into words how thankful I am for y’all.

All good things come to an end, and for now, this is the end of Rosebud, Joel and Ellie’s weekly adventures. I’m already planning some one-shots and future chapters about life in Jackson, but they’ll come much more infrequently. I will keep the taglist open for whoever (16+) wants to join along the way, but my gosh, I’m so going to miss writing this every week. This has been such a fun few months, getting to watch TLOU every Sunday evening and then hit the keyboard with ideas for new chapters. Writing Twenty Years Later will definitely be one of my favorite parts of this year.

I love and cherish all 2.3k of my new friends that I’ve gotten to meet since starting this. To all of you, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

And, of course, when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light 😉💖

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @themultifandomofmadness @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #twenty years later

994 notes · View notes

raythekiller · 11 months

Note

what are your personal headcanons for the pretty ladies? i don't see enough people requesting them 😭

🗒 ❛ General Headcanons ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Kate The Chaser, Clockwork, Jane The Killer, Nina The Killer

#Notes: on god I love women

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Kate The Chaser

She used to be in the track team while in highschool, which is why she's so fast now. Not mute, but basically non-verbal, so like Hoodie she communicates mostly through notes or ASL. When she does talk, her voice is very low and raspy, never above a whisper. Almost never spends any time in the manor, opting instead on sleeping in a tent in the woods around it, even though she has a perfectly good room waiting for her. Speaking of her room, it has basically no decoration or personality in it since she stepped inside of it like, 2 times since joining Slenderman.

Genuinely loves kids. Sally calls her "Aunt Kate" and it's just the cutest damn thing ever. Kinda wishes she could have some of her own, but given her environment that's pretty out of the question. Actually quite good friends with Hoodie and Toby, having a sibling relationship with both of them. Hoodie because she likes the fact he can't speak and they communicate in a similar way, plus he's just pleasant to be around, and Toby because she genuinely finds his shenanigans funny (even if she never laughs). However, doesn't like Masky one bit, and he's one of the main reasons why she works alone instead of with the other proxies. Also, super random, but she listens to Billie Eilish.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Clockwork

She has a buzzcut and I WILL fight anyone on this. Long hair gets in the way of her killing, also the hoes love bitches with short hair. She's a total womanizer, even though she's technically bisexual, women just hit different for her in general. Toby actually had a thing for her for the longest time and was pretty obvious about it, but in all honesty she finds him... Well, weird, so it was a hard no from her and now they kind of have this bad blood between them and avoid being in the same room together cause it just gets awkward. She loves drawing, mostly tradicional art with no colors, and hands it on her bedroom walls. They're covered head to toe in various different sketches.

Again, speaking of her room, it's the definition of those indie rooms you find on Pinterest. She loves plants as has like, 20 of them just laying around on shelves, windowsills and the floor. Also, she's not super into videogames, but she loves The Last Of Us and got Ellie's tattoo on her arm (y'know, the one with some plants and a moth). She has a guitar, but honestly spent more time decorating it with stickers and such than learning how to play.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jane The Killer

My version of Jane is Jane Richardson, the one who was a government experiment, so she's one of the only creeps (if not the only one) who doesn't live in the manor or talks with any of the others. In fact, she hates almost all of them. Not as much as Jeff, but still. The only person she's okay with is Clockwork because they met before she even knew Natalie was a serial killer and found her flirting funny, so they're kind of friends now despite the probabilities. When she does bump into some of the other creeps, Masky avoids her like the plague (she scares him). She's a trad goth AND listens to the music, mostly Evanescence and Within Temptation.

Definitely knows how to play the piano. Personality speaking, she didn't change much after the tragedies happened - she's still the loving, caring person she was before, even if a bit more cynical. She believes in kindness and how it persists even in the worst of situations, and she's not about to let some emo bitch boy turn her bitter.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Nina The Killer

Has every nail polish color in existence and is the reason why most of the creeps nails are painted (yes, even Jeff. She did it while he was sleeping). Speaking of Jeff, they actually don't get along in a mutual sense. Sure, she was obsessed with him, but that was before meeting the sleazy fuck that he actually is and not the prince she fantasized about. She does, however, get along great with Toby, who's one of the only people who can match her energy and so they hang out all the time. She was also obsessed with true crime and generally any morbid media, like Death Note (Misa was her bisexual awakening). Also, definitely collects Monster High dolls.

As any alt kid, she loves fashion and customizing her own clothes. Has patch skirts and tie-dye shirts and everything in between. Absolutely a scene girl, her favorite bands are Mindless Self Indulgence and Get Scared. May or may not write weird fanfic in the notes app about the singers, who knows. She loves playing Stardew Valley and will go days on end without sleeping, trying to save up enough money to upgrade her barn.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #kate the chaser #kate the chaser headcanons #jane the killer #jane the killer headcanons #clockwork #clockwork headcanons #nina the killer #nina the killer headcanons #ray.writes

124 notes · View notes

ereardon · 1 year

Text

My Girl [Chapter 8][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife?

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 2.5K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, fighting, smut, angst

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

Sun danced on your eyelids, scorching them, and you groaned. Your fingers slammed against the edge of your wood nightstand as you grabbed for your phone, unlocking it to see half a dozen texts piled up in the corner.

Nat, I screwed up. I’m sorry. Call me please?

Honey, I was wrong to say what I said. Forgive me?

Ellie had a great time, she can’t stop talking about you.

Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I miss you. Call me when you get a chance.

I should have said this last night, but when I was up in the jet, it wasn’t just Ellie on my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and how scared I would be to lose you. Nat, you mean the world to me. I need you to know that.

I’m going to drop by in the morning. Rooster and Phoenix are taking Ellie to the farmer’s market. I’ll see you soon.

You looked at the time. It was almost ten o’clock. He would definitely be there any minute.

In the bathroom, you rushed to take a shower. There was still soap scum from Ellie’s bath the night before in the tub and you were thinking of how sweet she looked when you had tucked her in when the front doorbell rang.

You cursed under your breath, pulling on a silk robe and jogging toward the door, flinging it open. Jake held out a coffee and a brown paper pastry bag.

“Hey baby,” he said softly.

You had watched him drive away less than twelve hours before, but the man standing in front of you was a different person. The dark under eye circles were gone. He was wearing a clean crewneck sweater and jeans. He was back to the Jake that you knew. The one who opened doors for you and answered your call in one ring. He wasn’t the guy from the night before, the one who had tried to sweep how you felt under the rug.

“Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping to the side and letting him through the doorway. He set the coffee and bag down on the entryway table and you turned to him, arms crossed over your chest.

“Nat,” he said softly and you hated that you knew you’d forgive him. Just the sound of his voice. The way his eyes searched your face desperately. He was impossible to stay angry with. “Honey, I fucked up.” He stepped closer, reaching out slowly and pressing his hands to your upper arms. When you let him, he stepped in even closer. “You were amazing with Ellie and I put you in a terrible position and I’m so sorry I lashed out at you. I was exhausted and terrified, but that’s not an excuse. Well it is an excuse, but my father always told me nobody wants to hear excuses so here’s the truth.”

He sucked in a deep breath.

“I’m in love with you. I think a part of me has been in love with you for a while now. You’re amazing. And it’s clear that Ellie loves you, too. So a part of me is terrified. I know what it’s like to love someone, and to lose them. I couldn’t bear to lose you, Natalie. Maybe last night I was pushing you away because I was scared. But the truth is that I need you. I need you so much that it hurts.”

His fingers moved to cup your chin and neck, tilting your head up so your eyes met.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he murmured. “But I need you to know that I am desperately, hopelessly in love with you, Natalie West.”

Twelve hours before, you had wanted to punch him. And here he was, confessing his love to you.

It only underscored the one thing that you knew about Jake Seresin. The one thing you had known about him for a while.

You were ridiculously, utterly, foolishly in love with him.

“I love you, too,” you whispered and you watched his green eyes light up, a smile stretching over his tanned face. “And I hate that I love you because I’m still mad at you for what you said and how you said it. But this is also the first time we’re saying I love you so please God just kiss me?”

Jake obeyed immediately, reaching down and pressing his lips to yours, one hand coming out to cup the back of your head, cradling you. You melted into him, letting Jake tug you closer to his chest, wind his free arm around your waist, fingers gripping your back.

When he pulled away, you saw how serious his face was.

“Nat, I’m sorry,” he whispered and you could tell he still expected the worst. You had just confessed that you loved him, and yet he was nervous that you were still angry with him. His vulnerability was just another facet that made you love him more.

You leaned forward, catching his face in your hands, thumbs gently stroking the hair above his ears. “Honey, it’s OK. We’re OK. Let’s just forget the fight, and focus on this. Be in the moment.

And then you pulled him down for a kiss, pressing your fingers underneath his sweater, hands splayed across his bare chest. You felt Jake moan into your mouth, his hands coming out and grabbing your ass beneath the robe, and then sliding around and slipping down beneath the silky fabric, one large hand cupping your breast.

All of the sudden, Jake bent down and had you in his arms, never breaking the kiss as he carried you into the bedroom, setting you down gently on the bed. When he pulled back, you slowly untied the ends of your robe, smirking at his facial expression.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, immediately dropping down to his knees on the bed and kissing a wet path from your ankle up your calf to your inner thigh, breath warm as he leaned down and swirled his tongue around your clit. You tipped your head back in an unadulterated moan, which only served to fuel Jake as his tongue slid in figure eights between your legs.

Your fingers threaded through Jake’s hair, dragging him away from your cunt and he looked up with desperate eyes. “Jake,” you murmured, “need you now.”

Without hesitation, he stood up, stripping off his sweater and jeans, sliding off his boxer shorts as you shimmied your robe out from underneath you, felt the bed dip with his weight as he leaned in, pressing his lips to the base of your neck.

He was hard, you could feel him against your thigh, and when you reached out to stroke him Jake moaned against your throat, one of his hands gripping your breast tightly. You pumped his length and Jake shifted until he was directly above you, your legs already wrapping themselves around his tight waist.

“Please, baby,” you begged and Jake smiled, pushing the hair out of your eyes as he reached down and guided himself into you, gasping as he inched in slowly.

“Shit,” he whined, closing his eyes as he pressed in deeper and you gasped when he bottomed out, hips rutting into yours, setting a harsh pace. “Fuck, baby, feel so good on my cock.”

“Jake,” you moaned, fingers scratching down his muscular back, clawing him closer until your chests were pressed together, your ankles crossed over each other, digging into his lower back. “God, fuck!”

Jake pumped into you harder and your orgasm crashed in waves, but he didn’t let up, not as you were crying out, fingers gripping the bed sheets to your sides.

And then Jake was moaning your name, almost screaming it, as his hips stuttered and brushed against yours, spilling inside of you, lips kissing your forehead as he pulled out.

There was an ease to being with Jake. It was evident in the way he ran the shower and stepped into it behind you, running his hands through your hair, massaging the shampoo in as you laughed. It was the way he unloaded the clean dishwasher while you got dressed, and how he immediately wrapped you in his arms and kissed you when you entered the kitchen fully dressed for the day.

It was even easy when he pulled the Range Rover into the Little Italy farmer’s market, opening the door and taking your hand, weaving you in and out of fruit and vegetable stalls until you spotted Ellie holding Phoenix’s hand in the distance.

The moment her eyes landed on Jake you watched her face light up, and she immediately took off for him, throwing her arms out as he grabbed her and pulled her into a small twirl before setting her down and pressing his lips to her temple.

“Hi sweetheart,” he said softly and Ellie looked up at you, smiling widely.

“Natalie!” she squeaked and you chuckled, bending down and feeling her chubby little hands wrap around your neck. Instinctively almost you picked her up, settling her in your arms as Bradley and Phoenix approached.

“Hey there,” Bradley said, his eyes darting between Jake and you, and Ellie in your arms. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Jake turned, his eyes hidden behind his aviator sunglasses. You couldn’t help but be amazed by how effortlessly attractive he looked with the cool winter sun beating down on him. “Thought we’d stop by and see if you three wanted to grab some lunch.”

“Let’s do it,” Phoenix said, and you saw her and Bradley exchange a look with a raised eyebrow. “Elmo’s?”

Ellie squealed with glee and Bradley held out his arms, wiggling his fingers and she reached for him. He pulled her in closely, her legs wrapping around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder as he turned. “Meet you guys there.”

Elmo’s was an institution, an old school diner on the outskirts of the city. At the table, Jake leaned over, one elbow on the formica top, as Ellie ran her hands along the sticky laminated menu. “What are you thinking, sweetheart?” he asked softly. “Pancakes or eggs?”

She looked up at you. “I want to split my pancakes with Natalie.”

All eyes at the table turned to you. You grinned. “I love pancakes.”

“Chocolate chip!”

“The best kind.”

Her face lit up. When the waiter came around, she proudly ordered the chocolate chip pancakes and pointed at you saying they were to share. Phoenix took her to the bathroom to wash her hands as a waitress came around to pour coffee.

“That’s a big deal,” Bradley said, taking a sip of coffee, milk dotting his mustache before he wiped it clean.

“What is?” you asked.

He nodded his head at the empty seat. “Her wanting to share her pancakes. She doesn’t like to share breakfast food. She’s kind of a pig.”

“Hey!” Jake said and Bradley laughed, which he returned. It was hard to imagine they were once enemies, as Bradley had put it. They seemed almost like brothers in their familiarity and comfort. Jake turned to you. “He’s right though. She adores you.”

You laid your hand on his on top of the table. “I adore her.” And you meant it. Jake could see it in your eyes and the way you looked at Elie as she and Phoenix returned to the table.

What you missed was the way Bradley’s gaze tugged on your own, eyes darting between you and Jake, the open way that you kept your hands intertwined on the tabletop.

How when the waiter set down the pancakes you carefully cut Ellie’s into pieces for her, laughing as she accidentally smeared melted chocolate on the corner of her mouth.

Bradley watched as you seamlessly held out your hand for Ellie as you left the restaurant, shielding her behind you in the parking lot from oncoming traffic. The way you brushed hair out of Jake’s eyes and smiled up at him as he spoke.

Bradley watched with a gentle curiosity at the way the three of you fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

You didn't know it, but he was waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop.

Back at Jake’s, you spent the rest of the day doing an art project with Ellie, and hanging out on the swingset. Ellie played in her room quietly as you and Jake moved around each other in the kitchen preparing dinner.

And after dinner, much like the night she had spent at your house, you watched a movie on the couch with Ellie and then Jake carried her to her room once she had fallen asleep on the plush sofa.

“Nat?” Jake appeared in the kitchen doorway where you were washing the bowls from the popcorn you had devoured during the movie.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay?” he asked and you looked up in surprise. You had never stayed the night. Even the time that Ellie had asked, during that fateful Sunday night dinner when you read her a bedtime story, you had begged off, pretending to have an early morning the next day. It felt like a line you hadn’t been ready to cross. Not just letting Jake see you in the morning, although he had gotten a glimpse of that in Napa. Staying the night in his house, in the room he had shared with Lizzie, with Ellie just down the hall, felt much more real than you had been ready for.

Then again, saying I love you felt like it had changed the dynamic of everything.

“If you want to,” he added. Jake crossed the kitchen and slipped his arms around you. “I just want you to be here when I wake up. I want to make you coffee and hold you in my arms and start my day with you next to me.”

“How could I say no to that?” you murmured, lifting onto your tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Take me to bed, lieutenant.”

Jake took your hand and led you upstairs. Ellie’s room was three doors down, but you were still quiet as Jake undressed you and laid you down on the bed, making love to you quietly and gently, making sure to cover your mouth with his to absorb your moans.

You fell asleep in Jake’s arms, a sliver of moonlight streaming in from beneath the blinds, illuminating his perfect face as he slept on his back, arm slung across your bare chest.

And just as you started to sink down into the bed, close your eyes, let sleep overtake you, Jake’s dream-filled whisper filled the air and stopped your heart.

“Lizzie,” he murmured in his sleep, arm tightening across your chest, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer in his sleep. He nuzzled into your bare shoulder.

For a moment, you froze. And then you rolled over, so if he woke up, Jake wouldn’t be able to see the tears streaming down your face.

Your worst fear had just come true.

Tag list: @double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog @princessofglitterland @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @sammysimpin @khaylin27 @localhockeygirl @eyesthatroll @wildxwidow @wildlyobserving @bellaireland1981 @wittywhispers-blog @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @oiseul @showmethewayhomehoney @callsign-joyride @teacupsandtopgun @jordanturpen @sexytholland @daddymack01 @pookie-cleary @eternalsams

A/N: I am SORRY for the pain at the end!!

#jake hangman imagine #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #hangman fanfiction #hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fluff #my girl #hangman series #series

264 notes · View notes

ashes-writing-corner · 7 months

Text

Hey guys! I've been sick lately so I'm back with a short part for Ghosts that We Knew. Reader gets sick and attempts to make tea. Ghost encourages reader to do it right lol

No warnings, tried to make this one a little funnier, more light hearted.

Taglist: @stargatenovus

Ghosts that We Knew 7- tea...you're doing it wrong...

You loved your little girl. You lived for her, quite literally. She was your world, your reason to keep going. And when the poor girl was sick, you made it your whole life to make sure she got better.

Even at the cost of your own health.

Kids were kids, and someone was always gonna wind up going to school sick, spreading it to everyone. But sickness travels, and just as Ellie was getting much better after a bad cold, you were knocked on your ass. Coughing, sore throat, the whole thing, you got it. Thankfully it wasn't as life threatening as it was after you had your transplant. You were paranoid about illness and the like for a year after the surgery. Thankfully you had a strong immune system and took precautions as much as you could. Nowadays you were a lot less paranoid, with the possibility of organ rejection (mostly) eliminated.

Regardless, you felt like crap now. You had the whole package, and now couldn't safely work on orders, which royally sucked. Ghost was thankful those days were behind him, the one benefit to being dead. The one thing he didn't miss.

He watched as you entered the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your shoulders and in your most comfortable pajamas. He observed only a moment as you struggled to open a nearby cabinet to grab a mug and he knew exactly what you were about to do.

And you were about to do it wrong.

Again.

You grabbed out a box of fruity tea bags, clearing your throat a bit to try and ease the scratchy feeling in it. You grabbed out a peach bag and set it in the mug. Absent-minded, you filled the cup with water most of the way and, to Ghost's dismay, put it in the microwave.

Again.

No, no, no! He was NOT going to stand for this! He understood you were sick but there was no need to ruin tea like that. The microwave stopped suddenly and you looked around.

"Ghost…I swear to God if that's you" you tried to reset the microwave but a cold blast grabbed your hand, "Dude! Seriously?! Of all things, you're gonna have a stick up your ectoplasmic ass about this?!".

No response. Then you remembered that he had used a lot of energy to interact with you a short time ago. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

"Hold on, let me go grab my phone…" you peeled off into the bedroom to go get it so you two could properly communicate.

Ghost waited for you, keeping close to the accursed microwave. You were making your tea wrong and he needed to make you see the error of your ways. Sick or not, there was no excuse in his eyes.

"Alright…what's got you in a tizzy now?".

Tea. Wrong.

"What?"

Make.

"Seriously? There's no right or wrong way to make tea! Dude cmon my throat is killing me and the heat would help".

Kettle.

"Ghost…I'm not playing this game. Stop disabling my microwave and just let me do this-"

The lights began to flicker, electronics going a bit haywire. Frustrated, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

"Alright! I'll do it in the damn kettle…fucking Brits I swear…"

Soap.

Well that was random. It took you by surprise as you turned to your phone.

"Soap? Dude, it's clean, I promise. Or are you saying I need soap? Eh…not gonna lie a shower might actually do me some good. I'll think about that".

He still wondered about his old teammates. Did they still think of him? He hadn't seen Johnny in years, about three…maybe four at this point. He wondered how the sergeant had changed. Was he still the fun loving, carefree friend that he somewhat envied? Did he still have a heart for others? Ghost always thought that was a rare thing. He shook his head, no point in dwelling on the past or what could be. You and Ellie were his priority now. And it wasn't like anyone had made him one before everything went to hell…

"I am not about to put milk in this. It comes out clumpy if I do" your voice pulled him back like an alarm.

Cream.

"I can't add anything but sugar to this. It'll get clumpy and gross. Don't want that" you argued, "if it was a different tea then yeah definitely".

Kind?

"What kind am I making? Peach. Peach and raspberry are my favorites" you told him.

Lavender.

"Lavender tea? Are you kidding? That stuff tastes like soap…" you stuck your tongue out in disgust.

Smell.

"Eh…I guess the smell is okay. I like the smell of actual Lavender rather than the artificial crap they put out".

He couldn't argue that. In life he thought the smell of lavender was too strong. It was even worse now as a ghost, with his advanced smell and all.

You had gotten out a new cup and tea bag and waited with the blanket still wrapped around yourself as the kettle finally went off. You rolled your eyes.

"Another reason I hate doing that" you moved it to the other side of the stove, "hate loud high pitched noises".

Nonetheless, you put some sugar in the cup. Ghost counted at least five, a bit much in his opinion, but he wasn't about to judge. He had made your life difficult enough already.

"Did it your way. Are you happy now?" You asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Yes.

"Good, cause I'm never doing that again".

We'll see…

This totally means he intends to "train" you on making your tea right. This was based on a conversation I had with my sister the other day and she thought it was hysterical. Anyway, being sick sucks and I hope yall are okay.

If you like my stuff please consider following, liking, commenting, and most importantly reblogging. Thanks friends and followers ^.^

-Ash

#fanfiction #ghosts that we knew #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost!ghost #paranormal friendship #eventual paranormal romance #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic

36 notes · View notes

braywashed · 3 days

Text

I didn't realize I missed Ellie's birthday. Damn. I was too busy being convinced they were using fake ones. (I am still unconvinced.)

Also I JUST saw the source of the other dancing gifs got posted 3 months ago and I am crying because I have to go to work. Like?? Hello??? Sorry I cant come in I have to watch these dumb twinks, I only had a two second clip of it bef-

#a FAILURE of a hyperfixated person i tell you

0 notes

featherymalignancy · 3 years

Text

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

——————————————————

Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.

#featherywrites #elriel smut #elain x azriel #acotar modern one shot #four word prompts

189 notes · View notes