#but it's slow and steady for anna

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

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[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I would love to see some tooth rotting fluff with Alejandro Vargas!😩😍 I absolutely love your writing and can’t wait to see what you come up with!! Congrats on 5K!!❤️❤️

—Hold Me Longer

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

His head rests on your chest, and through his hair, your fingers travel in slow, steady, intervals. In this room where the both of you rest, light seeps in through the curtains to connect with bare skin—a waking morning just peeking its eyes over the horizon as the stars and moon disappear. Yet in these walls, the magic of night still remains in the way Alejandro’s breath cascades over your flesh; your own ruffling the very hair you caress. 

The man grumbles, arms around your waist tightening as he groans awake. When he feels what you’re doing, he sighs and settles back down, squeezing your body as your legs spread down at his sides. The sheets rustle, tangled below. 

Neither of you finds a need to speak, and as you continue your appreciation of his soft, dark tendrils, lips press into your collarbone in even motions; digging deep as stubble grinds against your flesh. 

Alejandro hums, practically purring, as you drag your nails over his scalp.

“Good morning to you, too, Vida Mía,” the man teases you, a smile felt along your thin skin over the bone. His tone is laced with sleep. 

You shiver under him at the feeling of his vocal cords—the low scrape of words, taking in his warmth as you murmur in your throat. 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask, fatigue in your voice. 

He moves upward and presses his lips into the stoop of your neck, after a moment he shakes his head, making a small noise.

“No, not today,” Alejandro smirks, and you feel it as your eyes flutter, tilting your head to the side as he shifts his body farther up your own; that sliding of skin and heavy muscle. “Today, I’m all yours, eh?” 

Lips return to your neck, and your fingers tighten on the man’s hair, pulling with tired limbs. Your breath hitches as a soft nip is leveled at your pulse, a nose pushing into your heated flesh.

A soft smile makes its way over your face. “Any plans, then?” 

Alejandro chuckles deeply, his chest hitting yours. He moves his head to kiss the side of your lips. 

“Ah,” he breathes, sagging once more back into you as the morning grows the slightest bit brighter. “All of my plans are right in front of me.” The man’s head slots into your shoulder, and into you he mutters with a low tone as he sighs through a smirk. 

“Hold me longer.” You let your face nuzzle into his head, eyelids slipping shut once more. 

“Deal.” 

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@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #cod mw22 #x female reader #mw2 #call of duty #call of duty x you #mw2 2022 #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro mw2 #alejandro x reader #call of duty mwii #alejandro call of duty #mw x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x female reader #x fem!reader #mw2 fanfic #cod fanfic

[fandomnerd9602]

Spideypool: guess who?

Gwenpool: we’re back!

A/N: what now?

Gwenpool: just look at the title @fandomnerd9602 !

Rogue x Wolverine!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Rogue never got to experience love before she met you, the son of Wolverine.

You’re the only one who’s not affected by her parasitic touch. She was ecstatic when she realized it. But yet love came naturally for you and her

Rogue is an affectionate lover. She always wants to wrap her arms around you in some way or rub her fingers across your body.

She is a goofy lover. Rogue loves making little quips and jokes as the two of you make love.

Favorite position? Missionary. She loves looking into your eyes and letting you just how good you make her feel. She also revels in knowing that she’s making you feel like heaven.

Another favorite? Against the wall. It’s exciting for her.

Rogue is big on encouraging you, “oh sugah! Keep going! You know the right spots don’t ya? Oh baby you make my heart skip a beat!”

Oral? Big fan of giving and receiving. It’s a mutually loving experience.

Kink? Sensory play. She loves blindfolding you and running a feather across you. Anything soft really. She also loves it when you do it to her.

She has a high drive. Could be attributed to her years without physical contact or maybe that’s just how attracted she is to you.

A big no no? Whips. Rogue is all about love not pain. “There’s enough pain in the world, sugah, I don’t wanna hurt you”

Anna Marie is a gentle lover, preferring to take it slow and steady. She relishes your touch. But she’s not adverse to little fun quickies.

Turn on? When you get all sweaty after a training session with Logan and Colossus. Her smile turns you on.

Favorite body part? You love her thighs. You want them wrapped around your waist or face all day long. Rogue loves your fingers and she loves caressing your claws, she’ll place little kisses to them.

Anna Marie loves falling asleep in your arms after going a couple rounds. It makes her feel safe to be spooning with you. She wants you and only you.

Rogue is a major tease. She’ll steal your shirts and wear them around the Mansion because she knows how her wearing your clothes is a major turn on. Rogue will wiggle her hips or wear the pants that accentuate her body just right and top it off with a wink too.

Rogue is a fairly loud lover in bed. She’ll guide you to the places that make her gasp and scream in euphoria. “Oh sugah!!!” She also laughs a lot too, it’s one of the things you love about her.

Your life with Rogue is full of love, adoration and exploration. There’s no one else you want to grow old with.

Spideypool: aww @fandomnerd9602 you make everything so cute and fluffy

Gwenpool: yeah

A/N: thanks. will you two please leave my house now?!

Spideypool: nah we love crashing on your couch, buddy

A/N: fine

Tags: @ma1egamer @jacelion @deafeningsharkslimeempath @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @iamnicodemus @russianredassassin @revanshand @wombatking @konstantin609

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #marvel headcanons #rogue #rogue xmen #rogue x reader #anna marie lebeau #xmen #x men 97 #xmen headcanon #spideypool #gwenpool #spiderpool #wolverine x rogue #Wolverine reader #disney plus #headcanon #x men the animated series #xmen fanfiction #xmen fanfic

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 6: But, Honestly, Something's Gotta Give

You and Joel review each other's lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 5, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Semi-graphic description of masturbation. Mention of drug and alcohol addiction. Mention of past drug overdose. Diet culture type language. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.3K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Hey you!” 

You managed to resist the urge to groan when your sister threw the door open, her hip popped against it and a large glass bottle clutched in the hand she’d put in the air in excitement. 

“Please tell me that’s not wine,” you said, trying to see the label on the bottle. 

“Oh you’re such a buzzkill,” Anna rolled her eyes and visibly deflated a bit. “And no, of course it’s not wine. It’s sparkling cider, heaven forbid a girl wants to do something different once in a while…” 

“Sorry,” you said, hands up in surrender as she stepped aside and let you in. You gave her a quick hug before following her toward the kitchen. “How’ve you been?” 

“Drunk off my ass and high all the time,” she made a mocking face over her shoulder at you. “Oh wait, no, that’s just what my sister thinks I’ve been doing…” 

“You answered the door with something that looks like a wine bottle in your hand and you’ve been out of rehab for all of two months,” you said, voice sharper than you’d really intended it to be.  “Think my question was pretty reasonable.” 

“You know, a little trust would be nice,” she said, stopping at the counter and pouring the cider into two waiting wine glasses. “Kinda hard to rebuild my life if fucking no one in it trusts me to do it.”

You sighed

“You’re right,” you said, sitting at the kitchen table. “I’m sorry. I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” 

You held up a box of candy and shook it, the little squares inside rattling in their paper and plastic confines as you did. 

“I brought you chocolate,” you smiled at her. 

“Buying my love, hm?” She asked, setting a drink in front of you before sitting down at the seat beside you. You just shrugged as she pulled off the lid, wiggling her fingers over the various truffles before selecting one without looking at the map explaining the varieties. “Well, it worked. I forgive you.” 

She bit into the candy and made a face, scrunching her nose. 

“Ugh,” she said, holding out the remaining half of the truffle, brushing it over your lips. “Coconut. Disgusting.” 

“I don’t want your spit candy…” you leaned away from her but her hand shot forward and stuffed the piece in your mouth as you spoke, making you cough for a moment before you gave up and just chewed it. “You’re disgusting.” 

“And you’re lame,” she said. “So we’re even.” 

“So,” you said, swallowing the candy. “How are you doing? Really?” 

She shrugged, her fingers lingering over the box again as she selected her next piece.

“Fine, I guess,” she said. “I have a job interview next week…” 

“No shit!” Your eyes went wide, impressed. “That’s amazing, where at?” 

“OK, be less excited because otherwise it’s going to be a letdown,” she rolled her eyes a little. “But, believe it or not, it’s an office job. Data entry. It’s going to be total bullshit but it was a foot in the door which, right now? I’ll take.” 

“Congratulations!” You smiled, genuinely happy for her. “That’s exciting.” 

She shrugged again. 

“Only exciting if I get it. And even then… pretty damn lame.” 

“A steady paycheck is only lame until you realize how nice it is,” you said. “I think you’ll like a little stability and independence.” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I think you’re right. It just feels weird to be at this stage right now in my life, you know? I didn’t finish college, I have no job experience. I thought my life was going to just always be my life and now it’s not. I’m basically starting from scratch at 29. Less than scratch, I’m already divorced and have two stints in rehab under my belt.” 

You shrugged. 

“Scratch isn’t so bad.” 

“Ah right, my sister in arms, fellow member of the hot young divorcee club,” she smirked, grabbing another chocolate and popping it in her mouth before nodding slowly. “This one’s better, caramel.” 

“Not divorced yet,” you signed, rapping your fingers on the side of your glass. “Gale keeps sending over new terms… I feel like this is never going to end.” 

“It can take a while,” she nodded knowingly. “Hell, even when you’re on decent terms it takes a while, take it from someone who knows.” 

“Speaking of our exes, how is dear old Joshy?” You asked. Anna rolled her eyes a little but you saw the corners of her lips pull up. “Josharoonie. Joshimiah.” 

“Shut up. And he’s fine, last I heard,” she said. “I haven’t seen him in a bit.” 

“Really?” You said. “I’m impressed.” 

“Not that impressive,” she muttered, taking a sip of her drink. 

“Uh huh,” you replied. “Hon, I remember a time that you couldn’t stay away from him for five minutes and I remember him convincing you that oh, no, it’s just a little wine, just a little pot, just a little coke…” 

“Yeah, he’s way less hot shit when I’m sober as it happens,” she laughed a little. “God, yeah, I don’t know that I would have made it down the aisle with him if I’d been sober. I was three bottles of wine deep that day…” 

“Yeah, I remember,” you laughed a little, too. “That really should have been red flag number one, you had to get hammered to marry the guy. I probably should have tried harder to stop you.” 

“Eh,” she shrugged. “Can’t hold it against you. Not like your taste in men was all that great. No offense.” 

You just shrugged noncommittally. It was easier than arguing. You weren’t sure why you kept wanting to defend Gale to people. It’s not like he was being especially kind or caring as your marriage dissolved. It wasn’t like he’d been especially kind or caring toward you in a very long time. 

But something in you grated at people’s distaste. You were divorcing him, yes, but it’s not like you’d lost all your feeling for the man. You still cared about him. You still loved him. Or you thought you did, anyway. Sometimes, you weren’t sure if it was him you loved or if it was the life you had before that you longed for, the gentle stability of a partner who you knew would put his hand in the small of your back when maneuvering around you in the bathroom in the morning and would program the coffee pot before you went to bed at night. There was a comforting, quiet certainty in knowing the pattern of someone’s scars and where to find them in the dark. You hadn’t had that in a while. 

But you hadn’t had any kind of special consideration in even longer, your husband paying you and your wants and needs very little mind as the two of you moved along toward divorce through the final years of your marriage. It was slow at first - curt words and quick frustrations - and then all at once, with raised voices and wounds that cut deeper than you’d realized at the time. 

Part of you wondered if Gale would have stayed as he was when you met him if it wasn’t for you. Like maybe you’d driven him to this version of himself, the version that seemed to be vindictive and mean now and had been thoughtless and cold as everything collapsed. Maybe, if you’d been less infuriating or self centered or immature, he’d have remained his brilliant, pensive self. Maybe he’d still have wanted to steal you away into his office to go down on you between classes, your legs spread wide as he pulled your ass to the edge of his desk and plunged his tongue inside of you. Maybe he’d still want to take you to restaurants you didn’t know to eat foods you’d never tried, his hand slipping up your thigh as he fed you your first bite of caviar. Maybe he’d still call you Doll and look at you like you had something worth experiencing somewhere inside you.

Maybe you’d ruined him. Maybe you’d ruined everything. 

The oven timer dinged and Anna jumped up, grabbing pot holders and pulling a baking dish out of the oven as you frowned. 

“What?” She asked, getting out plates. “I invited you over for lunch, I was obviously going to feed you.” 

“OK, yeah, not obvious,” you said. “And I figured that it might mean… I don’t know, sandwiches or something, what is that?” 

“Mom’s mac and cheese,” she smiled, proud. You gaped at her for a moment. “What! I was a housewife for years, I did pick up a few skills.” 

“You followed Joshamania around on tour for years,” you corrected her. “I don’t think you had the facilities to make Mom’s mac and cheese at your disposal.” 

“OK so maybe it’s a new skill,” she said, spooning the food onto plates. “But I’m not totally useless.” 

She put the plate in front of you - it was chipped, one of the same ones you’d eaten off of every day as a kid - and sat next to you, tucking her leg below her as she did before the two of you dug into the pasta. 

It smelled warm and familiar, a little like your kitchen on Anna’s birthday when you were kids and you took a bite. But you only chewed it for half a second before you dropped the food back on your plate and grabbed the glass of sparkling juice, chugging it as Anna made a disgusted face. 

“What did you do to it?” You coughed, trying to get the taste out of your mouth. “That’s the saltiest thing I’ve ever eaten!” 

“It said to salt the water!” She coughed, too. “And add salt to taste in the sauce…” 

“Did you taste it?” You asked, brows raised. “And how much salt did you put in the water?” 

“I don’t know!” She said. “It didn’t say how much to put in. And no, I didn’t taste it, I thought it’d be gross to eat out of the pan I was cooking in…” 

“This is what’s gross,” you said before pouring another glass of juice and chugging that, too. “Jesus… that tour bus really didn’t have a kitchen did it?” 

“Nope,” she took the bottle and just started drinking straight from it. “But if it did, I’d probably have killed half the band…” 

You snorted at that, almost shooting sparkling juice out of your nose when you did. As the two of you regained your composure, you looked at your little sister. It sometimes felt like the two of you had gone down completely opposite paths, everything about you so disparate it was like she was a total stranger to you. 

It’s not as though you were related by blood. Your parents had adopted Anna when she was a baby and you were almost three years old, back when their marriage was still functional and bringing another child into it sounded like a good idea instead of total insanity. But you’d have thought growing up together with the same parental neuroses and sharing the same bathroom would have made it so you somewhat resembled each other in the way your lives had turned out. 

It hadn’t, though. You were valedictorian of your high school class, went to an ivy league school, got a doctorate and started teaching at your alma mater. You’d married the first real boyfriend you had, the only time you’d ever interacted with a cop was the two times you’d been pulled over for speeding and you could count the number of concerts you’d been to on one hand. 

Anna, on the other hand, had finished high school by the skin of her teeth. She’d been in her first semester of community college when your mother died and she dropped out almost immediately, no matter how hard you tried to talk her out of it. She got involved with a protest group for a while before she started following her favorite band on tour. She ended up sleeping with half of them before she wound up married to the guitarist. Your life had been quiet and stable and hers had been free and exciting and yet you’d both wound up back in your home town, divorced and trying to figure out where to go next. 

Maybe you were more like her than you realized. 

“I think I have the stuff for sandwiches,” she said, shoving back from the table and heading for the fridge. “Because yeah, that’s inedible…” 

“Don’t worry about it on my account,” you said, pushing the offending plate away. “I’m going to dinner with Joel in a few hours so…” 

“Joel?” She straightened up from behind the fridge door, her eyebrows raised as she watched you. “Wait, like a date?” 

“Please,” you scoffed. “It’s Joel. Be real.” 

“Right, you’re too straight laced for someone like that,” she rolled her eyes, going back into the fridge. 

“No I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are,” she said, standing up again and bumping the door closed with her hip. She came back to the table and dropped a Lunchable in front of you. You raised your eyebrows and she glared at you. “Not a fucking word.” 

“I didn’t say a thing,” you said, pulling back the plastic wrap lid. “And you know that you couldn’t pay Joel enough to date me…” 

She scoffed, opening her own Lunchable. 

“I’m not his type!” You protested, resisting the urge to kick her under the table. 

“Type schmype,” she waved you off. “Mom always thought you two were going to get married one day…” 

“Yeah, because her judgement was always so stellar,” you rolled your eyes, making a little sandwich of meat and cheese and crackers. 

“Say what you want about her taste in men but Mom knew you,” Anna said, her tone almost uncomfortably earnest. “You’re so much like her. So, so like her. She knew. And she said it, even after you were engaged to Gale she said it. Because she knew.” 

“Well,” you shrugged after a moment. “She got it wrong.” 

You ended up staying at Anna’s for a few hours. She told you more about the meetings she was attending, how she liked her sponsor. Things seemed to be going well for her, it was stabilizing. So much better than it had been when you’d decided to come back to Texas a few months earlier. She’d passed out at a party after taking drugs from someone she barely knew. Thankfully, someone she was there with was smart enough to get her to a hospital when she wouldn’t wake up. You’d flown down and sat with her at the hospital, talked to her doctors, helped convince her to go to rehab. For a few torturous hours on the plane ride, you thought you might lose your sister, too. That you’d have no one and you’d be adrift in the world, lost and alone and as empty of meaning as you’d always been afraid you were. You’d decided then that, if Anna lived, you were moving back.

But navigating your relationship with Anna since was a balancing act. Part of you wanted to become her mother, to take care of her and guide her and support her through everything. It seemed safest, making decisions for her since she seemed to be so bad at making them for herself. But you knew that wasn’t tenable, not really. She was fiercely independent, she always had been. She’d rather make all the wrong decisions on her own than have someone make the right ones for her. But being just her sister didn’t feel like enough, not when she was struggling and trying to find her way. 

“I hope you and Joel have fun tonight,” she said in a sing song voice as she walked you to the front door.

“You’re obsessed,” you rolled your eyes. “I promise, it’s nothing interesting…” 

“You two have been spending a lot of time together for nothing interesting.” 

“We’ve always spent a lot of time together,” you said, turning to face her as she stood in the doorway. “He half lived at our house when we were kids if you recall.” 

“Yeah, you were in love with him then, too,” she smirked. 

“Not even going to dignify that with a response,” you said, not wanting to think about how well your sister seemed to know you. “You know where to find me if you need me, right?” 

“Oh gosh,” she huffed dramatically. “Joel’s?” 

“Alright, bye!” You waved and Anna cackled.

“Hey,” she called from her door as you went to get to the car. “I’m happy you’re back.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Believe it or not, I’m happy I’m back too.” 

***

“You got everything?” Joel asked, herding Sarah toward the truck. 

“Yes Dad,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Got your pajamas?” 

“Yes.” 

“Clothes for tomorrow? Including clean underwear?” 

She sighed. 

“Yes, duh.” 

“Don’t ‘duh’ me,” he said. “You forget stuff you need all the time and I’m not gonna just be at home waitin’ for you to need something tonight. If you forget it, you’re on your own kid.” 

“I have everything.” 

“Vanessa’s present?” 

“Dad,” she stopped and looked at him. “I’m 11. I’m basically a teenager. I have all my stuff.” 

Joel tried really hard to not laugh. 

“Alright,” he said. “In the truck, you almost teenager.” 

She smiled proudly before obeying. 

“Can I put on my playlist?” She asked, leaning between the front seats. 

“You have to give me the phone then,” he said. “And you have to sit back and buckle up.” 

She pulled up the playlist before dropping the phone in his hand and sitting back. 

“You excited for Vanessa’s birthday party?” He asked as he started the playlist. “Seatbelt.” 

“Yeah!” She said, obeying and buckling up. “Melanie is gonna be there, too, and she was bringing her karaoke machine. Can I get a karaoke machine?” 

“You gonna let me use it?” Joel asked, looking at her in the rear view mirror. 

“Only if you sing something besides old man music,” she smirked at him. 

“I don’t listen to old man music…” 

“You listen to old man music,” she said. “You’re gonna tell Aunt Goldie I say hi, right?” 

“I’ll tell her you say hi,” he smiled a little. “Even though I figured we’d pretend the world didn’t revolve around you for one night…” 

Sarah scoffed and he could tell she was trying not to smile, too. 

“The world revolves around me every night,” she said. “As it should.” 

Joel laughed and pulled up in front of Vanessa’s house. 

“Alright center of the universe,” he said, pausing the music and handing her the phone. “Go, have fun, be on your best behavior…” 

“You too,” she said, getting out of the truck before pausing on her way out the door. “Dad, I think I forgot something…” 

Joel sighed. 

“What do you need, Baby Girl?” 

She just laughed. 

“I’m just messing with you. Have fun!” 

Sarah jumped out of the truck before he had a chance to respond and ran to the door, her duffle bag bouncing on her arm. He waited until she was safely inside and waved to Vanessa’s mom - whose name he could never fucking remember - before he headed to your place. 

He hadn’t just triple checked to make sure that Sarah had everything she needed, he’d also made sure he was ready, too. 

Joel wasn’t sure why he was so anxious. It’s not like he didn’t see you all the damn time now. It seemed like if the two of you weren’t hanging out you were texting. Even though it sometimes felt like you were getting reacquainted, it was still like you just knew him, knew him on a level no one else ever had. But this was different. He was deliberately owning up to all the things he wanted to change about himself, all the ways he’d fallen short in his life. It was uniquely vulnerable. He didn’t want to go in unprepared. 

So he’d made sure he had the list. And that the list didn’t make him sound like a total fucking idiot. He got his truck washed. He made sure he had a pair of pants that weren’t just blue jeans and a clean shirt with a collar. 

He knew that things weren’t going perfectly for you, either. That was the whole point of this entire plan, the two of you figuring out your lives together. But you were still you. He wanted you to know him but he also wanted you to know the best of him. Not the shitty things, not the things he was ashamed of. But… you were still you, the only person he’d want to do something like this with. He’d just have to get past it. 

Joel took a deep breath and knocked on your door. You opened it almost immediately, putting in an earring as you did. You were in a dress that looked like it had been made for you, skimming over your body, dipping low enough that he could see the curve of your breasts and, for half a second, Joel’s mind went back to the night before in the pool. You’d been so close then. He could feel all of you against him, all your softness and all your warmth - even if your hands were cold. There was a moment he lived in for longer than he wanted to admit, one where it felt like it would have been OK to kiss you, to hold your body tightly to him, to pull you inside and peel off your swimsuit so he could run his hands over the goosebump prickled flesh below. He’d come to that thought, alone in his bed once he was sure Sarah was asleep and he wouldn’t be interrupted. He’d come so hard he had to muffle his moans and he stayed there, cock in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling, as he tried to shove the thought of you away. You didn’t want that, you’d made that much perfectly clear more than a decade before. This wasn’t going to take him anywhere good. 

And now you were standing there, in a dress that couldn’t make you look more appealing if it was designed by temptation itself. 

God fucking dammit. 

“Jesus, Goldie,” he said after he collected himself as much as he could. “Feelin’ a little underdressed here.” 

“Shit,” your eyebrows drew together and you looked down at yourself. “I don’t have much that’s  dressy, this was from this cocktail event the university wanted to trot me out like some show pony for last fall… I can see what else I have if you’re OK to wait for a minute….” 

You turned to go back inside but Joel caught your wrist and you frowned.

“You look great,” he said. “Besides, I know how long ‘a minute’ is in woman getting ready time…” 

“Oh fuck off.” 

“…and I’m starving. Let’s go.” 

You gave him an exasperated look before shrugging into a trench coat and grabbing your bag and gold notebook from the table just inside the door. 

“You look good, too, by the way,” you said once the two of you were in his truck and he was heading for the restaurant you’d picked the other day. Joel scoffed. “Hey! I mean it, you do. Should wear something besides jeans and t-shirts or flannels now and then, you clean up well.” 

“Next time we hang out, I’ll rent a tux,” he smirked a little and glanced at you, just catching a glimpse of your eye roll as he did. “Polish up my shoes, whole nine…” 

“Should just buy the tux,” you replied. “Seems like a smart investment for a man of your profession and lifestyle…” 

“Oh, sure.” 

“Got all those galas to go to…” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Awards shows…” 

“Naturally.” 

“Black tie weddings.” 

“You gonna get some nice formal gowns?” He teased back. “Come with me to all these hoity-toity outings?”

You laughed. 

“Sure, Joel. I’ll be your back up date to any and all formal events.” 

The restaurant you wanted to try was definitely nicer than anything Joel had gone to in a while but it’d been easy for you to talk him into it. He remembered you being more excited about food when you were kids, how you’d watch his mom in the kitchen sometimes when you stayed for dinner or how you’d reach over and steal fries off his tray at the burger place down the street from your apartment when you were so hungry that your own fries weren’t going to cut it. Now, though, it seemed like anytime he wasn’t deciding what you were eating you ate the kind of shit that you scrunched your nose up at in high school. People and tastes could change, of course. He wasn’t stupid. But it didn’t feel like you. It felt like some holdover from that jackass you’d spent the last decade with. 

So as soon as you texted him the menu and just said “They have Osso buco!” he was in. He didn’t know what the fuck Osso buco was, he was just excited to see you excited about something that made you happy when he knew you before. 

The hostess sat the two of you in a quiet corner, giving you a knowing look, and Joel more watched you pore over the menu than read his own, an intense and serious look on your face as you went through it line by line. 

“If I got a bottle of wine, would you have at least a glass?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes from across the table. 

“Anything for you, baby,” he teased. 

“I hate you.” 

Joel scoffed. 

“No you don’t. And yes, I’ll drink your alcoholic juice.” 

“Good,” you said, looking back down at the menu. “Because the one I really want isn’t available by the glass and I don’t need that much wine…” 

“Look at you, all fancy and shit,” he said. “Ordering your wine by the bottle…” 

“Almost like we’re grownups,” you said absently. “What are you getting?” 

“Why, so you can steal some?” He asked, brows raised. 

You looked at him, face serious. 

“Yes. Duh.” 

Joel sighed. 

“You’re the worst person. And I’m getting the spaghetti. Don’t bother calling me lame, I know I’m lame.” 

“Well, as long as you’re aware,” you said, looking back at the menu. 

“What are you getting, Miss ‘I order whole bottles of wine’ level of adult? That one thing you were excited about? The Oss… whatever the fuck?” 

“Osso buco,” you smiled across the table at him. “And probably that…. But it’s probably more than I really need and…” 

“Goldie,” Joel cut you off, tone serious enough that you actually, fully lifted your gaze from the menu in front of you. “Don’t let that asshole ruin this. Get the… whatever it is.” 

You smiled a little. 

“Osso buco it is.” 

Once the food was ordered and the wine was poured, Joel put his list next to him on the table and you did, too, your ever present gold notebook sitting in front of you. 

“So,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. “How do you want to do this?” 

“You first?” You asked, wincing a little. 

He nodded and looked over the list one last time before turning it around and putting it in the middle of the table. You leaned over - don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress, don’t look down your dress - and started reading. 

“It’s not in any real order,” Joel said, cupping the back of his neck. “Just… wrote shit as I thought of it.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Throw Sarah a pool party,” you said. 

“Yeah,” he laughed a little. “She’s been sayin’ the last few years that she wants a pool party for her birthday but… I’ve just been too swamped to make it happen. Always end up taking her and her friends somewhere like Putt Putt Golf or something, somewhere I don’t have to plan shit, I can just show up. She always has fun but I know she’d like the pool party. I just need to make sure my shit is together enough to do it.” 

“Play music again,” you moved on to the next item and you frowned, looking up at him. “You stopped?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Well, no. I didn’t stop playing at home but… Before Sarah was born, there were a few local places I played at sometimes. Back then, it was because I hoped I’d meet some record label asshole who’d sign me. But I miss it. It was fun, playin’ for people. Would like to do that again.” 

You nodded, going back to the list. 

“Start your own contracting company,” you smiled at that. “Business owner Joel Miller…” 

“Future business owner,” he corrected you. “Don’t own shit yet. Not sure I know how to own shit.” 

“You’re smart,” you said. “And I’m pretty sure by our powers combined, we can at least Google a lot of this stuff.” 

“Probably should have done what you told me,” he said. “Gotten my damn associates…” 

“I am right about most things,” you said. There was no smugness in your voice, almost the opposite. Like you were sorry you’d been right about this thing in particular. 

“Just didn’t see the point then,” he sighed. “Hindsight is 20/20, I guess.” 

“It tends to be that way,” you conceded before looking back down at the paper. “Design one big project… is that a work one?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled a little sheepishly. “Figured… I dunno, it’ll take a bit to get my own business going, you know? Gonna keep working for the company I work for now for a bit yet. Should try and make it something I like while I’m there.”

You smiled at him in that way you had, the way that started small but spread fast. It reminded him of the way light started to poke through curtains in the morning, slipping in through a crack, illuminating the things directly around it before they were thrown open entirely and the sun broke through everything, spilling onto every surface, drowning out the darkness quick and sure. 

“Good,” you said, still smiling in that wide, open way. “You should like your job, you’re there too much to not like it.” 

You went back to the list and Joel took a sip of wine. 

“Find a stable relationship,” you said, a little quieter.  

The server returned, putting your plates in front of the two of you and you cleared your throat, setting the paper to the side and smiling kindly as the waiter asked if there was anything else the two of you needed before excusing himself. 

“OK,” Joel said, looking at your food from across the table. “I see why you were excited now, that looks fuckin’ delicious.” 

He reached over and stabbed his fork into the meat on your plate as you gaped at him, appalled. He ate the bite he’d taken, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Yup,” he said. “Fuckin’ delicious.” 

“You’re such a dick!” You reached over and stabbed your fork into his pasta. 

“Hey!” 

You ignored him, twirling your fork haphazardly as you tried not to lean into the food in front of you before taking it back across the table. You ate the spaghetti and nodded to yourself as you did. 

“Definitely scratch pasta,” you said. “Have to come back here and get some of my own. Or just steal more of yours…” 

“If you want pasta, order pasta,” he said. 

“If you want Osso buco, order Osso buco,” you replied, fork up and ready to stab his hand if it creeped across the table.” 

“Maybe I will, now that I know what it is,” he teased, digging into his own plate this time. 

“So,” you said after the two of you had the time to have a few bites of food. “Stable relationship, huh?” 

“Yup,” he nodded, taking a sip of wine. “Not sure I even want to own up to the last time I had one of those…” 

“When was the last time?” You frowned, picking up your wine glass. 

“Can’t judge me.” 

“Too late,” you smirked a little. He glared at you and you laughed. “Come on, Joel. It’s me. I always judge you all the time.” 

He rolled his eyes and then sighed. 

“It’s… been a while,” he said eventually. “But… Haven’t been on more than three dates with anyone since Sarah was about four.” 

Your eyes went wide. 

“I said you can’t judge me!” 

“I’m not judging!” You said quickly. “Just… shocked is all. You always had a tendency to go through them fast but I always kind of figured you’d outgrown that over the years.” 

“Well, less fast now and more that women in their 20s don’t really want to play stepmom,” he said wryly. “Never got as far as introducing any of ‘em to Sarah, haven’t bothered really looking since I’ve been in my 30s. But… I dunno. It’d be nice, I think. Have someone to come home to, that sort of thing.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“What?” He asked after you were quiet for what seemed like too long. 

“Can I ask what happened with Sarah’s mom?” You asked, fork hovering over your plate. “I don’t want to dredge anything up but…” 

Joel shrugged. 

“Not much to dredge up,” he said. “We… well, we were… casual. Real casual. She got pregnant, I tried to do the right thing but she wasn’t really interested in that…” 

You frowned. 

“Right thing?” 

“Suggested we go down to the courthouse,” he twisted the slender stem of wine glass in his thick fingers. “Make it legal. Since we were bringin’ a kid into the world seemed like the least we could do but… anyway. She said no but that she’d try dating me. We didn’t have much in common, didn’t get along all that well for longer than a few hours. Her shootin’ me down was probably one of the best things to happen to me, really. Especially when it came to untangling the legalities of it all when she took off.” 

You winced. 

“I’m really sorry, Joel,” you said softly. “That… that’s shitty. It really, really is.” 

He shrugged. 

“I got Sarah,” he said. “Do it all again in a heartbeat for that kid.” 

You smiled at that, a smaller, softer smile, one that felt like it was just for him. 

“It all worked out the way it was supposed to,” you said. “None of it was a mistake, it was just… Sarah, being inevitable.” 

He laughed once at that, smiling a little. He liked thinking of it that way, his life putting itself in just the right order that his daughter could exist. Now, he just needed to put it in the right order that he felt like he was doing something with the rest of it. 

“Alright,” he said. “Enough about my shit, let’s see yours.” 

You handed him his list back and opened your notebook, holding it to your chest for a moment. 

“Remember the lack of judgement I gave you,” you cautioned. “I expect the same back.” 

“So plenty of judgement,” he smirked a little. “Got it. 

You glared. 

“Gimme the list, Goldie.” 

You sighed and handed it over. 

Joel took half a second to appreciate the fact that he was holding your notebook again. For something that was always with you, it was something he rarely touched and never opened himself. You’d shown him one or two things inside it before but you’d never just surrendered it to him like this. He had to fight the urge to flip to the start of it and read everything he could, try to swallow up every thought you’d had that you thought was important enough to put down on paper. 

Instead, he just cleared his throat and started at the top of your list. 

“Finalize divorce,” he said, eyes tracing over your letters. “That’s a good one. Where you at in that whole process?” 

“I have no idea,” you sighed. “Every time I think we’re close the agreement gets tossed out and we start back over. I swear he’s just trying to piss me off sometimes…” 

“Probably is,” Joel said. “He’s a jackass.” 

“So you keep saying,” you half smiled at him. 

“My only issue with this one is that it’s not something you can really control,” he said, looking over the table to you. “I don’t want you beating yourself up or taking less than you deserve because you’re trying to tick a box…” 

“I won’t,” you said. “Don’t worry.” 

“Better not,” he said, looking back down at the paper. “Finish book, alright. That one you can control…” 

“Kind of control,” you corrected him, a crooked smile on your face. “Sometimes, the words just won’t come and there’s not much you can do about it.” 

“Still,” he said. “Got more control over that than anything with fuckin’ Brad…” You shook your head a little, exasperated, but were still smiling. “Have any idea about what you want this one to be about?” 

“Not really,” you sighed. “I’ve started a few things but I keep scrapping it. So many outlines for no goddamn reason…” 

“You’ll get there.” 

“Maybe,” you poked at the meat on your plate. “Or maybe I told the only story I have that’s worth telling. Maybe I’m all used up.” 

“You’re not,” he said gently. You nodded a little but kept looking at your plate. “Hey. Goldie. Look at me.” You sighed and obeyed, meeting his eyes, your face frustrated but your gaze sad. “You’re not. You’re…. You’re fuckin’ amazing, you’re gonna make something great. You are.” 

You smiled tightly and, for a moment, looking at you was too intimate to do in public. He looked back down at the page. 

“Be there for Anna,” he said. “What, like you aren’t now?” 

“I still haven’t figured out how to do it right,” you replied. “I just… I need to find the right balance. And I need to make sure I keep up with her, I can’t just… I’m worried she’s going to land herself back in the hospital and I’m her big sister. I need to make sure she doesn’t.” 

He just nodded, jaw tight, moving on to the next item. 

“Go on a date,” he said, a twinge in his gut that he didn’t want to acknowledge. “Alright, that’s not bad…” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll need your help with that,” you said and his head shot up, meeting your eyes across the table. 

“What… how?” 

“Oh, don’t panic,” you waved him off. “Not expecting you to do it. But I’ve never used a dating app or anything like that, I have no idea how to meet someone now. I imagine you’re an expert…” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“What! It’s a good skill to have,” you said. “One that I am painfully lacking. I’ll take all the help I can get.” 

He sighed. Because of course this would mean finding you a date. Jesus. 

“Yeah, I’ll help,” he said. “Make sure you’re not attracting any weirdos…” 

“Not sure that you’re the best help for that part,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “But… thank you.” 

“Yup.” 

He went back to the paper. 

“Get a cat. Really?” 

“Yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m kind of tired of how empty my house feels but I’m not up for taking care of a dog. And cats are cute.” 

“Promise you’re not just gonna turn into a cat lady?” He teased, looking back to you. “Get yourself a dozen of ‘em, use them as an excuse to never put yourself out there.” 

“That’s between me and my cats, isn’t it?” You teased back. “Don’t get mad because you’re at risk of being replaced by a fluffy thing who sometimes scratches the shit out of my furniture.” 

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t scratch the shit out of your furniture,” he said wryly and you snorted. He went back to the list, taking a sip of wine and almost choked on it. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed the last item on the list until now, written in red ink instead of black and circled. 

“What?” You asked. He glanced up at you before looking back at the paper. 

“Well…” he cleared his throat. “Last one’s… interestin’.” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “Yeah… right…” 

He put the notebook in the middle of the table and tried to regain his composure for a moment. 

“Surprised it’s a priority for you…”

“Well I don’t know about priority,” you laughed. “But, honestly, something’s gotta give…” 

“Well,” Joel cleared his throat again. “Have you fucked anyone since Brad?” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t answer. 

“Goldie.” 

“Joel.” 

“C’mon.” 

“No, alright?” You snapped. “I haven’t.” 

“And you two separated when?” 

You scrunched your nose. 

“Come on,” he said. “When’d you break up…” 

“A year ago last month,” you muttered, not looking at him. 

“Goldie!” 

“What!” 

He lowered his voice and leaned conspiratorially across the table towards you. 

“You haven’t had sex in a year?” He hissed. “That’s… how…” 

“Hey,” you replied, pointing at him accusingly from across the table. “That is not what I said.” 

Joel frowned, his eyebrows knitting together as he watched you. 

“What do you mean that’s not…” his eyes went wide as you avoided his gaze. “Goldie.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” You snapped. “Come on.” 

“So when was the last time you fucked your soon to be ex-husband while you were in the process of divorcing him?” He asked, looking around as though someone would overhear and make problems. 

“Well now I really don’t want to say…” 

“Goldie.” 

“Please don’t make me say it.” 

“I’m not dropping this,” he said. “When was the last time?”

“The night before I left Rhode Island, OK?” You hissed, voice low. 

“Goldie!” 

“Look, it was just like… I don’t know, a goodbye fuck, OK?” You sat back in your seat and adjusted your skirt, looking anywhere but directly at him. “It’s not like I have a bunch of people waiting in the wings, I wasn’t sure when I’d have the chance again, it seemed appropriate…” 

“Definitely wasn’t that…” 

“Never should have mentioned this…” 

“Gonna move ‘get laid’ to the top of the fuckin’ list now,” Joel muttered. “Jesus Christ…” 

“It’s not that easy, alright?” You said, actually looking at him now. “I’ve basically been with just one person my whole life…” 

“Oh, wow.” 

“What?” 

“One person?” Joel said, brows raised. “Really?” 

You leveled him with a look.

“Joel.” 

“I am right here.” 

“You know what I mean,” you snapped. “Come on, don’t…” 

“Don’t what?” He asked. “Want a little explanation when you say I never happened?” 

“That’s not what I said!” 

“It’s not?” He said. “Because that’s sure what it sounded like…” 

“Jesus Christ,” you groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine, OK? I’ve been with two people my whole life since you apparently want to make sure the notches on my bedpost are the right damn number…” 

“So that’s what we were?” He asked, his blood getting hot. “Just a bedpost notch?” 

“Don’t do this,” you said. “I’m not relitigating prom night with you…” 

“Is it relitigating if we never fucking talked about it to begin with?” He asked. “Because I think that’s just litigating it…” 

“Can I get you folks anything else tonight?” The server appeared beside your table, smiling kindly. 

“Just the bill,” you said quickly. “Separate, put the wine on mine, please.” 

He left and Joel waited until he was out of earshot to continue. 

“Why?” He asked. “Why don’t you want to talk about this?” 

“Because it was a decade and a half ago, Joel!” You snapped. “We’re in our 30s now! We were 18 years old then, we were kids, what do you want me to say?” 

“That it wasn’t nothing!” He snapped. “Because Jesus Christ, if you ended our friendship over nothing, I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do with that…” 

“No rush on this,” the server smiled and left the check in the middle of the table. 

You pulled your wallet from your bag and Joel got his out of his back pocket and the two of you put cards into the book before the server quickly came back to collect it. You took a deep breath and looked at Joel. 

“I didn’t end our friendship, Joel,” you said. “I did what I needed to do and I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Fine.” 

“Thanks, y’all, for coming out tonight,” the server dropped the cards and the slips back off at the table. “Hope you both have a great rest of your evening and we’ll see you next time.” 

You gave him a tight smile and signed your slip as Joel did the same with his before smacking his pen down with too much force on the table. The two of you got up wordlessly and headed for the truck. 

This wasn’t the road he’d meant to go down. He hadn’t meant to bring it up at all but you’d caught him off guard. The thought that prom night hadn’t been anything to you wasn’t something he’d ever considered. He’d always assumed it had been a big deal because of how you reacted. It had been a big deal for him. It had been a big deal before you took off across the country. After that - after it had made him lose you - it was everything. It was everything he’d ever wanted, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. It was proof that what he felt for you wasn’t some childish, one-sided crush and it was evidence that all you’d ever be was a girl he’d loved once. The one thing it had certainly never been was nothing. 

You sat, arms crossed over your stomach, staring out the window in silence as Joel drove you home, a knot of fear settling in his gut. What if this was it again? What if you just left again? He’d just gotten you back, life felt more whole than it had in years, what if you just moved on? 

He pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park before he sighed, looking over at you. 

“Want to come in?” You asked quietly. “I got a bottle of tequila that looks fancy as fuck as a gift. We can get hammered.” 

The knot in his stomach eased ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

He followed you inside and you got the bottle from the kitchen, pressing it into Joel’s hand. He went to sit on your couch but you walked past it and he frowned. 

“Don’t feel like sitting there in this stupid dress,” you said, lifting one stiletto clad foot and taking it by the heel, pulling it off. “I’ll be back in a minute…” 

“Can I come?” Joel asked before he thought better of it. He didn’t like the idea of you being more than just a few feet away in that moment. Like if you were somehow out of his sight, you’d vanish and it’d be a decade before he had a chance to have you back in his life again. 

You just looked at him for a moment before you shrugged. 

“If you really want,” you did the same thing with the other shoe and Joel trailed behind you to your bedroom. 

“Just stay out there,” you called from inside your closet. 

“What, don’t want me checkin’ you out?” He said in a teasing voice even though that thought made his stomach clench. 

“Joel,” you sounded exasperated. 

“Sorry.” 

He’d been over to your house plenty but had never been in your room before. It looked like you, though. So like what your room had been like in high school, just more refined. Like you’d grown into your taste in the past few years. The stack of books on your nightstand was orderly instead of total chaos and there was a charging stand there instead of a tangle of chords. Instead of movie posters held up with tape and thumb tacks, there were framed vintage-style prints lining the walls. Your dresser was less cluttered and more curated with little things that clearly mattered to you: a ticket stub and book mark in a matted frame, a wedding picture, a little glazed clay vase that looked handmade.

He went to your dresser slowly, as though what was there might bite him if he moved to suddenly. The wedding picture practically stared him down, the glare of it harsh, like a too bright spotlight being pointed directly at his eyes. 

He picked up the frame delicately, the frame enameled silver. You were beautiful, in a gauzy white dress that hugged your body and a veil in your hair, a hand on Brad’s chest as you looked into his eyes. He was beaming, looking like someone who’d just gotten exactly what he wanted. But your smile was more subdued. Joel wasn’t sure if it was just peaceful or if you weren’t as happy as he’d always thought women were when they got married. 

But the longer he looked at the picture, the less the woman in it looked like you. The dress didn’t look like something you’d really pick. Your nails were done in a way he’d never seen you wear them. Your makeup, too, looked off. Like someone had dressed you up as a character, as though you’d been cast in the role as bride and showed up to play your part and nothing more. 

“I should probably get rid of that,” you said, making Joel jump. Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest. You were in leggings and a burnt orange Longhorns sweatshirt now that was several sizes too big for you, sleeves pushed almost to your elbows and sliding down. “Just can’t bring myself to.” 

Joel nodded slowly, setting it down. 

“Looked beautiful,” he said. You scoffed. “What? You did.” 

“Thanks,” you said, going and pulling back the blanket on your bed. Joel paused before he went around to the other side of it, tequila bottle still dangling from one hand. He stood there for a moment, half reaching for the bedspread, half watching you for permission. You stretched over and pulled the blanket back. “Shoes off, don’t be gross.” 

“I’m not a fuckin’ animal,” he rolled his eyes before he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off without bothering to untie them and climbing in beside you. He leaned against the headboard and you did, too, a good two feet between your bodies in the king sized bed. “That why you keep it?” 

You frowned. 

“Keep what?” 

“The picture,” he nodded to it. “Because you looked pretty?” 

You laughed a little. 

“No,” you said. “Not that. Just… feels very final, getting rid of the last wedding picture. Once that’s gone, it’s like it never happened at all. There’s nothing tangible left of the last ten years of my life, it’s all just smoke.” 

Joel nodded slowly and opened the tequila bottle before passing it to you. You took it, your fingers brushing his, and took a drink, face scrunched in a wince when you handed the bottle back. He laughed. 

“That good, huh?” 

“No, it’s good,” you coughed a little. “I just should have also grabbed… I don’t fucking know, lime and salt or something.” 

He took a drink himself, appreciating the small sting as it went down. It was smooth, definitely better than anything he’d buy himself, but he needed at least a little burn in that moment. 

“You’re just a baby,” he said, looking at the bottle. “Don’t need a damn thing with this stuff…” 

“Alright, macho man,” you snatched the bottle from him and he laughed before you tipped it back for longer than you had before. He watched you swallow twice before lowering it with a cough. “There,” you managed eventually. “Who’s the baby now?” 

“Still you,” he clapped you on the shoulder and you fixed him with a glare but handed him the bottle, anyway. 

“Gee thanks.” 

“Anytime.” 

He took another sip and looked around your room a bit more, gaze pausing on one of the vintage style posters. He frowned for a second, trying to place why it felt familiar when he was too far away to read the movie title before he laughed. 

“What?” 

“Is that some fancy style Curtis and Viper poster?” He looked at you and you smiled. He passed you the bottle. “Where’d you even find that shit? There’s no way they made something that classy for fuckin’ Curtis and Viper…” 

“Etsy is a beautiful thing,” you said. “I can show you if you want.” 

“So you’re gonna stick around long enough to show me, then?” He asked, regretting it almost as soon as it was out of his mouth, especially once the small hurt was there on your face. “Shit… I…” 

“I wasn’t planning to take off across the country anytime too soon, Joel,” you said cooly. 

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… Just… It scares me. I like having you here. You belong here. Don’t want to lose you again, I just got you back.” 

“I don’t want to lose you again either,” you said quietly, looking down at the tequila bottle instead of at Joel. 

“I’m not the one who left, Goldie.” 

You were silent but you nodded. 

“You never even told me why,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know what happened… still don’t…” 

“I don’t really feel like digging up ancient history,” you said, your thumb tracing over the curve of the bottle before looking up at him. “I mean, is that really what you want to do? You really want to go through all of that?” 

He sighed. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

“I know what I want,” you said. 

He could feel your eyes on him. He met them.

“What?” 

“I want you in my life,” you said quietly. “I don’t want to go back to missing you all the time. I want my best friend back.” 

He sighed. 

“I want that, too.” 

You smiled a little and scooted closer, leaning over until your head was on his shoulder. He could smell your shampoo, the slightly floral tang of your perfume, the scent of your skin nestled below it all. 

“How about we never fight again,” you said. 

Joel could hear the smile in your voice. He laughed once. 

“Sure thing, Goldie,” he said. “We’ll never fight again.” 

“Good,” you said and he felt your cheek move as your smile grew. You held the tequila out to him. “You’re slacking off, by the way.” 

“Well shit,” he said. “Lemme catch up.” 

The two of you drank more than you should have, devolving into slurred speech and shrieking laughs before you passed out, tucked against Joel. He turned out the light and adjusted delicately until he was lying down and your head was on his chest, curled up against his side. His arm curved around your shoulders until his fingers traced over your jaw, your cheek, your hairline. 

“You’re warm,” you mumbled against him. “Best pillow…” 

He smiled and nuzzled into your hair, his lips brushing your forehead. 

“Sure am,” he whispered. 

“Glad you’re here,” you slurred, words closer to mush than anything else. “Missed you.” 

He took a deep breath and tried not to get too attached to the way your body felt on his. 

“Glad I’m here too, Goldie. Missed you, too.” 

Providence, Rhode Island

Early August, 2008 

Joel had never been on a college campus like this. 

Of course, he’d only ever been on one and UT barely counted, the campus was just part of Austin. He had no idea where to start looking for you at some place like this. 

Some asshole dude with too much gel in his hair gave Joel a look as he tossed his duffle bag on one arm and left the bus stop. His mouth got dry. He didn’t belong here, that much was fucking obvious, and everyone could fucking tell. 

He just walked for a few minutes, working his way deeper into the ivy-covered cluster of buildings. There weren’t many people around but he supposed that made sense, fall semester hadn’t started yet. He’d finally managed to get Anna to tell him where the fuck you’d gone and why. Some summer program, an invitation-only intensive for creative writing students.

“It was so weird,” Anna said when he finally convinced her to get a cup of coffee with him. “She got the invitation in like… April and talked about it with Mom and she decided she didn’t want to go. It started before school was out here - I guess college semesters are shorter or something - and she didn’t want to miss prom and graduation. And then a few days after prom she came home from school, locked herself in her room for a bit and then told mom she was leaving Friday for the program. She already had it all worked out, it was nuts…” 

You’d never mentioned it to him. Not the invitation, not deciding not to go, not changing your mind, none of it. It didn’t make any fucking sense to him. Why wouldn’t you have told him? Why would you have just left? Especially after prom… 

He finally stumbled upon someone who didn’t look like a rich asshole who pointed him in the direction of the English department, but she cautioned him after he thanked her and turned to leave. 

“There’s basically no one there at this hour,” she warned. “You might run into Professor Newton - he runs the writing program - but they usually have all left for dinner. My boyfriend’s in the program, they like to give them plenty of writing time in the evenings…” 

“Right,” Joel nodded. He hadn’t come up with a plan of anywhere to stay tonight if he couldn’t find you but he had enough money that he could get a cheap motel room for a night or two. He’d figure it out. “Thanks.” 

He jogged to where the girl had pointed him and found the sign for the English department building, some rich asshole’s name on it, and took the steps to the front door two at a time, catching it just as someone else left for the day. 

The building was quiet, just like the girl had warned him it would be and he worked his way through the labyrinth of lecture halls until he found the faculty office list. Dr. Gale Newton, professor of creative writing, third floor, office 315. 

He ran up the stairs and took a second to catch his breath before opening the doors to the hall. 

Immediately, he was met by the sound of your laugh. It hit him hard, for a moment. It had been months since he’d heard your voice, longer than he’d ever wanted to go but you were here now, so close that he could hear your happiness again. 

He followed it, a siren call, to the end of the hall, office 315. The door was cracked, just enough that he could hear you and just see inside. 

“I’m being serious!” Your laugh was still on your voice but it was quieter now. You were standing in front of the desk, your back to Joel. “You really think it’s good?” 

“Oh Doll,” a man said, coming around the desk. He stepped in front of you and reached out, cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head to bring you into alignment with him. “I think you’ve made tremendous strides since coming here. You’ve learned so much.” 

He kissed you then, pulling you against his front, his other hand going to your lower back as you moaned into his mouth. Your arms went around his neck, your body curving and arching into his touch. The man adjusted you until your legs were against his desk and he pulled back from you. 

“Gale,” you breathed, all desperate and needy. 

“Let’s see what else you’ve learned,” he said, helping you onto the desk. 

Joel felt like he was going to be sick. 

It was as though he was outside of his own body, moving without intending to. He was to the end of the hall, down the stairs and out onto the grass before he really knew what was happening. The air outside felt thick and he was having a hard time getting enough of it. His head spun. You’d taken off across the country, cut him off entirely, and found someone else. Your fucking professor. You hadn’t even talked to him, hadn’t even hesitated…

He doubled over and threw up in the bushes, all the shitty bus station food he’d eaten over the last few hours coming back. You were gone, you were really, actually gone. 

Joel wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and walked, numb, back to the bus stop. He stood there, staring into space, when the girl he’d spoken to before came up alongside him. 

“Hey,” she smiled up at him. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

He looked at her and, for half a second, thought about seeing if she would bring him back to her dorm, see if she’d let him make her come until she was screaming his name and he could erase the sound of you moaning another man’s name from his head. 

But she said she had a boyfriend. 

Though he supposed it didn’t really matter. It could be anyone. Just something to get that sound out of his fucking head. 

She frowned, watching him. 

“You OK? Did you find it?” 

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “Yeah, I found it.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: They were so close to actually talking it out but our good friends, youthful indiscretion and denial, are going to have them dodge that conversation a little while longer yet.

But!

They have their plan in place! Sarah's still a gem! Anna's now fully in the mix! Just have to see what happens next!

Thanks so much for being here. I'm so sorry the wait has been so long between chapters. I keep thinking life is going to slow down and then it just doesn't. I appreciate you spending your time with these characters and this story! Your kind comments truly mean the world.

❤️

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #halcyon

[vodika-vibes]

Hiiiii, it's me again~ I'm back with request #4!

This time, we're going with Jesse, with a ruby, and at midnight 😏 So scandalous. Take it anywhere but to the smut realm. I can't wait to see what you do with this one! 😘

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Under The Moonlight

Summary: The date was supposed to end when he dropped you off at your apartment, but here you are, several hours later, and he still hasn’t left. Your mother would be scandalized. But so long as he keeps kissing you like this, you couldn’t care less.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Jesse x F!Reader

Word Count: 511

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I still feel like trash, but I had an idea so I wanted to get this out today. Also, the only thought in my head when I was writing this was that scene from Frozen where Else was telling Anna that she "can't marry a man she just met", lol.

“I should,” Jesse’s lips pull away from yours for just a moment, allowing him to speak, “probably leave.”

You hum in agreement, as you close the short distance between your lips to catch his with yours again. Jesse’s hand, already settled comfortably at the back of your neck, slides up to fist in your hair, effortlessly taking control of the kiss. 

Earlier tonight, your best friend ditched you to go and hang out with her boyfriend. And Jesse’s brothers ditched him to dance. So the pair of you decided to be alone together. 

A night of dancing at the club, turned into caf at a local cafe, which turned into him walking you home. Which turned into sharing some cake and even more caf on your balcony, which turned into this.

You perched on his lap, your hands cupping his face, his arm solid and steady around your waist, and his hand fisted in your hair. While he does his best to steal the breath from your very lungs.

It’s okay though, you’re trying to do the same.

“I mean it, beautiful,” Jesse mumbles, “My brother will have my head if I don’t report to the barracks-”

Your fingers, soft and light, trace the republic cog on his face, “I’m not stopping you.” You whisper to him. 

Jesse’s dark eyes scan your face, and then drop to your lips. He releases a sigh, soft and heavy, “Rex is going to kill me.” He mumbles, more to himself than you, and then he tugs you back in, catching your lips with his own, “Why’d you have to be so kissable?” He breathes against your lips.

“To tempt you and you alone,” You mumble.

“Kriff, I’m a lucky man.”

A soft whine leaves your throat as he nips your already swollen lower lip and then soothes the spot with his tongue. You could get used to this, if he’s interested. 

“You could call your brother, if you want?” You offer, when he breaks the kiss to catch his breath.

Jesse chuckles, “If I told him that I was not returning to the barracks because I have a stunning woman on my lap and I can’t stop kissing her, he’d march his happy ass here and beat the tar out of me right here.”

You laughs breathlessly, “I’ll protect you.”

“Mm, my own personal heroine.” Jesse murmurs, there’s something adoring in his voice, “Maker, but you’re stunning under the moonlight.” His fingers trail against your cheek, “You must be resplendent in the sunlight.”

Your face heats at his compliment, “Would you like to stay and find out?”

A slow grin crosses his face, “Cyare, where would I sleep?” He murmurs as he brings you in so that your lips are hovering just over his.

“Well, my bed is big enough for two-”

“Sold.” And then his lips are against yours again.

Your mother would be scandalized that you’re inviting a man you just met into your bed, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care. Especially if he keeps kissing you like this.

#star wars #tcw #vodika vibes 500 followers celebration #arc trooper jesse x reader #jesse x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[birgittesilverbae]

How do you think Shannon reacted to being told she was next in line for the Halo?

Sister Carla's body isn't yet cold where it lies in the undercroft when Mother Superion calls for Shannon to attend her. They walk the perimeter of the grounds in slow, careful lockstep and Shannon can't help but remember how they had once raced each other across the parapets, how she had again and again and again fallen panting in the grass with a practice blade at her throat. She can still see flickers of that young woman in Suzanne from time to time, when Vincent makes a particularly daft suggestion or one of Shannon's pranks blows up in her own face, the way her head tilts and her eyebrow quirks up, the slight turn as though looking for someone to share the humour of the situation with. 

Now, though, as so often is the case, she walks fully shrouded in the vestments of Mother Superion, an acid bite to her tongue tempered only by the fatigue of living past loss after loss after loss. She pauses by the front gates, the handle of her cane cradled in both hands in front of her as she leans heavily on it. It's always the longest days that take the most out of her, Shannon has noticed, but she knows far better than to even attempt to make an offer of aid. 

"I spoke with Sister Anna upon her return," Mother Superion says. Her hands are steady on the cane, but there's something about her posture, something about the aching curve of her back, that sends alarm sirens blaring through her body.

"You've chosen the new Next in Line, then," she replies, her voice steady, working carefully around the dread seeping into her bones. "It is sooner than I had hoped that Lilith would be asked to bear that weight, but–"

"Hardly. You and I both know that Lilith is not ready to carry that burden without bending beneath it." 

The honesty of it startles a confused "Mother?" from her, fear surging hot and sharp through her veins. "You don't mean Beatrice, surely."

"You never have been good at seeing the truth of what's right in front of you, child." Mother Superion turns to Shannon, raises a hand to touch her cheek. "You have always wanted so badly to be useful to your family, have you not?"

Shannon's breath catches in her throat. "I'm not fit–"

"You are, Shannon. You are more than deserving of this gift." Mother Superion's gaze slides from hers, downcast. "And you know better than most the cost."

The aching curve of Suzanne's back as she knelt over a woman turned corpse by a bullet she should have taken in her stead. The tantalising scent of seared flesh as the Halo freed itself from Suzanne's back, the month Shannon had spent waving away portions of meat at dinner service. Until Mother Superion, two days back from convalescence and already shrouded in black, had laid a steak before her and refused to let her rise until she'd choked down every last bite. 

The Halo a bullet she could catch in Lilith's stead, in Beatrice's, putting herself in their path in the faint hope that she could give them a year, six months, any time at all without the threat of this burden. She could bear it if it meant they didn't have to. She could, even if it meant Mary would never forgive her. She could. She could.

#ask #anon #warrior nun #myfic #mywn #shannon masters #mother superion #smth smth no editing we die like warrior nuns #something about shannon mot believing heraelf worthy of the halo and thus being worthy of it #tries to remember my timeline without digging up my timeline shrugs and carries on

[the-merry-thieves]

Curzon Street Confrontation, rewritten from Anna's POV

An Anna Lightwood fanfiction/POV rewrite

After an eventful debrief at Curzon Street, Thomas, Christopher, and Anna walked out to the front steps together. Cordelia’s news of the night was still spinning in Anna's mind when she saw Ariadne standing beneath the steps.

“Ari.” Anna moved leisurely toward her on the pavement, making a point of stopping to take a puff of her cheroot. Ariadne had donned her gear from earlier that day and was now in an olive green dress that came in at the waist, accentuating her elegant figure. She looked as beautiful as she always had. “Taking a walk?”

“I wanted to see you,” Ariadne said. “I thought we could—”

Anna stopped the other girl in her tracks. She wouldn’t let Ariadne say anything that might faze her, wouldn’t let Ariadne see the reaction her words might evoke. “Go to the Whispering Room?” Anna blew a long, slow smoke ring and watched it dissipate into the cold night. “Not tonight, I’m afraid. Tomorrow afternoon, if you—”

Now it was Ariadne’s turn to interrupt Anna. Her voice was steady with resolve. “I was hoping we could go to your flat.”

To this, Anna said nothing, only willed her face not to betray her. Over the past two years, she had worked to make her flat a place of comfort, a place that was fully hers. She did not think she could bear being in such a vulnerable space with Ariadne. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I have an assignation tonight.”

This was true; it was no secret that Anna had a penchant for debauchery, and that she enjoyed the novelty of having a different girl in her bed with each fortnight. Besides, after the battle at the courtyard, Anna had been in the mood for a little fun with a pretty mundane girl. That is, until she saw Ariadne.

Ariadne faltered, and Anna could see a momentary flicker of hurt pass through her eyes. But she covered this up with a smooth, cordial nod of understanding that made Anna’s heart pang inexplicably.

“Today,” Ariadne pressed on, “when we were in the courtyard—when we were first attacked—you pushed me behind you.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Did I?” she asked in her best nonchalant voice, tapping the cheroot between her fingers.

But it was no use; they both knew it was true. Anna knew that she had been unguarded in that instant, letting her face reveal true fear as she thrust Ariadne out of harm’s way. She cursed herself—two years of forgetting, reinventing, and she was still letting Ariadne throw off her guard. She wouldn't let it happen again, starting with this encounter.

“You know you did,” Ariadne said. “You would protect me with your life, then, but you will not forgive me. I know I asked you earlier—”

Anna sighed. “I am not angry at you, nor trying to punish you. But I am happy with who I am. I do not desire a change.”

“Maybe you are not angry with me,” Ariadne said. Dampness had gathered on her long eyelashes; she quickly blinked it away. “But I am angry with myself. I cannot forgive myself. I had you—I had love—and I turned from it out of fear. And perhaps it was foolish of me to think I could pick it up again, that it would be waiting for me, but you—” Her voice trembled. “I fear it is because of me that you have become what you are. Hard and bright as a diamond. Untouchable.”

The cheroot burned, disregarded, in Anna’s hand. But she merely said, in a cool tone, “What an unkind characterization. I cannot say I agree.”

“I could have managed with you not loving me, but you do not even want me to love you. And that I cannot bear.” Ariadne laced her hands together. They were chapped red from the frigid night air, providing an idea of how long she must have waited for Anna outside the house; Anna hated that she noticed this. “Do not ask me to come to the Whispering Room again.”

Anna shrugged, feigning indifference. You are Anna Lightwood, conqueror of others' hearts and ruler of your own; you will not let anyone see you otherwise, she reminded herself. “As you wish,” she said. “I had better go—as you know, I do not like to keep a lady waiting.”

Anna swiftly strode down the steps without another glance at the girl who had broken her heart once and had just broken it again tenfold. She managed to walk only a short distance before sinking down into the unforgivingly hard cobblestone steps of a neighboring house. She laid her head down on the steps and shook silently; no tears would come. She had not cried in so long, it seemed her body had forgotten how to do so.

Anna knew that she had pushed Ariadne away this time, that she had hidden her heart away with intention. For this very reason. So you wouldn't get hurt when something of this sort happened. She thought, trying to convince herself of the assertions she had clung to for years. But if they were true, why did she feel as though her heart had just been run through with a thousand daggers?

------------------------------------

Alright, I hope you enjoyed!! The dialogue is verbatim from the book so credits to the wonderful Cassandra Clare (and of course the characters are also Cassie's), but Anna's thoughts/the things in between are mine!

I'd love to get more involved in the fandom and meet new Shadowhunters-loving friends, so please comment your thoughts and message me if you want!

#anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #shadowhunters fanfiction #chain of gold #chain of iron #fanfic #the shadowhunters chronicles #tlh #tsc #the last hours #cassandra clare #shadowhunters

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Further Frozen 3 and 4 details from Jennifer Lee | Latest update

Jennifer Lee's first interview is in my previous post.

In another interview on The Walt Disney Company page, Jennifer talks about the future of Frozen with some very subtle hints for the third and fourth installment.

WDC (The Walt Disney Company) asks Jennifer Lee,

“You directed Frozen and Frozen 2, and this year is its 10th anniversary. Not to mention, the opening of World of Frozen at Hong Kong Disneyland. Ten years later, what has made Frozen everlasting?”

Jennifer Lee replies,

“I believe it’s both the story of familial love with these two sisters, and the idea of love conquering fear. I recently visited World of Frozen, and it is awe-inspiring. You are a citizen of Arendelle the moment you walk into the land.”

WDC finishes off with the question, “Is there anything you can tell us about Frozen 3?”

Jennifer answers,

“Only what we have already shared, which is the team is hard at work, we are deeply excited about the story we are shaping together, and it’s so epic it may not fit into just one film.”

So what we are given is that like the previous movies it has a theme of fear while still continuing to focus on the sisters and their love for each other. Frozen was about fear Vs love and Frozen 2 was fear Vs change or love Vs change.

Some of us already predict what the next theme conquering fear and faced by love will be trust given the podcast theme of trust.

I find it quite interesting how she uses the word “epic” to describe the story. When Agnarr finishes telling Elsa and Anna his story about the enchanted forest, Anna says “Wow Papa!... That was epic!"

You may think Jennifer could be referring to something like war or similar events as to the past told in Frozen 2 but no I don't think that's what she's getting at.

Actually she's trying to tell us that Frozen 3 and 4's events will be big and game changing like these events that went down in the enchanted forest.

What's really great to note is that they're taking the story slow and steady panning it into two movies, handling it with care and not rushing it unlike Frozen 2 and trying to avoid last minute story changes like Frozen. She's really trying to sell the movies' story and being honest I like how everything is. Not too much is given away, they're getting us prepared and aware of the pace of the story, and how many movies it'll fit into. They're handling production differently and better. The only thing we must do is hope this calmness remains throughout and nothing is rushed. The promotion of the movie should also be big as that affects the movies' success. But it's a good strategy for us to also be cautiously optimistic for that reason. But yeah so far it sounds promising.

#disney frozen #frozen #frozen 3 #frozen 4 #jenifer lee #jen lee #wdas #frozen news

[georgiapeach30513]

A Little at a Time, Part 2

Summary:  Cole goes to far, and someone catches him…

Pairings:  Cole Turner X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  language, fingering, groping, non con, manipulation, coercion, gaslighting, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

Your Memaw looks out the window of the kitchen, the steady flow of cars already showing up for the music picking night, and one that usually didn’t come was strutting up the front porch.  Her eyes flick towards the stairs in the house, knowing that you were not even staying tonight.  You, Poppy, and Anna Kate had decided to do an impromptu girls night out for your bachelorette party, and now here your fiancé was interacting with your Papaw who stops singing to say something to Cole.  

Pulling out the cornbread, she wipes her hands on her apron, meeting Cole at the door, “What are you doing, Cole?  You know that beautiful fiancé of yours isn’t staying.”

“I know.  I thought I could see her for a bit before she went out.  You mind?” He looks at the stairs, but stops, taking a big whiff of the spread of food that she had laid out.  “I do say, Miss Ruby, I think your cooking truly is the best there is.  Nothing smells quite like your food.”

“Quit buttering me up.  I’m not a biscuit.  You can go see her, but don’t make her late.  She rarely gets to see Poppy.  You met her yet?”

“No, I’m always working when she’s down.  I’ll see you later, Miss Ruby,” he jogs over to the stairs, taking two at a time, until he gets to your room.  Forgoing knocking as he enters in on you, and you squeal.  Your arms wrap around your front where you try to hold your unzipped dress up.  “It’s only me, Peach Blossom.  What’s got you so jumpy?”

“Maybe the crowd of people on the porch?  And then someone barges in on me while I’m trying to get dressed,” his eyes look you up and down, and bashfully you look away, trying to pull your dress fully up.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answers, but he looks at you like you were his prey.  “Here, let me help,” he spins you around, getting a glimpse of your lingerie, before he drags the zipper up your back.  Grazing his knuckles up your spine, and starts kissing over your shoulders, “I like the panties.”

“You weren’t supposed to see those.”

“Who was?” You look back at him as he creates a trail of open mouth kisses across your back.  “Were you wanting anyone else to see them?”

“That’s not how I meant it,” his hands slide down your stomach, to your front, but you push them to your thighs.  “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“This dress is pretty.  Easy access.”

“Cole,” you turn your body around to fully look at him, “Are you mad at my outfit of choice?”

“Of course not.  It’s just odd that you would wear this out, without letting me…you know no matter how I phrase this is gonna make me sound like the bad guy, so I’m stopping.  You look beautiful,” a slow jazzy tune wafts through your open window, and he pulls you in close.  His left hand rests just above your ass, and the other holds yours.  “Just dance with me.”

“You’re not mad?”

“I am happy you get to spend time with the girls.  I can get a bit jealous that people will be looking at what’s mine, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, growing tired of this conversation already.  His hand presses firmer and lower, pushing you closer to him.

“And when I start running for sheriff, you won’t be able to go to Woody’s.”

“I know.  And you know, this isn’t my normal,” he presses you right up on him, your body flush against his, and he leans down to softly kiss your lips.  The kiss turns needier, while he backs up to your bed.  Scooting the two of you back.  

Cole lets your body take over, much like he always does, and you straddle him.  Your body grinds over him, needing any type of friction, while he slowly rucks your dress up.  Pulling off you, to watch you desperately search for some relief, “You want me to help you?” He coos at you.  You take a second to look at the clock, and there was enough time.  He was your fiancé.  Nodding your head, he pulls your dress up over your ass.

His hands knead on your tits, waiting on the whimpering of his name.  He always waited on your almost pained voice.  He wanted you weak, and unable to stop even if you wanted to.  “Lean back,” his voice was raspy, hungry for more than just his fingers in your snatch.  You lean back on the bed, and he bites at his lip at just how wet you were.  So much more responsive than his usual women.

Pulling aside your panties, his fingers roam through your folds, gathering your slick, before entering two fingers.  That’s all that was allowed.  But he knew you needed more.  Your body starts fucking his fingers, while he watches your greedy cunt.  It needed more than these measly fingers.  You were making the most beautiful sounds.  Pulling the top of your dress down, and exposing yourself.  His hard cock was right there, and your cunt was begging for mercy.  Your body rocking over him, and more comfortable than you had ever been.

He pulls his cock out of his pants, and it looks so pretty next to your slicked folds.  It was enough for him to stop fucking other women.  He had been doing you a favor.  He took out his frustrations on other women, so he got to worship you, but this was almost too much, “You getting close?” He asks, slowly stroking his cock.  Pearls of precum drip down the aching member, he was so close to you.

“Uh huh,” fuck your voice was begging him almost as much as your cunt.  You were in a world of your own.  A blissful state of pleasure.  Cole scoots even closer to your tight channel.  Pulling his fingers out slowly, staring at your little hole, and your body was searching for that penetration.  He leads you to him, before he pushes his tip in.  “Cole!” You his out at the stretch, and you were too stunned to move.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

“No.  No, stop!” He makes it only an inch before you were scrambling off of him.  “You know!  I told you, and…”

“Sweetheart, your body wanted me to do that,” you shake your head no, pulling down the skirt of your dress, and covering your tits back up.  “You can’t tell me that your body didn’t want that.”

“My body was aroused.  It doesn’t think.  I do!  I said no.  You respect that I don’t want to have sex before marriage.  You know and…”

“Everyone thinks we’re fucking anyways,” god, the audacity of him.  You struggle to reach your clutch, and start to walk out.  Refusing to let any tears fall, because you felt betrayed.  You allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him, because you thought your fiancé of all people would respect that.  “Peach Blossom, wait.”

He grabs at your arm, and you freeze on contact.  “It’s not that big of a deal.  It’s just sex.”

“What’s just sex to you, is more than that to me.  And even if it wasn’t, I said no sex before marriage.  You were trying…you took…”

“No, stop.  You know I love you, and what you’re trying to say is not what happened.  You know it.  I got carried away, and I’m sorry.  You just looked so pretty, and you were enjoying yourself, and I wasn’t thinking.  All the blood had run to my dick because I just love you so much,” you couldn’t even look at him at the moment.  You needed to get out.  Needed to breathe, and he was making it impossible.  You were going to be late.  

“You forgive me, though, right, darling?” He gives you a soft kiss to your temple, and you just nod your head.  “Where are you staying tonight?”

“Anna Kate’s,” his jaw pulses and Adam’s apple starts bobbing.  “Can I go?”

“I love you.”

“Love you,” you let him give you a quick peck to your lips, before you were racing down the stairs, and out the door.

Cole stands transfixed towards your wall, before he punches it quickly.  Taking a deep breath, he calmly walks down the stairs, but doesn’t say anything to anyone, not even your grandparents.  

Memaw peeks out the door.  Finishing laying out the food, she takes her apron off, and walks out to her husband, “Tip, did she give you a kiss before she left?” Your Papaw takes a long drag of his Swisher Sweets, shaking his head no, but glaring at Cole.  

He stands up, and heads towards your room.  He was a man of very few words, but you seemed upset.  You never left without saying goodbye, and you didn’t even look at them.  Didn’t stop before getting in your car.  He didn’t know what he was looking for.  He just knew you were acting off.  

“Tip, what are you doing?” Your Memaw was a smart woman, and you would have never left your bed looking like someone had sat on it.  It wasn’t a complete mess, but your throw was on the floor, and your comforter was wrinkled up.  

“Son of a bitch.”

“Tip!”

His hand rubs over the indented wall, and he looks at his wife shaking his head, “That man is not welcome here anymore.  And if he ever comes back, he will not be alone up here, do you understand?”

“What’s…he wouldn’t,” you had left too fast and she didn’t get a good look at you.  She was sick to her stomach, trying to make sense out of everything.  “Should I call her?”

“Just do the texting, let her know we love her.  I’ll kill ‘em, Ruby.  If he…I’ll kill ‘em.  I don’t care who he is.  She’ll be with Poppy and Anna Kate, we know that they don’t take shit off of anybody.  Cole would never pull anything out in public.  That’s what he’s doing, pulling this shit when no one is around, and breaks out the charm in public.  He wants to become sheriff, so he wouldn’t dare try something while she’s out.  But he will not be back in my house.”

Poppy throws herself into the booth, panting as she takes a drink of her cocktail, “Why aren’t you dancing?  This is your night.  You’re last time out as a single and free woman, before you become the future sheriff’s housewife,” you give her a weak smile, and look out at Anna Kate who had already found someone to start dancing with.  “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.  “I’m about ready to go.  I’d rather be in pajamas watching movies or something.”

“That’s how you want to spend your last single weekend?” Still watching Anna Kate, you nod your head.  “Alright, let me go smoke.  And we’ll head out.  This is about you, not me and her, okay?” With a nod of your head, she leaves, and you go back to your thoughts.  Wanting nothing more than a shower, and sleep.  

Poppy walks to the side of the club, lighting up her cigarette.  Taking a quick puff when she hears a girl moaning.  Rolling her eyes when it was coming from a car that was rocking.  She turns to the side, trying to ignore it, but the girl was so loud.  Feeding some  man’s ego with her fake pornographic mewls.  He couldn’t be that good.  

“Yeah!  You like that sheriff,” oh god.  The married sheriff getting his dick wet out by the pitiful local club.  “I could give it to you whenever you wanted.  Don’t want to worry about your virginal fiancé.”

“Shut up!”

Poppy looks back towards the door, and back to the car.  The sheriff was old, and definitely married.  But Anna Kate had made the comment about your fiancé wanting to run for sheriff earlier, and that’s how Poppy now referred to him.  It was too coincidental that this man was a possible cop, engaged to a virgin.  “Cole!  Cole I’m…I’m…”

“Mother fucker,” Poppy grunts, throwing her cigarette to the ground.  Stepping on it, she twists the ball of her foot on it, and waits for the little whore to get out of the car.

“So you gonna call me when you need to get laid?” She smirks, leaning over into the window.

“I guess we’ll see,” he grunts, zipping up his pants.  He looks over at her with distaste, “You can go now,” she stomps off, while Poppy is the next leaning in.  “I don’t pick up prostitutes.”

“Not a prostitute, officer Turner.  My name is Poppy,” he finally turns looking at the girl, and she gives him an arrogant smirk, “Poppy Sullivan.  I believe that you’re engaged to my cousin.  Now, does she know that you let girls ride you out in the Woody’s parking lot?  Not too discreetly either.  She was shouting your name, and calling you sheriff.  Had I not heard your name, I would have thought that Barry was cheating on his wife again.  But no, you’re cheating on my cousin.  The one who is fucking saving herself for a piece of shit like you.”

She spins on her heels, starting to walk right to you, with Cole right behind you, “Where are you going?”

“To tell your fiancé she’s making a huge mistake.”

“No.  No no no, please don’t,” she stops abruptly, and looks him up and down.  “Not tonight.  She won’t…what do you want?”

“For my cousin not to make a mistake.  Why not tonight?  She’s been off.  What the fuck did you do?” Poppy gives Cole an up and down look, god she hated him already.  Would never be able to look at you next to him, because he sure as hell did not deserve you.  She could see the appeal of him, but she couldn’t allow you to marry a cheating bastard.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“I see why she doesn’t talk about you.  You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“No, I suck dick with this mouth.  How many fucking pussies you got on your line up.  You fucking more than that whore, who knows your fucking engaged?  What a twat, but you are the one in the damn relationship.  And why not tonight?  What did you do?”

“We got in an argument, and…I shouldn’t have done it.  It was wrong, but I don’t cheat on her.  I just…I was weak, and…”

“You tell her or I will.  You were weak.  Uh huh, that bull shit ain’t gonna work on me.  It might work on someone like her, but not me,” you and Anna Kate step out of the club, and you immediately hear his voice.  A voice that typically made you smile, and now you wanted to walk in the other direction, but then Poppy’s voice was arguing with him.

“I would think that Poppy was getting a ticket, but Cole isn’t in his uniform.  You gonna see what that’s about?” Reluctantly you head towards them, and Cole stops talking the second he sees you.  

Saying your name, he walks over to you.  Peppering kisses on you, holding your hips, but your hands stay by your side.  You don’t reciprocate any of his touches.  “Can I pick you up in the morning?” Your head shakes no, but you whisper out yes, and Poppy grits her teeth.  Something was wrong.  “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” your voice was so soft, and you felt like everyone was staring at you.  Your eyes well up with tears, and you recoil away from him.  “I gotta go,” but he doesn’t let you go, “Cole, please.”

“Say you’ll let me pick you up.”

“Where are we going?”

“My house,” you shake your head no, “Peaches.”

“She said no, mother…”

“Poppy, stop.  Cole, just let me leave.  I’ll call you in the morning,” pushing his hands off you, he finally lets go, but grabs at your ring finger, rubbing his thumb over the diamond.

“I love you.”

“I’ll call in the morning.  Love you,” just like before you leave abruptly.  Not saying anything to Anna Kate or Poppy, but Anna Kate follows you.  Her sister, on the other hand, stares at Cole with the utmost hate.

“I don’t know what the fuck you did.  I do know you don’t deserve her, you piece of shit.  You have until noon tomorrow to tell her, because when I do, I’ll make sure she knows every fucking detail.”

“You really think that’s going to make her feel better?” He asks, tilting his head at Poppy.  “You think you really know better than I do for what she needs?”

“I know that while she’s remained faithful and true to you, you’re fucking skirts in your goddamn car.  Outside the club you knew she had to be at, you mother fucker.  You’re a sick fuck.  She will know, Cole.  It’s your choice how she finds out.  And if I find out you did something to her…”

“What?  I didn’t do Jack shit to her.  She is my fiancé,” Poppy scoffs as she walks towards the car.  There was nothing attractive about Cole.  Not a damn thing.  She hoped you didn’t forgive him.  Hope that you wouldn’t let his manipulation not get to you.  While she didn’t know what he did, she knew he was manipulating you.  Was trying to do it to her, but she saw him for what he was, a disgusting, loathsome, pig of a man.  If you chose to stay with him, she couldn’t support the marriage.  You deserved so much more than this idiot was offering you.

You deserved a man that would worship the ground that you walked on.  Would worship your body, and hold it and your choices sacred.  Would honor you and your marriage.  She saw what cheating in a marriage did to someone.  How it could destroy someone.  The only difference was it was the woman that was cheating, and on a good man.  It infuriated her that there were people willing to give their all for a relationship, while the partner did everything to destroy it, and their significant other’s trust.  

Poppy could find ten men that were worth more than Cole in this one horse town, but none would deserve you.  But what Cole was doing was unforgivable in her eyes.  You would have a lifetime of disappointment and misery with him.  And she hoped your pride and a small town wouldn’t make you like most women.  Just suck it up and don’t ‘air your dirty laundry’.  Cole was worse than dirty laundry.  That laundry couldn’t be cleaned.  It just needed to burn.  And if it was up to her, she would see Cole’s relationship with you go up in flames.  Would love to get you out of here, and free from this town.  There was more out there, and better people.  All she could do was hope.  And hope that you would open up, and that would be step one.  Until then, she would still do what she had to do.  And hoped that you saw him for what he really was.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @infatuatedjanes​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @kittycatcait219 @sarahdonald87​ @roguediorxoxo @patzammit​ @elrw24​ @redbloodedgurl​ 

#a little at a time #cole turner #cole turner x reader #cole turner x fem!reader #cole turner x y/n #cole turner x you #ghosted #ghosted movie #ghosted fanfiction #cole turner fics #cole turner fic #cole turner fanfiction #chris evans #cole turner smut #tw cheating

[chaosheart1234]

This is a short story about a vampire . I looooove vampires 🩷

In the realm of the undead, there exists a solitary vampire named Mark, once a respected doctor in his human life. His existence was punctuated by the rhythmic symphony of heartbeats - his own, those of his patients, and most importantly, the steady pulse of his beloved wife, Anna. He loved the way her heart would race during their passionate kisses, and how its calming rhythm would soothe him after a challenging day.

However, his transformation into a vampire brought an end to his heartbeat, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. His beloved Anna, too, was no longer among the living, her once vibrant heartbeat now a mere echo in his memory.

Mark craved for the sensation of a beating heart. Often, he would place his hand on his chest, hoping against hope to feel a pulse. But all he felt was the cold stillness of his undead existence.

Every night, as he ventured out in search of sustenance, he was haunted by the heartbeats around him. The forest animals' rapid pulses, the steady rhythm of tavern-goers, and the frantic beats of his victims' hearts. It was a bittersweet experience - the sound of life that he so desperately missed, yet could only experience through the act of taking it away.

One fateful night, he encountered a young woman whose beauty reminded him of his late wife, Anna. Her name was Karen, a stranger in his land, and he was instantly captivated. He desired her heart, not just for sustenance, but for the connection to life it represented.

Under his hypnotic gaze, Karen found herself unable to resist his command. She followed him to his mansion, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. Mark reveled in the sound, a cruel reminder of the life he once had.

In the dimly lit room, he asked her to undress and lie on the bed. As she complied, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Mark, too, shed his clothes, revealing his pale, lifeless body under the moonlight.

He sat next to her, his cold touch sending shivers down her spine. He placed her hand on his chest, where his heart should have been. When she confirmed she felt no heartbeat, he moved his hand to her chest, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the rhythm of her pulsating heart.

As he lay on top of her, he instructed her to calm down, to slow her breathing. He wanted to savor the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, a cruel imitation of the life he once had. As her heart rate slowed, he rested his head on her chest, absorbing her warmth and the rhythmic thump of her heart.

For a moment, he allowed himself to reminisce about his past life with Anna, wishing he could trade his eternal existence for one more chance to hear her heartbeat and feel his own pulse again. But he was cursed, forever barred from the simple pleasure of a beating heart.

His predatory instincts soon overpowered his nostalgia. Hunger gnawed at him, and his fangs extended in anticipation. As he sank his teeth into Karen's neck, her heart pounded in terror, filling his ears with the tragic symphony of her final heartbeats.

#cardiophile #heartbeat #short story #vampire #cardiophilia

[farity]

Found, part 5

Six months later

Anna got home - the home she now shared with Aemond - to the smells of something delicious and meaty. Boudi ran up to her as she always did, sniffing her for treats, and when she realized Anna had none to give, she turned around and ran back to the kitchen.

"There she is," Aemond said, carrying a glass of wine and giving it to her after she kissed him. "Mom's cook made her world famous lasagna and gave me half, should be ready in about five minutes."

"Smells amazing," Anna replied, sipping at her wine. "Oh, this is a new one. I'll go change and be right back." Aemond seemed a little tense, she'd ask him about his work and hopefully be able to get him to let go of any worries.

She put the glass of wine down on the dining room table and headed to their bedroom, ready to start the weekend. There was Jon and Tormund's housewarming tomorrow during the day, and Margot's birthday dinner that-

When she opened the door, Anna stopped, frozen.

The little sitting area at the entrance to the master suite had been transformed with a hundred candles and an entire row of vases with red roses lined the single shelf behind the sofa.

The coffee table was covered in tray after tray of her favorite chocolates and in the center sat a silver bucket with a bottle of Champagne on ice.

She turned and found Aemond, down on one knee, with a small box on one hand and the other one out towards her, waiting for her to take it.

"Aemond."

"Anna." He smiled gently at her. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you."

She let out a breath, her heart pounding. It wasn't that she didn't expect him to propose, she loved him and he loved her and his plans for the future always included her. But once again, he had surprised her.

She took a step toward him and placed her hand on his.

"I know our story is a short one so far," he began, "but if life has taught me something, it is that one never knows what will happen next. All I know is that, whatever that is, I want it to be with you."

Her fingers tightened on his hand and he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

She saw the tears gathering in his eye, saw how he was steadying himself. "Anna Caroline Stark, will you marry me? Spend your life with me? Face the world with me?"

Her own eyes were now blurry and she nodded, throwing herself at Aemond as he stood. She started crying and Aemond wiped off her tears and his own. "Wait, here."

He opened the box and Anna's jaw dropped. Inside was a magnificent cushion cut diamond on a platinum band lined with smaller diamonds. "Good god, Aemond," she said, and Boudi, hearing her human's exclamation, bounded into the room, working herself between them.

"Boudi, look, we're going to be an official family," Anna ruffled her dog's fur and then cradled Aemond's face in her hands. "I love you, so fucking much, Aemond Targaryen."

"And I adore you," he said, his voice soft. At the nudging on his knee, he leaned you, "I love you, too, Boudi, you saved my woman's life."

He'd kept his promise to the huge malamute. Her favorite treats arrived every month by the case, and her bed had been upgraded to a massive monogrammed cushion by the living room window, her favorite spot in their new home.

* * * * *

"Wait, Robb, I want to see," Margot elbowed her beloved as she got in camera range.

"Mom?" Aemond scanned the tiny squares, each with the face of a family member. Helaena was there, waiting patiently. Aegon was tapping his fingers on his cheek, and there, finally, was his mother. Anna's family, her mother, siblings and their partners, were waiting patiently.

"Dearest Cat," his mother said smoothly.

"Alicent, you look gorgeous as always," her mother replied.

The initial meeting between the two mothers had gone well, the slow assessment of two matriarchs giving way to an understanding that their love for their children was their main priority.

"Okay, everyone," Aemond said, "pulling Anna's hand up into the camera, "we have some news."

Margot's scream made Robb cover his ears, but he was laughing as she began hitting his arm, "I knew it! I knew it!!!"

"Fucking finally, man! Welcome to the dragons' den, Anna," Aegon said, clapping slowly.

Alicent said nothing, fingertips covering her mouth delicately as her eyes filled with tears, while Cat's face softened into a warm smile. "That is wonderful news, welcome to our family, Aemond, and the rest of the Targaryens," she said.

"Aww, I finally get a sister," Helaena said quietly, and Alicent hugged her daughter to her side.

"I love you both so much, I am very happy," Alicent said, wiping off a tear.

"We love you guys, we'll have you all over for dinner chez nous." Anna added, kissing Aemond's cheek before everyone said goodbye and the call ended.

* * * * *

The wedding, covered on social media with the #starkgaryen hashtag, was disappointingly private, the only fleeting glimpses of bride and groom a few blurry photographs on various family members' feeds. Margot, the glamorous maid of honor, kept watch on Boudi, who had been eyeing the wedding cake since it was wheeled in. "You get enough treats as it is, missy," she scratched the dog's chin and Boudi plopped down, giving in for now.

Anna was resting her head on Aemond's shoulder, her bespoke Louboutins killing her feet after all that dancing. "Happy, my beautiful wife?"

"Always happy with you," she smiled, turning her face up to him for a kiss, "my handsome husband."

"Here," he said, slipping off his jacket and placing it over her shoulders, "come with me."

Anna stood, her hand in Aemond's, "it's not that cold."

"It might be on the plane," he said, and watched her eyes widen.

When she looked around at the people still dancing, she caught Margot's wink and little wave before Aemond pulled her around the corner.

"You're packed, don't worry," he added, smiling at her, "Margot was a big help. That woman can shop."

Anna laughed, "is that why the shops down in Union Square were closed last week? She cleared them out?"

"I don't want to think about it," Aemond replied, taking her to where the helicopter waited for them.

"Will you tell me where we're going?"

Aemond turned, looked at the woman who had turned his life upside down. "It's somewhere warm, but not too warm, don't want my Bay Area girl to get too uncomfortable."

"Or my porcelain dragon to burn his skin," she smiled, caressing his face."

Shrugging, Aemond kissed her. "There's always SPF 100." He trailed his fingertips over the delicate planes of her face. "I adore you, Anna. I would do anything for you," he said, raising an eyebrow, "and I would do it again."

"I love you so much," she replied, feeling cherished and loved.

"Let's go," he said, tugging on her hand.

* * * * *

THE END

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc

[kay-elle-cee]

I found one Taylor Swift lyric in that list that a) I know where it's from (😅) b) fits Jily perfectly and c) fits YOU perfectly!!

BUT YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO POST IT AS A SEPARATE ENTITY!! 😂😂😂

If that means you have to make it longer than 500 words, that's all right, I'll wait.

13. you need to hear me out

❤️❤️

Thank you for the prompt, Anna! Posting below the cut and also on ao3 as you demanded (all 508 words of it...it hurts!)

Taylor Swift Prompts Follower Milestone Celebration

James watches—numb—as she storms away from him, her robes billowing behind her with the force of her stride.

He takes a second. Blinks. Breathes. Right hand closes tight around the key and the pressure of the ridges on the inside of his palm seem to jolt him from his fugue state and he’s racing after her, footfalls loud against the flagstones.

“Lily, wait!” He mutters an expletive under his breath as she rounds a corner, and he slips behind the tapestry of Honoria Nutcombe and a crowd of Hags to head her off to their Heads’ Office.

When he emerges from the other side of the passage he crashes into her, hands flying to her arms to keep her from falling.

“James, I can’t do this right now,” she huffs, looking away even though she doesn’t move to step out of his grasp.

“Love, just…you have to hear me out, alright?”

“I told you I didn’t feel comfortable moving in together after Hogwarts,” she hisses, cheeks reddening as her bright eyes snap to his. “It’s too fast for me, I told you that.” Her hand quickly comes to wipe the corner of her eye and his heart plummets, the key burning against his palm. “And the last thing I want to do is hurt you but—”

“Lily—”

“I’ve already signed a lease with Dorcas and Sam, and I know you’re excited but I need you to listen to me. I love you but there are just things that I think I need more time with—”

“Lily—”

“And I’m sure it’s a lovely flat but I just—”

“The flat is for me and the boys,” James finally blurts, realizing it might be a while before Lily slows her tirade. Her eyes go wide and her lips clamp into a tight line. He can see the moment mortification begins to take hold—the way her cheeks flush red and her eyes close as she takes a steadying breath. He feels a smile tug at the corner of his mouth but works to keep it even.

Slowly, he slides his hands down her arms until he’s got her hands in his, the metal of the key pressed between their skin. “I heard you, Lil. But I talked with the others and they agreed that it would be alright if you had a key to our place.”

Lily’s fingers tighten around his. “A…key?”

“Yeah, Evans, a key.” He loses the fight with the smile. “Also a drawer if you want, in my room. I know a full move-in is too much for you right now, but if you ever wanted to stay over…”

He trails off as she leans forward, burying her head in his chest.

“I feel like an idiot.” Her voice is muffled against his chest, the heat of her words mixing with the warmth in his chest as he wraps his arms around her—key now conveniently missing from his grasp.

“You’re not an idiot, Lil,” he lightly chastises, dropping a kiss to her head. “You just love jumping to conclusions.”

#asked and answered #annabtg #kelsey writes #jily #jple

[musingsoflulu]

Mountain Lakes 100 Race Recap

"I've always just looked at 100 miles as life in a day. You have all the trials and tribulations of a life in one day." - Ann Trason

I accomplished a very big thing this past weekend. It was one of the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but what a privilege it is that I was able to choose to do this hard thing.

The day started off at 8 AM along the buttery Pacific Crest Trail and winding back around Timothy Lake. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day and the forest provided shade and some views of Hood through the trees. I saw Keiren around mile 7 at the first aid station and we did a little dance and hugged before I continued moving. The next 24 miles were spent listening to a throwback Thursday playlist @katherine-withak put together for me and talking with people on the trail. I went into the race with a goal of getting sub 24 hours (sub 14:24 min miles) which was ambitious but didn't feel impossible after speaking with Anna Mae. I started off conservatively, averaging 11:00-12:00 min miles, knowing that I would slow down later on in the race and also lose time at aid stations. I ended up running with a group of infectious disease docs/professors from Seattle for several miles before I landed at mile 31 to see Logan, Mom, and my uncle David again.

We spent a total of 13 minutes tending to my feet, refilling my pack, taking in some Tylenol and salt tabs, and slathering my legs in diclofenac gel before I set out again. Unfortunately, in the midst of all the chaos, I forgot my phone with Logan and couldn't listen to any more music until I saw them again at mile 57. This stretch was tougher (more ups and downs vert wise) but legs were still feeling pretty fresh and I was in good spirits. Passed a "Disco and Dad Joke" aid station, heard a few dad jokes that were just as bad as you'd expect. Saw an amazing sunset over Mount Hood National Forest. Didn't realize how low I was on water and ran out with about 4 miles to go before I saw my crew again. Made it through though and came into the mile 57 aid station at around 8:00 PM.

I was feeling much worse at this aid station. Getting ready to run for hours alone in the dark felt daunting. My feet had started to develop some nasty blisters and my shirt/sports bra were soaked with sweat from the day. I had packed a long sleeve shirt and spare sports bra, but had completely forgotten to pack a spare short sleeve shirt. My uncle David gave me the Under Armour shirt off of his back and it made all the difference having dry clothes on. We slathered my legs in diclofenac gel again, popped two Tylenol, filled up my bag with all the caffeinated things, and I set out into the night.

Miles 57-83 consisted of me going through most of the aid stations again (this part was an out and back). The climbs were hard. I was very tired, mentally and physically, and had been up for almost 24 hours at this point. I started getting paranoid about mountain lions following me while I was alone in the dark. Every shadow scared me. Every time my life hit a reflector on a course marking, my heart skipped. But another playlist that Kat made me got me through it and I kept repeating the mantra that Alli told me before the race- "It's not always. It's just right now." I said this to myself over and over and over.

By the time I got into the mile 83 aid station, I was still 40 minutes ahead of schedule for my sub 24 hour goal. Mom, Uncle David, and Logan were pretty dialed at this point, lightened my pack for the last 18 miles. Crew was very limited and so many of my friends couldn't be there in person. Logan showed me videos they all created to encourage me - Claire, Mindy, Kirsten, Alli, Dani, Kat, Tay, Bronwyn, Alex, Anne Mae. So much support, so much love. It was completely overwhelming. I was finally able to pick up Keiren at this time to pace me. She was so encouraging, distracting me with stories about her time in the Alps this past month and holding me steady as I went uphill. I had knots in my right calf and left quad that wouldn't go away and every step uphill hurt badly.

Once the sun came up, I got a little bit of a second wind and saw the end was so close. I thought rocks on the trail were potato sacks. I told Keiren that I missed malls because they're so nostalgic. I'm sure I said other very silly things.

I heard the screams at the finish line and ran as fast as I could down the hill, trying to hold it together until I crossed at a time of 23:44. As soon as I did, I broke down crying, hugging Logan and my family so tight. I hugged the race directors, who handed me my sub 24 hour buckle. I hugged Keiren, who was also crying.

I think the most overwhelming part of running 100 miles is how many people were willing to help me get there. Running 100 miles is innately very selfish. Time is suspended and you are solely focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Not to mention the time it takes to train for one. Friends modified their schedules to get in miles with me. They sent me care packages and encouraging messages. My family flew across the country and spent 2-3 days helping me prep for and complete a 100 mile race, all while sleep deprived and jet lagged. Logan made dinner almost every night as I put in the miles after work, walked Harper every morning because I was too tired and needed more sleep, adjusted our weekend plans around my long runs, crewed for 3 days at Wonderland while I ran around Mt. Rainier with friends. He did all of this and never expected anything in return. The most selfless, giving partner I could have ever asked for. I just feel so lucky and so loved.

I don't really know what's next for me. I'm taking a break from training for a while and just plan on doing what feels good for my body and soul. Whatever the future holds, I've taken so much away from this entire experience.

#trail running #running #oregon

[aerodaltonimperial]

For the morning after prompts, I couldn't decide between two so I'll send 'em both and you can pick whichever you'd prefer! - ''I think we cuddled'' for JungleHook, or ''There's a bra on the ceiling fan'' for SpookyPeach.

(🔮🍑)

Anna wakes to kisses pressed lightly against her shoulder.

This is, in itself, not necessarily a new sensation. But the kisses peppering against her skin come with the soft scraping of nails against the inner curve of Anna's arm and the scent of sandalwood and rosewater, a combination that so quickly floods her senses.

"Hi," Julia whispers, her mouth pausing on the stretch of Anna's skin leading up to her ear. "Good morning."

"Hi," Anna mimics. "Good morning to you, too."

She rolls, slow enough to allow Julia to shift and move. They'd fallen asleep so quickly last night that Julia's eyeliner is still clinging to her eyelids, smudged down onto her cheek. A remnant of Anna's lipstick sits at the corner of her lips, bright and red, so different from the dark berry hues that Julia favors nowadays. Anna sort of wants to kiss it away.

"Did you sleep well?" Julia asks.

"Like the dead," Anna admits. Julia's bed is absurdly comfortable: too many pillows, jersey sheets. The warm body next to her all night probably didn't hurt, either. This thing between them, blossoming slow and steady, is warm in the morning light. Julia's skin is soft beneath Anna's fingertips, her hair smooth as it falls against Anna's collarbone. Julia drops another kiss into the groove there, the dip that angles down into Anna's chest.

"There's a bra on the ceiling fan," she murmurs.

"Yours or mine?"

Julia's chin tips back, her eyes sliding upwards. In the early part of the day, the lack of color in the left one is even more obvious: opposed to the blue of the other, the color of a robin's egg in the spring, the black is jarring. It had once made Anna uncomfortable to see the aftermath of Julia's transformation, but now, it's just her. "Mine," Julia says after a moment, her mouth curling up.

"Do you need it soon?" Anna asks, sliding her hands up Julia's arms.

When Julia meets Anna's gaze again, her expression has gone silky—full of want. It's been a very long time since anyone looked at Anna like that, as though it was taking every ounce of strength not to devour her completely. "No."

"Good," Anna whispers, because they have nowhere to be, and no one who will be expecting them.

#tag so you don't lose this shit #there's never enough lady fic honestly

[dayenurose]

Six Seven Sentence Sunday

Well, writing has been a bit slow this week (surprise, surprise, I’ve once again been fighting with technology). I’ve made progress on my piece from last Sunday, but didn’t finish it as I hoped. So, this week I’m sharing an excerpt from a belated piece for the @roguegambitweek prompt Valle Soleada. Enjoy!

Anna stood on the beach staring out at the waves. Contentment washed over her as her heart kept the steady rhythm of the waves. She’d been here long enough that the ocean breeze tugging at her hair was beginning to feel cool. The rising sun warmed her back. Even without Logan or Scott around to wake her at the crack of dawn with the expectations of a before school Danger Room sessions, she still habitually woke in time to greet the sun.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Anna cast one last lingering gaze across the beach before returning to her house. She didn’t regret leaving the X-men, didn’t regret starting a new life out here in Valle Soleada. But, she couldn’t deny that sometimes she was lonely.

Let me know what you think. Your encouragement helps. 💜

#six sentence sunday #rogue/remyweek2023 #fanfic #rogue #gambit #romy #anna marie lebeau #remy lebeau #otp: home and harbor #otp: mon coeur

[burberrycanary]

My recent fics

Red White & Royal Blue

Series: What the Living Do

The distance is hard, but they're making it work. Post-film.

1. The Better Part // Henry/Alex

Henry has no reason to be in New York, no acceptable public excuse, just a three-day gap in his schedule and a boyfriend he hasn’t seen in six weeks.

Six weeks and two days, his mind supplies. For a moment he considers blaming that knowledge on how the American election is an easy date to remember.

Instead, he texts Alex: We’re apart for weeks but my body misses you in days, in minutes.

.

2. Magna Carta Libertatum // Henry/Alex

“Besides which, I think it’s somewhere in the fine print on being boyfriends. As you’re my first, I may have to refer back to the designated powers and duties, now and then. I haven’t learnt them by heart yet.”

Alex is quiet for a moment and when he speaks his voice is softer, more thoughtful. “I think we get to draw those up ourselves. The position of boyfriend and the officially designated powers and duties therein.”

“Oh,” Henry says. “Well. I’ve never gotten to declare my own powers before. Constitutional monarchy and all that.”

&

MCU

Series: A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy)

A post-TFATWS Endgame Stucky fix-it where a lot needs fixing.

1. The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) // Stucky

Steve had meant to stay forever and didn’t last a year. He meant to return right back to when he left, but that doesn’t work out the way he planned either.

Turns out a lot can happen in nine months.

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2. Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) // Stucky

Coming back from as good as dead to a changed world is easier the second time around. But then Steve supposes that, like with most things, you get better with practice.

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3. Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) // Stucky

Steve has never felt right running away from a fight, even if the fight is with unanswered questions. But it’s not running if it’s a road trip and the oldest, thorniest unanswered question is along for the ride.

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4. Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) // Stucky

The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road?

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The Art of the Possible // Sharon-centric, minor Sharon/Bucky

Maybe whether you’ve picked the wrong side depends on where you’re standing—but if you can’t tell who the sucker at the poker table is: it’s you.

Sharon before, during, and after Madripoor.

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The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Till the Ductile Anchor Hold // Juliet & Sidney

Sometimes, beginnings are like that, slow and gentle until you find yourself in the middle before you realise there was anything to begin at all. Endings, too. Sometimes.

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Chasing Liberty

Truthfully, Once If Strangers // Ben/Anna

Anna sits on the low stone wall that edges the road and watches him wait in line. She admires how his shoulders look in the leather jacket and how his neck is lovely but so masculine, before getting distracted by his Adam’s apple, which she’d really like to skim her teeth over.

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A Discovery of Witches

The Probable Stars // Diana/Matthew

That’s the way of the world, Matthew remembers: you break the things you are fondest of.

(Or, what about those discarded clothes?)

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Like Gold to Airy Thinness Beat // Diana/Matthew

Diana climbs into his lap and his hands immediately come up to steady her. The book he’d been reading slides off the bed with a thud. Her fingers are clumsy as she works down the line of buttons—she doesn't think about why, doesn't care—and, finally, she can touch his cool skin.

See the rest on AO3!

#my fics #pinned post #stucky #steve/bucky #matthew x diana #firstprince #henry/alex #chasing liberty #the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society #adow #rwrb #mcu