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hangmanssunnies · 4 months

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The Hangman Special

Summary: On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

Pairings: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Word count: 7k

AO3 Link

Warnings: 18+ only, kissing, hot and heavy make-outs, exs, truth or dare, bad friends.

Author's note: Dreaming about kissing Jake in a bar. Thanks to everyone who looked at earlier drafts of this. I hope you enjoy this if you take a chance to read. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

The bar is buzzing with the loud chatter of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of music. You are sitting at a corner table with your friends, a group with an eclectic mix of personalities. You are known for being more on the shy and reserved side, but tonight, you are even more withdrawn than usual. No one had mentioned that Tassie had also been invited to the evening's hang out at the bar. An oversight you felt was probably intentional since everyone knew Tassie had started dating your ex only a week after your breakup. She went so far as to post a picture of them together on her Instagram. It had been a few months since that happened, and until now, you had managed to avoid running into her. However, it seemed like luck had run out.

"Hey, I've got an idea that would spice up the night," Cece says after the first round of drinks. She is one of your bold and outspoken friends, and you aren't sure you like how she is eyeing you with a mischievous glint. "Let's play truth or dare."

The whole group groans at the suggestion, and one of your friends vaguely wonders if you're all still in middle school playing that kind of game. Despite the initial lack of enthusiasm, after another round of drinks, the group is laughing and entrenched in the game.

When Cece sings your name when she finishes her turn, you are nervous by the sly smile she is wearing as she formulates an option for you when you hesitantly concede to doing a dare. "You're the only one of us still single, so I dare you to go over to the bar and give somebody a kiss."

"What?!"

"Just a quick one, nothing too scandalous," Cece says placatingly. "Come on, live a little! It's just a bit of fun. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I bet they won't do it. They're too chicken for this kind of thing, not one to step out of their comfort zone," Tassie says. It makes your blood freeze in your veins because you know those words. You have heard that criticism thrown at you in the past, but not from her, from your ex.

Your eyes narrow at her, and you ask, "Too chicken? Seriously?"

"Yeah. Please, prove us wrong. Show us you can do something spontaneous," Tassie taunts, grinning. You feel a surge of defiance welling up. Even though you're reserved, you are not one to back down from a challenge, especially not when the woman who cheated with your boyfriend is acting like you're the one who should be ashamed. Acting like she is better than you.

"Fine, watch this," You declare, feeling hot with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. As you stand up, your friends exchange amused glances, convinced that you are about to back out of the dare.

With absolutely no intention of backing down, though, you scan the bar. After a moment of examination your heart soars because you realize you have this dare in the bag. You have the advantage even, because there is a familiar tall, broad-shouldered blonde at the bar that you know all too well. Jake Seresin, or Hangman, is one of your brother's best friends, and he is looking just as delectable tonight as he always does. The group would undeniably be impressed with you kissing someone so handsome, and you knew one way or another you could convince Jake to help you out.

"Cece, I'll even let you pick since you made the dare. Point out the hottest man in the bar, and I'll kiss him." You say confidently. There is no doubt that Jake is the most attractive person there, and he is just Cece's type, too. She falls right into what you want, pointing Hangman out for you. The rest of your friend group hoots, making even more comments that you aren't going to follow through with the dare and approach someone who is that drop-dead gorgeous.

Ignoring their taunts, you square your shoulders and walk with as much confidence as you can summon into sashaying across the bar. Putting mental effort into trying to project some form of hotness onto yourself not only for the confidence boost but also the bit of spite burning in you.

Reaching the bartop area, the hesitation starts to set in as you admire Jake's profile. He is sitting on a bar stool leaning against the counter, patiently waiting for the bartender in the crowd that is starting to grow. Taking one last breath to steady yourself, you reach out and delicately set a hand on his bulging bicep.

"Hangman!" You say brightly as if you're surprised to have run into him. Jake turns to face you at your touch, and an easy wide grin spreads across his face.

"Fancy seeing you here, my dear! How are you?" He asks as his eyes trace you slowly from head to toe and back again, the grin on his face not slipping once.

"Oh, I’m fine, and I am so glad I ran into you."

"Most people are," Jake says, winking at you. You are nearly distracted by his handsome face and flirty tone. He looks like he has put on even more muscle since you saw him last. The green button-down he is wearing appears close to bursting at the seams with how it clings to him. "So, what have you been up to these days?"

"Are you still single?" You blurt quickly, ignoring his question, not wanting to lose your steam.

"Yes, Ma'am. Last I checked. Why?"

"Perfect, can you do me a huge favor?" You ask.

"I'm always happy to help out a friend," Jake says, sounding increasingly suspicious. The smile hasn't dropped from his face, but his eyes have narrowed slightly, examining you.

Quickly standing on your tip toes, you loop an arm around Jake's neck, appreciating that he is sitting on a stool, helping level your height difference. Wasting no time, you pull him down to meet you in a quick kiss. Once his lips brush yours, you let go of him, stepping back, not even taking a moment to savor the feeling or enjoy having Jake this close.

With your mission accomplished, you have every intention of making a hasty retreat back to your friends and hoping that you will be able to forget this. You are going to erase knowing you've kissed Jake Seresin from your brain, and then the next time you see him, you're going to pretend this fiasco never happened. It feels like the best and only course of action for you to take.

However, you don't even get to make a full step away from Jake before large hands and thick arms circle around your waist, pulling you back towards him. He tugs until you are standing between his spread thighs, his hands maintaining their position on your waist.

"Woah now, where do you think you're going?" He asks, eyes darting around your face, studying you closely.

Embarrassment at having to explain your actions rushes through you, turning your stomach and overriding or maybe enhancing the butterflies there. You glance away from Jake towards your friends and see them watching with rapt attention. Then his thumb moves in a slow soothing circle, drawing you back towards him.

"I'm sorry! My friends dared me to kiss someone at the bar, and when I saw you, well, I knew it wasn't a lost cause because you're not a complete stranger."

You refuse to believe that the frown that flashes on Jake's face is one of disappointment. However, it's hard to ignore when his eyebrows are scrunched together, and his hands are so warm you feel it bleeding through your clothing.

"You could at least buy someone a drink before stealing a kiss, you know. That's just some common decency."

"I'm so sorry, Jake," you apologize again. "Let me buy you a beer for your troubles."

"Naw, you don't got to."

"Well, now I have to because you made me feel bad," you say, waving your arm to try and flag down a bartender.

"I didn't take you for one to just kiss someone on a dare," he says conversationally. You try not to wriggle uncomfortably in his hold, but without even trying, he seems to have pulled you even closer.

"I normally wouldn't be," you agree. "But the girl who I highly suspect of cheating with my ex while we were still together is here. I'm sure she thinks she's better than me and that I'm a boring prude."

"She clearly has never been around when you drink tequila," Jake laughs. You can't believe he would still remember the camping trip from years ago, where you were drinking tequila. Definitely notable because it was probably the last time you had dared have any of the liquor.

"Can you please forget about that? And tonight, too?" You request. Jake pretends to think it over, humming lightly before shaking his head.

"Sorry, no can do. It's already burned into my eidetic memory." You huff at his response, avoiding eye contact with him to try and catch sight of the bartender again. "You know, if you just asked me first, I would have given you the friends and family discount."

"And what is that?"

"Pretty similar to buy one get one free," he says, his voice dropping a little lower. Your mouth falls open in surprise, but you can't find any words. "Could have given you more than a quick peck, something that would really wow your friends."

Trying very hard not to imagine what kind of kiss Jake would consider wowing, you decide to deflect. Jokingly saying, "Didn't think you were from one of those kinda southern states. Do you make a habit of kissing family members?"

Jake throws his head back and laughs full-bellied at you. "The friends and family of my friends discount then," he amends.

"I already hate being in this situation. I don't want more of a pity handout than I've already taken."

"Darlin," he sighs, shaking his head at you. "I would have even given you the Hangman special. Which is a deal, bargain, and steal. Comes with a kiss that's guaranteed to impress friends, people who cheated with your atrocious ex, everyone in this bar, and has even been known to, on occasion, inspire a standing ovation."

"Ha.Ha. You're so funny," you say dryly, rolling your eyes.

"I am, thank you for noticing," Jake says. "However, I think you deserve that kind of kiss to prove a point to your friends over there."

"They didn't even think I would be able to make it over here to talk to you." You admit to him, glancing over at your friends again, a little displeased that they are still obviously observing your interaction.

"That them over there?" He asks, following the direction you're looking. You hum in acknowledgment. "Which one's the cheater?" He breathes, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, sending a shudder down your spine.

You describe Tassie a bit to him, finding yourself shifting closer into his embrace, enjoying how he is somehow able to help most of the chaotic bar disappear from your senses. It's hard to think about the noise or the increasing number of people starting to press in when Jake's touching you. When he picks out who she is, Jake grunts a little. He lowers his face and nearly kisses your neck over the pulse point. His hot breath tickles the spot, causing shivers again as he declares, "I don't see the appeal."

"Wish my ex felt that way," you sigh.

"Fuck him," Jake says with conviction. Drawing a bit back from you to make eye contact again. His green eyes are clear, and in the dimmed mood light around you, they seem to shine even brighter than usual.

"You sure you don't mind me having kissed you to prove a point?"

"My dear," he laughs like you told him a funny joke. "I can't imagine a situation where I would mind you kissing me. Let alone one where I get to help you out."

Sliding your hand up his chest to casually rest on his shoulder, you wonder, "Is the Hangman Special still available?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Guaranteed to be wowing?" You check.

"Got a warranty for you and everything," Jake says lowly.

Your hand curls around Jake's neck again, and you attempt to tug him closer to you. He doesn't even budge, though. One of his hands slowly traces up your side from your waist until he is cupping your cheek. Then Jake leans close, his breath ghosting over your lips, where he lingers for a moment. Your eyes flutter closed, and as soon as they do, his lips press to yours. This time, it's not a quick peck.

He is slow and deliberate in how he kisses you. Tilting his head to the side to get a slightly better angle, Jake uses his hand on your face to urge your lips to align better with his. Pliable to his touch, you open your mouth to him, seeking even more, and rewarded when Jake's tongue brushes against your own. You never doubted that Jake would be a good kisser, but knowing firsthand is something you know you won't be able to erase from your memory. When the kiss starts to border on indecent, he pulls away.

You linger in the moment, keeping your eyes closed until your heart doesn't feel like it's going to burst from your chest. While you are in that limbo spot, his thumb slowly strokes your cheekbone. Sea glass green is the first thing you see when opening them again, Jake not making any effort to veil how he is admiring you. His lips are slightly pinker now than they just were, and you can't help but imagine how pink and swollen they would get if you had the opportunity to get this man alone on a couch.

Just as you consider requesting that he kiss you again, just to really really solidify how good you are to your friends, because obviously, three kisses are much better than the one they dared you to get, you are suddenly bumped from behind. The motion roughly shoves you against Jake's solid chest. Both his hands automatically return to your waist, tightening as he steadies you there. Glaring over your shoulder at whoever bumped you, he asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," you breathe. Being this close to him, the woodsy scent of his cologne tickles your nose. And you suddenly wonder why exactly he is in this upscale cocktail bar dressed so nicely.

"I'm glad you decided to kiss me and not any of these other assholes," he mutters darkly, still glaring over your shoulder.

"Well, it wasn't really a choice." You reveal, which has his eyes snapping back to you in an instant and a frown pulling at his lips. One of his thumbs that's resumed making circles on your waist stops, and the other falls off your waist entirely now. He doesn't move otherwise, but his presence feels less consuming. Tersely, he responds, "I see."

"I may have skewed the odds. Told my friends to pick the hottest man they could find. What would you know? They picked you." You explain quickly.

"That's some good luck on your part."

"It wasn't luck, not really."

"How do you mean?" He wonders.

"I knew they would pick you."

"What made you so confident?"

"Because, Jake, you are, hands down, the most attractive person here," you reveal to him shyly. Your fingers curling into his silky shirt, where they have found themselves on his chest after being pushed.

"See now, I don't think that's true," he says, his eyebrows pulling together. The frown is gone though, the edges of his lips quirking up again.

"Oh please, Jake. Do not pretend you don't know how handsome you are."

"I'm aware. However, that doesn't change the fact that you're the most attractive person in this bar tonight."

"You're a flirt," you accuse him.

"I am," he agrees with no argument. "But that don't make me dishonest or mean I'm not genuine. I haven't been flirting with you just for the sake of it."

Warmth blooms in your center at his words, and you nearly forget all about trying to escape away from him. Right now, you just want to get closer, as close as he will let you. However, you are pulled out of the fantasy when you look away from Jake's intense gaze to see your friends and how most of the table seems shocked and scandalized. Wryly, you notice Cece giving you two thumbs up. It's like you could almost forget that this was just him being flirty and imagine he was kissing you for more than just helping prove a point. "Well, I appreciate your help with the Hangman Special. I know they will all be impressed and jealous when I head back over there."

"Now, wait a moment. You can't just sneak away. The Hangman Special not only comes with mind-blowing kisses but also a free night out, all expenses paid, and dinner at any restaurant you choose. "

"You just give that away to any random person who asks?"

"No, only the pretty ones I've had my eye on for a long while," Jake says, his eyes intense, the hand still on your waist flexing tighter for a moment.

"You have?" You ask, completely surprised.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replies with no hesitation. Before you can respond, the bartender finally makes his way over to you two, asking for your order. Jake instantly defers to you before ordering, asking, "What do you want, my dear?"

"I thought I already told you I'm taking one of the Hangman specials." You say, after taking a moment to think it over. The grin that lights up Jake's face is sunny and bright, and if you weren't being supported by his strong body, you would have probably fallen over swooning.

Turning back to the bartender, Jake requests two bottles of water and both of your tabs. As you peek over his shoulder while he signs, you see the bill consists of just one beer, the water, and the two drinks you've had tonight.

"So you want the full experience?" He asks you when you've taken a sip of water, and he has downed half of his in the same time.

"From what I know about you, Jake, I don't think you're someone who does things by halves," you answer, fiddling with one of the buttons on his silky green shirt. Then you are pushing a bit on his chest, trying to step away. When you do, Jake's hands find themselves on your hips again pulling you closer to him.

"Where you going?" He pouts.

"I just need to grab my purse."

"Whatcha you need your purse for, sweetheart? Don't you know I ain't going to let you pay for nothing?" Jake drawls.

"I'm sure you want that to come off gentlemanly, but you're close to flirting with misogynistic." You say, playfully poking a finger into his chest.

"No." Grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips, Jake brushes a kiss on your pulse point, saying, "I know exactly who I'm flirting with, and that is you, my dear."

The laugh you let out is slightly involuntary, but it makes Jake look like he won a prize, so you can't be too displeased, especially not when he has resumed drawing circles on your skin, and it feels like some sort of hypnosis you never want to end. "I'll be right back, and you can keep flirting with me for as long as you like."

"That a promise?" Jake asks.

"Sure thing," you agree, but Jake still hasn't let go of you.

"Do you want some company?"

"You don't have to."

"Little worried you're going to try and sneak away," he admits.

"But Jake, I am sneaking away," you say in a fake whisper as if sharing a secret. "Sneaking away with you from my friends and this bar." It makes him smile again, just like you were hoping it would. "Just wait here for me. Okay?"

"Okay," he reluctantly agrees. Despite agreeing, the hold he has on your hand actually slightly tightens. "One more kiss?"

"I'm starting to get the feeling that you're always going to want one more kiss."

"You already know me so well," Jake grins. You press your lips against his again in a quick kiss, careful not to get caught up in it, before slipping out of his grasp. When free, you practically skip away from Jake to grab your things.

Arriving back to your friends, you're greeted with loud whooping and even some clapping thrown in. Cece is practically giggling as she says, "I really didn't think you had that in you."

"What were you talking about for so long?" Another one of the group asks.

"Was that kiss as hot as he is?" Someone else wonders, and then questions are coming from every direction before you can answer any of them.

"It was great, he's great." You manage to get in. When they start to flood you with even more questions, you cut them off. "I would love to talk all about it, but I'm sorry y'all, I'm actually just over here to grab my purse."

"There is no way you are leaving with that guy," Tassie says incredulously.

Irritation and anger flares up in you as you turn to glare at her. "Really, there's no way? And why would that be Tassie?"

"Come on," she says, clearly surprised that you've decided to call her out. "You're just not the kind of person to go home with someone from the bar, and he doesn't really seem like your type."

"I don't know how tall, handsome, funny, and phenomenal kisser could not be someone's type," You say harshly, snatching your purse and jacket from where you had been sitting.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," she responds sharply.

"I don't think that's true," you snap back.

"Hey now, why don't we all chill out," your friend Marv cuts in placatingly.

"Sorry to interrupt," a familiar southern drawl says from behind as a warm arm wraps around your shoulder. You nearly sag into Jake. The urge to explode on your friends, more specifically Tassie, instantly absorbed by his presence. "But I was promised I could take this one out on a date tonight."

"We can't let our friend just leave with a stranger," Cece says, and you turn to narrow your eyes at her, frowning that she is butting in when she is the one who set all this into motion in the first place.

"While I respect that, I don't think you get to make that decision," Jake says lightly and a lot nicer than you would have in that moment.

"You could be a crazy serial killer or something," Tassie says.

"While I am a killer, that's normally just how people describe me in bed," he answers in a flirty, exaggerated way. That has you nearly coughing, you suck in air so hard. He gently pats your back and continues on. "If you're really worried though, you can look me up on Instagram. That's at LT.H_ANGM_N. I hope y'all have a good night. I know we will be," Jake punctuates the sentence with a kiss to the side of your head.

Stuck between laughing and balking you glance around at everyone’s surprised faces at Jake’s boldness. You know exactly what Jake's last Instagram post was, having spent several minutes the other day debating whether you should like the shirtless picture of him on the beach.

"Are you ready, sweetheart?" Jake asks you, practically muttering the words in your ear. All he needs is your nod before he confidently starts to turn you and lead you out the door. You manage to throw your friends a small wave goodbye, but it only takes a few steps for them to be out of your mind.

"Did you drive?" Jake asks you as the fresh evening air rushes over you both.

"No.” And you’re glad you didn’t when it means Hangman will be driving you home.

"Good," he grins, "do you mind me driving?"

"I don't," you answer easily, completely content to follow Jake to wherever he is going to lead you.

He stops in front of a Jeep Gladiator, and you aren't overly surprised by his taste in vehicles. He goes to open the passenger side door for you, but you don't immediately take his offered hand to get inside. Instead, you tug it as you lean against the side of the truck. Jake follows the motion easily, not hesitating to bend down and mold his lips to yours.

Jake looms over you, one of his hands balancing his weight against the side of the truck just over your head. The other on your side pulling you a bit closer to him. Looping your arm around his neck for some leverage, you let Jake take over your senses. The softness of his tongue paired with how he nibbles at your lower lip pulls a little whine from you.

When you have to pull away for a ragged breath, Jake groans low in his throat as you press teasing kisses down the column of his neck to the V of skin his shirt shows off. The hand on your waist slides up to cup your cheek and pulls you back to his lips. Kissing Jake is easy, he doesn't leave enough room for you to question if he's enjoying it. Nor do you have the capacity to overthink it as Jake's lips move surely and confidently with your own. All there is is him, his warm strong body, soft lips, and the calluses of his fingers.

Leaning backward, you pull Jake with you wanting to have him pressed flush because even though you're tasting him, caged in, surrounded by him it still isn't close enough. However, the motion presses one of the Jeep’s jutting door hinges sharply into your back. You can't help but gasp a small "ow" as you try to shift. Concern creases Jake's features, and he pulls you away from his truck into his chest, glowering at the vehicle as if it had somehow betrayed him.

"You okay, darlin?" He asks, his hands tracing down your back checking for injury. You lean more into his chest even though you don't really need the support, it's just nice to be in his arms.

"I'm fine," you reassure him.

"Let's get you out of harms way." He says pulling open the passenger side door. As you start to heave yourself into the tall truck Jake is practically picking you up and easily setting you in the seat. You blink at him in surprise at his show of strength. He remains there, standing in the open door, leaning closer and placing his hand just above your knee, his thumb drawing circles there. Then he asks, "So, where would you like to grab some dinner, my dear?"

"I've heard of this really great restaurant I've been dying to go to."

"Yeah? Let's make it happen then."

"Mhmm," you hum in confirmation. "It's called Hangman's House."

Jake's thumb immediately stops moving and the smile on his face seems to shift. The genuine glint there slipping away, to something hard for you to really identify, practiced or guarded. Whatever the change was you don't find yourself liking it and immediately wonder where you misstepped.

"So, Hangman's House, that's a pretty exclusive place. They don't usually do unplanned reservations," Jake says after what's nearly an awkward silence.

"That's too bad. I heard that they have great service." You say a little dejected but glad he told you no in a casual manner that you can play off.

"You're in luck though, my dear, because I know the owner. I think he would be willing to make an exception for us sometime, but they are better known for their breakfast menu." Jake responds upbeat again.

"I like breakfast." You mutter in what you think is a flirty way. However, it's obvious that you've missed the mark when Jake's hand drops off your leg completely now.

"Listen, if this is just a one-night thing, just some making out and fun stuff, where you are going to leave in the morning and pretend it never happened next time we see each other," he says seriously. Pausing, he runs a hand through his hair taking a measured breath, and you watch as the muscle in his jaw flexes. "That's fine, but I need to know it now."

As you study his face intently it occurs to you that maybe even men like Jake Seresin have insecurities. Maybe he was used to interacting with people where more often than not they only saw him as a handsome face with a nice body. People who were ready to leave the next morning. The realization that a one night stand isn’t the series of events he is interested in with regards to you twists a pit of uncertainty in your stomach. You feel a little uneasy not sure exactly where you stand or what he wants with you.

Reaching to catch Jake's lost hand and tangling your fingers, you start playing with the big class ring he is wearing. He allows the movement and relaxes his hand further, giving you additional leeway. The distraction of Jake's fingers gives you the courage to say, "I guess maybe I misunderstood that this was going to just be a nice fun night with you. Is that not what you were looking for?"

"I do want that," Jake says adamantly. " However, I don't just want that."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to bring you flowers, dance with you, write you love letters. I want to explore every inch of your body and heart until I know what makes you tick. I want you to forget that any other man besides me even exists." Jake presses himself close to you again, and he turns his hand to thread your fingers tightly together. "Now I'm good, and I mean really good my dear, but those aren't goals I can make happen in one evening. So I want to start with tonight, taking you out and giving you a good time. And then I want to do the same thing tomorrow or whenever you have free time. I want to do that for as long as you will let me."

"Oh wow," you breathe, taken aback by his declaration. "That's kind of a lot."

"I know, but I don't want my intentions to be unclear. I wasn't lying when I said I've had my eye on you for a while. I'm happy to go at whatever pace you need; I'll do whatever you want. However, if this was all just getting back at your ex and proving a point. If you can't see yourself wanting anything more with me past tonight again, I need to know." Now, Jake takes his turn playing with your fingers as he breaks eye contact to stare at where you're intertwined. "I'll happily let you break my heart, but I don't want to be blindsided by it.

Surging forward, you pull Jake in to kiss you again. It's an awkward angle, and the way the truck makes you taller than him feels odd. However, none of that matters when his lips are so pliable against yours.

"I don't want to break your heart," you tell him between kisses. "I want to go on dates with you, and I want to go home with you. I want to go to bed with you and do it more than once if we find out we are compatible."

"Are you doubting our compatibility?" Jake asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really, but you know it's better to make sure with these things. Have to double check, I think."

"That makes sense," he concedes.

"Now let's get some food so you can take me home and then to bed. Show me these killer skills you mentioned earlier."

"We can do a lot tonight, but we can't sleep together," Jake says mournfully.

"Why not?" You ask confused.

"Everyone knows you don't sleep together until the third date," Jake drawls.

"That's a cliche. Plus, why does it really matter?"

"Because I've been dreaming about forever with you, and when you want forever with someone, you don't want to skip any steps." Jake answers, dead serious and earnestly. It makes you wish you weren't in such an awkward position in the truck. If you were still outside pressed against it, or in the bar even, it would be so much easier to show him the appreciation and affection burning inside.

"We've got to be somewhere near the third date by now. We have tonight and that camping trip we went on. Oh, and that one time that everyone went bowling. Plus, there was that bonfire a few months ago!" You say, trying to think of occasions you and Jake had spent a good amount of time together. While considering it, you also realize he has nearly always gravitated to your side during group interactions, and going off tonight, that clearly wasn't as coincidental as you had previously thought.

"You deserve real dates," Jake responds with conviction, and the look in his eye really isn't something you can or even want to argue with. There isn't anything wrong with someone wanting to act like a gentleman with you; it's actually flattering, especially when it's clear Jake isn't going to play any guessing games with you concerning his feelings.

"Well, then we are wasting time when we could be on our first date," you say, pressing another peck to his lips and lightly pushing him away from you.

"One last kiss," Jake whispers as he lurches close again for another peck. Then, he gently closes your door and jogs over to the driver's seat, asking where you want to get a bite to eat.

The two of you end up at a fancy Italian restaurant where you share an appetizer, bottle of wine, and dessert. During dessert, Jake insists you pose for a picture. Despite your initial resistance, he convinces you, and then, nearly as soon as he takes it, your phone lights up with a notification telling you that you’ve tagged you in his story. He tells you before you even ask that he hopes your friends looked him up on Instagram but requests that you repost it on your own just in case they didn't. He claimed it's so they know he's not kidnapped you, but you suspect that it's more likely he wants to prove a point. And it's something you don't mind one bit, especially when he easily lets you post a picture of him on your own story.

After the restaurant, Jake drives you both out of town a bit to where the sky is much clearer and the stars are visible. The evening isn't warm enough to cuddle in the truck bed like he wanted, so instead, you end up in the backseat with the moon roof completely rolled back. You manage to pretend to be looking at the stars for about three whole minutes before crawlingl into Jake's lap to kiss him.

Before the making out can get too heated, Jake grips your chin, urging your face upwards to look through the moonroof. Gruffly, he mutters into your ear, telling you to behave. Words that only make you squirm in your newfound place sitting on his lap. He lets you stay there, though, his hands steady on your hips, and his lips leisurely brushing yours or your neck whenever inspiration strikes.

"What were you doing out tonight looking so nice?" You wonder absentmindedly, unbuttoning the top button of Jake's shirt. It's not with an ulterior motive. Really, it's because Jake's shirt is so soft, and the top of it is hiding his dog tags from you, which you have suddenly decided is unacceptable. The new skin exposed to you is just an added benefit.

"Ah, nothing to worry about darlin'."

"Common, you can tell me," you say, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"You know, whinnies?"

It takes you a moment to place the restaurant and remember that it's across the street from the bar where you met up with your friends. "The wine bar?"

"Yeah," Jake confirms. "Well, I was on a date there."

"Oh." When Jake doesn't say anything, you decide you have to push the conversation forward. "So, what happened to your date? Were they not nice?"

"No, she was real sweet," Jake says, and you feel your stomach drop as if you aren't in the back of his truck and sitting in his lap right now.

"So why did you end up at Gem's?"

"I was checking Instagram before she got there, and I saw you post that you were at Gems, right across the street. And no matter how nice she was, I knew it wasn't fair that I was thinking of a different person the whole time. So, we didn't even make it through appetizers before I had to be honest with her about that, and then I swung by Gems, hoping I would bump into you."

"You were at the bar just to see me?"

"Sure was. So imagine my surprise when you found and approached me first."

"How would it have gone if you had approached me first?" You wonder.

"For one, I would have offered to buy you a drink before stealing a kiss," Jake says teasingly.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Probably not for a while," he tells you. You groan and hide your face in his neck as if that will save you from some of the embarrassment. Feeling his chuckles in his throat and rumble in his chest is soothing, and you pepper more kisses to his neck and collarbone as if you were tracing the sound.

"You wouldn't have left without a kiss, though?"

"I wouldn't have left without seeing you, and I would have done everything to try and convince you to give me one," Jake promises.

"How would you have kissed me for the first time?"

"Are you asking for another demonstration?" he wonders. As soon as you nod in affirmation, he pulls you close, repositioning you on his lap so you're straddling him. The darkness of the truck makes it so you can't quite see how green his eyes are, despite that they are still somehow bright. He holds eye contact with you for a long moment. His hand cups your cheek, and like earlier in the night, he pauses, not closing the gap, observing you close. When you try to lean forward and seal your lips, he backs his head away. Then he chastises you while wearing a smirk, "I'm goin' to kiss you, baby. Now, let me do it how I want."

Anticipation tingles in you as Jake leans close; however, at the last minute, he swerves, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then the other cheek, your forehead, and your nose. Finally, his lips meet yours firmly. Closing your eyes, you sigh into the kiss. The feeling of being intimately connected to Jake again is nearly the same as relief. When your mouth opens, Jake licks into you, searching out your tongue with his own.

There no longer seems to be any will in Jake to tamper down the heat of your kissing. He allows you each time you push the envelope of the moment being just the soft sweet first date kissing he initially claimed to want. As he sucks on the sweet spot, her discovers on your neck, the way you grind downwards is involuntary and completely by accident. A low moan comes from Jake, and you like the way it sounds. So, the next time you grind down on him, it's completely intentional.

The dark slacks he is wearing don't do much to conceal his hardened length. After a few more rolls of your hips, Jake's hands tightly grip your waist helping you grind against him. He urges you into a rhythm that has whimpers, moans, and gasps passing from both your mouths between hot kisses. As you try to speed up, frantic lust beating so loud you can hear it in your ear, he doesn't let you. Though you are on top of him, there is no doubt that Jake is in complete control.

Just from this night, it's not difficult to imagine how he will be in the bedroom. Strong, consuming, and in control. You can picture how he will confidently lead you exactly where you want to go, and you will get there because just a back of the car's make-out shouldn’t cause someone to be as turned on as you are right now. You unbutton his shirt and let your hands roam over his chest. Dragging your nails along his abs causes a full body shudder and Jake to grip your ass so hard you think you might bruise. It doesn't bother you, though, because how can anything that gets you closer to his cock be a bad thing?

“Jake,” you say in a sudden moment of clarity. He hums his acknowledgment but keeps kissing at your neck and squeezing at your ass. A particularly hard thrust upwards from him nearly has your brain going fuzzy as you desperately try to hold yourself together. “Jake,” you repeat more forcefully, “we need to stop.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks concerned, detaching his lips from your skin and losing his hold so he is barely touching you.

“If we keep at this I'm going to beg you to fuck me right here right now,” you answer. He makes a strangled groan. With his swollen lips, lust filled eyes, and hard dick you're sure he wouldn't actually mind. “Which would be amazing but you told me about a three date rule and I agreed.”

“I did say three dates,” he responds and looks like he hates himself for it.

“But if it doesn't actually matter I would like to suck your cock at least once before we fuck.” You boldly tell him, twisting his dog tags in your fingers pulling them taut against Jake’s neck until the release beads give away. The chain falls into your grasp, and you use the warm metal to distract yourself.

“Fuck me,” he breathes throwing an arm over his eyes and leaning back. “You're perfect, you know that?”

“I'm not.”

“You are. So perfect, so hot.” He kisses you like he's about to ignore what you just said. Hot and a little sloppy with tongue and a bit at your lower lip. When he pulls away he rests his forehead against yours saying, “We are going to stop now because I don't want there to ever be a doubt in your mind that I'll keep the promises I make to you.”

Your stomach flips with affection, and you sag, leaning heavily into Jake, just hugging him tightly, waiting for the lust that's sparked to cool. The two of you even manage to get some actual stargazing in where hands roam but in more so in an exploratory way than sexual.

Holding hands driving back into the city you can’t stop staring at Jake’s profile, or admiring his fingers or tracing the veins of his forearms. You are focusing on trying to convince yourself that this isn’t a dream, you're definitely going to wake up with hickies in the morning, and another date with Jake Seresin scheduled tomorrow. It’s something that if you had been told at the start of your evening, you would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea.

"I know it's really soon, but do you think that if you asked me again in a few weeks if I'm still single, we'll be able to change my answer?" Jake asks you after a bit breaking the comfortable silence you two had been in.

"I think that's possible. What do you think about that?" You wonder.

"I would change my answer tonight if you wanted me to."

"Jake..."

"Listen, I really like you, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. So as soon as you give me the okay, I will bring you flowers with a promise ring and ask if you want to go steady with me." Jake's thumb rubs along your pulse affectionately, "I'll change my Facebook relationship status. I'll get a nice little charm with your name on it for my dog tags. I'll take you to meet my friends and brag about how amazing you are." Jake leans over at a red light to press a soft kiss to your lips. "The whole shebang."

"That sounds nice. Does that deal have a special name, too?"

"Yeah, we can call it the Jake special. It is a whole package, long-term, all-inclusive deal."

"Extended warranty?" You check jokingly.

"It actually has a no-return, no-refund policy," Jake answers.

"That's a pretty big commitment," you whisper back, even though the idea of keeping Jake all to yourself sounds nothing but appealing.

"It's not something that expires. So how about tonight, we just worry about getting you home where you're going to let me walk you to your front door and give you a kiss goodnight."

"Just one kiss?" You ask in a pretend pout.

"Let's shoot for two, but don't be surprised if it's three, maybe even four."

"I want five," you declare stubbornly.

"Then I'll give you six," he easily offers.

You try to hide your smile but don't quite manage it. It's a permanent fixture the whole drive home and during all seven of the goodnight kisses you get. They aren't the best kisses in the world because Jake is smiling through them, too. It's okay, though, because you both know there's going to be more in the future, a lot more.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x you #Hangman x you #hangman fic

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cl6teen · 5 months

Text

p-power ❀ op81

in which a tense breakup with a well known driver sparks a new beginning with an up and coming rookie

contains: social media!au, exbf!daniel, multiple time skips, heavily inspired by the lyrics ‘the pictures i seen i’m like “damn he got lucky”, take it from him and i leave him with nothin’.

note: this has been in my drafts for ages so i might has well post it anyways

67,236 likes

f1wagupdates f1 wag y/n l/n and mclaren f1 driver daniel ricciardo caught in a hearted argument while vacationing in new zealand for the short beak in light of a newly surfaced cheating scandal between daniel and a model during a monaco gp after party

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danielrjpg omg, so the cheating rumours were true??? i feel so bad for y/n, she was the best wag on the paddock in my opinion

iheartmclaren during the monaco gp?? she couldn’t make it to that one right?

papayaluv yeah, but she was still posting him on her story that whole weekend :(

ynstyle genuinely she’s too good for him anyways

user now that this has been brought to life can we talk about the weird ass age gap between the two??

dr3ily i love daniel but he’s 33 and she’s 22?? and they started dating when she was 20? that’s kind of icky

l.l.l.lando to be honest, i don’t think it’s true? like he doesn’t seem like the type to cheat! couples fight all the time

user yeah, monaco gp is notorious for exposing and cheating scandals that usually aren’t true, yall will believe anything

4everstappen then why did she already delete their photos together?? like all trace of daniel gone

givemedr3 but daniel still has all of their photos up, and he still follows her ?

madebymax it’s because he’s delusional LMAO, and I would be too if i fumbled someone like y/n??

user his karma will definitely come back to him, one way or another

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 109,345 others

yourinstagram boy bye.

view all 2,677 comments

landonorris let me come visit you please

yourinstagram you know you’re always welcome down under lan <3

user lando and y/n’s friendship still holding up is so cute to me

bsfsinstagram you’re too bad for anyone in this world

bsfsinstagram whoever gets you is so lucky

yourinstagram i love you more than anything babe

drxyn waitt so they’re actually broken up 😭

luvyn tbh the post breakup glow is eating, i was crying for a month straight after mine

liked by yourinstagram

mclarenbby oh my god daniel in the likes is so embarrassing like please stop your delusion

newuser please go back to daniel y/n i loved you two together!

yourinstagram lol no thanks

k1ll4lando daniel get off your burner account LMAOO

iluvf1 y/n continuing to post like nothing ever happened and being all normal in comparison to daniel’s social media literally going black out like he’s grieving is so funny?? like the disabled comments are really the cherry on top

user i just know he has his pr team working overtime

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 1,113,242 others

f1 some surprising news from mclaren this silly season, wouldn’t you agree?

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user honestly thank god, i don’t think mclaren was daniels team, but it’s sad to see he might be out of a seat now

user the karma from cheating is literally so real

user and he wasn’t performing well at all because of it

user YN LIKED IT BYEEE

user love that for her though

mclaren excited to see our rookie in action!

early february, 2023.

liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri, and 212,444 others

lando.jpg friendly outings before the new season (ft. y/n’s photography skills)

tagged yourinstagram & oscarpiastri

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yourinstagram thank you for the photo credits on the last one lando

oscarpiastri very nice photos lando

lando.jpg always so serious oscah

papayaluv yn still hanging out with mclaren is so nice to see, she has so much chemistry with the team even without daniel

op81ln4 seeing yn get becoming friends with oscar is so funny like omg he took your ex’s seat in f1

mcl4ren honestly i think that yn is milking this whole daniel situation to still keep the attention on her, how is she still attending mclaren events?

yourinstagram please stop making assumptions about me, thanks ❤️

user do you forget that she’s been friends with lando?

user can’t lie, lando posting yn at mclaren knowing daniel follows this page is wickedddd but funny

oscar

hey, it’s oscar from earlier :)

you

hi oscar! i had so much fun meeting you tonight

did you grab my number from lando?

oscar

yeah..i hope that’s alright?

i was just glad to see a fellow australian and lando suggested i have it

you

i really don’t mind it, i’m happy to have a new friend that i have smth in common with

i was surprised when your mclaren signing was announced, but i’m sure your rookie season will be amazing

oscar

thanks, it really does mean a lot

i wasn’t really expecting the mclaren offer in the first place but i was open, and they’d just let go of daniel cause of his performance

wait sorry i didn’t mean to bring him up

you

please don’t apologize, i couldn’t care less about him anymore

i see what happened in the second half of last years season as karma, im glad it’s you who’s in the seat now :)

oscar

yeah, but if you ask me what he did was an asshole move

you didn’t deserve that at all, i think he lost something good

you

it’s been so long now that it’s nothing important to me, but…did you want to meet up for lunch or dinner tomorrow? my flight back home leaves after that

oscar

yeah, i’d like that

and i’ll hope to see you again in australia as well?

you

you can count on it ❤️

april, melbourne australia.

liked by mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 70,453 others

yourinstagram reunited down below 🧡

tagged landonorris and oscarpiastri

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ynluv it felt so nice seeing you with mclaren today !!

mclaren we second that!

yourinstagram it’s just a one time thing, i never miss a home race! but i was happy to be there!!

landonorris who’s that cool guy in the sunglasses?

yourinstagram a toad that drives for mclaren you do NOT want to talk to him

oscarpiastri missed hanging out

yourinstagram come back home more often then duh

landonorris or you can just visit us instead

you

you did so well in the race today oz

ozz

P8 isn’t the best though, could have been better

lando was good

you

he was, but we’re not talking about lando

P8 on your third race as a rookie is amazing

take the compliment oscar 🙄

ozz

thank you for the compliment miss

you

ugh shut up

ozz

im glad you were here this race weekend, i really did miss seeing you

you

it’s not like you haven’t been texting and calling me for two months straight 😭

ozz

but that’s different

you

mhm

when do you have to fly out to baku?

ozz

i leave in the middle of the night on wednesday

you must want me to take you out on a date before i go?

you

don’t be smug oscar pisstree

facetime dates are nice but it would be nice to go on a real one again. we don’t always have to hang out with lando

ozz

i know y/n, im only teasing you

there’s no way i would be here and not think to plan one, you know me better than that

but pisstree is a little painful

you

i know i know, sorry

ozz

so get ready and i’ll come pick you up once i’m done with these team debriefs

oscarpiastri updated their story (15 mins ago)

you

girl.

omg

pls whatever you’re doing stop it

TEXT ME BACK PLEASE 😭

bestie 🧸

oh my god

i’m here

are you dying ? kidnapped?

i thought you were on your date with oscar

please respond???

how are you not responding after just texting??

istg i hate you

you

i was on my date with oscar

he just dropped me off

and

bestie 🧸

and??

you

i am a girlfriend !!!!

😖😖😖

bestie 🧸

OH MY GOD???

OSCARYN NATION UPPP

he’s so good for you yn

IM SO HAPPY

you

ME TOO

however. there is one problem

he asked me to spend the summer break travelling with him

bestie 🧸

what did you say?

yes? right?

you

i didn’t say anything actually…

he said he’d let me think about it

bestie 🧸

okay so tell him your done thinking about it

and say yes!

august; summer break.

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, bsfsinstagram and 89,245 others

yourinstagram all types of summa lovin

landonorris you got him to wear pink ????

yourinstagram doesn’t he look yummy in it

user WHO’S HIM????

bsfsinstagram oh not you posting himmm

yourinstagram i had to let them know i’m spoken for babe

oscarpiastri what psychopath straightens their hair like that

yourinstagram the hot kind

landonorris yeah right

dannybae is that daniel in the last photo?

yourinstagram no

user was posting this after daniel said he missed you on that podcast intentional????

user that’s so embarrassing for him but at least now he’s gained some self respect and unfollowed her 😭😭

luvyn i’m so happy she’s happy, literally living her best life

liked by yourinstsgram

liked by yourinstagram, f1wagupdates, landonorris, and 324,554 others

oscarpiastri summer

view all comments

user oscar when was this this ?????

oscarpiastri i just said this summer🧍‍♂️

landonorris 💀

yourinstagram oscar in his soft launch era??

landonorris you were the one who taught him that

oscarpiastri is that what it’s called

user not oscar getting a girlfriend over the break

oscarspastries i sort of suspected this after that story he posted after the australia gp

user omg so she’s probably from australia

op4prez the second picture kinda looks like yn

user no it doesn’t ur jumping to conclusions 😭

user she’s only friends with the mclaren boys she has her own man

user oscar literally drops off the face of the earth for the entire break and then comes back to post this??

user im severely unwell

user oscar’s already falling into the girlfriend effect of looking exponentially finer and im here for it

october; qatar.

yourinstagram updated their story (2 hours ago)

you

congratulations on winning the sprint race babe <3 i knew you could do it

baby 💕

where are you?

i want to come see you

you

i’m in the garage with the team

are you coming with lando

baby 💕

you

you shouldn’t come without him

you know that people would talk and it’ll be annoying to deal with

baby 💕

i just got the first win of the season for the team

quite frankly i couldn’t give a shit what they said, i want to celebrate with my girl

you

oscar i want to celebrate with you too, but it might be best to wait

oscar are you there?

oscar ?

read 2 mins ago

yourinstagram updated their story (10 mins ago)

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, mclaren, and 458,355 others

oscarpiastri thanks qatar

comments on this post are limited

mclaren 🧡

landonorris it’s about time you made it public

oscarpiastri i never hid it though

landonorris didn’t you?

yourinstagram you’re lucky i love you enough to let you hard launch

oscarpiastri just can’t keep you a secret

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri smau #f1 x you #f1 x black!reader

2K notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Text

Be The One

Pairing: Lando Norris x Innocent/Virgin!Reader

Rating: R

Requested: Yes/No

Request: lando with an innocent reader who hasn’t had sex yet and wants to lose her virginity

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Smut!!! This is just pure smut with no plot, Oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, Lando is just a giver in this, inexperienced reader, experienced Lando, etc.

Synopsis: It was stupid to ask him to be your first, the stupid books and edits are to blame

A/N: This was supposed to be a blurb, but I kept writing and writing and I've just been sitting on this in my drafts, now finally posting it, also I don't show the full sex scene just the beginning and then after

"I'm sorry, what?" Lando was spread out on your bed, having just come over to watch some movies and enjoy a quiet night during his summer break.

Instead, he got you the literal version of an angel asking him to take your virginity. "I want you to be the one to take it. Please?" Lando has to clamp down that instant reply of fuck yes. You try hard to control the way you're looking at him.

Grey sweatpants and signature black t-shirt with that necklace of his resting on the collar. Arm behind his head, showing off the muscles that he's honed and crafted from all the training for races.

Lando just blinks at you, running through all the different scenarios at a time. A million emotions hit him, as he tries to think of the right words to say.

"Lando?" Shame and embarrassment hit you like a truck, he probably thought you were crazy. Asking him out of the blue like that. All he simply asked was what movie you wanted to watch and you reply with asking him to have sex with you.

"Sorry, I'm just.....I'm just trying to figure out what to say." To you, those words meant no, hanging your head you step back from the foot of the bed. "I shouldn't have asked, this was stupid. I'm sorry." Lando sits up quick grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

"It's not stupid. Y/n, what the hell is making you want to lose your virginity all of a sudden?" The question has you flinching, you didn't want to tell him the truth. That some friends got you some spicy books, and all you could picture was Lando doing everything you read to you.

That, you had a secret folder in your phone of edits that fans did. Like you said, it was stupid to ask your friend to do this. "Nothing, can we just forget it?" Feeling that burn in your eyes, Lando stands in front of you. "No, no we can not forget it. If you want to lose your virginity, I need a valid reason." His jaw was tight, he was getting annoyed.

"Fine! My friends gave me spicy books and they had...sex scenes in them and all I could think about was your stupid face and how much I want you to be the first one dammit!" Cheeks flushed, Lando's chest heaves as he tries to control that urge in him. "What kind of books?"

His annoyance quickly gone, replaced with his boyish teasing charm. "None of your business, this was so stupid. Lando, please." You whimper the last part. His entire demeanor changes, quickly thinking of gross things to stop the rush of blood heading south instead of north.

"Do you really want to lose it?" Voice dropping, you look up seeing his pupils blown wide. "What?" Taken aback by the 180 this man can give you in the span of a minute. "Your virginity? If you want to lose it, now. Here. I'll do it, but just one condition." Lando stepping back, his knees hit the bed.

He sits down, hands wrap around your exposed thigs as he yanks you to stand between them. Stumbling, you almost fall into him but balance yourself on his shoulders. "What's your condition?" Voice wispy trying to get air into your lungs. His hands moving slowly up your nightie.

"If you do this, ever get curious about something, want to learn something new. You come to me, only me." Jumping his hands squeeze your ass, his teeth showing as he smiles. Leaning in, he places wet kisses against the thin material. "Yes." Lando looks up, bottom lip pulled down as he places another kiss to your stomach.

"Come here." A gasp is pulled from your throat as you land on his lap, his face buried in your chest. You lean back, freezing when you feel something resting between your legs. "Lando." Unsure, he stops. He really wants to laugh at your confused face, but schools his features.

"It's just my cock, angel." Heat flares throughout your body hearing such a vulgar word come from Lando. "Oh." Feeling a little lost, Lando smiles. Scooching back, he sits up so you two are face to face.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything you aren't ready for." Thumb rubbinng softly into your thigh, you nod your head. "No, I'm ready. Just be careful with me?" If it was possible Lando would've comed right then and there and died happily. "Always." His teeth nip your bottom lip sucking it in, losing himself in you.

Whining you pull away, arching up into his hip the sudden need for pressure too great. "Lando, please it hurts." Lando groans pressing up against you as he rolls you over, so he's on top. "I know, princess. I'll take care of you. Such a good girl." Kissing his way down your body.

He stops at your shorts looking up at you. "Hey, what I'm about to do is get you prepped. I'm...on the thick side and considering your a virgin it'll hurt and be very uncomfortable. But, prepping you will help, are you okay with that?" You nod but Lando doesn't budge. "Y/n, your words. I want to hear it out loud no nodding." You whine just wanting him to touch you.

"Yes. Yes Lando I want you to touch me and fuck me." Lando's eyes darken as he pulls your shorts and underwear off in one swoop. You squirm at the coolness hitting your bare pussy. "Cold?" Lando giggles, running his fingers over your thighs. Looking down he smiles seeing your trimmed but still have hair.

"Lando, please." He shushes you, taking his pointer and middle finger running them over you watching the way your hips jolt up and your face scrunching at the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly he pulls your lips apart, seeing how your wet but he wants you wetter.

"Are you okay with using my mouth and fingers? You can say no the either if you want, princess." Thinking it over you remember the videos and how woman seemed to really enjoy a man's mouth on them. "I'm fine with it." You gasp feeling Lando's mouth placing a delicate kiss.

He takes his time, wanting to learn what you like a don't like. He's careful to read to your face not wanting to push to far he hesitates to use his tongue. But hearing your moan when he moves it up and down, he's found something. "Lan...lan." You whimper as he grows more confident.

His lips wrap around your clit which has your legs clamp shut on his head. He laughs which has you giggling as he pries them off his neck. "You okay?" Licking his lips you nod. "Sorry, it sent this odd feeling up my body and I just reacted." Embarrassed at your reaction to it.

Yet you can't help the relaxed feeling seeing Lando's soft smile. His hands rubbing over your body helping you feel better. "It's fine, Y/n. You're experiencing this for the first time. I'm taking my time for a reason." You groan hearing that, hating he's having to take his time.

"I hate this! I don't want you to take your time, if I wasn't a stupid virgin, you could've just fucked me fast and hard." Lando narrows his eyes, pinching your side you squeal slapping his hand away. "This is your first time, Y/n. No one's first time is magical. Am I experienced? Yes, but do you know how many times it took me to feel comfortable? A while, it's not going to be fireworks and all that. But, you asked me to take your virginity and I'm going to be gentle and make sure you remember with fond memories." You can't help but snort on a laugh at his speech.

"Oh shut up, I'll leave right now and leave you a virgin." Lando teases, but you just mesh you lips together both of you falling into one another. His hands palm your tits, pulling out sweet moans as he goes back between your legs. "Lando, wrap...yes." Fingers tugging his hair when his lips wrap around your clit.

He pulls off, telling you he's about to use his fingers. Taking several deep breaths you relax as he slowly slides one finger into you. "How does that feel?" Using his free hand to rub circles into your hip. "Weird, it hurts, but not in a bad way just in a, never felt this before." Lando nods curling the finger and moving it in and out. "Oh, that's....not bad." Lando nods going back down.

He adds a second finger which has you panicking but he talks you down explaining why he's using another finger and it helps you. Lando is gentle as he gets you ready, he smiles seeing that you're ready. "Okay, you're stretched enough. Are you ready?"

"I think so, is it going to hurt?" Lando sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, but I'm going to be slow and make sure I don't hurt you. If you say stop, no, or anything like that. I'm stopping. You just need to let me know." You watch as Lando takes off his underwear, holding a condom you can't help but stare.

It's probably odd, but he has a pretty cock. He wasn't lying when he said he was on the thicker side. "You're pretty." Lando snaps his eyes up at you, covering your mouth you look away. He can't help the blush on his cheeks, no one has ever called him pretty. He liked it.

"I'm ready." Wanting to move on from you calling him pretty. "Okay." He shuffles forward, placing your legs around his waist. "Try to relax, it'll help." Closing your eyes, you think of something relaxing. "Oh." Eyes opening Lando stops, having only entered you past his tip. "Are you okay?" You blink trying to figure out what you're feeling.

Yes, it stinges, but it doesn't hurt as much. "Yeah, I was expecting it to hurt, but it just stinges." Lando smiles, leaning over as he kisses you on the nose sliding the rest in. He places his head in the crook of your neck while the two of you adjust. "Lando?" He hums as you smile, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his neck. "Thank you, for doing this. Also, you can move." His back shakes, laughing at your words.

Lando moves his hips carefully as you wrap your arms around his neck, breathing as you get used to the feeling. Lando and you whimper and moan as you start to relax more enjoying this. You giggle when you kisses you on your neck which has him laughing. He was right, your first time was weird but also comfortable.

Laying in bed, feeling oddly tired he smiles drawing patterns on your stomach. "You're right, not the best but maybe we should practice more." Lando snorts, eyes growing heavy. "Easy, it's the orgasm thoughts. Let's wait till tomorrow." Nodding you roll to your side curling into Lando.

"I'm glad you asked me too."

2K notes · View notes

zegrasdrysdale · 2 months

Note

Hi! Could you do a Luke Hughes x reader where the reader still goes to UMich while Luke is in Jersey w/ Jack and she speculates he’s cheating on her? Angst with a happy ending, preferably? Thank you!

[ 604 miles ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : after seeing Luke on Jack’s private story, his girlfriend begins speculating that he’s doing more than just playing hockey

warning(s) : angst ! but w a happy ending. mentions of cheating. reader still goes to Umich

author’s note : oooh this is gonna be juicy

༺═──────────────═༻

She trusts Luke. She swear she does, but she can’t help but feel the little pull at her heart when she watches him in the background of Jack’s private story.

A bunch of their mutual Michigan friends started to text her while she was doing homework. Even fans on social media have been posting about it and tagging her in posts.

She was confused, then she opened Snapchat to see what they were talking about.

In one video, Jack’s drunk and dancing to some song that she doesn’t know. In the background, she sees her boyfriend sitting at a booth with some blonde at his side. He isn’t touching her, but she’s sitting too close to him.

In another video, Luke’s in the background dancing with that same girl. She notices the smile on Luke’s face when he faces the camera.

It brings tears to her eyes as she jumps to an immediate conclusion. She’s been right every time so far.

She truly thought he was different than the other hockey players she dated. They all cheated on her too, and Luke promised her over and over again that he would never do that to her.

Well, here he is. Probably cheating on her and Jack is posting it all over his private Snap story for all their mutual friends to see. It’s embarrassing for her.

It took months for Luke to break down the wall she built around her heart. They met halfway through their freshman year at Michigan. It wasn’t until the beginning of their sophomore year that they started dating.

With her sadness turning into anger and tears rolling down her hot face, she calls Luke. It keeps ringing. And ringing. So she calls one more time.

And gets his voicemail.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you have five minutes to call me back or you’re going to end up without a girlfriend,” she says into the phone. “I mean it. And you better have a damn good reason you’re dancing with some random blonde girl on Jack’s Snapchat.” Then she hits the end button and puts the phone on her desk with the screen up.

A minute passes and her phone doesn’t ring. She doesn’t get a text.

Two minutes pass and her fingers are itching to call him again. She wants to stay true to her word because if Luke has a good explanation as to why he’s with some blonde then he’ll call her back.

Four minutes pass from the call. She drafts a text to Jack that she’s going to send in a minute if her phone doesn’t ring.

‘ tell luke i’m going to send him his things that i have in my apartment and that i want mine back. i’m done. ’

After five minutes pass, she sends the text.

It’s not the first time that this has happened, and it’s the last. Not only is she done with Luke, she’s done with any hockey boys in general. Too many times has she gotten her heart broken because the relationship had to go long distance. Too many times has she had too much trust.

Two minutes after she sents Jack the text, her phone rings. Jack is calling her.

“I really don’t feel like explaining why-”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Luke interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “What did I do?”

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Luke,” she replies. “I saw you in the background of Jack’s snaps getting too comfortable with a blonde girl. Sitting with her and a smile on your face while dancing with her? You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.”

“That’s not- baby, she’s a friend,” Luke tries to defend. “Jack’s friend if I’m being honest. He was busy hanging out with Nico and Dawson so she came to sit with me. She dragged me out onto the dance floor and told me to dance. I told her I had a girlfriend and she still dragged me to the dance floor and got close to me. I didn’t try to do anything with her because I don’t want to.”

Tears sting her eyes. “I gave you a chance to explain yourself,” she tells him. “I called you twice before I texted Jack. It took me texting Jack before you called me from his phone. You told me you’d never break my heart but you did. I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ve been told that same story over and over again.”

Luke stays silent. She has to dry her own tears that have rolled down her cheeks. She has to cover her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sob that he hears.

She’s standing her ground. She’s protecting her heart. The 604 miles between them should be enough space and make it easier to move on.

“(Y/N), I would never cheat on you,” Luke tells her. She can hear the sincerity in his voice but she still doesn’t believe him.

“Luke, I can’t right now,” she softly says. She’s pretty sure he can’t even hear her because of how loud it is in the bar or wherever they are. “I’m sorry.”

Then she hangs up. She shuts her phone off and crawls into bed, completely forgetting about her homework. All she wants to do right now is wallow.

His words are just words. She knows what she saw. Right now, nothing that Luke can say to her will change her mind about being done.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when she hears a knock on her off-campus apartment door. She hasn’t gotten up out of bed in nearly forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom. Her phone hasn’t been turned on since her talk with Luke the other day.

Someone is probably coming to check on her since she has fallen off the face of the Earth for the moment. That is the only reason why she drags herself out of bed to go answer the door.

When she swings open the door, it’s the last person she expects to be on her doorstep. He actually supposed to be in California right now. They have a game to play in a few hours in Anaheim.

Luke holds a single rose out for her and a little basket full of snacks is in his other hand. “I was going to get a whole bouquet for you but I forgot to grab one at the store,” he tells her. “If anyone asks, I did not pull this from the bed by the front door of the building.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to talk,” he replies. “You haven’t been replying to any of my texts or answering my calls. I told Lindy that I needed a few personal days and he told me that I can come back when I’m ready to. I didn’t want you to keep thinking that I was cheating on you or hurting you. That was never my intention.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the apartment. Luke is quick to follow her and shut the door behind her. “You can say what you have to say then you can get on a flight to Anaheim to play tonight,” she tells him as she sits on the couch in the living room.

He sets the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of her and sets the rose next to it. Luke pulls out his phone and taps on it for a second. She’s about to say something when he shows her his screen.

It’s a picture of the blonde girl that was with Luke, but she’s all cuddled up with Jack. Jack looks happy and is looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. It was taken at the beginning of the night because she can tell that there is something behind Jack’s eyes.

“It’s Jack’s ‘friend’,” Luke assures her. “They’re together but aren’t telling people they’re together but they make it obvious that they are. The reason she was hanging out with me for a little bit was because she wanted to know how to tell Jack that she’s ready to publicly be together.”

She looks up at Luke behind the phone. “You couldn’t answer your phone and just tell me that?” she asks.

“I left it in the car,” he tells her. He taps on the screen a few more times and holds up a screenshot of his and Jack’s locations. They weren’t together, and it looks like Luke was right outside the building.

It’s all making sense to her. Her and her trust issues were wrong this time.

A pout forms on her lips at the same time tears form in her eyes. “You really weren’t lying to me,” she mumbles. Her voice is incredibly shaky.

“I told you that I would never break your heart,” Luke tells her. “Not intentionally. I definitely wouldn’t cheat on you. I know you’re past with that and no matter how upset I am with you, I wouldn’t resort to that. Unlike everyone else you’ve been with, I’m more willing to communicate. Hell, I took time away from the team to come make sure we were okay.”

One of the tears rolls down her cheeks and Luke uses the back of his pointer finger to wipe it away. She leans into his touch and looks at him. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she says. It comes out as more of a sob than actual words.

He moves closer to her and throws an arm over her shoulders. She curls up against him and Luke kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I know how you think so I gave you a little bit then came to talk to you. Just needed you to think with your head and not your past.”

She frowns and throws her legs over his lap. Luke holds her close.

“Do you want to go to Anaheim to play?” she asks as she looks up at him. “There’s enough time for you to make it for warmups.”

Luke shakes his head. “I think I want to spend a few days with you,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure they can handle a couple of games without me. I need a handful of days off where I don’t think about hockey. I haven’t been playing the best so a break sounds nice.”

“It’s your first season,” she tells him as she runs her fingers through his curls. “There is so much pressure on you because of your last name. You’re most likely feeling it without realizing it.”

He looks at his girlfriend. “I know,” he sighs. “Just give me a few days and I’ll head back to Jersey to play when they get back from the California trip.”

She leans forward and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she tells him. “I think you’ll grow into your NHL skates. You’ll have an insane season next season, or even for the last 20 something games of the season.”

“I love you too,” Luke replies. “Sorry I made you think I was cheating on you.”

“Got you to come see me so I guess I forgive you,” she teases.

It’s been a few weeks since Luke came to see her. They watched the All Star game together in the apartment. That was the last time they saw each other.

Luke gets comfortable on the couch. “Can we take a nap since we’re okay?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”

“Only if we move to the bed because you are too big to share a couch with.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings @axaslee @ithinkimokeei @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes angst #zegrasdrysdale request

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Text

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

569 notes · View notes

softlyspector · 3 months

Text

The second crow

Summary: There's not much in your tiny town, and Joel doesn't expect to stay long.

Pairing: coal miner!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~13.5k

Warnings: once again writing about grief, mentions of suicidal ideation, small town setting and drama, past death of a parent (reader), past death of a child (joel), avoidant reader, mentions of natural disaster, anxiety, brief smut, smoking, alcohol mention

A/N: She wrote another long ass fic! This took months to write and then collected dust in the drafts because I'm scared. This is the kind of thing I post and run away from because there is so much of myself in it. This is probably the most me you will ever get. Please allow me this little moment to be sappy about it in the author's note. I don't know if anyone even reads these but I'm going to shove my love in here anyway. This fic is very special to me for a lot of reasons. It deals with a lot of personal issues I've been grappling with, and it is very much a love letter to where I'm from. I hope you enjoy this fic, can find something in it to relate to, and can appreciate the little slice of idealized love for home I've indulged in here. Thank you for reading! And as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have.

And, he will never, ever know it, but this fic is very much dedicated to my best friend, who was the first person to hang on and say I won't let you go this time.

The door clatters back in the wind; the glass rattles in the frame. Snow swirls into the front foyer before it slams shut again.

A man you don’t recognize steps through the archway, and into the front room. A layer of coal dust lays fine and thin over his coveralls, settled into the creases in his face. He carries a battered miner’s helmet, a duffle bag, a rifle, and nothing else.

“Hi,” you say, surprised from your place behind the kitchen counter, plucking down holiday decorations that had long overstayed their welcome. “Somethin’ I can help you with?”

“Sure,” he nods and approaches, eyes flicking around the small front room, overcrowded with furniture that was in style thirty years ago, peeling patterned forest green wallpaper that you’d love to be able to replace one day, or at least fix up.

You can’t be bothered to feel anything but curiosity.

Strangers are a rare thing.

Rarer are strangers that come from so far away that they do not know not to come inside covered in coal dust and snow, before they have cleaned off. It sloughs off him in minute, shimmering waves, fine lines of black that sparkle in the white, winter light.

Rivulets of sweat cut through the dust on his face and neck, and pools at the base of his throat. Snow melts in his hair and along the shoulders of his coat from the blizzard outside.

A chunk of ice falls off his boot with his final step toward you. You watch it slide across the floor and under the edge of a battered bookshelf. “I’m lookin’ for a room. Guy at the bar pointed me here.”

His accent is a drawl and not a twang, the syllables of his words hang long in the air. Not quite southern. It takes you a long second to pin-point its origin. “Tell me, do they have coal mines in Texas?”

He blinks at you, fingers tightening on the rim of the hardhat in his hands. “Yes ma’am.”

“And did you mine coal there?”

“Can’t say I did.”

“And you didn’t get much snow either, I take it?”

He huffs out a surprised, exasperated chuckle. “Not like this.”

“I figured so,” you smile. “With that way you’re trackin’ dust and ice across my floor. You’d know better than to come in the front door like that. Or at least to stomp off the snow a little.”

The stranger looks back at the mess he tracked across the room and then turns back to you, looking sheepish, maybe a little horrified. “I apologize, I shoulda realized—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shake your head. “It’s all right. But most folks along this street will feel the same, except the bar, so keep that in mind.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“A room you said?”

He nods, then shakes his head. “Well, if I didn’t offend you too bad, that is.”

“You didn’t. But you should know we got a miner’s shower in the basement.”

He just nods again, glancing around the room. You didn’t think someone could get culture shock from your little town, but you think you see all the fixings of it on this stranger’s face. The coal dust and the slushy streets aside, the miner’s shower and kicking snow off his boots seems to have done it.

He looks lost, in more ways than one. Down on his luck, melancholy but different to the kind of sadness you usually see. Tired. Like there's something missing about him.

You go through the motions of asking how long he’ll be staying with you, figuring which room to put him in — end of the hall, you decide, the least drafty of the two. Not like you ever had many guests.

You can’t help feel a little sympathy for him, standing uncomfortable in the middle of the room because you’d pointed out his mistake.

“So, Texas, what brought you to our little town?” You ask and pull on your coat, motioning for him to follow you back outside.

The front steps are slick with ice, in need of another layer of salt. You step carefully over it, the stranger offering you an arm to hang onto as you descend, and lead him around the side of the house, the path already dug out from the snowfall of the previous night.

Dark is falling quick, the sun sinking below the mountains, layering the valley in its usual early darkness, the crests of the hills in the distance cast in an eerie golden orange even through the snowfall.

Texas doesn’t answer you, the tread of his footsteps quiet behind you. When you reach the back of the house, snow up to your ankles padded in from the yard, you turn to face him, snow battering at both of you. “Just work.”

“Why here?”

You like knowing strangers. They’re easy to know, because there’s no chance of them turning and knowing too much, of looking behind your questions and smiles and seeing anything important. You are anonymous to them as they are to you, and that's how you like it. Nothing you might reveal means anything.

He doesn’t answer you and so you leave it. “Well, whatever brought you here, we’re glad to have you. We don’t get many folks from other places.” You turn to the door you’ve led him to, “Now, when you get in from the mines, you come in this way.” You hold up the proper key and let both of you in. “Just to rinse off, y’know? Won’t make you clean up down here, too cold. But otherwise, you can come on through the front door as long as you kick the ice off your boots. All right?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He sounds so serious and polite, brow lowered over his eyes.

“Well, okay,” you smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Yours is the first place Joel lands in a long time that he feels comfortable.

Everything has a worn, lived in feel to it, like generations of families and visitors and travelers have passed there before him, like the warmth of their ghosts still linger in the walls and beneath the floorboards.

The front room is cluttered with books and all kinds of knicknacks, postcards that look like they were sent by people who passed through or visited before the town stopped getting so many visitors. The wallpaper is peeling and the floors groan no matter where he sets his feet.

It reminds him of somewhere he’s been before, or something he used to know, and can’t say exactly what.

Maybe it just reminds him of all the comfortable places he’s ever been, that very particular small town intimacy that he’s tried to remain anonymous and separate from for the last year or so.

He means to stay just until the snow storm passes.

And then it does and he keeps on staying.

It’s funny, how quick he takes to you, feels the ache of something settled just at the bottom of his chest, echoed back at him in your eyes. A kind of loneliness and seeking that he tramps down any time it dares raise its head.

“You know,” you had said the second evening he was there. He had been thinking about getting something to eat, and instead found himself letting you pour him a cup of coffee. “You can stay for dinner. We used to feed everybody who stayed here. But that was before the passenger trains quit running. Before my time, nearly. Now it’s just those guys that pass through and wanna go over to the bar anyway.”

“I don’t want ya to go outta your way—”

“Please,” you’d scoffed. “I’d be glad for the company.”

“All right,” he’d found himself agreeing to that smile, the invitation of company he hadn’t wanted or needed in a long time. “Anything I can help you with?”

You’d shaken your head and he sat when you’d gestured at the table. “Very kind of you to offer, though, Joel.”

He hadn't been sure what to say either, that second night, because he’d been alone for so long, and talk had come at a minimum since he left Texas.

The house sighed and Joel sipped his coffee, watching the points of your elbows, the jut of your hip, as you cooked. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been sure what to say, because you had; well versed in quiet strangers it seemed, which would come to bother him.

He would come to hate how easily you get on with strangers and push everyone else away.

But he hadn’t known that the second night.

Maybe he just hadn’t realized how starved for company he’d really been. But he liked you right away and the way you just talk, every thought you ever had floating up and right out of your mouth without a filter.

It takes his mind off the things he tries to forget anyway.

So, he had eaten with you that second night and every night that he can afterwards.

A week passes and you expect Joel to move on, like everyone does. But he doesn’t, he asks for the room for another week, and then another, and another.

Joel clips steadily into your life, until he’s part of your everyday routine.

He gives you extra money for the dinner appointment he keeps with you each night, though you tell him he doesn’t have to.

He makes himself helpful in the evenings even though you suspect he’s always exhausted but never able to get any shut eye. He drinks coffee by the pot full, and though you wonder what it is that keeps him up at night, you don’t ask. You don’t ask anything of him, because it isn’t your place, though your curiosity burns hot.

The stranger is becoming not a stranger and you don’t know how to feel about that. Maybe this time you would manage to let someone in without feeling like the world might cave in on you.

The stranger, Joel, is kind and sometimes funny. He’s handsome and it’s hard not to like his company. He doesn't talk much but you don't mind.

The dark shadow that hangs behind his eyes has nothing to do with you. But it gets hard to remember that when you end up spending so much time with him.

It isn’t long before your neighbor, and friend, starts in on teasing you about him. Each time Janie comes to the back door with fresh bread from the bakery she makes eyes at you and asks after your handsome boarder.

You claim to know nothing of him, despite knowing so much and so little all in one.

You start to worry every Sunday that he goes out on his own into the woods that he’ll never come back, and that all you’ll have left are the footprints he left in the snow, and even those will be long gone when the year eventually and inevitably warms up.

It scares you that it worries you at all. It shouldn’t matter at all if he suddenly disappeared into the snow.

But he always comes back, never with any game even though you told him nobody cares about the no hunting on Sundays rule, and with a look in his eye that says he did kill something, just not something you could see.

When you figure out he’s carrying nothing to work with him to eat, you insist he go next door and get some pepperoni rolls from Janie. “What is it?”

“What’s it sound like?” You ask and roll your eyes. “They’re good to take into the mines with you. You can’t work thousand hour shifts and not eat. Don’t you have a lunch bucket or somethin’?”

“Thousand hour,” he scoffs. Then, “No, I don’t.”

“Jesus, Joel.”

He laughs and it’s the first time you’ve heard it. It’s nice, and sounds surprised in the air, punched out of him in a short burst. “All right,” he agrees. “All right. I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

But he leaves before the sun comes up and comes back long after it’s set and so you can’t just let it go. His whole days are set in perpetual darkness, and the very least he needs to do is eat proper.

You know you shouldn’t, but you worry about him.

“Just do it,” you grouse at him, shooing him away from the coffee pot. “She makes ‘em fresh everyday and it would make me feel better. It’s common, anyway. It’s what a lot of guys take down there. And you wouldn’t want me dying of worry over you, would you?”

Joel grumbles about it, but he does as you ask, and when he comes in in the evenings, he doesn’t look so pale anymore. The bruises under his eyes never go away, the puffy bags of sleeplessness that he supplements with coffee at all hours of the day, morning and night, but he doesn’t look so wan and so it’s better.

Even quiet as he seems to be, he looks at you when you talk and always says thank you when you put a plate down in front of him, and makes it out to be a great ordeal when he asks if he could trouble you for a cup of coffee.

One evening, a couple weeks on, he slumps down at the table with an unusual amount of heaviness. His shoulders are damp with a thousand snowflakes, coal dust rubbed haphazardly off his face, the weight of a heavy sky on his shoulders.

Joel asks for a cup of coffee but he looks like he’s been sleeping even less than usual.

He looks exhausted, purple bags beneath his eyes, and even though it’s none of your business, you ask, “Sure? Might be you won’t sleep.”

“I’ll be all right.” His voice doesn’t leave room for argument, a tad dismissive.

“You’ll eat with it,” you snap. “Or you can go find it somewhere else.”

He blinks up at you, surprised at your tone. “I can be mean, too, Joel Miller.”

It takes a second but he nods. “I’m sorry. I was raised with better manners than that.”

“I know it. It’s all right.”

Almost like an apology, he tells you about Texas that night, about his brother, about what he’s found he actually misses from home, how he used to be a carpenter before he did this, how he can play the guitar.

“What is it you’re lookin’ for?” You ask softly when he stands at your sink with bowed shoulders, washing the dishes, meticulous about it.

He shrugs. “That’s just it,” he says without looking at you, hands reddened with the heat of the water. “There's nothin’ to look for.”

“You’re that Mr. Miller, aren’t ya? Lives over at the inn, right? Have all winter long?”

Joel is in the tiny general store. It’s mid-March and you asked him to get milk. There’s about five shelves total, a freezer, and a refrigerator. He’s been in and out plenty of times without any kind of trouble.

He glances at the man leaning against the cooler door next to the one he has propped open and gives a vague nod. “Sure.”

“Well, we was just wantin’ to know what’s got you hangin’ around over there for so long.”

It ain’t phrased like a question.

Joel glances over his shoulder, finds two women and the owner of the store looking over at them from the front counter.

“Mister?”

He turns back to the man attempting to intimidate him. “That so?”

“Sure do.”

“Well, she don’t seem to have a problem with my stayin’ there,” he grabs the milk you’d asked him for, the least he could do after all those dinners you cooked. He tries to repay you, do things around the place but you’re resistant to it, independent and sometimes angry, and damn stubborn about it. “So I really don’t see what that has to do with you, anyhow.”

The hostility bleeds red in the air. He pays for the milk and doesn’t wait for the change, figuring he wouldn’t get it anyway, and that a few coins didn’t matter anyway.

When he opens the backdoor, snow and ice and street grit knocked carefully off his boots at the bottom of the steps that led up to the porch, you smile at him.

“You got some protective friends.”

“Excuse me?”

He tells you what happened, lets you put a cup of coffee in front of him on the table and press a friendly hand to his shoulder.

And, Jesus, it shouldn’t, but it makes something deep in him ache. If your hand lingered, if it rubbed the top of his spine and between his shoulder blades, he’d be all right with that; he’d lean into it.

But your hand disappears just as quick.

“Oh, honey, they’re just suspicious of anyone that hangs around town for too long.”

“Why’s that?”

“You ain’t noticed? We don’t get people from other places around here, and the ones we have take everything. With not a lot to go around. They just don’t know you.” You smile wryly at him over your shoulder, mouth twisted crookedly. Your gaze flicks over him, lingering for a second, but then you shrug and turn away.

“Make an effort, if you care to. They’ll come around. They just don’t know you, it’s not like you get out,” you rib lightly.

“Cute.”

“Can’t help you go from here to the mines and back and that’s it.” You’re smiling when you say it, the curve of your cheek visible to him even though your back is turned.

He rolls his eyes and you laugh when you catch him doing it.

He can’t figure why it matters to him, but it does.

So, Joel makes the effort, or does his best to.

He makes his way over to the neighbor’s place and offers to fix their front step he noticed was loose, wood rotting through. He fixes someone’s leaking roof. Runs deliveries of groceries to the old folks who can’t get out and regale him with stories that take at least two hours to tell. He shovels snow until he’s so exhausted he does actually pass out at night.

It gets around that he’s handy and not asking for anything in return and a nice young man according to the older people and so he finds he has something to do each evening for almost a week straight.

Maybe that was a mistake, but if Joel knows anything it’s that small, poor towns run on favors. He knows that you smile when he tells you why he’s back so late each evening.

A week or so after the general store incident, he receives a parcel of muffins, and overhears one of the neighbors commending him in your kitchen. “Maybe he’s not so bad. We was worried. No one ever sees him. You should bring him over to the church sometime.”

It shouldn’t matter, but it does. You laugh and say, “I don’t think either of us are the church goin’ type. But I always know a good man when I see one, you should know that by now at least.”

“You sure do. Think he could fix our porch swing before spring comes?”

“Don’t see why he couldn’t.”

He makes an effort to be seen. It’s nice, he guesses, that people know his name again. It’s nice to feel needed somewhere, even if it smarts a little. It’s nice to feel like maybe he isn’t looking for nothing anymore.

Joel tells himself that it just makes things easier for him, just so he can get goddamn milk without being accosted. Milk for you, for dinner.

No, it has nothing at all to do with you, or the way you called him a good man, or the way the tips of his ears went hot with it.

Not getting to talk to you for a week straight in the evenings almost becomes worth it.

It has nothing at all to do with that big lonely hole in his heart, or the memories that snagged like sharp teeth at the edge of that wound.

The mines are way out past the edge of town.

It’s a long damn walk there and back. The morning is pitch black when he sinks into the cold earth, and only dregs of light are left when he comes back up in the evenings.

But the town, when he draws near, sparkles with light, bright with moonlight reflected on the snow that won’t seem to melt, even as April begins to creep in.

Spring should be well on its way, but the world still smells frozen and bruised, like pine needles and coal dust and the enduringly brutal cold.

Most that stay in town are just passing through town, on their way to somewhere else. He finds he doesn’t mind being the only permanent fixture at your place.

Some of them are all right, most of them really, but a few make him wary. He worries about you, though you don’t seem concerned about being alone. He supposes you did it long before he got there, and you’ll do it after he leaves.

They’re gone within days, anyway, so he doesn’t say anything about it. But he wants to, the words like bubbles that want to pop in the back of his throat. He wants to tell you to be careful and not so friendly.

He’s exhausted by the time he makes his way to the basement door, folds away his coal encrusted oversuit and rises off the worst of the sweat and dust quick. He’ll take a proper shower later.

You and him have fallen into a routine the last couple months, the fine sharp edge of April waiting just around the corner, and with it the hopes for warmer weather, that the temperatures will rise and the wind won’t bite quite so harshly.

There’s always something hot waiting for him on the table, even if you aren’t there to see to it. Most nights you’re there, but you are busy. More times than not lately, you’re somewhere else, doing something else, maybe like you’re trying to unstick yourself from him just a little. But you’re just busy, popular in town as a local, a regular nearly everywhere.

He always sits with you when he gets the chance, eats with you. He likes to. It keeps his mind off of what he’d left behind, what he lost.

Just like working himself to death all day does. It’s hard to think beyond the physical, backbreaking pain of the labor to what lay in back in Texas.

You and him create a routine together, solid and steady.

When it’s interrupted, he hates to admit it burns.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize that you are profoundly lonely, despite the plethora of people in and out of your life—the visitors and guests, but the townspeople, too. You’re a regular everywhere, and somehow always alone.

You’re friends with the baker next door, at least. As far as he can tell, she’s the only person you’re really close with in the town.

The baker has started coming to the back door in the morning, a sly smile on her face that he’s not particularly keen on. He has started taking the basket from her, answering the knock that never waited to be answered, the door always pushed in before either of you could get to it, a basket of fresh bread and the pepperoni rolls he’d started buying off her weeks before to appease you.

He forgets to eat more than he ever has before. It just doesn’t seem to matter.

A couple times a week, you sit down to cards and cigarettes and drinks with the baker. He listens to the gossip from the front room, a book with words that blur and never sink in propped on his knee. To hear the two of you together, it makes something in his throat close.

He usually has Sundays off, days where he’d climb out into the great unknown of the valleys and hills that surround the picturesque town, almost village-like with all its holiday lights still strung up to keep the long dark days of the enduring winter season at bay, and, rifle in hand, go hunting.

It’s illegal to go hunting on Sundays, but you assure him no one cares as long as it’s after the church services are over.

He never manages to get a shot off anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

Everytime he thinks he’ll be able to lift the gun to his shoulder and pull the trigger at the creature sighted in the scope, he doesn’t, he can’t. He sees his daughter instead. He sees Sarah’s closed coffin; he sees her bloodied face, shards of glass spread around her like a halo of sparkling snow; he sees her blonde hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, tubes crawling in and out of her mouth and chest and arms.

And all Joel has to show for it is a scar across the bridge of his nose, a tight pinch in his right shoulder that hadn’t been there before.

There are a lot of deer around, but birds, too, ducks and geese, rabbits, foxes. All of them remind him of his kid and so the rifle remains unused. He can’t help but feel like he might be killing his kid all over again.

The basement is dark and chilled when he gets in, but not cold or damp. Snow crumbles from his boots and leaves an icy shine behind. There’s a broom beside the door and he does his best to sweep the mess to the drain in the center of the basement floor.

Something weary weighs on him. He feels heavy all the time, tired beyond belief, and like a hole might open up in his chest at any moment, like the heart of him might slip out, bloody and mangled, right onto the floor.

This isn’t the first town he’s stumbled onto, lost and wandering, unable to stay in Texas without thinking of his girl. It is the first town he’s stayed in longer than a week.

It’s been near a year since she passed in that hospital, machines turned off, chest ceasing to rise and fall.

He thought he could take it, be strong, be there as his child died right in front of him.

He’d had to agree to it after all, sign all the right papers and talk to all the right people, and get a thousand and one second opinions from all kinds of doctors to be sure.

No brain activity. No chance of ever waking up. Hung in limbo forever, and he couldn’t abide that, that maybe she was in pain and trying to move on and leave and find rest and he wasn’t letting her.

They assured him that she would not feel a thing, and that was good, but no one warned him that he would be the one taking it all on. It felt like being carved open, split down the middle, like he was raw and turned inside out and someone was holding a hot needle to his lungs.

He hadn’t been able to help the way he fell to his knees and howled, sobbed.

So, after the funeral, he sold his house and left. Did odd jobs and backbreaking seasonal work for almost a year, a different town every week, until he stumbled on this mining town, deep in the hills of some place long forgotten.

By the looks of the buildings, it might have been busy once, trains and visitors and people, but the mines feel like they’ve been there since the beginning of time. There’s something ancient in the air and down in the deep earth.

Maybe he stays because he got into town on the anniversary of the accident.

He’s goddamn stupid if he doesn’t think it has nothing to do with you, though.

Joel should have already moved on when he heard about your little inn, in the bar down the street, but snow had moved in, so thick and white, he couldn’t see more than an inch in front of his face. The roads would be bad for days after, the least he could do was get away from that shitty company housing while he waited, and get a few more days of pay.

But the roads cleared, and a week passed, and then another, and another, and he still hasn’t met that urge to keep moving, to put space between him and Sarah. He only thinks of her when he’s trying to sleep, and those fateful Sundays.

The kitchen is empty and cold when he closes the basement door behind him, a thin wind spiraling in from the cracked open back door.

The porch is dark but the outline of you is clear, sitting on the plastic-covered porch swing with a cigarette between your fingers. “Those things’ll kill ya they say,” he says by way of greeting, leaning against the siding.

“And what exactly do you go breathing in everyday down in them mines that’s so healthy?” There’s a snap in your voice that usually isn’t there, that mean streak that lashes out from time to time.

Joel pulls the door almost shut, shuts the little bit of light leaking outside away. “Are you all right?”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay,” he says. “Should I leave ya?”

It takes a minute for you to answer. “Get a coat and come sit.” After a second you add, “If y’want.”

So he gets a coat and sits next to you on the swing. The plastic crinkles under his thighs. “Do you smoke?”

“I used to.” He should leave it at that but more words follow that he doesn’t intend. “Stopped years ago, a couple months before my - my daughter was born.” He falters a little on the words.

Joel braces himself, stiffens, all the bone and muscle inside of him going deadly tight, waiting for the inevitable questioning. Maybe you don’t care to ask or maybe you feel him tense or hear something in his voice because you don’t ask.

Something pricks at him, disappointment maybe.

“Well, it’s just us here,” you say simply. “You want one?”

Sarah never knew he smoked.

He takes the one you offer and the packet of matches.

“I don’t usually,” you say without prompting. “Smoke, that is. Sometimes when I drink.”

Joel takes a long drag and holds it in his lungs for a long minute. It feels good and tastes as bad as he remembers. “Card night.”

You smile at him, cigarette slowly brought to your lips. “That’s right.”

He almost asks what it is that has you smoking without your friend, but he figures you’re about to tell him anyway. You talk a lot. He likes that about you.

So he waits.

And you don’t say anything.

There’s just a long melancholy silence where your words normally are.

On a usual evening, he comes upstairs and bothers you about letting him help you some way. You don’t like letting people help you, like it even less when he just does it anyway.

On a usual evening, he’s threatened with expulsion from the kitchen, and then gets caught up on local dramas, some of which he is beginning to understand, while he sits at the table with a cup of coffee and you pretend to never need help.

The snow makes a sound as it hits the piles of the stuff that has yet to melt, frozen hard and unforgiving everywhere.

He’s never been around snow, much less sat outside as it fell.

The whole world goes quiet with it, like he got sucked into a black hole and sound got swallowed up around nothing.

And in the silence, he can hear the individual plunks of each flake settling onto the frozen ground. He wouldn’t have thought it made a sound at all.

“You sure you’re all right?” He asks and slips one arm across the back of the swing, realizing that you never answered him in the first place.

You just draw in another long breath and inch closer to him on the swing.

Maybe he’s not as crazy as he thought. When you look at him, there’s something in your eyes, a grief that he feels reflected back in your eyes, sharp like a tack shoved into the delicate skin between thumb and forefinger.

The ache in his chest is present on your face.

“Just one of those days,” you say and smile. “Sorry I’m not myself.”

You’re plenty yourself, just muted. Quiet.

He does quiet pretty well, so you just sit there and listen to the snow, breathe it in, shudder against his arm until he just wraps it around you, trying not to put too much thought into it.

You don’t look at him. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

He’s not sure how long you sit there. He just knows he’s numb when your hand covers his, your fingers feel hot against the freezing ache that’s set in.

“My dad was a miner. Pretty much everybody is around here, I guess. Those mines,” you say and shake your head. “They give. We wouldn’t exist without ‘em, but they take too. They take what they think they’re owed in the end. You can’t take that much out of Earth that old and expect nothin’ bad.” You hesitate for a long moment but when Joel squeezes your hand, you continue. “My dad died in a mine collapse around this time a couple years ago. So I guess that’s what I'm thinkin’ about today.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and, slowly, your head tips against his shoulder. The cigarettes are stubbed out, the butts deposited in an ashtray. “Usually, this time of year all the snow is already gone. And then the rains come and everything floods. And that spring, the mine collapsed with it.”

He thinks of telling you of his own grief, his own loss, and the way he ran away from it. The way he’s still trying to run away from it. But something sharp twinges in his chest and he stays silent. Layering his grief over yours wouldn’t help no one, least of all you.

Telling someone about her, someone who didn’t know her, having to describe her — he wants to, and can’t imagine doing it, all in one.

Maybe it isn’t right to, anyway.

Instead, he squeezes your hand, tilts his chin against your forehead. “You always run this place?”

“No. Back when there were people still passing through, my aunt did. It’s not like there’s much else to do around here so I just decided to keep it going when she left.”

“It’s nice.”

“Think so? One day it’ll be a five star hotel.”

He chuckles. “I don’t doubt it. Almost too rich for my blood now.”

“Honorary guest,” you disagree. “Always. Room reserved for you, just in case.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious,” you laugh and relax fully against his shoulder; the tension bleeds out of you, the curve of you spilling softly into him.

You sit like that for a long time, until the snow stops coming down.

It’s then that the world does go silent as a grave, like the two of you are the last people alive.

“It’s been real nice havin’ you here,” you say suddenly and quietly, like someone might hear, like you might disturb him. The puff of your breath clouds, crystalizes in front of him like something physical he might pluck from the air and put in his pocket.

Glad to have been here, glad to be here, he wants to say and doesn’t. It feels wrong to be glad to be anywhere at all.

When you tilt your face up, your eyes are soft. He doesn’t even think about it.

He just kisses you.

You taste like blackberries, dark sweet and sour. The cigarette on your tongue is only an afterthought. The sound you make when he cups your head in his hands and tips it back, rehomes itself in his chest.

When he pulls you into himself, you sigh.

Five days later, it’s a Sunday. Another snowstorm is passing through the hills, and any snow that had managed to melt that week comes right back.

Joel only realizes when he’s brushing his teeth—preoccupied with thinking about maybe not going hunting for once, and cleaning the damn rifle instead—that it’s unusually cold. He rinses his mouth out and goes to find you.

The steps creak and crack as he descends them, like they’re covered in a spiderwebbed ice that might split and send him into some achingly cold depth if he isn’t careful.

He finds you bundled up in a coat by the backdoor, a scarf wound halfway up your face, just your eyes visible above the fabric.

“I’m sorry,” you say, voice muffled and eyes wide. “The heating went out and there’s nothin’ to be done about it until the snow clears up a little and it ain’t supposed to until tomorrow.” You shake your head. “Never snows this goddamn much or this late in the season,” you gripe, a bitterness in your voice.

“Well, that ain’t your fault,” he says, watching you wiggle your fingers into a pair of gloves. He thinks you’re just layering up, but when you reach for your boots by the back door it becomes apparent that you intend to go outside. “And just where do you think you’re goin’?”

You pick up a basket next and reach for the doorknob. “I need wood for the fireplace—”

“Then let me get it for ya,” he says, stepping into his own boots, tugging the basket out of your hands as he goes. “You’ll freeze out there.”

“No, Joel, you’re a guest here—”

“C’mon,” he says. “It ain’t like that now and you know it.” You don’t say anything but when he looks up, you’re frowning at him. “We got anyone else around?”

“Just—it’s just me and you.”

He doesn’t know why you sound so upset about it. “Good. Now where’s the wood?”

You blink and glance away, pulling at your gloves nervously. “In the shed. Should be enough little pieces but the ax is by the door if some of it needs broken up.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll have some coffee ready for you.”

“You don’t gotta do that.” He opens the door, snow swirls in.

“I’m doin’ it anyway.” Then. “Joel?”

He turns.

“Thanks.”

He’s not sure what he’s being thanked for and you still aren’t really looking at him, so he nods and plunges into the white blur that is the back yard, the whip of blizzard wind harsh against his face.

Inside the shed he finds that more of the wood does need axed.

He can’t get the way you looked at him out of his mind. You’ve been busy the last couple days, always out or taking care of something, pushing away any of his attempts to. . .what? He isn’t sure. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he made things complicated, messed something up along the way.

He fears that pushing has nothing to do with the grief that had made a home on your face that evening you spent on the porch together, but what came after and what he hadn’t said.

You have been different too. Like something wary and stiff.

He chops the wood, feels every lift and swing of the ax. It seems to ache more in the cold. Everything does.

Joel shoves the wood into the basket and stacks the extra pieces back onto the pile. The house is marginally warmer than outside without the brutal slice of the wind. He leaves his boots by the back door and finds you poking around in the grate of the fireplace.

You back away when he approaches and it stings that you do.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

“No. ‘Course not.”

But there is. Some kind of wall went up between you the other night. He should have said something. “All right. I’m, uh, I’m gonna get outta your hair for a while.”

He doesn’t think of being in a blizzard, just that he needs to get out of your house before you ask him out of it, before you kick him out of it.

The only thing he can think is that he doesn’t mean shit to you. Somewhere along the way, things got messed up, like they always do. His ex-wife’s face flashes behind his eyes, all that happened with her, all of it that always seemed to be his fault.

Joel grabs his gear and goes out into the blue-white of the snow and makes his usual trek to a spot up in the hills. He sits with his back to a tree and listens to the way the weather beats down. The metal of the rifle goes ice cold between his knees, the bluster of the wind coats him in a perfect white.

He might just be the only living thing out. The world is quiet apart from that brutal, beautiful shush of wind through trees and snow through air.

He’d be ashamed to admit it, but the only thing he thinks about that day, is you.

Joel’s hair is still damp and curling lightly against the back of his neck when he finds his way to the kitchen.

He’d come back frozen to the bone, ice in his hair and eyebrows and the webbing of his lashes. It’s all melted now, and you have to resist the urge to reach out and touch him there, the back of his neck where you know his skin is soft, the feathery thick hair that grows a little long these days.

“You have a minute?” Joel asks, right hand toying with the strap of his watch. He’s looking at you the way he always does lately, like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A stab of guilt rakes pointed talons along your belly.

You did that, you always do that.

Stop it, you think. Don’t do that this time.

“Hey,” you nod, trying. “Sure, I do. Was gonna ask you to come sit with me anyhow.”

He pauses, takes the cup of coffee when you extend it to him, fresh brewed, a peace offering of sorts. Peace over what, you don’t know. “Y’were?” He sounds surprised, takes the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours.

“Sure,” you answer, swiping your hand over your thigh. His gaze follows. “It’s just s’cold upstairs. Electricity’ll be out ‘til tomorrow probably. At the earliest. So.”

He nods and looks down into his cup and you feel bad about the last week again. Of how you’re pushing again and don’t know how to stop. You held him at arm's length, made sure you were out and busy and away, watched him stop smiling at you again, replaced instead by uncertainty.

It’s unfair.

He should probably hate you over it.

You wonder why he’s still here.

When he looks up at you, you smile and his shoulders relax marginally. “All right. I’m gonna get more wood, then I’ll be there.”

You show him the bottle of whiskey when he comes back inside, smelling of frozen air and pine. “Just to stay warm,” you promise.

He doesn’t say no to the drink you pour him, or the way you inch closer to him.

Because it’s cold, you tell yourself, just like it had been on the porch that other time.

The pull of longing in your chest hasn’t eased since then. You shouldn’t have let him, you’re bad at hanging on to people and afraid they’ll disappear, and you’d rather hurt by choice. You’d rather be alone and ache.

But Joel is here and real and still in front of you, still looking at you.

It’s terrible because he wants you to know things about him and you want to run away. You want to push him away, until he leaves or hates you or both. He brought up his daughter and even though you think it might have been an accident, you think he might have wanted you to ask about her.

And you hadn’t.

He doesn’t make it any easier on you by being warm and solid and pressing an offering open arm along the back of the couch.

Just like the other time.

You accept it, because it's cold. Just because it’s cold.

It has nothing at all to do with the way he strokes your shoulder and tugs you close to him, the way his head tilts down over yours when you press the cold tip of your nose into his neck by accident and then leave it there on purpose.

You aren’t expecting him to say anything. The guttering of the candles lulls you to sleep, the pepper of white snow against the black swirl outside soothing. “You know,” the sound of his voice rumbles against your ear. “I didn’t know snow made noise.”

You blink. “What?”

“That sound it makes. When it’s real quiet, you can hear it land.”

“Suppose you can, yeah.”

“My daughter,” he starts and your breath hitches. The broken eggshell of memory delicately being pressed into the palms of your hands. You’re being trusted with something. “She only saw snow once, I think. Real slushy and wet. Not like you get around here. And I don’t remember it makin’ a noise.”

You swallow the instinct to change the subject, to say something dismissive, to push and push.

“Did she like it?” You ask after a moment. “The snow?”

“Yep. Got off from school. Made the world’s tiniest snowman. Maybe only a foot high. Made snow angels that turned out to be more mud than snow. My brother thought that was real funny.”

You laugh and lean into his shoulder. He smells like snow and damp cotton and gun oil. “What’s her name?”

Assuming. No, hoping. You are hoping that he’s just missing her, that the chipped china memory in your palm is of a girl he misses and doesn’t mourn. But you could tell the other day, you could tell by his voice and the way he isn’t with her. If he had a choice, he’d be with her.

Joel isn’t like you.

He’s not the kind to leave someone behind.

He clears his throat. “Sarah. She was, uh, she was twelve.”

“Oh. Oh, Joel. I’m sorry.”

And you are. That is a loss no one should ever know, and Joel is not the kind to carry it well. It leaves those purple circles under his eyes, burrows deep ruts into the arteries to his heart, half his blood just drained away. It leaves the coffee pot empty, it whispers fourteen hour work days, and still no sleep.

It pushes a rifle into hands that always come back without game.

“Anyway, I think she would have liked this shit,” he gestures to the snow beyond the window with the mug in his hand, coffee and whiskey. “Think she would have liked it here.”

“It’s okay, when you get to know the place.” You follow his eyes. “It’s home, anyway.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

What part he’s agreeing with, you aren’t sure you want to know.

He looks at you again, and you can’t bear to meet his gaze through the dark that’s fallen on the room, to see too deeply into what lay there. Sharing his daughter with you, that she died so young. A lot of things about him suddenly fall into place in your mind.

The grief and the love with no place to go. It makes sense why he’s there, running away from something that could never be ignored.

You take the cup from him and pull him up by the hand.

He fits against you, pulled in tight, so easily. You feel the brush of his mouth against your cheek, his fingers against your back.

You sway, and there’s no music. You want to say that you’re sorry again. Not for his daughter, because he wouldn’t want to hear it, but for everything else — the running you’re both doing, the snow and the cold, and how clear it is that everything in the world looks like grief and loss and the big hole in his chest.

“I think you should ask Joel to get a drink.”

Janie pauses mid-chop, knife hanging in the air. Your friend the baker turns to look at you over her shoulder. “What did you just say?”

You wince and fiddle with the edge of your sweater. “Joel. You should ask him.”

“Now why,” she starts, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. “Would I go and do somethin’ like that?”

“Well, I think y’all would be good together—”

She sighs heavy and long, rolling her eyes as she sits down across from you and takes your hand in hers, still wet from rinsing the vegetables off. “You’re doin’ it again, you know.”

“Doin’ what?” You snap, yanking your hand back, accusatory.

“As soon as you think somebody is getting too close you push ‘em away. I know you know what you’re doin’. And I know if I hadn’t had the sense to hold onto you so hard all them years ago, you woulda done the same to me. And we’d just be neighbors.”

She raises a brow at you when you sputter. But it’s true. You know it’s true.

It happens all the time, with everyone. It always hits you so hard, the sudden smothered feeling, the scared, confused, cornered animal feeling, when hanging onto something seemed impossible and wrong.

“You know that man don’t want nothin’ to do with me.”

“He always answers the door to you in the mornings,” you defend weakly.

“As a favor to you. He does everything for you, and I know you noticed or you wouldn’t be trying to pass him off on me. You don’t gotta be so avoidant. Not everything disappears.”

You know, but you what you don’t know is how to stop it. The sharp talons and fangs that spring out whenever someone gets too close are always a surprise. You hate it when people care about you, when you care about them.

It’s like there’s a box around you, growing smaller with each passing second. So, you flee, before the box crushes you, or before the thing trapped in there with you gets to do it first.

That’s what you’re really afraid of, after all, not that someone might care about you, but that they one day might stop.

“I told him about my dad,” you admit.

Janie freezes, blinks, and then looks over at you. You look back at her, miserable about it. “Oh, honey.”

“And he. . .you shoulda seen the way he—” The way he looked at you. You almost tell her about Sarah, but don’t. That loss isn’t yours to tell, no matter what, even if it would tell her exactly how close he’s drifted to you.

You don’t know what to call it, anyway. The way he looked at you the night of the snowstorm, the air chilled and the whole world cold except for the two of you pressed together. His hand in yours, the mocking remembrance that you had forgotten in that moment to feel trapped.

No, that had come later. When you couldn’t breathe before going to bed, when your skin felt pinched and tight. That moment is tinged in your mind with the heaviness of a hand pinching the back of your neck, instead of the gentle press of fingers to your spine, his mouth against your cheek but not your lips, not again.

“He’ll leave soon and it won’t matter,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “He’s got to be goin’ soon. I know it.”

She pats your hands again, pity in her gaze. “It will matter, and you know it. But it seems to me he’s stuck. And it isn’t this town or those mines that are keeping him here. He wants to hang on. You should, too, for once. He’s looked like nothin’ but a kicked dog lately, and one that might bite at that.”

The snow melts over the next couple of weeks, temperatures rise rapidly. For a while, the sun shines, the weather is nice; the skies a purest bluest blue.

Joel doesn’t leave.

He smokes more on the back porch, his eyes far away and haloed with something distant. He stops hunting on Sundays, and starts going fishing at the lake instead, and unlike before he brings back a haul.

For a minute, it seems like things might be okay. You don’t allow yourself to have any more quiet, secret moments with him, but you don’t push either. You try not to push.

But you wonder if he wants that, if he might have wanted to kiss you again when the heat went out and you were stupid enough to let yourself reel him back to you.

Then, one day, the rains come. Clouds so black they appear blue roll in and sit heavy in the sky for a day, winds whipping the leaves of the trees back so their bellies show. Old warnings about just how bad the weather was about to get.

The skies open up, and the rain doesn’t stop.

For weeks.

Suddenly all anyone can talk about are the floods and the landslides that are likely to happen any day.

You wish they wouldn’t, or at least not to you, or have the decency not to look at you with pity when they talk about it. What if there’s a mine collapse? Well, you think, that too is likely.

The creeks swell until they look like rivers; the rivers glut themselves with so much rainwater the levees threaten to bend and break, the banks of the lake disappear, silt stirred so deeply that the whole lake goes brown with it.

Joel stops fishing.

You expect them to close the mines, at least for a while. But the coal companies have never cared about any of you, and they weren’t about to start.

“Mornin’,” he says, his voice a soft grumbling rumble.

“Hi,” you say, not turning away from your spot by the window, watching the rain pour down seemingly harder.

The rain and all it could wash away, makes you anxious. Makes the whole town anxious. Flooded river plains and lake shores, mountainsides crumbling down to sweep everything away. It’s embedded in you, something your body learned generations before you were born.

A generational curse, a landscape that could steal everything, that had and would again.

“You okay?”

The sound of the coffee pot sliding out of place, liquid being poured, ceramic clicking down onto the counter.

“Yeah. The rain makes me anxious.”

“All anyone talks about are the floods.”

“Same way every year,” you shrug, like it doesn’t keep you awake at night. Like you haven’t stopped sleeping and pace all night long. “Hard thing to forget, once it happens to you.”

Joel makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and joins you at the window. “It’s gettin’ lighter every day, at least.”

You think he means it to comfort you.

“The sound, though.”

The sound of rain tapping at the window is like nails on a chalkboard — warning.

He covers your hand with his for just a second, the squeeze of his fingers around yours barely felt. “I know.”

Too close.

It’s too close.

You don’t want him to know that.

You move your hand before his skin has fully left yours, jerking away like you’ve been stung.

He clears his throat and shifts, floorboards squeaking awkwardly beneath his socked feet.

Socked feet. Hand on yours, rough skin against yours. Tender words, gentle tone.

It all feels like he knows too much, wants too much. You take a step away from the warmth he radiates under the guise of reaching for the handle of the dishwasher. “You think you’ll be movin’ on soon?”

A surprised silence follows your words. “What?”

“It’s just you been here awhile.”

He doesn’t answer and you start to unload the dishwasher, carefully stacking the ceramic on the counter even though you’d normally just put them up in the cabinets. “Big waste of money, stayin’ somewhere like here for so long. If you’re waitin’ for better pay or something, I can tell you it won’t happen. Not even if you talk to the union.”

A long silence follows your words. It’s a buzzing, angry silence. “You ain’t even gonna look at me?”

You shrug and your body continues on autopilot, still not looking at him, stacking dishes one after another.

Clink, click, clink.

The door to the basement doesn’t exactly slam, but it shuts much harder than usual.

You sit the mug in your shaking hands down on the counter and stare at it without seeing.

The pressure in your chest isn’t gone. It never is, after. You push and push and push, until they finally let go. And then the loneliness and pain rub their hands together and slip back into their comfortable home in your chest. It’s almost a relief to have it back.

God, why does someone knowing something about you, caring about you, feel like getting your arteries ripped out, one fine line at a time? Why does it feel like your skin is shrinking and your throat is closing up?

Your eyes sting and you wish you wouldn’t have said it.

But you did and he’d be on his way soon enough and everything would be simple again.

You can remain in your little box all alone with carefully constructed walls that push everyone to the periphery of your life. They belong at arms length where you believe it won’t hurt you when they leave, where you convince yourself you’ll have enough time to recognize the signs and do it first.

He can’t get any closer, can’t see anymore than he already has.

Joel has to leave. You have to push him away, before he makes the choice himself and leaves you bleeding.

But Joel isn’t like you, you think again. He’s not the kind to leave someone behind.

The rain comes down harder.

The house rattles with it.

You think about the mines flooding, and finally cry.

Joel doesn’t leave, but you can tell he’s trying to figure out how to. He’s trying to leave because you want him to, and that’s what matters.

You don’t know how he picks where to roam next and you don’t care. You’re glad he’s going to leave.

He doesn’t eat dinner with you anymore, barely nods at you when you see him though you try to be busy with something else when he comes in in the evenings, or not in the kitchen at all, not in the house at all.

Joel leaves so early in the morning that you don’t see him then either. The ache that slices like a knife through the ventricles of your heart tears open a little wider each day. He makes the coffee now, and always makes enough for you, too, the pot left on to keep it warm for you. One morning you find an envelope in the center of your kitchen table.

Panic overcomes you, until you open it and find a week’s worth of money. Scrawled on the outside, I’m sorry to keep imposing.

You rip the envelope up, angry, because you don’t want to think about what it means that you got scared. Fear that he had already been gone.

Near a week later, late in the afternoon, when the sky is a deep purple, Janie knocks on your backdoor. Her voice is frantic. She smells like raw flour and sliced apples.

There’s mud on her boots and that’s the only thing you can think of as she talks at you, her voice far away.

You think about the mud on her boots and her boots on your floor and how she always takes them off on the porch no matter what.

She’s still talking, words flowing a million miles an hour, and you just think about the smell of bread and how she normally, always, takes her boots off.

She shakes you by the shoulders suddenly, hands clamped tight against your skin. “Did you hear me?” She asks urgently. “One of the mines collapsed.”

“Which one?” You snap, reality snapping sharply into relief. “Which one? They're all shut down but one. Which one?”

One that is empty, or not? The one with people, or not? The one with Joel, or not?

“I don’t know. Nobody seems to know but—”

You pull your raincoat off the hook by the door and shove your feet into the first pair of shoes you see, and dart out and into the rain, the hale of it cold against your skin and your face.

It’s been a cold year. This time last year, it was warm and sunny already, things like a mine collapse a far off, unreal, non-possibility.

The mud sucks at your boots but soon enough you’re on the road and running.

You run and run and don’t feel the burn in your lungs or the pain in your thighs. There’s nothing that will keep you from getting there. The town is small and built in relation to the mines.

You’ve always been a mining town and so it’s not far. It shouldn’t take you long to get there.

Joel walks in the mornings. It’s not far.

But time moves slow, and your body seems to move even slower than that.

Shouldn’t you have known? Shouldn’t you have felt something? The beating heart of the earth tearing something away; that primordial, knowing pit taking back what had been taken from it? What it was owed in return?

Not him. Not him.

He didn’t owe this stretch of Earth anything. And it is not owed him.

The hills and mountains rise up around you, the comforting presence of them, like ancient, silent sentries, suddenly loom a little more sinister. Crumbling and old and vengeful, just waiting to swing a fist down on something you cared about, something you loved, something you always try to push away. Because it would always be destroyed. The town, or a neighbor’s house, or the banks of the swollen river and lake eating up precious farmland.

That’s one thing, though.

Towns and houses can be rebuilt, the banks of rivers and lakes and the sides of mountains reinforced — other things, well, you can never get back.

He has to be okay. When you wanted him to leave, this is not what you meant. This is not what you wanted.

You move backwards in your mind, mapping out all the times Joel has come home. Where he’d usually be in his journey to your house after work.

It used to be he only came home after dark, but spring has arrived and the sun stays longer each day, and you think you should meet him on the road. You should find him at any moment; unless the mine collapsed and he was unlucky, trapped and lost and suffocating; or lucky and already dead.

The road twists and turns. You have to slow because you live in the hills, everything and everywhere is steep. Your chest starts to burn and you wish the trees hadn’t started to get their leaves yet even though it's so late in the season because then you’d be able to see further, you’d be able to spot him earlier.

Maybe it’s too early for him to already be along the road.

Your coat is soaked and so is the little house dress you’re wearing. Your shins and ankles feel cold from the rain and the chill in the air.

But then you bolt around a bend, and there he is.

His name jumps out of your mouth, careens across the gravel road, and echoes around the valley through the din of the still falling rain. It sounds lush against the leaves. It sounds horrible against drain pipes and gravel.

He looks surprised right before you crash into him and lock your arms around his neck. He drops his backpack and catches you, arms circling you tightly.

“Joel.”

“Hey—” The sound of his voice makes your knees weak and you’re afraid for a moment you might slip to the ground, into the graveled mud, and dissolve along with the rain.

“The mine collapsed,” you say, feeling the grit of coal dust beneath your cheek, the warmth and weight of him leaning back into you, strong arms tight around you. His palm slides against the back of your neck, thumb stroking slowly.

“I know it.” His voice is gentle, like you’re a startled, feral dog that might turn on him at any second. “S’why I’m on my way back now.”

You start to shake and cry and he just rubs your back and tugs you more firmly into his chest. He seems to understand what’s wrong. His palm settles against the back of your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his chest as the rain continues to siphon down over you. It’s all right. I’m all right. He repeats and repeats and repeats. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

“Hey,” he pulls back eventually, the cups of his palms cradling your face, pushing the tears away. “I’m gettin’ you all dirty.”

“I don’t care,” you grip his sleeves, press your hands over his. His face is streaked with gray so deep it appears purple, like there are bruises latticed over his face. “I don’t care. And I’m sorry.”

“All right.”

It’s too late, you think. Too little too late, pushed too far, and by your own hand, so you have no one to blame but yourself.

But he’s alive and he’s okay and something precious has not been reaped by the Earth.

You try to step back but he steps with you, not letting you go. Apologies swim to the back of your throat again, heavy on your tongue, but he’s already shaking his head at you.

Hazel eyes stare deep into yours, rivulets of water snaking down the side of his face, tracing through the coal and dirt. You don’t look away from him this time.

Your words get trapped, congested and clogged, sticky and stuck together.

“Joel—”

“Let’s get outta the rain.” His hands slide down your face, briefly slot against your throat, and then trail down your shoulders and arms. “Let’s do that at least. Before you catch your death.”

“Okay.”

You bend down to scoop his backpack off the ground, surprised because he lets you keep it and keeps his hand threaded with yours. His skin is wet against yours, the crinkle of your fingers together just a little uncomfortable.

The rain comes down harder, lightning sparks, the angry slash of violence through the sky, thunder crackling right after.

The walk goes quicker than your run. Time is moving at a normal pace again, you can breathe again.

“I’ll meet ya in the kitchen,” he says when the town and your street resolves itself. He turns and takes his pack from you, pinches your chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts your face up. “All right?”

You nod and release his other hand, and watch him walk away. You know the moment he reaches the back of the house because you hear the clatter of the basement door opening.

You just stand in the front yard for a long moment as shadow fall, as the rain continues down harder than ever.

The rain pounds against the side of the house, the windows when you step inside. The tree your neighbors have been telling you to cut down for years sways ominously, lashing the front window and the siding. The noise of it is awful.

You stand there, dripping pools of water onto the kitchen floor, anxiously waiting for Joel to come up the steps, like you’d gone and pulled a ghost right up out of the ground. He’s all right, you tell yourself. He’s all right. Real and not some ghost.

When he comes up the steps, his gaze flicks slowly over you. He holds a hand out. “C’mon. ‘S get you cleaned up.”

You’re shivering. The material of the dress clings to your skin like webbed silk.

It’s so pathetic, the way he comforts you and the way you want him to. You shouldn’t let it happen. You feel stupid, all that worry after all that pushing.

He follows you up two sets of stairs, to the third floor, the loft where you reside even though so many of the rooms below always remain empty.

Joel settles you on the edge of the bathtub in your little bathroom and fishes around in the cabinets until he finds what it is he’s looking for. He doesn’t ask you where anything is and you don’t offer.

He smells like earth and pine. He doesn’t complain or pull away when you touch that hollow place in his cheek, when you stroke his beard and watch the muscle jump, jaw clenching and releasing.

“Joel,” you say when he kneels in front of you with a washcloth in his hand, a first aid kit open on the bathroom counter. “I’m not hurt.”

He just pats the water away from your face and hands and arms. “Y’are. Musta ran through brambles or somethin’. Legs are all torn up.”

The surprise is muted when you look down and find you have been scratched all to hell.

“I’m sorry,” you offer.

He shrugs. “Nothin’ to apologize for.”

The way he takes care of you is meticulous. Disinfectant and ointment and bandages wrapped around and around. You probably would have just rinsed the cuts out and slapped the biggest band aid on and called it a day, but that’s not good enough for him and that makes you want to cry.

There’s only so long you can handle sitting there, shivering, feeling the press of his very warm hands into your cool, bruised skin, before you’re slipping to the floor too, kneeling with him, asking for forgiveness for something that doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m sorry. And that’s not enough.”

“No.” Hands cupped around yours, stilling the anxious twist of them. “Shouldn’t’ve got so comfortable. I ain’t anyone to you—”

“But you are.”

The words bleed. They are red and bone white and raw and drop like stones between you. He thinks he means nothing. He doesn’t know. “You are. You are. And that’s why.”

Thunder rumbles, and this time, you kiss him.

There’s only a brief second of hesitation.

But then he pulls you in and doesn’t let go, doesn’t complain of the cool tiles and your cooler hands or the way you pull at his clothes.

Joel does jump when you press your hands to the small of his back, when your iced over fingers skim his belly, when you finally get to rake your nails against that coarse chest hair that makes your mouth go dry.

“Hey,” he’s cradling you to him, mouth desperate and eyes wild. “I’m here.”

Go easy with it, his voice asks. Go easy with me.

You knock your forehead against his. “I know.”

Joel nods and his fingers skim up your thighs, beneath the clinging material of your dress. He’s so warm, even though he’d been in the rain too, and his skin feels like it's burning, like the tips of his fingers might sink right down into your flesh.

Cloth parts beneath desperate hands. He cups your breasts in his palms, follows with his lips. Fingers tug your underwear down your legs, and then slide through the core of you, circling and stroking.

It should be a surprise that he’s so delicate with you, but it isn’t.

He kisses you again, his beard scratching pleasantly along your skin. You gasp into him and let him lie you back against the bathroom floor.

The rain continues outside, the lashing the house is getting a far off dream.

The only real thing in the world is Joel, his shoulders beneath your thighs, the clench of your belly, the ache that spreads everywhere.

He presses his forehead to yours when he’s inside you, eyes closed, jaw clenched.

Joel’s mouth parts, he groans into you.

It’s enough.

“Did you know that crows mate for life?”

Joel looks over at you.

Morning is sitting heavily on the windowsill, watching.

His limbs are heavy, sleep pulling at the corners of his vision, darkening the room and dampening the sound of the still falling rain. Your bed is comfortable, and your naked skin pressed to his even more so. “No,” he answers after a minute, just looking at the picture of you, plush curves, the soft spill of softer skin. “Do they?”

You roll onto your side, watchful eyes riveted to him. Slowly, maybe a little shyly, you stretch your arm across his belly. Your fingertips brush his side, and you use the grip to pull yourself even closer. The light is kind to you. You glow in it, lips swollen, the discoloration on your throat from his lips and beard highlighted.

Joel touches you there. You close your eyes for a moment.

“They do. They’re real social creatures, and when their mate dies they make this god awful noise. Sometimes they’ll carry sticks and stones and stuff to leave with the body, like a burial.”

“Mm. Not so different from people.” He thinks of Sarah, the last rise and fall of her chest, the noise that came out of him like something wrenched out of the bottom of his soul. He clears his throat but his voice still cracks a little. “Yeah, reckon we’re the same that way.”

You prop your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah,” you say, voice soft. “There used to be a flock that came around. Or, whatever they’re called, a murder, I think.”

“Murder?” He chuckles and you smile and it’s enough.

“Never heard of a murder of crows? Well, it’s true. The backyard was full of ‘em. For a long time, I fed ‘em. And they’d bring presents to me. Eventually they musta moved on, but a pair stayed. I know I sound crazy but I could tell they were in love. They were mated anyhow, even if they don’t feel love like people do.” You lean into his hand when he presses it to your cheek, like his skin isn’t rough and dry from working so hard, from the long, bitter winter; you lean in like it means something, like the pass of his thumb against the crest of your cheek means more to you than he can know.

He doesn’t know a thing about crows. It doesn’t really matter that he doesn’t, he has a feeling he already knows what you’re going to say.

The limbo he’s been in for weeks has finally ended, of knowing you wanted him to leave but not able to figure out how to give you what you wanted and feeling guilty for it. Just another person he couldn’t figure out how to love right.

Maybe this time hanging on was the right thing to do.

Your eyes flutter closed, head tilted close to his on the pillow, the swell of your body pressed to his. “It went on like that for years. I fed them and they brought me little gifts and everything was fine. And then one morning, there was only one. They mate for life. I never saw the other one again, and it was only a couple weeks, before the other one was gone too. It died.”

Joel leans in, presses his forehead to yours, the rain a painful tattoo against the roof and the windows and the whole wide world. You push into him, returning the comforting pressure, your skin still tacky with sweat. “So you see, I try to avoid being the second crow. But it just means I end up alone and wondering why there was never another crow in the first place.” Your eyes flick open and search his. “So, I’m sorry about everything. I never realize I’m — I don’t know I’m pushing until it’s too late. And I’ve never been good at holdin’ on.”

“I guess I’ve never been too good at lettin’ go,” he admits. “I’m the second crow.”

“I don’t want you to be,” you say. “I don’t want you to be the one left behind. And I don’t want you to leave.”

He nods and looks up at your ceiling. Carefully, you slide closer, until your head is heavy against his chest.

Things change a little.

The rain stops and with it you stop pacing through the nights. Before, he’d listen to the pace of your footsteps against his ceiling, the crack of old floorboards and the snaking sound of water down window panes.

You make every pretense of things being the same until night comes along and you ask him to stay with you. “I just won’t be able to stand it,” you say, nervous hands fisting around the edges of your sleeves. “If you go back to being just a guest. You mean more than that.”

He’s embarrassed to hear it, and likes to hear it all the same.

So, now, he listens to the long overdue hum of springtime insects nestled down into long sweet grass and between the branches of gently swaying trees, like all that snow and rain and blizzards and flooding never existed in the first place.

Most of all he listens to your breathing, slow and even, to replace the sound of your footsteps. The curve of your spine rests against his bicep, the ridge of it like the comforting heel of the mountains beyond your windows.

When he turns and tucks his arms around you, you relax and melt into him so easily it’s like it’s always been done.

So it goes, every single night.

Winter is over, spring arrives quiet.

Joel agrees to go to the town festival with you. Tiny, even by your standards, apparently.

Just some drinking and dancing and live music from a local band. A few games, for which the prizes are all donated.

Things go fine.

He doesn’t mind crowds, though he does prefer to hang on the edges of them.

The night is mild. Your arm repeatedly brushes his.

Joel finds he doesn’t mind that either, the way you stand so close and look at just him. There’s no shortage of eyes on either of you. And when you kiss him, he can practically feel the small town gossip sparkling and wasping in the air like lightning gold, like a thousand bees.

You don’t seem to notice, or maybe you don’t much care. Maybe you’re used to it.

Either way, you’re happy, and that matters to him. It matters to him that you’re happy, and safe, and that you feel those things with him.

“If you’re still here when its warm enough,” you say, “you’ll have to go swimming in the lake. It’s real nice down there.”

It already feels like summer. The air is balmy, the sinking, fading sun he feels like he hadn’t seen in months a red blaze on the horizon.

“Where else would I be?”

You give him a funny look and sip your drink, enthusiastically greeting a couple who approaches. Joel nods at them, takes a swig of his beer, and thinks of his kid. Sarah would have loved this kind of thing, all the people and noise.

He hasn't been hunting in weeks.

“You wanna dance with me?” You smile at him. “Just for one song.”

“Think I’ll say no?”

“I’m actually sure that you’ll say no, Joel.”

He just sets his drink down and offers you a hand. You grin so wide, it looks like it must hurt your cheeks. You don’t dance so much as sway together, pressed tightly together.

“Where else would I be?” He asks again.

“Somewhere else, I guess. Back home.”

Home. He hasn’t had one of those since Sarah died.

This place, as brutal an introduction as he’s had to it, is starting to feel like home. He wants to see the lake in the summer and the trees thick with leaves. The hills probably look beautiful, emerald forests not yet torn up for the things that laid beneath.

It only feels a little like a push.

Instead, he just says, “Yeah. Sure.”

You tip your chin heavily against his shoulder, the weight of your head comforting in its press there.

You aren’t always good about it. There’s a mean streak in you when you feel trapped. Today, you try.

“I’d like it if you stayed.” You say it against his throat, your fingers tangled into his hair, the movement of your hand fond. “If you wanted this to be home for a while.”

He nods, squeezes your hips. “And you should come see Austin. Instead of hearin’ about it. Reckon you might like it.”

“I think I probably would.”

The next morning, he calls his brother for the first time in over a year.

If you read this far, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. Thank you for reading and being here, and as always would love to hear anything you have to share. 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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sunflower-lilac42 · 5 months

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✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 | the hughes brothers ♔

summary: y/n hughes hasn't seen her family in two and a half years. so when all three of her brothers play each other she wanted to come home

warnings: crappy writing

notes: in honor of tonight, i figured i would finally post this

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

“Hi everyone, my name is y/n, and welcome to my channel if you are new here or welcome back! Today is a very special day, well December 5 is a special day but when you are seeing this it has already passed. Anyways, as most of you know I have been studying abroad in Italy for the past two and a half years and I haven’t seen my family.”

Y/n took a breath, a grin making its way onto her face, “And if you don’t know, my brothers are Quinn, Jack, and Luke Hughes, all professional hockey players. Luke is a ‘rookie’ this season, he played briefly at the end of the 22-23 season for the Devils and I have missed one thing after another for him which makes me feel horrible.

“Moving on, I have divided to come home for once and for all for another day for the history books. The first ever (with Luke included), Hughes v. Hughes game. Devils at Canucks. New Jersey at Vancouver. Jack and Luke versus Quinn, you get the point. And the best thing of all is that I am surprising them. It is currently December 2, at 8:30 and I am heading to the airport. I get in around 2 in New York so plenty of time to rest up before heading to Vancouver! I will see you all later.”

There had been something, or rather someone, missing from the Hughes family in the two and a half years. After choosing to study abroad, y/n finally decided to come. She felt like she had finally completed a new journey in her life and was ready to come back to life in the US.

As much as she loved studying in Italy and visiting various countries with her friends, her chest always had a nagging feeling. She hadn’t seen her family, her brothers, anywhere near two years straight. She missed her family, she missed her brothers.

And the same could be said about the three Hughes boys. She had missed the biggest milestones in her youngest brother’s career so far. She missed him getting drafted, making his NHL debut, and getting his first NHL goal. She missed Jack’s (and the Devils’) record-breaking season, she even missed being there when Quinn was announced Captain for the 23-24 Season.

She felt horrible about it and as much as the boys tried to say it was okay, they weren’t okay with it. They wanted their sister to go out and do what she wanted, but not having their older sister on these days, was heartbreaking for them. And she wasn’t about to do it again.

Arriving in New York gave y/n a funny feeling. She hadn’t seen anyone she was close to in a long time and she hadn’t been around this many Americans in a long time. It was a weird nostalgic feeling and she was somewhat glad to be in New York despite many of its native people.

She ended up staying with her friend for the next day waiting for her flight to Vancouver. They went and explored, well y/n explored, the city she hadn’t been in in years, It was a nice feeling being here, but nervewracking all at the same time. She was worried about what her brothers would think, and how they would react. Would they be mad at her? Would they be happy? She had no way of telling.

“As you have seen I have arrived in New York. Seeing so many Americans is fucking crazy. I don’t know how I survived a week let alone two years overseas. So I am here until tomorrow night which is when my flight to Vancouver is and then we’ll go from there. I think y/f/n and I are going to go sightseeing, there is a lot I want to do being back in New York, for example, pizza.”

yourusername

The next day she flew to Vancouver, vlogging the whole time. She and her friend had a good time in New York and so she was excited to hang out with another one of her friends in Vancouver. The two hung out the whole day, attempting to keep her mind off of it for a bit longer. And when the next day came, she was even more nervous. They had a plan to surprise them right before they did the National Anthem and they even managed to have their parents come down on the ice as well.

yourusername

“I am now in Vancouver and we are here at Rogers Arena. I’m about to go in and get the exact rundown of how tonight is happening and yeah. Everything seems like it’s moving too fast. I am, of course, wearing my Luke Hughes Jersey and my canucks beanie. And someone asked me who I wanted to win and I said Cancuks because I’m a diehard Canucks fan. It’s not because I like Quinn more, I promise, but I do like to tell people I root for him because he has a disadvantage.”

Y/n stood inside the arena in the tunnel trying to hide herself as much as possible as she waited for the announcer's cue. She could somewhat make out her parents in the box and her brothers on the ice but there wasn’t much past that. It seemed like everything blurred outside her family members.

“Now as we know it is the first-ever NHL Hughes vs. Hughes game and we couldn’t help but notice someone was missing.”

That was the boys' first clue and cue for y/n. As Jack and Luke exchanged looks with their brother, their parents also stood confused, none of them connecting the dots yet. That was until the next announcement.

“Over the past two and a half years, the eldest Hughes sibling has been studying abroad in Europe, devoting her studies to (whatever you want).”

That was when Ellen and Jim connected the dots and partially Quinn as well. Poor Jack and Luke still stood confused out of their minds as they looked between their older brother and their parents.

“After regretting so many milestones in her brothers’ careers, she couldn’t afford to miss one more. Please join me in welcoming back to the US from her studies, Y/n Hughes.” Y/n finally pulled out of the trance she had been in when they announced her name and she stepped out onto the rink.

The whole arena was going crazy at just the mention of another Hughes. Before she even took two steps onto the nice, Luke was practically on top of her. No one had ever seen him skate that fast and truthfully a bunch of people thought he was going to knock his sister right on her ass.

“Hi Lukey.”

Luke didn’t want to let go, holding his sister, “Hi.”

Y/n’s heart broke at her youngest brother. She couldn’t look at Quinn and Jack, afraid they were looking at her with judgment in their eyes, so she just hugged Luke until he let go. And when he did, y/n was brought into another bone-crushing hug from Jack.

Quinn stood off to the side, letting his brothers have a moment with their sister. It took a toll on Quinn, y/n leaving. He had to step up and be the role model for the two. No one had thought about how her leaving would affect him. Y/n was the one Quinn went to for everything. Math homework? He knocked on y/n’s door down the hallway. Girl problems? Y/n’s contact name shone on his phone. That feeling of not being good enough? Y/n was already halfway to wherever he was. When she left, all he had was limited texts and calls.

Jack’s hug was arguably the shortest out of the three. It’s not that he didn’t miss her, he knew how much Quinn needed that hug, and partially because he was now anxious to play, he had to get his ‘zoomies’ out. Quinn hugged the girl gently at first but once y/n whispered it was okay, his arms tightened and a few tears spilled from his eyes.

“It’s okay, Quinny. I’m here, I’m back.”

Y/n and her brothers parted ways and she went back with her parents to where they were sitting and sat in between the two. They watched the game with laser focus, y/n cheering for both teams but more importantly the three Hughes’ on the ice.

When the game was over, she waited down by the locker rooms for the three of them. Some of their teammates, the ones who knew who she was, all said their hellos as they walked out of the arena. The three brothers came walking out together and immediately all broke out into runs, racing towards their sister.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You better believe it, Jacky, because I am not leaving any time soon.” She pulls away and Jack smiles, “You’re not leaving ever again.”

She laughs and the three walk away, fighting for who she rode with on the way to dinner.

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reaveries · 1 year

Text

▬ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n: I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again.

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze.

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door.

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help.

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee.

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes.

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.”

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus.

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind.

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

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sugume · 2 months

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STOLEN TOUCHES — NANAMI KENTO

✧･ﾟ You were just trying to get a better angle.

( TW ) f!reader, stepdad!Nanami, highly suggestive, teasing, touched starved Nanami, age gap (reader is 26, Nanami is in his 40's).

note. this was just sitting in my drafts omg I forgot to post 😭 this is for the anon that requested!! sorry you had to wait so long i swear I thought it was queued!

Nanami steps into the dark foyer of his home, taking off his work shoes. He winces from the pain; he’s been running around like a headless chicken in the office. He was supposed to get off hours ago. Nanami shrugs his suit jacket off and hangs it on the small rack before turning the corner. A small part of him had wished you would’ve been up, watching TV in the living room, but as he walked further into the house you were nowhere to be seen. He sighs in disappointment before making his way upstairs.

Your mother isn’t waiting for him, obviously. She’s probably out with another one of her many men. God, he shouldn't have folded under pressure when she had asked him to open the 'monogamous’ relationship they had. His shoulders slump at the neatly made king-sized bed that sits in the corner of his room. He walks to his closet to grab a pair of satin pajamas you had bought him before making his way to the bathroom. He sets his clothes on the counter before stripping down to his boxers and walking over to the tub. He leans down to turn the water to the perfect temperature.

“Kenny!” You squeal wrapping your arms around his naked waist from behind. He jumps in surprise before grunting in pain.

“Kenny? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You ask, pulling away. Kento turns quickly despite the pain and grabs your arms.

“Sweetheart! Nono, you didn’t hurt me. Why are you up?” He questions and you smile sweetly at him.

“Kenny don’t lie! And I'm up because I’m currently an unemployed twenty-six-year-old who had to move back home. Now,” You clap, stepping in-between his legs. “Tell me why you winced like I stabbed you and don’t lie.”

Nanami stuck in a breath and your close proximity.

“Jus’ had a long day at work that’s all. Stupid cramped muscles don't worry about it, sweetheart.” He answers in one long breath before inhaling your sweet smell. Was that too obvious?

“Well, I can give you a massage if you want, ‘cus my mom isn’t to give you one.” You spit on the last part before staring back up at your Stepdad.

“You don’t have—”

“Shush, I want to! C’mon, let's go to bed when you can get comfortable. We gotta hurry ‘fore your bath overfills.” You pull Kento's arm, dragging his heavy body up and out of the master bathroom.

"Sit—scoot a little further—no your back to the pillow silly!” You laugh.

“Aren’t you giving me a massage sweetheart?” Kento frowns, confused but complies anyways.

“Yep!” You lift a leg to the bed and blink your thick lashes at him before lifting the other and crawling onto his lap.

“Sweetheart—” Kento blushes, hands going to your hips to push you off but also to hold you there.

“Calm down Kenny! This is just a massage; I've read you can get the shoulders better this way,” You lie, putting your hand onto your stepdad's neck and squeezing. “Just shut your eyes and relax.” You whisper dragging your hands down Kento's’ arms. You squeeze your way back up before gliding your palms to his peaks and resting them on his hard nipples. He grunts when you dig your thumbs and knuckles into his chest, throwing his head back onto his headboard. His grip on your hips tightens and he swears he feels you sit on his lap.

“Feels good?” You mummer watching your stepdad's Adam apple move. You can’t help but bring your hands up and caresses it. Nanami groans.

“Mhm.”

“Sit up so I can get your back, Kenny.” You push on the back of his neck. You smile when his face falls into your chest. Before he has a chance to move you hold the back of his neck with one hand, the other squeezing at his shoulder blade.

Nanami can feel his cheeks heat in arousal. He hasn’t been touched like this in so long maybe he’s just imagining the tension between you two. He doesn’t have the balls to act on this anyway, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Sorry, gotta get comfortable.” You whisper in his ear as you grind down. You bite the inside of your cheeks when you feel his hard cock graze your pussy. Nanami holds in a groan. Fuck if you keep doing that, he's going to cum in his underwear.

“Sweetheart,”

“Hm?” You dig your knuckle onto tense knots in his back.

“Oh, fuck sweetheart, just like that.”

“Doin’ good Kenny?”

“Yes, b-but,” He breathes heavily on your breast. “But my bath waters gonna overfill.” He looks up at you. You move your hand to cup his neck.

“Oh, well how about we continue this in the tub?” You smile down at Kento. His eyes widen, mouth agape.

“What!?”

“Kidding! Gosh, look at your face! I’m gonna go watch some TV, goodnight. Have fun in your bath.” You crawl off his lap, giving him a good view of your ass in the short shorts you were wearing. You look back and smile innocently.

What you really meant to say was you were going to masturbate about what just happened. Don’t worry, Kento was going to too.

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emphistic · 1 month

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"I'm Lactose Intolerant"

Things Reader Should Acknowledge: I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS ALREADY BECAUSE I FORGOT TO SAVE IT AS A DRAFT, i have yet to get the hang of tumblr, yuuji hasnt been born yet, the itadori parents neglect their children so grandpa takes care of them, waaaaaay later is when yuuji is born, sukuna gets his tattoos when he is older

Prologue: As summer nears its end, and autumn takes its place, you find yourself in quite the situation. A new family has arrived in the neighborhood, and your parents have tasked you with greeting your new neighbors. A wacky grandpa, a gloomy tween. Seriously, could things get any worse?

A/N: Sukuna is 10 years old, while reader is 9 years old. However, Sukuna was held back a grade, so guess who is joining your class this year? *cue the confetti*

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK (REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

PS: i know little kids shouldnt be walking the streets alone, but lets just pretend the world is a better place

Chores are boring. Errands, on the other hand? Well, not so much.

You shielded your eyes from the rays of the sun as you walked down the street, avoiding the cracks on the pavement. The sky bled as the sun set and the songs of the birds started to come to a halt. It was a typical Saturday, help get the groceries, head home, and assist with dinner as much as possible. However, what wasn't typical was the fact that there was a moving company's truck blocking your way home.

Wow, there's definitely a better way to go about this, you sigh. Mindlessly, you kick a pebble aside and tighten your grip on your tote bag as your stride continues.

Several men in navy colored uniforms carry boxes as another man, who you estimate is a septuagenarian, surveys the workers from the front lawn of his new house. The man, who you also assume is your new neighbor, has his hands clasped behind his back and wears a green wool sweater.

Deciding to be polite, you clear your throat, neaten up your braids, and slowly approach the man, cautious as you try not to give him a heart attack. At nine years old, one may not know much, but one might know that killing your elderly neighbor is a pretty wack first impression.

The man looks quite surprised to see you approach, and even raises a white brow.

Okay, maybe this is a bad idea, you think as your palms start to sweat. You go through several introductions through your mind just to go with the most lame one.

"Hello, sir. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm your . . . uhh, new neighbor," you cringed at yourself before holding out a hand to the man.

"Ah, wasn't expecting to meet my neighbors on the first day here. I am Mr. Itadori, pleasure to meet you," his voice sounded like that of an old man's, yet, it had such a warm, cozy feel to it. He took your hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Likewise," you say, after a few seconds of silence.

"Should a girl, — pardon my rudeness — as young as you, be walking out here alone at this time?"

"Aha, my parents trust this neighborhood enough. And anyway, I was only getting groceries from the store, it's not too far from this block actually." You pointed a finger in the direction of said store.

"Wow, you must be pretty responsible for your parents to be sending you out for groceries, huh? Good to know some children in this neighborhood help out their families," Mr. Itadori turned to face a boy, probably not much older than you, who was carrying boxes into the house when he put emphasis on the word "some".

The boy had pink unruly hair, that was slicked back and spiky. You held back a giggle at the sight.

"Grandpa, I'm literally moving furniture into the house. What are you looking at me for?" The boy grumbled, but he didn't stop as he moved the boxes.

"I never said you didn't help out. I was just simply telling Y/N here, about how some children help out their families. No need to get upset now, Sukuna." Mr. Itadori gave a small chuckle, before abruptly turning to face you.

"Oh, right! How rude of me, I haven't introduced you to my grandson."

"Oh, no worries. You guys are probably busy—" You began, before being cut off.

"Nonsense! Sukuna! Come here, boy."

Sukuna muttered something, and dropped off a box by the front of the house before moving over to you and his grandpa.

Now that the boy was closer, you could make out his red eyes, and the frown on his face. Looking back at Mr. Itadori, you noticed he did not share the same qualities as his grandson, and instead had brown eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Introduce yourself!" Mr. Itadori lightly pushed Sukuna closer to you.

The taller boy stared at you for what seemed like forever, before averting his eyes to the ground and keeping them there. "Name's Sukuna."

"Y/N. But I think your grandpa already mentioned that," you tried to lighten the mood.

You swear you heard him say something along the lines of "pretty name" under his breath, but before you could ask, Sukuna retreated to his boxes. His grandpa looked displeased at that. Actually, that's quite an understatement. He looked furious with Sukuna, but he didn't do anything other than sigh and bid you adieu and good night.

You slowly walked back to your house, your arrival being a little later than usual, which your parents questioned you about, to which you explained that there was a truck in your way.

When it was time for bed, you did as you usually did. Showered, changed into your pajamas and watched a movie before cleaning up and preparing to actually go to bed. As you moved to close your window blinds, you noticed something you hadn't seen in a long time — considering no one's occupied the house next door since it was put on sale — there was a window right across from yours, and the light was on.

You didn't plan on becoming a creep at such a young age, but due to curiosity, you didn't peel your eyes away from the window. It surprised you to see that the room across from yours was a bedroom belonging to none other then Sukuna. When you saw the pink spikes of his hair come near the window, you quickly shut the blinds.

The next morning, your mom shook you awake.

You groaned, "Mom. . . What is it?"

"We have new neighbors, honey! I've already started prepping for baking an apple pie for them—" You let her ramble on while you were still half-awake.

Oh, right . . . you never mentioned your meeting with the Itadoris. Now you have to introduce yourself to them, yet again.

"—I just need you to grab a few ingredients for me, if you don't mind."

"Sure, Mom. No problem." You stretched out your arms and yawned.

"Perfect! I'll let you get ready then. I'll give the list on your way out." Then, your mom got up, and shut the door.

You yawned again and rubbed your forehead. This was definitely going to be an interesting day, to say the least.

You met your mom downstairs and she instructed you on the ingredients you needed to purchase. "Uh huh, got it. Thanks. Bye, Mom!

Still half-asleep, you slowly slipped on your sneakers and headed out through the door. The sun warmed your face, yet sent a chill down your spine.

Apples and lemon.

Apples. . .

And lemons.

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the street, passing by the Itadori house.

Apples and lemons—

"Gah!" A little rock got in your way, and you were about to faceplant onto the sidewalk when you felt a firm hand on your shoulder reel you back upward.

You turned to see who your savior was, and cocked your head to the side in surprise.

"Sukuna? What are you doing out here?"

"No 'thanks for saving me, Sukuna'? Also, contrary to your belief, other people in this neighborhood get out the house too, y'know?"

You scoffed, jutting out your bottom lip, "Thanks."

Sukuna held a smug look on his face.

"So . . . you gonna take your hand off my shoulder, or should I do that tor you?"

He looked taken aback, and swiftly returned his hand to his hoodie pocket. "I have to go get groceries. My grandpa sent me, because our house is basically empty?" Sukuna acted as if that was common knowledge.

"What did you have for dinner last night, then?"

"Ordered in."

You mumbled, "Figured."

"Anyway, Grandpa told me you know where the closest grocery store is? I need . . . directions."

"Oh! Right," you scratched the back of your neck. "I'm actually heading there right now. You can come with." If Sukuna didn't want to go with you, he certainly didn't show it (surprisingly).

"So you're actually going to turn this way, down here, across this weird looking house or something — I actually don't even know if it has someone living in it — then go in front of this—"

"Stop talking, and maybe we'll get there faster," Sukuna muttered.

You turned around to face him; he had his hands in his pocket and wore a bored look on his face. You huffed.

"Go have someone else show you the way, then. Y'know, I was actually trying to be nice to you and all. I'm even showing you the shortcut. And now look at how you're treating me." You turned away from him.

"'Trying to be nice'? Please. You haven't asked me how day was going. 'Trying to be nice' my ass."

You ignored his use profanity at such a young age, and you came to a skidding halt; Sukuna even bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly.

"What is your problem!? So what if I haven't asked you how your day was going? SO WHAT? You haven't asked me either. If you don't like me just leave. me. alone!"

"People are so uptight these days," Sukuna shrugged.

"Uptight? UPTIGHT? Please, be my guest, and show me how I'm the uptight one here." You couldn't believe this dude. He's the only other kid in this neighborhood — besides your sibling — and he refuses to be cooperative, kind, nonetheless, a decent person.

The rest of the walk to the grocery store happened in silence. And believe me, the silence was loooouuuuddd. You wholeheartedly believed Sukuna would leave, but he didn't. Which made you even more mad.

The bell above the door chimed when you stepped in the store, out of pettiness, you didn't even hold the door for Sukuna. He scoffed at that, and you turned around to face him. "Well, here you are. The grocery store. Happy now?"

"I'm never happy."

Wow, he must've been dropped on the head as a baby, because he certainly did not get the personality from his grandpa.

You walked through the aisles one by one and searched for the items your mother requested.

Apples and lemons.

You didn't even bother placing them in a bag, insisting on carrying them yourself. Meanwhile, Sukuna was still trailing behind you, much like a lost puppy. His groceries were all in a bag, and he looked ready to pay, but he was still behind you.

Finally, you got sick of his weirdness, and peered over your shoulder to get a look of his face, which was frowning, "Why are you following me?"

He looked like he was pondering, thinking of a way to answer your question. "Girls shouldn't be walking around alone. Especially you."

"Ugh, there you go again. Always thinking you're better than everyone else. And, whaddya mean 'especially me,' huh? You don't think I can handle myself? Are you here to protect me or something? Swooping in to save the day, my knight in shining armor? Seriously, Sukuna."

He groaned, and dragged his free hand down his face, "I came from a not so safe neighborhood. Can't you see I'm just trying to look out for you? If some man came up and harassed you, and I was shopping in some other aisle, would you blame me too?" His voice softened on the last part.

"Forget it, you're right. I'm wrong," you sighed and walked to the register.

When you got home, your mom ushered you inside and hurried to start on the apple pie. You bit your nails as she worked, and she quickly took notice of that.

"Something wrong, sweetie?"

You shook your head, and mouthed a simple "no".

While you were upstairs reading a book, you heard the beeping of the oven, signaling the completion of the baking process. Before you could even put down your book, your mother called out to you from downstairs.

She welcomed you in the kitchen and took great care in wrapping the freshly baked pie in tinfoil and sending you off to the Itadori house. But before that happened, however, she made you memorize your speech, reminding you to inform your next door neighbors of who originally made the pie. And with a soft pat on the back from your mom, you were off.

It was a quarter past 12 o'clock when you finally found the courage to knock on your neighbor's front door. You heard a "coming!" from inside the house, and returned your hand to its side.

Loud footsteps came closer until finally the door was flung open. You were greeted by the sight of Mr. Itadori in a fluffy red robe, and equally fluffy slippers.

"Ah! Y/N. What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You stuttered a bit, "Hi, Mr. Itadori. My mom and I wanted to formally introduce ourselves, and welcome you to the neighborhood — I didn't mention our very much brief meeting yesterday."

"Oh wow! You can tell your mother I appreciate her kind welcome." He turned his head into the house, and called for, "Sukuna! Come here, boy."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be a bother—"

"Agh, you children. Always the same. Nonsense, Y/N. Utter nonsense."

Sukuna stood behind his grandpa in record time, his speed surprised you. "What's she doing here?" He sneered. You offered him a glare in return while Mr. Itadori was oblivious.

"Don't be rude to our kind neighbor. She's here to formally introduce herself."

"Again?"

"Yes. Again."

"Whatever."

Your eyes flickered back and forth between the Itadoris' banter. "I've brought some apple pie — my mom baked it."

Mr. Itadori's eyes lightened up as you presented the tinfoil covered dish to him. "It smells delicious! You really didn't have to, my dear."

"It was no big deal, I promise," you laughed (nervously).

"I will put this on the counter, one second," Mr. Itadori walked away, leaving you and Sukuna alone. The taller boy crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"Apple pie? Really? Are you trying to kill me and my grandpa? I'm lactose intolerant. We're lactose intolerant. He just didn't want to seem rude, so he's putting it away."

"Oh. . . uhh, I didn't know that—"

"I can tell. You didn't think to ask first? How considerate of you, Y/N."

You stumbled on your words.

"I'm just messing with you. Apple pie is his absolute favorite."

Your jaw dropped six feet, before you came back to your senses and rolled your eyes, "Did you have to scare me like that?"

He laughed aloud, "Duh. Shoulda seen the look on your face. Priceless!" He continued to laugh, while your expression remained stoic, trying not to laugh as well. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was actually funny.

When his laughter subsided, he cocked his head to the side. "What's with the face? Girls don't know how to joke around or something?"

You frowned.

Mr. Itadori returned to the both of you and patted his grandson on the back. "Well! Thank you again, Y/N. Tell your family I say thanks and appreciate their kindness."

"Of course. I'll be going now." You waved to Mr. Itadori — feigning ignorance to Sukuna — and walked back to your house next door.

When Sukuna and his grandpa sat at their newly assembled dining table, they both couldn't believe how good the apple pie tasted. Sukuna even asked for a second slice.

Mr. Itadori broke the silence, "So, school starts tomorrow."

Sukuna glanced at his elder, and raised a brow.

"Since you don't know anyone else at your new school, you can ask Y/N for help. She'll be in your grade anyway."

Sukuna sighed, "Grandpa, why are girls so difficult?"

"Ohoho," Mr. Itadori's laughter boomed throughout the house. "You're a funny one, Sukuna," and he ruffled his grandson's unruly hair, messing it up more.

#sukuna x reader #jjk #sukuna fluff #idk how to tag sos #sukuna x you #jjk x you #ryomen x reader

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hanniluvi · 2 months

Text

BITTERSWEET DELUSIONS — JAY ONESHOT

— you still exist in jay’s world. you’re still here, he believes, yet he doesn’t want to face the real truth. you’ll still stick with him, right?

pairing ⋆ 𖦹 ‧ best friend!jay x best friend!fem reader

(_ _ ) . . z Z % genre : angst, best friends to ???

warnings : mentions of diagnosis of disorder

feat. ᥫ᭡ : jake (enhypen) | word count : 1.4K (1408 words)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 — no way, soph is going on a posting streak??? only the proofreaders remember this fic 🙏 LMAO idk why i didnt post this sooner — i kinda forgot about it and would always scroll right past it in my drafts (or i never see it cause i dont scroll that far down) this has been stuck in drafts since may 25 2023 😊 BUT this is finally released !

"Whoever loses has to buy lunch for the other person!" Your words echoed as you sprinted along the sidewalk. Glancing behind, you noticed Jay's bewildered expression while you dashed ahead. The black cat keychain swung side to side with each stride you took.

"That's not fair! You started running first!" Jay remarked, observing your increasing distance with a smirk. As usual, he swiftly caught up, transitioning from being far behind to directly trailing you. His sudden voice surprised you, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

"How did you—?" Before you could finish, Jay leaped onto you, causing both of you to tumble onto the ground. Instead of getting upset, laughter erupted from both of you. Clutching your sides and still pinned beneath Jay, you playfully nudged him aside.

Feigning offense, Jay's expression elicited more laughter from you. He smiled, captivated by your radiant smile and how you wiped away tears of joy. He wished he could witness this pretty sight every day.

"Shall we start over?" you proposed, smirking once more.

Beep Beep.

Jay's eyes shot open, startled by the sudden sight. He gasped for air, his heart racing. Anxiously, he fumbled for the towel placed beside his bed, using it to dab away the sweat clinging to his forehead. Tossing it back in place, he sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a sense of emptiness wash over him.

Oh how he could wish he could start over with you.

With groggy eyes, he tries to make out the numbers on his digital clock.

9:15 AM.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. He had another dream about you, a bittersweet one. Or, should he call it a nightmare? Every time he dreams about you, a wave of guilt crushes over him, even if it’s not his fault. Staring at the blank expanse of his white wall, he reluctantly rose to begin his day.

Jay made his way to the bathroom, methodically rolling up his sleeves. As he turned on the tap, he cupped his hands to splash water on his face, revitalizing his senses. Wiping the water off his face, he noticed a new notification on his phone. Curiosity piqued, he glanced at the screen to find a text from Jake, compelling him to click and read the message.

“You wanna meet up?”

Grasping his phone, Jay contemplated his response. After thoughtful consideration, he finally typed out his reply, observing the words before hitting send: "Sure, where?" Suddenly, with a plan to hang out and no longer a day filled with nothing, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. Placing his phone on the counter, he resumed his morning routine, knowing that today held a purpose.

Running a comb through his hair, he meticulously arranged each strand, allowing them to gracefully cascade across his face.

It's a hairstyle you adored on him, often playfully brushing the strands away and commenting on how handsome he looked.

As he selects his attire, he opts for a simple combination of beige pants and a brown cardigan, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.

The colors hold a special significance, reminiscent of the times you praised how well they suited him. In an attempt to hold onto a piece of your presence, he chooses to wear lighter shades day after day.

Preparing to leave the house, he reaches for his cologne, spritzing a few times with a bittersweet smile.

Jay recalls how you held strong opinions about his fragrance choices, finding some too subtle and others too overpowering. However, this particular scent held a special place in your heart, and he remembers the joy it brought you. Since you mentioned it, he always made sure to keep that bottle in his possession, a subtle gesture made solely for you.

Exhaustion engulfed him, as the burden of the world settled upon his shoulders, relentlessly crushing his spirit. The weight of it all became insurmountable, rendering him a prisoner within the confines of his own room.

Every breath felt like a futile struggle, an agonizing reminder of the impossibility of escape from the torment inflicted by your absence.

Ignoring his thoughts, Jay steps outside his house, a rush of nostalgia flooding his senses as he inserts earbuds into his ears. The gentle caress of a fresh breeze momentarily grants him a fleeting sensation of freedom, but it quickly gives way to a surge of overwhelming emotions.

Each stride feels burdened, as if his body rebels against venturing into a world that still echoes with your memory, causing a subtle frown to etch upon his face. It serves as a constant reminder of the connection he once shared, amplifying the weight of your disappearance.

Despite knowing deep down that you wanted something better for him, Jay finds himself trapped in the inability to move on. He's trying with all his might, and today is no exception.

As he crosses the bustling streets, a soft, melancholic melody seeps through his earbuds, the gentle beats mirroring the fragments of you slipping away, gradually causing him to lose himself in the process. The sidewalks grow increasingly crowded, forcing Jay to navigate through the swarm of people, squeezing his way past them in a bid to move forward.

Placing his earbuds back into their case, he retrieves his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Jake's name. With a mix of anticipation, he dials the number and brings the phone to his ear, the ringing echoing on the other end. His gaze scans the surroundings, desperately searching for any sign of his best friend's familiar presence.

Amidst the sea of faces, Jay's eyes lock onto a figure in the distance, stirring a glimmer of hope within him. Squinting, he desperately tries to discern the features, momentarily believing it to be Jake. But as he looks again, his heart sinks. It's not Jake; it's someone else entirely. Yet, their back, the way they stand, the clothes they wear—everything resembles you, frozen in time since the day you vanished. His eyes widened in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the call with Jake.

It was you.

There was no denying that that black keychain was yours, you guys had matching ones.

He could spot it anywhere, he knows.

Igniting an urgent determination, Jay pushes through the crowd, disregarding the pleas of his best friend on the other end of the line. He runs closer, his voice cracking as he calls out, desperately pleading for people to clear a path, oblivious to their bewildered gazes and startled reactions.

All that matters in that moment is the possibility of finding you, of reuniting, even if just for a fleeting second.

“Y/N!”

No response.

“Y/N!”

No response still. Just you moving farther and farther from him.

Farther.

and Farther.

He's on the verge of reaching you, his heart pounding in his chest, but among the overwhelming crowds flooding the streets, he loses sight of you. A rasping cough escapes his throat, his vision blurred by tears, and the last glimpse he ever catches is of your retreating back.

All he could see was your keychain, swinging from side to side. But this time, he couldn’t chase after you.

He can’t see your face again, can’t hear your laugh again, and can’t hear you request for another race.

You had won.

You had finally won the race.

So, why do you keep leaving him?

Why can't you simply return and reassure him that everything will be alright?

“Jay? Jay, listen to me.” a voice pierces through the haze, calling him back to reality.

He lifts his gaze from the black cat keychain in his hand, finding his psychologist looking at him with a gentle smile.

Confusion mingles with emptiness as he sits in the suffocating confines of a small room, engaging in a conversation he has no desire to partake in.

"Where's Y/N?" he finally manages to utter, his voice tinged with desperation, causing a slight frown to crease the psychologist's brow.

"She's not here anymore, Jay," the psychologist responds, and an irritated expression flickers across Jay's face, disbelief etched in his features.

"No, she is. She's still here!" he insists, his voice growing louder, his anxiety showing up with his bitten, peeled lips. "You just don't understand!" He confronts his helper with a mix of aggression and frustration, seeking validation.

“She’s going to come back. I just saw her earlier—even though she disappeared before I could talk to her, I know she’ll come back to see me.”

His psychologist sighs, holding onto their clipboard. Clicking onto their pen, they swiftly scribbled the words:

Delusional Disorder.

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

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hcsarchive · 4 months

Text

BOXER

nct dream (hint of the boyz)

details ␥ fem!reader x boxer!jaemin (ft. haechan)

genre ␥ smut with a plot, fluff?, lil angst +

━ after getting cheated on, you get invited to an underground boxing match but you stumble into some dangerous territory and that’s where things take a turn.

warnings ➠ explicit language, drugs, alcohol, overstimulation, flirty banter, praise kink, threesomes, corruption kink, fingering, dry humping, knives, rope bunny, blood, cheating, violence, and if there is more please let me know. *some may not be included in all parts*

MINORS DNI

!!these characters are completely fiction and do no represent the idol!!

A/N

Hope you enjoy my first piece of writing! This has been sitting in my drafts for over a year and i finally decided to post it.

part two

PART ONE

You and your boyfriend Sunwoo are on the couch watching a movie until his phone goes off. “babe I have to get going, chanhee will be here soon” he kisses your cheek and he leaves since he was already dressed before you even arrived.

Recently every night before your Friday night shift, you seem to notice he leaves at the same time and uses the same excuses to leave. Of course, you want to hang out with your best friend but you also want to be with him. You hardly get the chance to spend time together and the only time you see one another is after classes and twice a week which is not enough.

You watch him from the corner of your eyes as he gets ready to leave. Where is he going and why isn’t he telling you? Tears start forming around your eyes but holding them until he leaves is the best option. Speaking up about what is hurting you isn’t the easiest to do.

You are tired of Sunwoo throwing you around. He was the perfect boyfriend up until recently he started to be weird and his anger was getting unmanageable. One wrong thing you’ll say and he will start blaming you for everything which made you mad because you tried your best to be good to him.

Sunwoo hated seeing you cry, it angered him….

The door opens and Chanhee spots you crying once again. “Sunwoo again,” he says while rolling his eyes and dropping his bag on the floor. “Come here y/n” he pets your head as you’re crying.

“He left again and I didn’t even get the chance to say anything. Do you know where he goes” you look up at him and he nods no.

“Next Friday is our 6 month anniversary and if he leaves again we are over. I can’t hold on any longer I’m sorry” Both of you stay there in silence while tears fall down your eyes.

“I’m tired of seeing you hurt, do what is best for you and the rest I can take care of” Chanhee wipes your tears and stands up to get you a glass of water.

Two figures come in and Chanhee shoos them away. “Whyyyy we want to spend time with y/n too” Hyunjae screams “y/n tell your bff to stop hogging you” Jacob joins in. You laugh at the tiny blue-haired boy trying to push two buff men out of the living room.

“Chanhee it’s ok I’m fine now,” you say standing up and walking towards them.

“Did Sunwoo leave already? He was supposed to carpool with us” Hyunjae furrows his eyebrows. Chanhee looks at you and with that look, you already know what to do.

“He didn’t mention he was going with you guys” chanhee starts.

“Did he say anything to you?” Jacob points at you.

“Nope he just received a text and told me he has to go” you respond.

“Weird…do any of you want to come instead?” Hyunjae whips out 3 tickets.

Chanhee takes them and smirks because he did overhear his roommate say something about this the other day “I’ll pass- take y/n instead, I can cover your shift”

You grab the tickets and it’s a ticket with an unrecognizable location on it. The back has a bunch of little letters that state some sort of agreement.

“Where is this?” You ask.

“It’s an underground boxing show. They have these huge matches and two of the famous boxers are fighting tonight which would be a huge cash price” Jacob nudges you “wanna come”

“Yeah, I’m down. Can I get ready? I have a couple things here already”

“Sure we still have time” Hyunjae looks at Jacob then you.

“awesome” you grab your bag and hug Chanhee goodbye because he is already heading to his room.

“call me if anything happens ok” you both do thumbs up and then you go to sunwoo room to get ready.

*on the way to the match*

You play with your nails nervously because you are still a bit sad about earlier. The boys drive off the road and drive through a concrete tunnel with graffiti all over with glowing red tape which you assume is a symbol. For about 10 minutes of driving through a dirt road, you see loads of trees.

Jacob hands the keys to the valet parking worker and parks his car somewhere. You follow them through another dirt pathway which is lined up with a few securities.

"How did you even find this place," you ask.

"Our trainer transferred here, so he can start working here full time. Supposedly Sunwoo was offered a spot here which I am not surprised because he is a great fighter" Jacob said.

"Oh" is all you can say. The weight off of your shoulder left after hearing that. Of course, you don't like the idea of him getting hurt while boxing but you also were relieved that you finally know what he has been doing.

For now, you just want to have fun since you hardly have time to do anything different around here. You see a gray building and small windows at the top with loads of lights.

The men at the entrance take tickets and they make everyone sign papers while being metal detected. The building is filled with thousands of people and the building was definitely soundproof because you could not hear the amount of talking outside.

You sit in between both of them and look around at everything. The whole place looks like a concert arena, just this one smells like a mix of all sorts of drugs, alcohol, and sweaty men. Your eyes land on the line of girls dressed in provocative costumes and beautiful hair, topped with glittery makeup. You were amazed at how confident they all looked.

The first pair of fighters start and Jacob gasps "It's Lee Jeno he is the second-best boxer in the history of dungeon boxing."

"Who is the first?" You wonder while looking at how fast he is throwing and dodging punches.

"Na Jaemin, this new generation is beating all of the past generation records. Those two together will whip out everyone in here" blood streams down the other opponent's mouth while Jeno’s hand is raised up.

Lee Jeno wins which makes everyone chant his name while he puffs his chest and throws his fists up for everyone to chant even louder.

More people fight and you have the urge to go to the bathroom. Both of them look very concentrated “I’m going to the bathroom real quick” you say to Jacob.

“I can take you, the best match is at the end,” he says standing up right away but someone behind us yells at us to sit down.

“It’s fine I’ll go on my own I see the bathroom sign” you lie and leave towards a random door before he gets the chance to react.

There were so many people in the pathway that you had to push through as politely as possible but someone bumps into you which makes you bump into this couple towards the back wall. You apologize regardless of them paying attention to you since they were making out.

You felt the back of the jacket being pulled back aggressively once you turned around. “Why the fuck did you bump into us you dirty bitch” you were met with some angry girl’s eyes but then your boyfriend’s?

Her body is still pressed against his. “Pathetic” you grab the girl's arm off and throw it down with all your force.

You pass through two security guards and through the gray doors. It's another door but it’s locked. You were already hysterically crying and trying to twist the door with blurry teary eyes. The security guards just stare.

A couple seconds later the door opens and it’s two other males with clipboards and suits on. “Why were you trying to open the door,” the short one says.

“I was trying to go to the bathroom and this was the nearest door I saw,” You say.

“Where’s your ticket,” the other says.

“I don’t have it with me it’s-“ they cut you off again.

“Ok so not only don’t you have a ticket but you went through the VIP area and passed security to a door you aren’t even supposed to see”

The back doors that you just went into, opened. It was Sunwoo and the girl. “Oh look it’s the little lost girl who harassed us,” she says.

“Do you guys know her?” the short one asked them. Your teary eyes meet Sunwoo’s but he is avoiding your eyes. “Obviously not! why is she even here” she smacks her gum even more.

“Look I wasn’t looking for trouble I just want to know where the restroom is and move on with my day” tears stream down your cheeks on how frustrated you feel.

“Fine I’ll take you to our bathrooms but this is a one-time thing because-'' the short one was about to talk but the girl cut him off.

“Don’t let her in, she is probably undercover investigating us. Treat her like the rest of them” she says.

You were tired of standing there, you were trying to leave without saying anything or else you would start uncomfortably sobbing. “Jisung grab her” before you can even think, you feel a pair of arms lift you up.

“Put me down. Why am i- Can I at least let my friends know where I’m going”

They didn’t respond and all you saw was sunwoo at the end of the hallway walking into another room. You are too stunned to even be hurt about it. As you pass the many gray doors with numbers on them you start to feel sick.

He stops in front of room 07 and it’s the biggest door in the hallway. They both scan their faces then the door opens. After those doors, there are glass sliding doors. Again they scan their face and get a finger scan “Put your belongings in this bin and take off any layers” you take off your bag, shoes, and jacket.

You are left in your dress. The sliding doors open to reveal an elevator. You never expect such a trashy building on the outside to have these things like this on the inside. As you guys are going up, you notice how good-looking they are. “Do not look at us, look at the wall” Renjun says getting out his taser.

“Renjun relax” Jisung says, you laugh then Renjun puts away his taser and says sorry.

“He has trust issues, don't take it personally. We are just dragging you here or else Jia will complain to Haechan and we all hate her” Jisung explains.

“Why do you guys keep her then?” you ask.

“The crowd loves her and we don’t want to look for another person to replace since it’s a whole process. Plus she’s crazy” Jisung says.

“Stop talking to her until we investigate. You’re saying too many names and too much information” Renjun eyes you every three seconds while typing away on his phone. You had no idea who they were, what they did, but you know this is getting serious.

“We will have to keep her here for a month just to make sure she doesn’t say anything” another guy appears with a black silky button-up and dress pants as soon as the elevator doors open.

Your mouth dries up not only because of what he said but how he looks. His eyes are staring at you intensely up and down.

“We haven’t investigated her yet” Jisung says since Renjun also seems to be confused.

“No need. I found her right away and although she is not connected to anyone, she is dating the dude that has been seeing one of our show girls so that is a little suspicious. Explain why you are trying to get in and how you even got here.” Haechan questions you.

“I was trying to get out. There is no way I am staying here! i have a job and i’m a student” you try to turn around to leave but he pulls you back.

"Do not make another move until I say so. I know your weaknesses sweetheart or should i say [your username] " meaning he probably looked through everything you have done online and you catch on to what he means. You don't move but he leans into you "go it" he whispers into your ear and you nod yes.

"Words sweetheart".

"got it" you respond.

"So now you are mocking me" he smirks and towers over you. His tie dangles over your face as you look up at him.

"Renjun, Jisung you guys are good to go now. Make sure Jaemin is prepared. Do not let anyone enter until I say so, including you guys. We will have a meeting about this one later”

"I have a name" he shoves two fingers into your mouth. "You are not aware of what I am capable of doing and who I am so do not even think about talking back to me"

You start to heat up by the way he is speaking to you because he basically knows more than anyone if he got your laptop information. You want him to get even angry at you, so you suck on his finger that is pointing at you and swirl your tongue around. He hovers over you and shoves his fingers deeper into your throat. "Stand up" he lifts his fingers with you attached to them and releases his fingers out of your mouth. You just got cheated on so the most you can do is live up to your fantasies.

Haechan smirks at you then looks where you were seated. You left a small puddle of your wetness. "Now that you have done your little show...it is time for your punishment" he sits down and pulls you to sit on his lap.

He takes off his tie and puts it over your eyes, you hear his belt come off and he buckles it onto your mouth. "Since you don't listen when I tell you not to speak or move" he spanks your ass "once you step into my office you have to obey me pretty girl" his hands grip your hips.

You start to move your hips against his thigh. You cannot stand the heat pulsing through your soaking core. He grips you harder and speeds your movements, moans start pouring through the belt.

"Who knew a person like you would be this desperate that fast. Exactly who I have been looking for but you bark back and I do not like that. You know what bad girls like you get" you nod your head no furiously so he can do something other than guiding you through his clothed thigh.

He demands you to get on all fours on top of the couch. Haechan unzips your dress and unclasps your bra. The belt from your mouth is removed and it is covered in saliva. The belt comes in contact with your ass which releases a couple fluids that are now dripping down your thighs so you cross your legs for some sort of friction. "What part of do not move do you not understand" he grabs both of your hands and belts your wrist. Your face is now smashed into the couch.

"What do you fucking earn from edging me this long. Look at your fucking pants just whip it out for fucks sake, you are-"

"Shut the fuck up" he puts his knee between your legs and starts rubbing it around. "You need to learn how to keep that mouth shut" he shoved his knee further and pressured more. Your plan trying to hold back the screams fails.

He has a rope in his hands and you smirk "fuck" he rolls his eyes and starts to tie your hands then wraps it around your chest and stomach. Haechan tightens it even more in your thighs and brings the ends of ropes to your ankles.

He was about to put the rest around your mouth but you looked at haechan with lust. His face is spotted with moles and his eyes are framed with beautiful lashes. "You are pretty you know that" he looks at you in the eyes with anger but lust. "Do not sweet talk me"

"Are you going to kill me? you can at least make me cu-" he shoves a gag in your mouth and ties it. Your hair was pulled back by his hands and you looked up at him. He kneels down to be eye level with you "why aren't you scared of me?”

-END OF PART ONE-

authors note :)

I hope you enjoyed the first part! this is my first time writing these types of things or in general so hopefully, I improve further on. If you have the time please leave some feedback it would mean a lot.

Thank you for reading <3

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morningberriesao3 · 3 months

Text

As Sneaky Link comes to an end, it just means that I’ll get to work on some other fun projects that have been in my drafts for (literally) a year and a half.

The next multi chapter I’m working on is set back in the 80s. Only this time, it’s not Steve who spirals about his sexuality.

Eddie is straight—he’s just never met the right girl to feel that spark. But Steve over the last years has had a secret that he’s told no one. Not even Robin.

Until Eddie walks in on him in a very compromising position. With another man.

I started this fic as something we hardly see in the Steddie fandom—and that’s Steve being the certified queer, and Eddie having a full blown crisis as he figures himself out.

As promised, below the cut is the first 2.4K words of chapter 1, and in February it’ll be posted in its entirety on my ao3: morningberries

Enjoy 🥹

It was a chilly day in early September—the wind carrying half-brown leaves through the air in swirling patterns that looked like mini tornados. Eddie stared at them from his trailer’s living room window as Wayne’s truck disappeared beyond the bend in the road.

Another weekend alone as his uncle worked a double shift.

It’s not that Eddie didn’t have friends. There was Gareth and Jeff and Grant—the members from his beloved band Corroded Coffin—but he knew Jeff was on vacation with his parents before college started and Grant was working with his dad in the garage on that ’69 Mustang they picked up from the scrapyard over the summer. Gareth, although in Hawkins, had landed himself a hot new girlfriend and spent every waking moment with her.

Eddie couldn’t really blame him, even though he didn’t really get it.

It had been the same thing his whole life, if he was being honest with himself. Since middle school, he’d watch his friends start dating whatever chick they had a crush on, listen to them start yammering about how gorgeous she was or how cool or how smart. How she made them get butterflies in their stomachs, whatever the fuck that meant.

Yeah, cool.

Eddie had dated girls—some pretty cute ones at that. There was Sam, who he dated his second senior year, and they’d gotten along really well. She was what Eddie thought should probably be his type—dark hair, a lip ring, wore lipstick in blacks and unearthly blues. She was even in Hellfire Club and honestly kicked ass at it. Objectively, on paper, she was everything he wanted.

Except he didn’t feel it. Whatever it was. The fucking butterflies, or whatever.

When they broke up, it hadn’t really been the end of the world. He mourned their friendship more than the sexual aspect of their relationship, because Sam had been awesome to hang out with and smoke with and laugh with.

Gareth hadn’t believed Eddie when he said he was fine—took a solid 4 months before Gare actually accepted that Eddie’s heart wasn’t shattered.

Eddie cared more about… God, like, anything but dating. Like D&D, and his friends, and his guitar, and Metallica’s newest album, and making his fucking bed in the morning, and even his therapist. He knew it didn’t really help him look normal to be a twenty-year-old man who couldn’t care less about pursuing girls, but whatever. He was King Freak, after all.

When he met Chrissy six months ago, he thought for a moment that he might be able to convince himself to have a crush on her. It should be easy; a small, thin, blonde, pretty cheerleader is everyone’s type. Maybe he’d just been chasing after the wrong girls. But what he felt on the drive to his trailer with Chrissy in his front seat, as she timidly told him she thought he was kind and funny, was, again… not the fireworks he expected from all the stories of love at first sight.

And then she’d died, which vastly overshadowed Eddie’s worry that there might be something wrong with him for not developing feelings. He talked about both things in his weekly government mandated therapy sessions. But mostly about her death.

The doctor had told Eddie it wasn’t uncommon to have an aversion to romantic or sexual relationships after experiencing trauma. Eddie didn’t really bother to elaborate that it had started long before said trauma. But whatever.

He digressed.

Gareth had a girlfriend, and they spent their time making out and—apparently now—doing hands and mouth stuff. At least, that’s what Gareth had been bragging about at their last band practice. And, according to him, they were probably going to fuck on this weekend that Eddie was once again alone, so calling Gareth was completely off the table.

He sighed, standing from his uncle’s withered brown couch to walk the ten steps to his bedroom. He plucked his guitar from her hook on the wall, strummed a few chords without bothering to plug her in. If he was really going to talk about trauma responses and aversions, he might as well start with the one he developed for playing his guitar after the epic battle in the Upside Down.

Since the day he nearly bled out on the gravel outside of his trailer (that wasn’t really his trailer, because apparently alternate dimensions are, like, actually a thing), he hadn’t really been able to play anymore. It wasn’t some dramatic thing, like getting wild flashbacks of battling massive fucking hell-bats, or getting feasted on by their fang-filled mouths, or Dustin crying over him, or what if felt like when he literally died for four minutes before he was defibrillated. It was just this soft, but uncomfortable, feeling in his stomach, accompanied by massive brain fog, and a general lack of motivation to learn anything new.

He hung the guitar back where it belonged, in front of his mirror. The reflection that looked back at him looked… well, goddamn bored, for one. And a little anxious. And like he should probably try to reach out to some of his other friends.

There had been some silver linings to the whole everything-he’s-ever-known-about-the-world-has-been-a-lie thing. He did, now, have other friends. Dustin, for one, would hang out with him on days that weren’t D&D related. Although, Eddie was sure that a lot of that was because he had a working vehicle that could tow him around to the arcade, or the diner (where Eddie paid for Dustin’s meals, obviously), or the video store.

Eddie didn’t mind crashing Family Video, because more often than not, it meant he could visit his new age-appropriate friend.

Robin and Eddie had become attached at the hip, honestly. Best friends. Trauma bonded, or something. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that they were both losers, and somehow both smart and dumb at the same time. They also both talked a lot, and got excited over weird shit, and liked to rag on Dustin. So Eddie really took a liking to Robin.

And here was something that he’d been thinking about for the last few weeks.

Maybe he had a crush on her? It didn’t really sound right, but he did get excited when he got to see her, and his heartrate sometimes sped up when he went to family video and he first laid eyes on her talking to Steve, and maybe there was also a tinge of jealousy that settled in the pit of his stomach when he thought of how close they were. That had to mean something—meant something more than anything else he’d ever felt before.

He knew if Steve and Robin were going to get together, it more than likely would have already happened. But the thought still nagged on him a bit. He wouldn’t like it, and he couldn’t really put his finger on why. Having a crush on Robin was the only feasible explanation, really.

It was either that, or perhaps it was because Eddie was convinced that Steve hated him for some unknown reason.

Eddie tried to become friends with Steve during the aftermath of the Upside Down, and for a while it seemed like it was working. It seemed like Steve actually enjoyed Eddie’s company.

They’d hang out first with Rob, or Dustin. And then just by themselves. Steve even came to smoke up at the trailer once or twice, ended up crashing on Eddie’s couch. Steve used to smile at him, and nudge him in the shoulders like they were sharing some inside joke, or sling his arm around Eddie casually like they’d known each other for ages.

It always made Eddie feel like he was buzzing, like there was some sort of weight in his chest that spasmed and choked him. His therapist had said that it was probably some sort of satiation for his inner child, finally being accepted by someone who was deemed popular. Eddie hadn’t ever thought he cared about shit like that, but the subconscious was a mysterious place, he was coming to learn. Definitely explained the attachment he felt for Steve those first few months out of the hospital; the absolute giddiness he felt when they got to hang out.

But that was at the beginning. The start of July was when Eddie noticed Steve acting different towards him. Avoiding touch, and then eye contact, and then Eddie’s calls, and finally, just Eddie altogether.

The pit Eddie had felt in his stomach from losing Steve’s affection had been awful. He really thought they were becoming close, really thought it was the start of something. A really great friendship.

But Steve peaced out as quickly as he bonded with Eddie, apparently deciding now that they were back in the real world, they couldn’t really mingle anymore.

The bond they formed in the Upside Down was acceptable when they were actively monster hunting, but Eddie supposed now that things had somewhat calmed, reality started to crash into focus. Steve was still a jock; Eddie was still a freak. Therefore, no more sitting across from each other at Benny’s Diner.

That was Eddie’s theory, at least. When he’d ask Robin about it, she’d just shrugged her shoulders and said, “He hasn’t spoken badly about you. Like, at all. Seems like he likes you to me.”

Then, as if to prove his point, Steve would go all red when Eddie would stop by his work and go hide in the back room until the kids picked whatever Sci-Fi movie and piled back in Eddie’s van.

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

Eddie survived sans Steve before the Upside Down, he’d survive without him now.

He picked up the phone and dialed Robin’s number.

“Hello?”

“Rob,” Eddie greeted, a smile already forming on his face from hearing her raspy voice. “What are you up to?”

He could hear a snort from the other end of the line. He knew she was rolling her eyes. “On a Friday afternoon at five PM? Absolutely nothing, of course.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Did it sound like sarcasm?”

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he poured himself a mug of old drip coffee from this morning, “it very much did.”

“You’re getting better at social cues!” she mockingly praised.

“Watch it, Bucky. Don’t get too comfortable hiding behind that phone.”

“You’ll forget before the next time we see each other. I’m not too worried.”

Eddie sighed for what felt like the hundredth time since his uncle left the trailer. “Does that mean you can’t hang?”

The line crackled as Robin moved through her living room. Eddie could imagine her flopping on the couch, getting comfortable, her green phone glued to her ear with a big bowl of popcorn settled in her lap. “Noooott necessarily,” she drawled out. “Although, I know you’re not exactly fond of parties.”

Eddie furrowed his brow as he slid his mug onto the new microwave’s glass plate. He’d gotten it for Wayne’s birthday with some of the hush money the government had… well, hushed him with. Eddie had promised to keep his lips sealed when they flashed him the size of the cheque. Not like he had many people to tell, anyway.

“You’re going to a party?”

“Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised. “Steve’s party? For his twentieth?”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “Steve’s having a party for his birthday?”

As far as he’d known, Steve said he was doing a quiet thing with his parents and his aunt that he didn’t even want to attend, and that was that. He’d just shrugged when Eddie pressed about celebrating with his friends, muttering something about it feeling weird to celebrate after everything that went down earlier in the year.

Which had been fair enough.

But now it was abundantly clear that Steve had been lying to Eddie. To keep him away.

“Uh, of course he is, Doofus. He told me you said you couldn’t come?”

Eddie, for some wild reason, felt his eyes pricking with tears. Out of anger or betrayal or confusion, he wasn’t really sure. It was dumb; he was tough, and he didn’t cry when jocks hated him ever before. So he swallowed them back down.

“Guess my plans changed,” he said, venom seeping into his tone. Fuck Steve and his master plan to keep Eddie from attending his dumb house party. “I’m coming.”

It seemed that Robin was totally oblivious to his anger as she squealed excitedly from the other end of the line. “Yay! Will you come pick me up then? It would be so much cooler to show up with a friend than have my mom drop me off in front of all the former popular kids of Hawkins High.”

“Why do you care about that shit?” Eddie asked, even though he knew it was hypocritical of him.

“Look, I know you’re totally unaffected by the social hierarchy, Eddie, but I’m unashamed to admit that it’ll feel kind of amazing to debut myself as Steve’s best friend, you know? And I’d rather do it in your shitty van than have my mother yelling that she loves me from the open window of her Honda Civic.”

“Don’t call ol’ Heffer shitty,” Eddie sulked. “It’s not good to bite the hand that feeds you. Or something like that.”

Eddie ignored that it didn’t feel great when Robin said she was Steve’s best friend. That heavy shadow of jealousy weighed down on him. He was unclear whether it was because he was jealous of Steve or Robin.

“Whatever,” Robin said, her voice laced with yet another eyeroll. “Pick me up at seven-thirty?”

Eddie nodded, his face still pulled into a scowl. When he realised Robin couldn’t see him, he shook his muddled brain and mumbled, “Uh—yeah. Seven-thirty. See you then.”

“Cool. See you soon, Doofus,” Robin sang. And then the line went dead.

#steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #eddie x steve #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #steddie fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #sneaky link ao3 #morningberriesao3 #morningberries #steve and eddie #eddie munson x steve harrington

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xxsabitoxx · 9 months

Text

Keeping Secrets (Giyu Imagine)

A/N: I feel like I've seen a few imagines/headcanons where Giyu has a wife and baby and keeps it a secret from the other Hashira. Not intentionally, but like Giyu being Giyu sees no need to tell them about it cause these meetings are strictly business. This whole scenario was super cute to me so I've been drafting a full-on HC post for a while now with all the hashira. However, my main writing focus has been on Roommates so I haven't gotten a chance to work on it. Before I absolutely lose my mind...

You and Giyu met shortly after surviving the Final Selection. He's extremely heartbroken during this time in his life because he is trying to cope with the death of Sabito. You meet him one day during a mission and go out of your way to talk to him. You've always been good with reading people and their emotions so you can practically feel the weight of his grief just by being in his presence.

Giyu is reluctant, letting you talk to him a bit but not really saying much in return. It takes time, but slowly Giyu warms up to you and one night after finishing a mission Giyu opens up to you. Your seemingly one-sided friendship quickly blossoms into mutual feelings. Giyu hesitantly welcomes you into your heart, trying to ignore the fears of losing you the way he lost his loved ones.

Fast forward to the time when Giyu becomes a Hashira. This is a transitional period of his life, so many things are changing at once and the weight of getting older brings along new titles and new responsibilities. You two are stuck together like glue, regardless of your different titles, Kagaya sees the potential and continues to let you partner up with Giyu during missions. It's during this time that Giyu starts to realize he cares about you more than a friend. He's never really experienced these kinds of emotions before so he's not entirely sure how he is supposed to go about it.

Lucky for him, you're still good at reading emotions. It doesn't take long for you to catch on and take the initiative. Thanks to your openness and determination, within a few months of his Hashira promotion, Giyu begins to court you. It takes another year of proper dating, but Giyu ends up asking you for your hand in marriage shortly after your 18th birthday. You, of course, accept.

The two of you marry a few months later. A small ceremony with Kagaya, Amane, and their children. Urokodaki is there and a few important people from your life are there as well. It's quiet and private and no other corps members catch wind of the fact that the rather 'infamous' water pillar has taken a bride.

Within a few months of your marriage, you and Giyu stumble across the Kamado siblings. After a bizarre battle with both siblings knocked out, you and Giyu discuss ways to keep them safe, coming to the mutual agreement that Urokodaki would be able to help. It is a few months later that you end up getting pregnant, right before your promotion to Hashira. This causes you to cease corps activity almost immediately. You even like to joke that Giyu planned this, he had been hinting at you retiring from the corps since you got engaged.

You end up giving birth shortly after Giyu's twentieth birthday and a year later you're itching to get back to your duties. You have a beautiful baby, one who is still getting the hang of walking and learning to say more than just a babble of "dada". A baby that is the exact replica of their father, the only thing they got from you is your eye color. I mean really, you carried them for 9 months and they have the audacity to come out looking like their dad.

Much to Giyu's dislike, Kagaya awards you with the title of Hashira within a few weeks of your return. You had practically jumped back into training within two months of birthing your child, nearly giving Giyu a heart attack day in and day out. Now comes the day of your first Hashira meeting. To make things a little less obvious, Giyu left for the meeting before you. He had taken only a few months off to help you after your baby was born, but the other hashira had been told he was sent away for a mission that would take quite some time. Kagaya was willing to help keep your marriage and family a secret until you both felt ready to share.

You're getting antsy, the kakushi that you had requested to watch your child while you both attended the meeting was running late. So late that if you didn't leave right then, you'd arrive at the meeting after it started. The last thing you wanted was to make a bad impression on the other hashira. So, one hasty note later, you were hauling your baby into your arms and heading out for the meeting. You weren't quite sure how you would go about explaining this, never mind to the other hashira, but to your husband. "Dada is going to faint." You spoke to your baby, a bit of your nerves settling as they looked up at you with a gummy grin. Only a few teeth were beginning to poke up from their gums... which had been giving you and Giyu one hell of a time. Teething was certainly not your friend.

By the time you made it to the Butterfly Estate, you were settling your baby on your hip and trying to focus on your breathing. "You'll be good for Mama right?" You whispered to them, smiling as they just giggled in response. You adjusted your posture, taking one last deep breath before entering the gardens. You heard them before you saw them, the intimidating aura of the Hashira was certainly no joke.

Giyu's eyes landed on you first, his expression turning to one of mild shock when he realized your baby was in your arms. For a moment he was convinced you had lost your mind, but he couldn't dwell on that for long. "My, are you lost perhaps?" Shinobu walked past him, the chatter around him had quickly died. "No, that can't be the case, you're in a corps uniform." The last bit seemed to be more to herself than to you. "I-no I'm here for the meeting with Oyakata-sama. I'm the new pillar y/n." You nearly said your last name, which was Tomioka. Granted the baby in your arms looked just like him, you figured it wouldn't take long until they pieced things together.

"You're the new pillar and you have a child?" You glanced upwards, the serpent hashira was staring down at you from a tree branch, eyes narrowed. All eyes were on you and your baby, you had glanced at Giyu only once so far. "That would be correct. The kakushi who has been kind enough to aid me and my husband with our baby was running late and I didn't want to arrive after the meeting started." You glanced at everyone else, noticing that all but one pillar was looking at you. Shinobu was standing in front of you, her eyes trained on your baby rather than you. "Say..." her brows were furrowed as if trying to understand why the child in your arms looked so familiar.

"Yes?" you had a funny feeling she had already figured everything out. But, before she could speak, a bubbly pink-haired woman was bounding towards you. "OH! THEY ARE SO CUTE! IT'S SO NICE TO MEET YOU!" She smiled brightly at you, squealing as your baby began to smile and giggle at her. Mitsuri Kanroji had saved your ass for the time being. "Oi..." This time it was a male voice, one that effectively quieted the space. You recognized him as Sanemi, the wind pillar. "That kid looks exactly like Tomioka's lame ass." Your eyes nearly bulged out of their head, though you knew it was coming, you just hadn't expected it to be from him.

You swallowed, watching as the other pillars looked between you, your baby, and then over at Giyu. You shifted nervously, waiting for the dam to break and the realization to come out. “Say, Shinazugawa isn’t wrong…” one of the taller men spoke, if you remembered correctly, his name was Tengen. Giyu talked about him from time to time cause the man was a shinobi with three wives. “Do you have something to confess Tomioka?” Shinobu was looking right at you as she spoke, because of your nerves you actually responded. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” Her brows raised at that, which caused you to realize your fatal mistake, the nail in the coffin if you would. “Oh? I was referring to Tomioka Giyu… however it seems you’ve confirmed my suspicions… Tomioka y/n.”

Just thinkin lol

#kny #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer headcanons #hashira #demon slayer fluff #kimetsu no yaiba imagines

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flightlessangelwings · 4 months

Text

Modern Day Hero

Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count-4.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), oral (f receiving), praise, riding, pre or no outbreak (can be read either way), single dad Joel with Sarah (no Ellie), neighbor!Joel, fluff, mutual pining, flirting, romance, only one bed, reader is a YA novelist, protective!Joel, reader is hinted to be more curvy but can be interpreted any way, happy ending, no use of y/n

Notes- Hi @miraclesabound it's your @pedrostories secret santa!!! I took a slightly different direction instead of full on fantasy au but I still incorporated some fantasy in here! I hope you like it cause this was very fun to write!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

A knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts. The screen looked like a bright blur in front of your eyes as you adjusted them to the world around you. You didn’t even realize it, but hours had gone by since you looked away from your screen, too engrossed with the story you were working on to notice the passage of time. Another knock called your attention and you stretched your neck and arms as you stood up from your desk.

“Coming,” you called out to the front door.

You groaned as you moved your legs for the first time in hours and you made a mental note to take a break for a bit once you finished with whoever was at your door. As you swung it open, your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with your neighbor.

“Joel,” you breathed… Your handsome neighbor who you secretly had feelings for.

Joel gave you an apologetic smile, “Hey,” his exhaustion was apparent in his voice, “Sorry to ask ya so last minute,” he gestured to Sarah, who stood next to him, “Would you mind watching her for the afternoon?”

“Hey!” Sarah greeted you excitedly.

“Hey Sarah,” you replied back with a sincere smile, “Come on in! My favorite houseguest is always welcome here,” you winked at her, “I’ve got some snacks in the kitchen, go help yourself.”

Sarah’s face lit up as she hugged her dad goodbye and skipped inside. Joel mumbled a soft, “Be good,” to her before he turned to you and let out a heavy breath, “I owe you one,” he sighed, “I hate to put ya out like this but this job came up and I need the money and…”

“It’s no problem, Joel. Really,” you cut him off, “Trust me, I understand,” you nudged his shoulder playfully, “Go make that money, big guy.”

That made him laugh and Joel’s eyes darted down to the ground for a moment, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he met your gaze again, “I mean it, though. I owe ya, sweetheart.” With that he hurried over to his truck and drove off.

The nickname took your breath away and your mouth hung open as your brain short circuited for a moment. You stood in the doorway and waved him goodbye as you watched him drive off. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you imagined that you were more than just neighbors… friends. You imagined that he kissed you goodbye and promised he wouldn’t be home too late. You imagined that you would make him dinner and you and Sarah would wait until he came back home.

But he wasn’t yours to have. You and Joel had lived next to each other for a couple years now. Over time, you became friends and you were more than happy to watch Sarah any time. Some nights, you all would hang out together and watch movies, and you always stuck together at neighborhood block parties. But it was never more than that.

You let out a heavy sigh as you closed the door and went inside where you found Sarah on your couch with a manuscript in her hands.

“Is this the new one you’ve been working on?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you sat down next to her, “It's the rough draft. I haven’t gotten a chance to look at my editor’s notes yet.”

“Can I read it?” Sarah asked, batting her eyes like the way her dad sometimes did.

Grinning, you nodded, “How can I say no to that face?” you laughed softly, “Let me know what you think.”

Sarah’s face lit up as she buried herself in the book. Ever since she found out you were a young adult novelist, she always eagerly awaited the next book you had for her to read. Joel definitely appreciated that you made her so interested in books and reading too. Plus, it helped that Sarah seemed to enjoy the same fantasy stories you liked to write, so having a young perspective helped you. You were sure that your writing improved when she started reading your novels and giving you input on them too.

Yet another reason to be grateful for your neighbors.

“I’m gonna go fix us something to eat while you read. Make yourself at home, Sarah.”

She always did, kicking off her shoes at the door and settling onto your couch, “Thanks!” she replied from behind the book, which she was already clearly engrossed in.

“I’ll start with some hot chocolates I think,” you said, more to yourself than to her, as you busied yourself in the kitchen.

Hours passed and the sun set long ago, yet Joel still wasn’t back. You had made you and Sarah dinner and sat with her for a bit before you went back to working on your next novel, the sequel to the draft she was reading, in fact. It was well after midnight when a knock at the door startled you and made Sarah bolt awake from where she fell asleep on your couch.

“Must be your dad,” you told Sarah as you went to answer the door.

“Hey,” Joel sounded tired, “Sorry I’m so late.”

“I was starting to think you forgot about me,” Sarah teased as she gathered her things.

“Now that hurts,” Joel feigned heartbreak, “Let’s go, baby girl.”

You snorted softly as you bid Sarah goodnight.

“Can I finish your book tomorrow?” she asked before she left, “I think this is my favorite one you’ve ever written!”

The compliment genuinely warmed you, “Of course,” you told her, “And then you can read the second one when it’s done,” you winked at her.

Sarah’s face lit up as she hugged you and bounced over to her house.

“She really liked them books of yours,” Joel commented with a grin, “I’m glad she’s been reading so much, though.”

“She’s a good kid,” you said, “How was the job?” you asked.

“It’s money,” he replied.

“That good, huh?”

Joel scoffed. His frown furrowed his brows for a moment before he looked you in the eyes and his face softened, “Thanks again for watchin’ her so late.”

You smiled back at him, “It’s no problem,” you replied in a hushed tone.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Joel reached for you, as if he wanted to hug… or maybe even kiss you, but he stopped himself. Instead, he just nodded and patted your shoulder before he went home to his daughter, leaving you in your doorway dumbfounded.

It was the middle of the night a few days later. Feeling accomplished at finishing your edits for the novel you let Sarah read, you crashed fairly early. You had been working hard on this novel, and it was quickly becoming your pride and joy. So you let yourself rest for the first time in weeks. But, as fate would have it, you wouldn’t rest for long.

A loud crash jolted you awake with a gasp. You sat up in bed, listening if you could figure out what the sound was, when another hiss and pop startled you. Quickly, you got out of bed and ran towards the direction of the sound, which sounded like it came from your basement.

To your dismay, when you turned on the basement light, you saw what the commotion was. A pipe burst in your basement, and everything was flooding. Panic coursed through your veins as your hands shook. Nothing like this ever happened to you before, and between your overwhelming emotions and your panic, you had no idea what to do. And it was the middle of the night, who would you even call?

You grabbed your phone and dialed the only number you could think of.

Joel’s phone rang on his bedside table, causing him to wake with a start. He groaned for a moment before he realized it was a call, and he reached for it with dread as his first thought was of his daughter, “Hello?” he answered with a low gravelly voice.

“Joel?” your voice was on the other end, sounding meek and scared.

He breathed your name as he sat up, “Everything alright?”

“I’m sorry to call in the middle of the night,” you stumbled over your words, “My basement is flooding and I don’t know what to do…”

“Hang on, I’ll be right over,” Joel replied with no hesitation.

He rushed over as fast as he could, and Joel was thankful you were right next door. He burst in your front door and immediately gathered you in his arms, “It’s alright,” he cooed, “I’ve got this.”

You stood in a daze, unsure what to do as Joel got to work. The first thing he did was turn off your water, stopping the rushing water. Then he called the emergency line and let them know what happened and got to work draining the standing water. When backup arrived, he helped them, taking the lead for you.

“Hey,” Joel was suddenly in front of you, his hands on your shoulders, “That’s all we can do for now,” he said, “The water’s all gone but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here until it gets cleaned out,” he paused, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight and I’ll help you finish this tomorrow.”

Your eyes went wide as your mind raced, but you also couldn’t turn him down, “Ok,” you whispered.

Joel kept you at his side as he led you back to his house. You were sure he was telling you more details about what happened and what he did to fix it, but you didn’t absorb any of what he said. All you could think about was his large, strong hands on you and how he jumped in to help with no hesitation. It made your heart pound in your chest that it took you a moment to realize you were standing in his bedroom.

“What?” you asked, realizing that he said something important to you.

Joel just smiled softly, “I said Sarah’s out at a sleepover tonight so it’s just us. But I don’t have a spare room, so you can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No,” you replied quickly. When he looked at you confused, you clarified, “I mean… I don’t mind…” you felt your skin heat up and your head spun.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You paused for a moment, “Sorry to put you out like this…”

“Now don’t you start that on me, sweetheart,” Joel interrupted you, “You ain’t putin me out at all.”

The care in his voice made your heart melt. You swallowed hard and nodded before you looked at his bed, “What side can I take?” you joked to cover your nerves.

Joel grinned.

You settled in easier than you thought you would. You felt safe with Joel, there was no question there. But, after imagining what it would be like to be in his bed for so long, it made your heart pound to actually be here. Letting out a deep breath, you tried to calm your racing mind. The bed dipped as Joel got in on the other side, and you each laid with your back to the other.

The two of you laid together in silence before Joel broke it, “So,” he sighed, “Sarah told me about that new book you wrote…”

You pressed your lips together as your heart pounded in your chest, “Did she like it?” you asked in a hushed tone, suddenly nervous.

“She loved it,” Joel let out a soft laugh, “Where’d you get the idea for it?”

“Oh,” you breathed, “It just comes to me I guess.”

An unspoken question lingered in the air: “Who did you base the hero off of?” You were sure Sarah told Joel about each character, and you were sure that the hero would feel familiar to him…

Instead, Joel decided not to ask, as much as the question nagged at his mind. He let out a deep breath before he murmured, “Night, sweetheart.”

You felt a flutter in your chest before sleep took you. As you slept, you dreamt of the plot of your novel, only you were the main character. In your dream, you were a princess, the daughter of the king. You and your family were well respected and beloved by your people. You dreamt of the balcony in the castle that you described so vividly and you looked out over your kingdom on a beautiful, sunny day.

Then, you were out in the streets of your kingdom. In disguise, you loved to secretly mingle with the people as equals. Their craftsmanship always fascinated and inspired you, and you loved to wander the markets. That was where you met him: the blacksmith. Joel Miller. He worked diligently on the sword in his hands, and you watched him as he formed the most exquisite sword you had ever laid your eyes on. Even the knights in your royal guard didn’t have weapons this grand.

Following the plot of your novel, you and the blacksmith with Joel’s face met and quickly fell in love. He soon discovered that you were the princess, but it didn’t change his feelings for you. Nor did his status mean anything when it came to your heart. As the two of you fell deeper in love, the novel’s villain, the evil wizard that worked for your father and secretly tried to steal his throne, tried to steal you away. The blacksmith Joel- your hero- fought against all odds to rescue you, and the two of you rode away to your happily ever after in the sunset…

Suddenly, you woke up with a weight across your body, and for a moment you were confused. But a snore from Joel reminded you of your current situation. You held your breath as you fully opened your eyes and adjusted to the low light of the moon through the window. You still stayed on your side, but Joel had rolled over in his sleep and slung an arm around you.

Your heart pounded as you felt the warmth of his body against yours. He groaned in his sleep as he clutched you tighter, and it made you gasp. Not out of discomfort or fear, but from the yearning in your heart.

The noise you made must have woken Joel, who was accustomed to always listening for any sign that Sarah needed him, and he woke up with a low grumble. It took him a moment to realize what he did in his sleep, and once he did, Joel shot awake.

“Shit,” he muttered as he pushed himself off of you, “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok, Joel,” you whispered as you turned over and faced him. I don’t mind, you thought to yourself but didn’t voice out loud.

He looked flustered, even as sleep clung to his features. As you took in the sight of him in the moonlight, you noticed the mess of his hair and the softness around his eyes. And it only made Joel more beautiful to you.

“I uhh,” he started, unsure of what to say to break the tension that hung between the two of you.

“Joel…” you started, also unsure of what to do. Part of you screamed to confess your feelings, but the other part was scared of what that would mean. “He was you.”

“What?” Joel asked as he shifted to sit up in bed.

“The hero of the story, the blacksmith that falls in love with the princess and saves her,” your voice was meek as you confessed, “I based him off of you,” slowly, your eyes turned to meet his.

Joel whispered your name, “Listen I…”

You stared deep into his eyes as he struggled to find the right words. Joel’s gaze darted around the room until it landed in your face, and instead of voicing it with words, Joel turned to action. He scooted himself closer to you and cupped your face in his large hand. It was warm, and you let out a breath as you leaned into his touch.

Joel pulled your face close to his until his lips hovered over yours, “You know you can stop me, right?” his voice was low as he whispered against your skin.

“I know,” you replied in just as soft a voice as you made no move to stop him.

A smirk lit up his face for a moment before he closed the small space between your faces, taking your lips with his in a soft yet heated kiss. You leaned into him as you reached out and clung to his shoulders and parted your lips to deepen the kiss- an invitation he eagerly took.

Things quickly heated up from there as Joel groaned into you, kissing you passionately. All the tension from the unspoken emotions melted away as your tongues tangled together. Neither of you needed the words spoken out loud- the kiss told more than enough for both of you.

Joel gently pushed you down onto your back as he climbed over you, all the while never breaking away from your lips. You moaned into him as you let him take control. The feeling of Joel on top of you was even better than when he held you in his sleep. Before you even realized your movements, you bucked your hips into his, signaling you wanted… needed more.

“I got you, baby,” Joel groaned softly into your ear as he kissed his way down your neck, tugging at your clothes as he did so.

“Joel…” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut and inch after inch of your skin was exposed to him.

“Shit baby,” Joel growled as he slipped his own t-shirt off, “You’re gorgeous,” his tone was low as he pushed his sweat pants down, freeing his cock.

Your eyes snapped open as you saw Joel, bare before you. Your lips parted as a heavy breath escaped your lips and you drank in the sight of him. The moonlight highlighted his features perfectly, and he looked more handsome than ever.

“So are you, Joel,” you breathed as you tried to push yourself onto your elbows and reach for him.

He took your hands gently and guided you back down onto your back, “Let me, sweetheart.”

A whimper escaped your lips as he settled between your parted legs, wriggling himself down your body and kissing every inch of skin on the way. Joel took his time, gently kneading and kissing your breasts, worshiping your body as he made his way to your pussy.

You quickly turned into a moaning, whimpering mess as Joel’s tongue ran along your nipple while his rough hands cupped your breasts. Already, he made you feel so good, but the more he kissed your skin, the more your need grew. Thankfully, though Joel didn’t rush, he still knew what you wanted and he broke away from your breast with a pop before he knelt down between your legs.

He paused and looked back up at you for a moment, and his cock twitched with desire as he saw the lustful look on your face. Your mouth hung open to let the heavy breaths out, and laying naked in the moonlight you never looked more stunning to him.

“I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” he groaned before he dove into your body.

You couldn’t even answer when you felt his hot tongue on your folds, licking and sucking at your pussy with fervor. Any thoughts vanished and all you could think of was Joel and how good his tongue felt. Your head dropped back and you screamed with pleasure, your hands clinging and clawing on Joel’s bare shoulders.

Joel slurped loudly as he let himself go. Any inhibition was gone the moment he tasted you, and instantly he was addicted. And the sounds you made only added to the moment. Joel only got harder and harder the louder you cried out. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, kneading your soft flesh as he kept them parted wide.

“Fuck… Joel…” tears filed your eyes as your body felt like it was floating.

He groaned into you and only licked harder and faster at your clit, determined to send you over the edge. As much as Joel wanted to talk you through your climax, he couldn’t break away from you even if it were for his last gasp of air. No, Joel wasn’t going to break away until you came into his mouth.

Joel didn’t have to wait long, though, and with just a few more precise flicks of his tongue, you came hard, screaming loudly. One hand flew into his hair, tugging at the thick locks while your legs shook on either side of him. Joel’s hips bucked against the bed on their own, field by your moans and screams as you rode out your climax on his face.

With a loud gasp, Joel finally let go of your pussy. His hands stayed on your legs as he watched you come down from your high, his eyes blown dark and wide with need. Heavy breaths from both of you filled the room as Joel stared at you.

When you finally opened your eyes, you let out a sharp breath before you froze under his gaze. Joel never looked at you like that before, though you imagined that look on his face a hundred times before.

“Joel…”

He pounced forward, taking your lips with own, cutting off whatever you were going to say. Both of you moaned into each other as you clung to the other in your feverish kiss. Joel took the opportunity while you were lost in the kiss to flip your bodies over in one swift movement. You yelped into his mouth as you suddenly found yourself straddling him, looking down on his handsome face.

“Are you sure?” you asked in a whisper, feeling nervous about being on top of Joel.

“I’m sure, baby,” Joel groaned as his hands caressed up and down the sides of your body, “Let me see you ride me, baby.”

The twitch of his cock against your body made you whine, and any insecurities you had disappeared. Placing a hand on his chest, you leaned forward and took his cock with your free hand. Joel’s eyes went wide and he let out a low groan as he watched the moonlight highlight your pussy as you hovered over him.

Joel moaned your name as his hands went to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he helped guide you onto his length. Your eyes met his for a moment before you looked back down, watching as you slowly sank down on the thick length.

His eyes never left you, and he gritted his teeth as the tip of his cock entered your body. Your heat engulfed him, and he couldn’t help the groan he let out as more and more of you wrapped around his cock. You hissed as you adjusted to the stretch, but Joel murmured encouraging words in a low tone to help.

“Look at you, baby. Takin’ me so good like that,” Joel growled, “Fuck you’re so beatiful…”

As your hips met his, you let out a loud gasp as he filled you more than you had ever been filled before. “Fuck… Joel…” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Joel’s grip tightened on your hips. Caressing your body, Joel’s hands moved back to your ass, squeezing it even harder and making you moan. “That’s it, baby.”

You blinked your eyes open for a moment before shutting them again. All you could do was moan; words failed you. Slowly at first, you lifted your hips a bit before lowering them again, causing you both to gasp. Joel grunted as you repealed the action.

“Fuck…” you moaned as you picked up your pace.

Leaning forward, your hands landed on Joel’s chest, gripping his pecs as you rode him faster and harder. Already sensitive from having cum once, it took you no time to feel the tingle build from the base of your spine as Joel’s cock entered you over and over again.

“Joel… I’m gonna…”

“Fuck… Me too, baby,” Joel’s hands ran up your sides to grab you and yank you down.

Crashing your lips together, Joel thrust his hips up into you from below, matching your rhythm as your climaxes quickly built until you both exploded at the same time. He swallowed the moan you let out as your body trembled overtop of him and your inner muscles squeezed his cock. Joel grunted as he gave one last harsh thrust and came right after you, spilling himself into you as he held you tightly.

With one last heavy breath, both you and Joel flopped down onto the mattress in a heaving, sweaty mess. You rested on his broad chest, feeling his pounding heartbeat against your ear. Neither of you moved for several moments, just savoring the connection you still had as your breathing returned to normal.

“Hang on, baby,” Joel broke the silence as he wrapped his arms around you once more, “I got you.”

You whimpered as he slid out of you, but you never left Joel’s embrace. He settled you next to him, much like you were before. Only this time, you faced him, and Joel held you with intention. The two of you slipped into place as if you had been together for years. It just felt right… for both of you.

“Joel,” you whispered as sleep started to take you, “I…” you let out a soft snore before you could finish your thought.

Joel grinned as he kissed the top of your head and whispered to your sleeping form, “I know, baby,” he spoke lowly, “Me too.”

Sarah let herself in with her key and bounced up the stairs. Fully expecting to find Joel alone, she burst his door open and loudly announced, “Dad, I’m home,” before she froze in her tracks. She was taken by surprise to find you in her father’s bed, snuggled close in his arms.

Joel gasped awake and shot upright, “Sarah!” he glanced over and made sure you were covered as you too woke up with a gasp, “What are you doing home so early?”

“It’s noon,” she replied with a mischievous smirk, “It’s about time you two had your own sleepover.”

“Sarah…” Joel chastised her, but she already left the room.

Joel collapsed back down onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, “Shit,” he mumbled before he turned to you and met your gaze. The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment before you both burst into laughter. He pulled you close and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before leaning you down onto his chest.

“Guess we should get up, huh?” you asked with a soft giggle.

“Yeah,” Joel agreed as he reluctantly let you go.

As you both dressed with your back to each other, your glance over and your breath caught in your chest as you saw Joel’s bare back in the sunlight. He must have felt your eyes on him, or he wanted to sneak a glance at you too, because he looked over his shoulder right after you did. Smirks lit up both your faces as you went back to dressing.

“Hey Joel,” you broke the silence this time.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks,” you spoke in a hushed tone, “For everything.”

Joel finished dressing and walked around the foot of the bed to take you in his arms once more, “You aint never gotta thank me for anything, baby,” he murmured, “I’ve always got you.”

You smiled and closed your eyes contently, “I picked the right man for my hero then… blacksmith.” you snickered at your modern day hero.

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel rolled his eyes playfully as you both took your first steps to the bright future.

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