#i cried twice while making this gif set believe it or not

[locatellini]

#paulo dybala #juventus #juve #serie a #soccer #socceredit #sportsedit #my gifs #i cried twice while making this gif set believe it or not #manu’s kiss i‘m 😭😭😭

[socksracoon10]

Being an Elf and falling in love with Thorin

Headcanons below the cut!

When Gandalf had first summoned you, it wasn't a very easy decision to make.

Being a Sindar elf yourself, the choice of having to derail from your own beliefs bruised your ego... especially since you were entrusted with overseeing Thorin and his company.

"My dear (Y/N)," Gandalf sighed, "I can not trust any other elf with such an arduous task. I know you are capable of setting aside your prejudices and aiding these dwarves."

"You saved my life once from the Uruk-hais. I am indebted to you for that, Gandalf. But I believe that this will be the one time I shall repay you for your kindness in this manner. Do not expect more from me." You muttered with a bitter tone.

"I do not plan on it." Gandalf reassured you.

When you first met the company under Bilbo's roof, there was silence. An eerie amount of silence.

The hobbit before you seemed enchanted by your presence.

You learned his name was Bilbo; he was the most sensible out of the bunch at the moment.

Your eyes traveled across the room and landed on Thorin, who had a nasty scowl on his face.

He wasn't expecting you to actually show up. He had hoped that for once that elvish pride would've saved him from having to face another individual of the same kind that had betrayed him years ago.

The silence continued, and you made your presence known. You were here to help the dwarves, nothing more and nothing less. You would accompany them to The Misty Mountains, but you would not step foot into their sacred lair. Not out of respect, but out of the sheer disgust you had for the dwarves.

Not even Eru could force you to enter their dwelling; it seemed as if death was the better option.

The journey there was not an easy one.

And Thorin didn't make it any easier.

He'd pass sly remarks every so often about you, try to demean you in front of everyone. He was constantly fighting a battle to ensure that you were beneath him in every aspect, despite being one of the most skilled elves to traverse Middle-Earth.

"Ah, it's best not to anger (Y/N), Thorin," Gandalf would quip from the background, wanting to ease the tension.

It did nothing.

There was an instance where you had left the group to gain more ground and a safer pathway for the dwarves through the forests.

Yeah, biggest mistake ever and Thorin wouldn't stop nagging you about it.

Those stupid trolls had gotten to them and Bilbo had managed to stall them long enough before Gandalf used the sunlight as a weapon.

"I left for one day... forgive me, I was merely trying to secure a safe path," You hissed at Thorin as he shoved past you.

"A safe path will only do if the company itself is safe first, elf," He spat, glancing over his shoulder. You so desperately wanted to spear your blade through his heart.

The rest of the trip resumed its unsteady silence. You glared at the other dwarves, not wishing to say anything to them. Occasionally, you'd offer a helping hand to Bilbo.

That didn't go unnoticed by Thorin. He didn't really like Bilbo as much, but compared to you? Bilbo was far better, and the stupid burglar was mingling with the wrong person.

However, his concerns of Bilbo shifted to his two nephews - Fili and Kili.

While they still harbored some resentment towards you for being a Sindar Elf, they were still young. They were naive, they did not experience that devastating day when Thranduil's forces abandoned Thorin's desperate cries for help.

And so what did they do?

They talked. Talked, and talked. Especially, Kili. Fili would add a joke once or twice, but if he ever caught Thorin's watchful eye, he'd gulp his words and nudge Kili to quit.

And then slowly, one by one... the dwarves were opening up to you.

Balin was more sympathetic, he was a very kind and wise dwarf. You actually enjoyed his presence.

Bofur was a bit reluctant to talk to you at first, but slowly came around. You noticed this when he asked you if you needed more food on your plate when you were dining in Rivendell. That was enough to tell you that perhaps there could be friendships between the dwarves and the elves.

You saved their asses a couple times, especially with the Goblins. Killed some orcs led by Azog. And then watched Azog brutally wound Thorin.

And then something switched in you. For a moment, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of him, dazed and unconscious. Something began to stir inside of you, and you couldn't place your finger on it. It almost felt... unworldly.

And that feeling continued... even when you ended up facing Thranduil, who was so puzzled at the fact that one of his own kind was helping those dwarves...

"I am repaying a debt that I owe to Gandalf," You explained, your head jutted up high into the air.

"What a terrible way to repay it, (Y/N)." Thranduil grimaced, "If you wanted an opportunity to keep yourself occupied, you could've turned to Legolas and he would've found you a wonderful position among my kingdom. We could use elves such as yourself, you know."

"Ah, but I could not say the same for you," You bit back, noticing the way his eyes widened at your audacity.

Word of your defiance quickly spread to the dwarves as the elves guarding them gossiped about it with such eager interest.

It fell onto Thorin's ears.

He almost thought they were lying to him. He couldn't believe it.

And as you passed Thorin's cell to enter your own, much farther away from the dwarves, you noticed something different about him.

He was smiling at you, a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed... proud? Ecstatic?

When the company and you had escaped via the barrels, you had almost hit a rock down the river. It was surreal to see the way Thorin's hands stretched out to warn you.

It seemed as if he cared.

You took a daring risk to climb off the barrel to kill some orcs, almost slipping across the branch in the process as you jumped back into your barrel.

"Be careful, elf!" Thorin cried out, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"And what does it matter to you?" You snapped, furrowing your brows.

He did not respond.

He did not need to.

Because you sort of knew the answer by the way he glanced back at you with a soft smile.

You mattered to him.

More than reclaiming the Mountains? The answer was obviously no.

But when you climbed up and watched him excitedly open the hidden entrance to the inside of the Lonely Mountains, his eyes flashed towards you for a split second.

As if he was waiting to see your reaction as well.

And when you gave in and smiled.

With or without the gold, the Arkenstone or the throne,

He felt as if he was the richest dwarf to ever live.

You mattered to him.

He mattered to you.

And thus began, the love between an elf and a dwarf.

#writing #fanfiction #fanfic #lord of the rings headcanons #lotr headcanons #lord of the rings #the lord of the rings #the hobbit #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings x reader #thorin x reader #thorin x y/n #thorin oakenshield #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield fanfiction #thorin oakenshield headcanons #thorin oakenshield x y/n #lotr #lotr headcanon #lotr fanfics #lotr fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #lotr x you #thorin and company #the hobbit thorin #thorins company #thorin x you #thranduil x reader

[lemonlover1110]

Little Monster

Dad Series

Sukuna Ryomen

Warnings: Trueform! Sukuna, Mentions of murder and eating women, Sukuna almost kills his baby, Sukuna being Sukuna

*Fluff starts in the next part

Ever since Sukuna found out about your pregnancy, he’s become hostile. He realized how attached he’s become to you, and the thought of losing you devastates him. He’s allowed himself to get so weak, especially for a human. Now you’re carrying his baby– One that’s already made you twice your size. You can barely walk. The thought that you’re carrying twins has crossed his mind, but he’s been assured that you aren’t.

You’re carrying one singular baby and you’re struggling. He’s scared that he’ll lose you during childbirth. If something were to happen to you, he’ll kill the baby. He’s already so set on hating the baby that’s inside of you. It’s taken his wife from him. You can barely do anything.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Sukuna doesn’t have to be harsh to push the servant to the side. It’s just a soft shove, yet it’s enough to make her fall over. But when he walks in, it’s too late. The crying baby is on your chest and you’re already attached. If something were to happen to it, you’ll definitely rage.

You look at your husband, realizing it’s too late to give your baby to the midwife. Your baby is only safe with you. Sukuna takes in every detail of your messy state. You just had a fucking baby, you really can’t look your best.

“Get out.” He tells everyone else in the room, and they rush out of the room. Sukuna begins to walk over to you, while you make sure to cover your baby. He sits on the edge of the bed, “Can I hold my baby?”

“No.” You answer, not an ounce of fear in your voice for the first time. No matter how comfortable he’s made you, you’ve never had the courage to talk to him like this before.

“Let me hold my baby.” He demands.

“You first have to promise me that you won’t hurt her.” You say, and he clicks his tongue. Since when does he take orders from women? He eats them. “Sukuna, please promise me that you won’t hurt her.”

“Or what?” His voice is harsh. “Or what are you going to do?!”

“I’ll leave you and never come back.” You answer, and he laughs. When the laughter subsides, he speaks again,

“I’ll kill you first.” He replies.

“Kill me. But don’t you dare harm her.” You tell him. You know he’ll never lay a hand on you. He loves you too much to harm you in any way. It’s why he hates the baby you hold. “You won’t touch the baby until you can assure me that you won’t hurt her.”

“I won’t.” He lies. You’re foolish enough to believe him. You always want to believe the best in Sukuna. You’re hesitant, but you give her to him. He’s up to no good as he grabs her, but you can’t see it. “Just look at her.”

“Isn’t she beautiful?” You ask as Sukuna covers her up. He doesn’t really want to look at her. He just hums in response. He begins to walk away, and worry immediately consumes you. You try to get up, but it’s hard. You cry in pain at the sudden motion. He doesn’t have to run away, because you aren’t able to catch up to him in any way. You lay back in bed in pain, yelling, “Stop him!”

“We’re going to be fine, baby.” Sukuna coos, walking away. He walks outside, ready to take the baby to a secluded area. He walks far enough before the baby begins to cry. It’s annoying. It is a hot summer day and she has a warm blanket over her. He takes off the blanket, throwing it over his shoulder, and his eyes widen. You were right, she is beautiful.

“It’s okay, honey.” He’s on the verge of tears as he looks at her. The face that already looks just like yours. The little bit of pink hair that’s on her head. But what really catches Sukuna’s attention are her four little arms. The four little arms that go up into the air as she cries. “My daughter.”

He puts the blanket over her again and walks back inside. He’s about to curse himself out for thinking of harming such an innocent creature. His daughter. His cute little daughter that has four little arms.

He finds you up, walking towards the door. Ready to run after him, but he’s there. Holding your daughter in a pair of his arms. 

“Sukuna.” Relief washes over you as you hear your baby.

“Namie.” He smiles, something that’s ever-so-rare for him. But it’s not everyday that he finds a love like this one. He should’ve looked at her sooner. “Namie is the perfect name for her.”

#[dad series] #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna ryomen

[chawarin-panich]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

#ofts meta #sandray meta #only friends meta #ofts #sandray #only friends the series #ofts ray #ofts sand #nani's hot takes #i spent so long on it please don't let it flop #but also its so long so i dont blame you #but i couldn't help myself #ray is an open wound in my heart #i do nothing but think about him #long post

[be-my-ally]

Wet Bikini

Here’s a little one shot I finished last week while I work on a couple of requests from the weekend + several other random bits I started last week!! Hopefully have more by the weekend!!

pairing: afab!reader/big daddy!elvis 

summary: Your bikini top comes off in the pool at Graceland with everyone around - you swear its an accident but Elvis thinks you’re just a little tease.

In my head this is set in a later AU of We Can’t Go On Together (there’s no baby mentioned) but easily just a Big Daddy 70’s!Elvis one shot.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis - honestly when isn’t he when I’m writing? thigh riding (this is something i’m now realising may very well be a *thing* for me), dubcon semi-public exhibitionism - you can decide to what extent/if everyone stays and sees, or if they all distract themselves/leave when they realise that the two of you are up to something. Nipple play, & Elvis twice refers to himself as daddy. 

wc: 2.4k

You’re laughing and joking with the girls as you lay on the loungers, watching Elvis and the boys splash about. They’re playing some form of water polo, cheering and dunking one another under according to some clearly made up rules. He’s not wearing a t-shirt in the pool for once, he gets so self-conscious lately, but clearly the lack of any cameras and the lack of any outsiders is making him feel free. Every time you look over at him it makes you smile to see him so relaxed, and it doesn’t hurt that it means you get a perfect view of his masculine hairy chest. 

You shriek as a splash covers you in spray; the water hitting your tanned legs and you look over your sunglasses at the men in the pool. 

“You did that on purpose!” Elvis looks sheepish, like a little boy caught out in a prank, and with his hair flopping into his eyes, and water dripping off of him you can see the little boy version of him too. 

“Nu-uh! I-I-it was Joe!” He points over at him and you look over, Joe’s at the other end of the pool but Elvis is within two metres of you. You don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth. 

“Hmmm.” You put your sunglasses back over your eyes and lean back, waiting for the right moment to attack; it comes a minute later when Elvis turns around to rejoin the game and you waste no time launching yourself at his back. You cling to his shoulders as your momentum from your jump in sends you both tumbling under water. He comes up gasping, pulling you up - still hanging like a limpet onto his back. “Got ya!” You lick his ear. He tries to throw you off, laughing as you clutch his neck. You let go when he leans back under - chucking you under the water again. You resurface, blinking the water out of your eyes smiling at him. He’s out of breath laughing at you, and he immediately pulls you to him. 

“You got me.” He pushes your wet hair back, you hadn’t even thought to put your swim cap on in the rush, and leans down to kiss you; pulling you up onto him - the water making you practically weightless in his arms. 

A moment later the ball comes flying towards the pair of you and he pushes you away in an attempt to save your face from being hit - your arms actually wheel back as if you were in a cartoon in an attempt to find your balance but its to no avail. You splash down with a thud, hitting the pool floor with the force of his push and your lack of balance. When you come back up Elvis is shouting at Red, chastising him for his god-awful throwing. He glances over at you - gesturing wildly as if to say ‘look what you did!’ But his words suddenly trail off. A flush travels up his chest and face as he looks at you. You can see - stood a way off - behind him that the play has abruptly stopped as the boys all look over at you. You whirl to look at the girls - unsure what’s happened when Charlie’s girlfriend cries out to you; “Your top!” Your swimsuit top is floating close to the edge of the pool, a few metres away from you, and you glance down in slight shock, to see your pebbled nipples and breasts completely bare - your tan line only working to emphasise what everyone could see. Elvis springs into action; grabbing your top and shoving it at you; practically pushing it onto you. But the ties are slippery and he’s all thumbs in his haste, so rather than lying the right way around your left breast is in a cup but your right is trapped between the ties - the cup halfway around your back. You laugh and bring an arm up to cover yourself. Elvis rights your top and crowds you against the pool wall. 

“You think that’s funny honey?” His eyes are blazing, but you’ve got the giggles now and can’t stop; you’re not particularly shy but Jesus you didn’t need everyone to have seen your tits. He leans down to whisper in your ear, “You do that on purpose, little girl? Get more attention?” 

You frown and try to push him off, “No! Of course not.” He palms at one of your breasts, his body blocking the view from the rest of the pool; even though it sounds like play has resumed and the others are all mostly distracted. 

“No? You weren’t tryna make me jealous? Be a little show off?” You whine squirming against him even as he sends shockwaves down your body. 

“I swear, baby, I wasn’t!” You go to pull your top around but he stops you, gathering your wrists and pinning them against your belly button. He chuckles lowly; 

“From where I’m standing,” He looks you up and down, “it seemed like it was on purpose. Intentional.” He moves to no longer be fully blocking you. “Seems like you wanted all the boys to see you - see what’s mine.” You shake your head, as he fiddles with your top again, tugging it around, fingers brushing your side, dipping into the cups. 

“I didn’t I swear!” He shakes his head at you. 

“I don’t believe you,” he sing-songs at you. His eyes are still dark but he’s not frowning so hard anymore, and you’re hopeful this is signalling a change to his more playful side. “You’re just a tease aren’t you,” He tugs your top to the side slightly, exposing a little less than half a nipple, “a little slut for it.” You whine and attempt to move away, but you’re not really trying, your breath catching as he rubs his thumb in a circle around your nipple. He leans in, to whisper directly in your ear, and he slots his leg between yours - forcing you to lean back against the wall. “Wanna give ‘em a show? Dirty girl?” You wriggle against his thigh. You can’t do much other than agree with him. Nodding against his head. “Knew it, doll. Knew you wanted them to see you. Let ‘em see what Daddy owns then.” He let’s go of your wrists and tugs your top down all the way - both of your tits popping out of the triangle cups. He grins at you, wolfishly, his hair an absolute mess from being repeatedly dunked and grabbed. Your hands fly up to protect your modesty, you can’t see the others from your view that mostly consists of Elvis at the moment, but that doesn’t mean they can’t see you. 

“Oh - you don’t want them to see now?” You whine and stumble out an apology, 

“No - I, Elvis. It was an accident!” You protest, why on earth would you have intentionally taken your top off? 

“Hush up darlin’,” and he strokes your breast, his left hand following underneath the water, trailing down your stomach to play with the fabric at the top of your bikini bottoms, “Daddy’s teasing now.” A flash of panic goes down your spine - anyone could be watching right now! Although that thought does little more than excite you further -  despite your immediate reaction you’re not too worried, what would anyone really be able to say to you? They’d be quickly rebuffed by you, if not Elvis himself, if anyone mentioned anything, but that didn’t mean the situation wasn’t embarrassing. Embarrassing you more was the fact that he really was turning you on. You didn’t think you had a thing for exhibitionism before and you couldn’t really tell if it was the public element of his teasing, and your nudity, or his possessive action that you found so arousing. 

You press a hand against his chest, feeling his damp chest hair, as if you were about to push him away, but you find that all you can do is rest it there. Waiting to see what else he’s going to do. He laughs lowly at you, as if he expected you to melt and you’re now meeting his expectations. His hand moves down to rub your stomach over the waistband of your bottoms. His other goes to bat where your arm is still covering your breasts away, “Get that hand away from your, my, little tits sweet.” You comply, “You wanted them to see, you found it funny, “ he emphasises almost sarcastically, “a moment ago  - so let,” he pulls the top down further, “them”, a pinch on each nipple, “see.” 

He takes a step back. As his heat moves away you feel suddenly even more exposed. You squeeze your eyes closed and your head tips back - you don’t want to see if anyone’s watching, and he steps forward again, resting his thigh back where it was before. Sandwiched between your legs, the height difference between you evident as he crowds into you again. “Open those eyes baby, want ya to look at me. Watch me.” You roll your head forward, and he places his hand on either side of your body, resting on the pool edge, supporting himself as he bends his knee to prop you up. You’re sandwiched between the wall and his knee - only your thin, wet, bikini bottoms separating you from each other - the fabric sliding over his thigh as easily as if you were nude - the water making you weightless and frictionless. It made it simultaneously pleasing, to rut against him so easily, but also frustrating, the lack of friction makes it difficult to get the pressure right, difficult to get any motion on your clit. 

“El-“ You stared into his eyes, eyes that were so dilated you could barely see the familiar blue in them. “El-Please,” He thrusts his knee into you, causing you to buck - bouncing you up . Your feet come off the floor and you take the initiative to hop up, wrapping your legs around him.  You realise you can feel him hardening against you. You forget about your nudity, wrapping your arms around his neck, resting against his stomach. He moves his arms that were caging you in to support you - holding you up and tight against him. You rub against him, and he dips his head down, 

“Please what darlin’?” You can feel his smile against your ear as he whispers into it, “What’d want baby?” He thrusts up, you bump against him and he shifts his hold of you into one arm, pushing you further onto his thigh. His thighs now are a lot thicker than they used to be, and it spreads your legs wider than when you first met - you love it. Love feeling his thickness, his manliness, his comforting weight under you, on top of you, surrounding you. 

“Just, just - I just want you.” He laughs at you, thrusting up. You can feel yourself thrumming, and you can feel every vibration from his laugh going straight to your cunt. 

“You got me, you always got me.” 

He pushes you back against the wall, forcing your legs back down to place your feet on the pool floor. He draws a hand up to palm at your nipple, and roughly squeezes the breast around it before trailing it down, he skips over the waistband and you can’t help the whine that slips out, but then you feel his finger hooking into the crotch of your bottoms. Pushing them to one side. It all serves to remind you that you’re still exposed from the waist up, and now, from the waist down if someone were to look at the right angle. He slips a second finger in, roughly rubbing you - the water takes away some of your own slickness but he can feel the difference in texture, can feel you fluttering open to allow his finger to sink into you. Knows that you’re desperate for it. You gasp against his neck, pressing little open mouthed kisses along his shoulder as he strokes your wet, slick folds and walls.

His whole hand is practically under now, and he nudged your bottoms further to the side to allow his thumb to nudge against you, searching for your sweet spot. He finds it, delicately hidden, and when he touches it, rubs over it ever so gently before returning with a harder, rougher touch you jump as if you’ve been electrocuted. Your hips move of their own accord as you’re essentially pinned against his hand. Your hands leave his neck, one gripping his wrist, urging him to stay where he is and continue. You gasp again, trying to keep quiet, uncertain as you were to whether anyone was still around to be watching you, as he continues to expertly bring you the brink. You can feel his cock, still hard, rubbing against you, and you can’t help but reach out for it, attempting to slip your free hand down his tight little swim shorts. Before you can succeed though he pulls his hand away and you pant, still clutching his wrist. 

“Good baby,” You whimper back at him in response to his baby talk, “Gonna leave you like this. Drippin’ ‘cause of the water, drippin’ ‘cause of me. Teach you you be a little flirt, little tease.” You clench your thighs, and he moves completely away, pulling your top back up and properly retying it. He really is going to leave you like this. You can barely form a coherent thought - all you can feel and hear is the throb of your heartbeat - centred not in your chest but between your legs. He kisses you and pushes you to one side, pulling himself up and out of the pool.

He crouches for a moment right by your head, and whispers in your ear - “Meet me in the shower, I’ll take proper care of you then.” You watch him walk away, patting himself dry with a little towel as he walked. You count to thirty before pulling yourself out of the pool, following him without even bothering to towel off - what’s the point when you’d still be wet anyway. 

#elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 4

Trying to get back to normal after sleeping with your boss is easier said than done. A continuation of chapters 1-3, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 8.3k

Warnings: Mild violence (full fic is pretty smutty so Minors DNI). No use of Y/N.

“Ugh, I’m so jealous of how cute you always make your apartments,” your friend, Cassie, was splayed out like a starfish in the middle of your living room floor. “Why aren’t we roommates? I want a cute apartment.” 

“You had a cute apartment,” you replied, stretched out on your couch, one leg dangling off the side of it. “When I helped you unpack it. And then you trashed it within a week. Which is why we’re not roommates.” 

“I’d keep it clean if I had the right motivation,” she pouted. You smiled. 

“No you wouldn’t. I’d keep it clean and you’d reap the benefits. Which is why we’re not roommates.” 

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighed. You laughed. 

“But thank you for helping me settle in to this place,” you said, looking around your freshly unpacked living room, a pile of broken down boxes sitting by your front door. “It made it a lot easier, having an extra set of hands.” 

It was true. After Joel and Tommy had left the day before, you’d basically just cried half the night, sitting on your couch and staring into space and trying to think about anything besides what you’d been doing the night before. When you went to bed, you told yourself you were getting up and unpacking in the morning. You had to keep going. Just because things hadn’t worked out with Joel didn’t mean you got to derail your life, even if that’s all you really felt like doing. 

When Cassie called to see if you wanted help unpacking, you’d jumped on it. You didn’t have a ton of stuff but you had enough that it seemed a bit overwhelming to do on your own. She helped you get through every last box, setting knick-knacks out on the bookshelves and putting plates in cupboards and hanging dresses in your closet. Now, the job was done, the Janis Joplin album you’d been listening to past the end, a pleasant crackle the only thing coming from your newly-set up record player. 

“Happy to do anything to put off studying for finals,” she sighed, her southern drawl thick. You snorted. “Haven’t actually been able to talk with you much lately, how was it living with the DILF?” 

“Cass!” You gaped at her. She smirked. “Come on…” 

“What!” She laughed. “I’ve only met him like twice but dude is hot. Like if he was in hell I’d buy a one way ticket hot.” 

“You’re insane,” you groaned. 

“And I can’t believe you haven’t made a move on him,” she said. “I mean, the set up could not be better. Or more porn-y. You’re the hot babysitter! All young and sexy hanging around his house all the time. All you’d probably have to do is drop one hint and he’d be all over you…” 

“Turns out all I had to do was strip and get in his pool while tipsy,” you said before you could talk yourself out of it. Cassie sat up so fast it looked like she was on a spring. 

“YOU WHAT?” She shrieked. 

“Shhh!” You hissed, waving at her. “I just moved in, I’d rather my neighbors not hate me already…” 

“You fucked the DILF?” She sat up on her knees and scooted across the floor until she was in your face. 

“Can you call him something else, please?” You groaned. 

“Did you fuck him?” She demanded. “I’ll call him that again if you don’t spill.” 

“I… had sex with Joel,” you winced as you said it. She squealed, grabbing a pillow and smacking you with it. “Ow.” 

“When?” She demanded. “How? How was it? What are you doing now? Details, woman!” 

“Friday night?” You asked more than answered. 

“Oh my God,” she got up, lifting your legs off the couch and putting them on the floor so she could sit next to you. You sighed and sat up, tucking yourself into the corner and clutching a pillow to your stomach, your legs curled beside you. “Wait, was that your first time? That was your first time, right?” 

“Yeah,” you winced again. She grabbed the pillow and hit your legs with it again. 

“Oh. My. God.” She smacked you with the pillow on each word and you groaned, burying your face in the pillow on your lap. “How’d it happen?” 

You pulled your face from the pillow and sighed. 

“I made him dinner,” you said. “Well, I made him and Sarah dinner but Sarah ended up at a friend’s house for a slumber party so it was just the two of us…” 

“Sure, sure,” she nodded along. “You’re a great cook, not surprised that seduced him.” 

“I wasn’t trying to seduce him,” you groaned. “I swear, I really wasn’t…” 

“You’ve had a crush on the guy for more than a year,” she rolled her eyes. “It was at least subconscious seduction.” 

“Either way,” you sighed. “I’d been cooking and it was warm and I asked if I could swim but I didn’t have a swim suit…” 

“So you skinny dipped.” 

“No!” You glared at her. “I… jumped in the pool in my underwear.” 

“Girl!” 

“It wasn’t even sexy underwear!” You replied. “But I did… take my dress off in front of him.” 

“Oh my GOD you big slut!” Cassie was giddy. You groaned. “I love it, tell me more.” 

“He seemed to like me taking my clothes off?” You more asked than said. You were still uncertain about that, just how much he’d actually liked it. 

“Well duh,” she shrugged. “You’re a hot young thing, of course he liked it, he’s a guy.” 

“I didn’t think he saw me that way,” your hold on the pillow tightened. “But I saw how he was looking at me… or I thought I did, anyway. So he got in the pool too, in his boxers…” She shrieked before covering her mouth and nodding you on. “ And then… one thing led to another.” 

“So was it good?” She asked. You blushed and nodded. “OK, how good? Like, I know you don’t have much to compare it to but…” 

“Cass,” you said earnestly. “It was… holy shit. It was so fucking good.” 

“Did you…” she raised her eyebrows at you. You just frowned. She rolled her eyes. “Oh my God you’re such a virgin.” 

“Not anymore,” you smirked a little. She glared at you. 

“You know what I’m asking,” she said. “Did you finish? Or at least get close? It was your first time, you can’t really expect…” 

“Oh, I finished,” you cut her off. She looked surprised. 

“You seem awful certain of yourself there.” 

“Because I finished a lot,” you said, smiling in spite of yourself. “And hard. So many times, Cass.” 

She blinked in shock. 

“How many times?” She asked. You thought for a second. 

“Well, there was twice in the pool,” you said. “Then once in the shower and two more times in bed… I think that’s it.” 

“How many times did you fuck him?” She demanded. 

“Just twice!” You said, defensive. 

“And he got you off five times.” 

You just nodded. 

“Holy shit,” she gaped at you. “I’d need to fuck Chad like 15 times to have five orgasms, and that’s just if he hits his average.” 

You just shrugged, not really sure what else to say. 

“That’s it,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Now that Chad and I are done, next guy I date is going to be a DILF. I’m not settling for anything less than multiple orgasms from day one.” 

“I’m sorry about you and Chad,” you said. She waved you off. 

“I’m not dating anyone who has friends like Jeremy,” she scoffed. “Fuck that guy. Fuck both those guys. Besides, now I’m free to find myself a DILF. Anyway, what are you guys going to do now? Have you talked about it?”

“We’re not doing anything about it,” you sighed. “I’m his daughter’s nanny and he said he has to do what’s best for her. Which he’s right, he does. And that’s not me.” 

You tried to fight the tears that were welling up in you but you didn’t do a good job of it, pinching the bridge of your nose to keep from crying. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Cassie’s voice softened, her typical bravado gone. She pulled you against her, running her hand down your back. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I did it to myself,” you sniffed into her shoulder. “He’s a good dad, his daughter takes priority. I knew that, I knew this could happen….” 

“Are you still going to work for him?” She asked, still holding you. 

“Yeah,” you said. “At least, I sure hope so. I don’t have another way to pay rent this summer.” 

She pulled back from you, a sad look on her face. 

“Think you can handle that?” She asked. “Being around the guy you love and you lost your virginity to that often?” 

“I never said I loved him,” you wiped your cheeks. 

“Oh honey,” she smiled sadly. “C’mon. I’m not that dumb and I know you’re not that dumb.” 

“I’ll just…” you shrugged. “I’ll deal with it. I don’t have another way to pay rent and I really don’t want to just leave Sarah like that. I’m an adult. When you do adult stuff sometimes you have to deal with adult consequences. Right?” 

She just sighed. 

“I’m sleeping over,” she said. Before you opened your mouth to protest, she cut you off. “No, I am. You need ice cream and you need liquor and I need… to have an excuse to not study for my chem final.” You laughed and she smiled. “It’ll be better tomorrow. Promise.”

She was right, it was a bit better the next day. The hollow ache in your chest was better when she was there. Cassie got bourbon and insisted that it didn’t really count as drinking it when you just poured it over ice cream. You ordered a pizza loaded with mushrooms and extra cheese and watched your favorite romantic comedies before eventually passing out on the floor of your living room, surrounded by the glow of TV static and empty wine bottles. 

Finals felt particularly hard that year. You’d always been a good test taker and studying had never been a major hurdle for you, but every class felt like a slog as you fought to get through your last week of the semester. It was like your brain was somewhere else entirely. You could focus on the exam for a few minutes if you really forced yourself to, but the second your mind drifted even slightly, you were wondering what Joel was doing. What was he feeling? Was he missing you or had Friday night barely even registered for him? 

Sometimes, when your heart and mind wanted to be especially cruel, your thoughts drifted to Friday night. Just how full you’d felt and how empty you felt now. How he’d carefully, expertly drawn pleasure from your body like it was an art form. The way you’d felt closer to him than you had to any other person. And then he’d cut you off cold. Hadn’t even called. Maybe it really hadn’t mattered to him. Which was fine. Or so you tried to convince yourself. Just because it had been special for you doesn’t mean it had to be special for him and that was OK. It’s not like you hadn’t enjoyed it. That’s all he’d really owed you, you supposed. A good time in bed. And he’d definitely delivered on that. 

That’s what you decided the night before you were set to start looking after Sarah again. It had been two weeks since you’d last seen or heard from Joel. You weren’t sure what seeing him again would do to you. It wasn’t like you were some heartbroken little girl but you weren’t going to pretend like it wasn’t going to hurt. It definitely was. But, if you thought about it as a one night thing - just an exchange between two people who wanted to have some fun - that made it a bit better. Like you hadn’t been let down. 

“You can do this,” you said to yourself as you stared up at the ceiling. “It’s just work. You’ve always had a crush on Joel. This isn’t any different than before. You’ll hardly see the guy. You can do this.” 

Your resolve wavered a bit as you knocked on his front door the next morning. There was no response but you could hear voices inside. You glanced at your watch. 7:25 a.m. He’d need to leave for work in 20 minutes. You’d always just let yourself in the summer before… You tested the door. Unlocked.

“You can do this,” you said again, opening the front door. 

“But I want to go!” Sarah was all but yelling at her father. “It’s not fair!” 

“I don’t care if it’s fair or not,” Joel said back, sounding exasperated. “You’re not going, you’re too young…” 

“But everyone’s going!” She whined. 

You went further into the house, frowning as you fidgeted with the pendent around your neck. 

“Don’t care if everyone in Austin is goin’ because you ain’t,” Joel’s accent was getting thicker. You half smiled. This fight had probably been going for a minute. You found them both in Sarah’s room, the girl standing defiantly with her arms crossed, staring her father down, Joel with his hands on his hips looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“Where isn’t she going?” You asked, leaning against the doorway. Both of their heads whipped around to see you, Sarah’s face lighting up and Joel’s mouth just hanging open slightly. 

“Maybe you can convince him,” Sarah said. “He actually LISTENS to you…” 

“I’m not exactly a great parent convincer,” you scrunched your nose at her. “I just let you get away with more than he does so you think I am.” 

Joel was still gaping at you. 

“Sorry,” you said, meeting his gaze. “Door was open, I don’t think you heard me knock over the thermonuclear war happening in here so I just let myself in…” 

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “Just… How’ve you been?” 

“Fine,” you shrugged. “Finals are over, so that’s nice.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding. “That’s… I never did… Well I didn’t go to school so I don’t know shit about finals but probably good to have them done.” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Biochem was rough but I got an A-.” 

You just looked at each other for a moment. 

“Where isn’t Sarah going?” You asked eventually. 

“A pool party,” Sarah said. “There’s a boy at school���” 

“And there it is,” Joel cut her off, turning his attention back to his daughter. “You’re not going, I can’t be there so you’re not going. You’re too young to be going and hanging out with some boy in your bathing suit…” 

“It’s not like we’re going to be by ourselves, Dad!” She whined. “You’re being so lame!” 

“Sarah,” he sighed. 

“Joel?” You said. He turned his head to face you so fast it almost made you jump. “Can I talk to you? Just… 30 seconds.” You looked at Sarah. “No eavesdropping.” 

You led the way to the living room, pulling Joel into the corner of the room furthest from Sarah’s bedroom door. 

“Are you only opposed because she’d be going unsupervised?” You asked. 

“Well, that and she’s too young for boy girl parties,” he muttered. “I thought I had another three years before I had to deal with this shit. Two at least.” 

“Well yeah, she’s too young for THAT kind of boy girl party but she’s 10,” you shrugged. “I think you’re trying to make this more than it is. She’s got that one piece, right?” 

“She’s gotten taller since last summer though…” he looked back towards her room. 

“OK,” you shrugged. “I’ll take her shopping, find her something that she likes that you’ll sign off on and I’ll take her to the party and make sure all the boys behave themselves.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that,” he shook his head. 

“You’re not,” you shrugged. “I’m offering. It’s going to be a party which means plenty of kids. She’ll probably feel very left out if she doesn’t get to go and all her friends are going to be talking about it all summer if they’re not all together again until the school year starts. You really want to deal with her being pissy at you that long? Because tween girls are a whole different animal, they can hold grudges like no other…”  

“Fine,” he sighed. “But if she’s not a damn angel this whole week…” 

“Sarah’s always an angel,” you smirked a bit at him. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he muttered and then sighed. “But she’s a good kid. A great kid. I should give her more credit, huh?” 

“Yup,” you nodded. “You lucked out with that one, Miller.” 

“I did,” he sighed again, before looking down at you. “Hey, um…” 

“I’d rather not talk about it if that’s OK?” You said quickly. “Just go tell your kid that you’re the cool dad and then go to work, OK?” 

His eyes searched yours for a moment. 

“Yeah, OK.” 

When Joel told Sarah she could go to the pool party, it was like a switch flipped. She flung her arms around her dad’s neck, leaping at him so he had to catch her. He smiled over her shoulder at you and you smiled back. It was so easy, making them both happy. You could do that. 

When Joel left for work, things got easier. It was easy to pretend that the house was the same as it had always been - definitely hadn’t been fucked within an inch of your life in here, no sir. You fell into an easy rhythm with Sarah, walking down to the new playground they’d put in at the park down the road - this one had a really tall slide that the bigger kids were all about. Walking back for lunch. You went to the mall that day to shop for a swim suit instead of going to the library and you found a suit that Sarah loved (it was a two piece) that you thought Joel could tolerate (it was a tankini that covered everything but a sliver of skin between the top and the bottoms.) Joel got home a little after five and you all but ran out the door even as he tried to make awkward small talk with you. 

It was odd, feeling accomplished about just surviving the day. But you’d seen Joel again and hadn’t even cried. Yet. You probably would later but you’d deal with that when the time came. You decided you’d earned a treat but your bank account balance was a bit dismal, so you stopped at your favorite coffee shop. Yes, it just so happened to be the one you’d met Joel at the first time, so what? You could do that. Just go there without thinking about him. Much. 

You got yourself an iced lavender latte and at a small table at the back, tucking yourself into the corner of the bench side of it and pulling out your book. You’d purposely picked something that you’d have to focus on - “The Count of Monte Cristo” in the original French - so your mind wouldn’t wander to dangerous places. Like how Joel still smelled like sawdust. 

“That final was a bitch, wasn’t it?” 

You jumped a little, looking around for who spoke. There was a man in front of you, about your age, smiling with open eyes, leaning on the chair across from you. 

“I’m sorry?” You asked, lowering the book. 

“Biochem,” he said, giving you a sheepish half smile. “We weren’t in the same lab but we were in the same lecture hall. You always sat near the front, on the side of the room with the wonky projector? You always got to class earlier than me…” 

“Oh,” you weren’t really sure what to say about that. You smiled anyway. “Yeah, that sounds like me. And yeah, that final… woof.” 

“Right?” He took the seat across from you. “I thought I was toast. Heard a rumor you set the curve, though.” 

“Seems like a vicious lie to me,” you smiled a little broader. “Couldn’t possibly have a reliable source for that…” 

“Just the TA,” he winked. You put your book face down on the table, keeping your place. “Are you pre-med then?” 

“Just bio,” you replied. “I’d love to do pre-med but I just can’t wrap my head around taking out enough student loans to become a doctor.” 

“Damn,” he said. “And here I’d hoped we’d have more classes together.” 

“Why would you hope for a thing like that?” You asked, smiling a bit bigger. 

“The pre-med lecture halls look real boring after a while,” he leaned on the small table. “Course, maybe that’s a good thing. Fewer distractions.” 

“I’m a distraction?” You asked, raising a brow at him. 

“A nice one,” he nodded. “Because without you there, I usually set the curve.” 

You chatted with him for a while longer. His name was Brad and he claimed to have been trying to work up the courage to talk to you all semester. He took running into you at the coffee shop to be a sign that he should actually say something to you. You didn’t fight him on the idea. He seemed… nice. He was flirting with you and it felt good, even if you weren’t especially interested in him. 

“Are you free Friday?” He asked. “My roommate’s band is playing and I’ll be honest, I’d love to have someone suffer with me.” 

“I mean, since you’re selling it so hard,” you teased. He laughed. 

“They’re actually not bad,” he said. “I just don’t want to show up with the prettiest girl and have her run off with the lead guitarist. Also, my roommate’s the lead guitarist.” 

“Oh, so the bassist is fine?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“Yeah, that’d sting less,” he said. “Plus the bassist is kind of a dumbass and you’re smart so you’ll get bored quick. I’d still have a shot.” 

“Well so long as the important things are settled,” you smiled. “Then yeah, I’d like to come.” 

You exchanged information and you put his number in your book as a bookmark, gathering your things and heading home as the coffee shop closed. 

“You need to dress like a slut.” Cassie was rifling through your closet Thursday night. You’d managed to avoid Joel for almost the entire week, saying only a handful of words to him since Monday. You practically tripped over yourself trying to get out the door when he came home, desperate to put some distance between you. He wasn’t exactly trying to stop you, either, seemingly happy to get you out of his hair as soon as humanly possible. You kept trying to think about Brad. He was nice. He was smart. He was definitely interested. He was even pretty cute. He just… wasn’t Joel. 

“I’m not dressing like a slut,” you sighed, flat on your back on your bed, your head hanging over the side as you watched her go through your clothes. 

“Want to borrow something from me?” She said, ignoring you. “You need something that says ‘hey Brad, I’m open for business.’” 

“Do I?” You asked.

“Want to get over Joel?” She asked, cocking her head all the way to the side to try to meet your eyes. “Fuck Brad.” 

“It’s a first date,” you said. “I’m not fucking Brad.” 

“Fucked Joel without a first date,” she muttered. 

“Hey!” You said, indignant. “That’s different. We’d known each other a while.” 

“Well Brad’s been gazing longingly across a lecture hall at you for half a year,” she replied. “That almost counts.” 

“I wish I could be more casual about sex…” you began but she interrupted you. 

“The way you become more casual about sex is by having casual sex,” she said. “Sweetie, it’s not that big of a deal, I promise it’s not. At least think about it, something to get that man out of your system. You need it.” 

You sighed, thinking for the millionth time about how good he’d felt sinking into your body. How close you felt to him when talking in the dark, his skin on yours. 

“Yeah,” you signed, trying to imagine what it would be like to feel Brad’s lips on your skin. But he kept changing shape until it wasn’t Brad in your mind anymore. “I do need it.” 

Friday was Sarah’s pool party, making it a pretty damn easy day for you at work. You brought a bottle of nail polish and you sat on the deck of the pool as you just watched Sarah and Lizzie play with Charlie - the boy that had Joel so worried, a red headed kid who looked like he was made of more freckles than anything else - and about a dozen other kids you didn’t know. You gave yourself a mani-pedi poolside, trying to keep from getting soaked by splashing kids. 

“So are you Sarah’s step-mom?” A woman smiled stiffly down at you, a small pile of towels in her arms. 

“Oh, no,” you laughed a little. “Just the nanny.” 

“Oh!” She laughed back, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. She sat down next to you. “I’m Clare’s mom, she’s the one in the blue suit.” She pointed her daughter out. She was leaping into the water, blonde pigtails streaming out behind her. 

“She seems like a fun kid,” you smiled before going back to your toes. 

“She’s the best,” she said. You felt her watching you. “So you’re just the nanny then?” 

“Last time I checked,” you said absently, cleaning up the stray polish on your big toe. “Why?” 

“Oh, no big reason,” she laughed a little. “I’d just… well, I’d be lying if I said just about every single mom here hasn’t had her eye on Joel Miller.” 

“Really?” You said, looking over at her. 

“Oh heck yeah,” she laughed. “I mean, you’ve met him. Obviously. A man who looks that good, knows how to fix things around the house AND he’s a dedicated parent? My goodness.” 

“Mr. Miller is pretty great,” you smiled tightly, going back to your polish. “Really nice boss. And Sarah’s a dream. I lucked out.” 

“I’m just relieved you’re not the girlfriend,” she said. “Not for me, of course. Happily married for 13 years. But my friend Susan over there would be heartbroken. She sent me over to do recon.” 

You glanced up and saw a woman in a lime green one piece eyeing you from across the pool. She had to be 20 years older than you which gave her a good 10 years on Joel. 

“Feel free to report back that Mr. Miller is - as far as the nanny is aware - very much on the market,” you said, closing the bottle of nail polish. Sarah shoved Lizzie in the pool and then jumped in after her with a shriek. “Susan should definitely give it a go, though. Mr. Miller’s busy but I think he’d make time for the right person.” 

“Thanks so much, sweetie,” she smiled broadly. “So nice to meet you! Hope to see you at more of these types of things.” 

“You too,” you smiled politely. 

The pool party wound down but Sarah and Lizzie were getting on like a house on fire. You found Lizzie’s mom - a nice if frazzled woman named Margie who you’d met a few times before - and invited her daughter over to keep swimming at the Millers’ until Joel got home around six. 

“Oh, you’re a dream!” She pulled you into a hug. “I’ve been desperate to go run some errands without Lizzie tossing stuff in the cart…” 

“No problem,” you smiled. “Happy to take the girls.” 

They sang Britney Spears on the top of their lungs the whole drive home and practically hurled themselves into the pool the second they were in the door. You just laughed, going to sit outside to watch them play, bringing your book to keep you occupied. You’d almost survived the first week of summer. You hadn’t caved and tried to fuck Joel again. You could do this. You were almost positive. 

***

Joel heard the shriek of girls in the backyard the second his truck door opened. He sighed and shook his head. So Sarah had conned you into having a friend over, even after the party. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. He just hoped to God you weren’t in the pool, too. He didn’t think he could take that. 

He was surprised he’d survived as long as he had. He’d missed you the second he left your apartment the day he helped move you in. Regretted cutting things off with you almost instantly. It seemed like the right thing to do but it felt wrong. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this fucking alone. 

If Sarah had been at a friend’s house that night, he’d have just shown up at your door. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he couldn’t leave his 10-year-old daughter unsupervised. He wanted to apologize to you, beg you to give him a chance. He’d get down on his knees, he didn’t care. 

But just because he wanted that didn’t mean that it was the right thing to do. It would be confusing for Sarah if it didn’t work out - and how could it work out? You were 21 and a college student with a bright future, he was 32 and his life hadn’t been his own in a decade. Sarah had kept him close to home, reminded him of what he should do. What he had to do. 

Then, summer started. You were there in the morning as he tried to get out the door, you were there at night when he got home. He knew you weren’t trying to turn him on - if anything, you were avoiding him like the plague. You’d hardly said two words to him since Monday. But your legs in those shorts, your breasts in those dresses, the ribbons you put on the ends of your braids when you were trying to keep your hair off your neck in the heat. You were so soft and sweet and fucking good and there in his house and he knew how it felt to be inside you… 

You’d better not be in his fucking pool. 

You weren’t. But it was almost worse. You were laid out on a lounge chair on the deck, your back to the door, in white shorts so short he was sure he’d see your ass if you bent over in front of him. Your pale purple tank top clung to you and he could see a hint of a pink bra strap below. You were reading a book in French - because of course you were reading a book in fucking French - and there were ribbons on the ends of your braids. Your nails were pink. He was sure they hadn’t been pink when he saw you this morning. You’d painted your goddamn nails. Why had you painted your goddamn nails? 

“Dad!” Sarah clambered out of the pool in the new suit you’d helped her find. You noticed him then, not having realized he’d gotten home. “Thank you so so so so so so so so much, the party was SO fun…” 

She threw her wet body against him in a hug. 

“Glad you had fun,” he gave her a squeeze and glanced down at you. You were watching him, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand, smiling gently. “She behave herself?” 

“Of course,” you said, gathering up some scrap paper from the table beside you and putting it in your book. One piece of paper looked like it had a phone number on it. Joel frowned. “It seemed like everyone had a blast, no trouble at the party whatsoever.” 

“Good,” Joel said. Whose number did you have? Was it some fucking boy’s? Was that why you’d painted your damn nails? You checked your watch. 

“Lizzie’s mom should be here any minute,” you said, getting up from the chair and crossing your arms over your body. Like that was going to stop him from remembering just what you looked like naked. “You’re home a bit earlier than I expected. I can hang out for a bit until she gets here, I don’t want to saddle you with watching an extra kid…” 

“No, you go on home,” he waved you off. He couldn’t handle you being here any longer than you had to be. “Get a start on the weekend.” 

“You’re sure?” You asked, absently running your fingers over your elbow. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. 

“Thanks,” you smiled tightly back at him. “Have a good weekend, Joel.” You looked back to the pool, where Sarah had jumped back in. “Bye Sarah!” 

“Bye!” She waved quickly before going back to splashing Lizzie. Joel watched you go until well after you’d closed the front door behind you and he couldn’t see you anymore. 

Margie came by to pick up Lizzie not long after you left, both adults required to herd both girls out of the pool. 

“Would Sarah want to come sleep over?” Margie asked as the girls giggled and wrote new verses to songs Joel was sure he’d heard coming from the boom box in Sarah’s room. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out,” he shook his head. “Feels like Sarah’s over at y’all’s place as much as she is here…” 

“Honestly, it makes life easier on us,” she smiled. “Sarah’s such a great kid, she keeps Lizzie occupied so I can deal with her brothers. The boys are such a handful… don’t have twins if you can help it, Joel.” 

“I’ll try my best,” he smiled. “If you’re really OK with it…” 

“Really, you’d be doing me a favor,” she insisted. So Joel gave in. And he was home alone for the first time since he’d slept with you. 

He showered and fucked his hand to the memory of making you cum in that shower. He sat on his bed, staring at his phone, telling himself not to call you. He dialed the first four digits of your phone number and then hung up. 

After a while, he called Tommy. 

“Shit, Joel, everything OK?” 

“Why’s something gotta be wrong for me to call?” Joel frowned into the phone. 

“Because it’s Friday night and you never fuckin’ call on a Friday night,” Tommy said. 

“Well, I’m callin’ on a Friday night,” Joel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You doin’ anything fun tonight?” 

“Why?” Joel could hear Tommy’s frown through the phone. “Gonna come drag the party down?” 

“No,” he replied. “Sarah’s just at a friend’s house and I was thinking I should actually get out of my house for a change.” 

“Hell yeah you should!” Tommy said. “I’m going to go listen to some music, should be just your speed…” 

“I could do that,” Joel said. He hadn’t gone to listen to music in a while. That could be fun. It’d get his mind off you, at least. 

“I’ll be by in 20, pick you up,” Tommy said, sounding excited. “This will be good for you, Joel. Promise.” 

And that’s how Joel ended up at a bar in Austin, watching a bunch of fuckin’ kids tune guitars on a Friday night. 

“We’re getting old,” Tommy handed him a bottle of Shiner. “I remember not showing up places like this until after 10. Now it’s not worth the cover charge if we show up that late.” 

“Tell me about it,” Joel muttered, taking a swig. “Barely remember ever being that young.” 

“When you were that young you had a kid,” Tommy said. Joel snorted. He was right. 

They drank and watched as the bar filled up, the band switching to soundcheck not too long after they got there. Joel was actually starting to have fun when the band started playing - they weren’t bad - when he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. He looked instinctively and thought, for half a second, that his eyes were playing tricks on him. But they weren’t. It was you. 

You hadn’t seen him yet. You were wearing one of your dresses - one he hadn’t seen before, white and satiny and form fitting, stopping several inches above your knees. You’d put another fucking ribbon in your hair and curled it, making it look so full and soft. He wanted to tangle his fingers in it, he wanted to ruin it. You were wearing sandals with thick heels that made you taller and your legs look longer and there was gloss on your lips - he caught a glimpse of it when you turned to talk to the man next to you. A man who put his hand on your lower back. Fuck. 

He guided you to a corner of the room, introduced you to the band waiting to play next. Joel could only see you from behind, the white of your dress reflecting the lights from the stage, the man’s hand slipping around your waist. His pinky drifted down, brushing the top of your ass, his thumb running over your ribs. Joel squeezed the beer bottle so hard he was worried it would break. 

“Oh shit, that’s the Kid!” Tommy said, realizing where Joel was looking and getting down from his stool. 

“No, wait,” Joel said, but he didn’t catch Tommy in time, his brother pushing through the increasingly crowded bar until he hugged you from behind. Joel could just watch, like a fucking train wreck, as you realized he was there and that Tommy was all but dragging you and your date over to their table. You said your polite goodbyes to the band and turned and said something to your date, your eyebrows knitted together. 

“Look who I found!” Tommy said proudly, taking his seat again. 

“Hey Joel,” you smiled tightly at him. 

“Hey Kid,” he replied, taking a drink of beer. Fuck, your tits in that dress. He wanted to kiss you, starting at your lips and working his way down until his mouth was on your cleavage. 

“This is Brad,” you said quickly. “Brad, this Joel. I nanny his daughter, Sarah.” 

“Oh, so you’re the boss!” Brad smiled. He was abnormally tall, taller than Joel, with hair that looked like he was trying to be in a fucking boy band. He was all limbs, gangly, clearly never done a day’s hard work in his life. And he was out with you. He held out a hand. “Good to meet you.” 

“You too.” 

Tommy looked back and forth between you, your date and Joel. 

“I need another beer,” he said quickly. “Kid, can I get you something? Joel? Brad?” 

“I’ll take a Shiner,” you smiled. 

“I’ll come with you,” Brad said, giving you a quick squeeze before looking to Joel. “Look out for my girl for a minute, will ya?” 

“Yeah,” Joel said. He took another drink. Tommy and Brad left the table and you watched them go for a moment before turning back to Joel. 

“I’m really sorry,” you said quickly, biting your lip. “I had no idea you’d be here, Brad’s roommate’s band is up next but we can go…” 

“It’s just a bar, Kid,” Joel shrugged. “No reason for anyone to go anywhere.” 

“Oh,” you deflated a bit. “OK. Thanks.” 

“Yup,” he said, taking another drink. He needed to be a lot drunker than this. So much drunker than this. You watched the band, your head bobbing in time to the music. 

“So you’re his girl now, huh?” Joel said after a moment. 

“It’s our first date,” you said, tone sharper than usual. He deserved that. “I don’t know what I am yet.” 

“Seems to think you’re his girl,” he replied. 

“It’s a figure of speech, Joel.” 

“You fucked ‘em yet?” He asked, taking another drink. He did it to be mean. He did it to push you away. He couldn’t just sit here with you this close, not like this. Your mouth fell open for a second before you fixed him with a glare. 

“You don’t get to just ask me that,” you snapped. There were tears in your eyes, clinging to your eyelashes that were longer and darker than usual. “You don’t get to judge me for that. Just because you got bored with me doesn’t mean everyone has, I can fuck whoever I want. It’s none of your damn business!” 

“One Shiner!” Brad slid his arm back around your waist, handing you one of the beers in his other hand. You took it from him, taking a drink while blinking back your tears. Brad hadn’t noticed but Tommy had, frowning and looking between you and Joel as he wordlessly set another beer in front of his brother. 

“Thank you,” you sniffed for a second and smiled up at him before turning back to the table. “I think I want to get up closer to the band, but it was good to see you Tommy, Joel. Have a good weekend, guys.” 

You laced your fingers in Brad’s and pulled him behind you toward the stage. Your body disappeared behind his, Brad pressing himself against your back. One of his hands moved around you. Joel didn’t want to think about the parts of you he was touching with that fucking hand. 

“What the fuck was that, Joel?” Tommy demanded. 

“What was what?” He asked, not looking at him. 

“That!” Tommy snapped. “With the Kid! Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking idiot, what happened between you two.” 

“Nothin’ happened.” 

“Well I know that’s bullshit,” he said. “What happened to ‘she’s off limits?’ Or was that rule just for me?” 

“She is off limits,” Joel growled. “She’s especially off limits for me.” 

“She know that?” Tommy demanded. 

“Drop it, Tommy,” Joel snapped, smacking the beer bottle down on the table with more force than he’d meant to. 

“Did you seriously fuck your nanny?” He hissed at him. Joel winced. “Jesus Christ Joel. You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ nerve…” 

“I swear to God Tommy I will lay you out,” Joel said. “Don’t fuckin’ tempt me.” 

“What’d you do, convince her you loved her and then bail?” He asked. “Doubt a sweet girl like that woulda just jumped in bed with the dad of one of the kids she looks after, so what’d you tell her?” 

“Tommy,” Joel growled. 

“Was it before or after you told me she was off limits?” He demanded. “You worried I’d actually do right by her and she’d get wise to your shit? Just how drunk’d you have to get her to get her into bed with you?” 

Joel snapped. He stood up so fast the stool flew to the ground with a crash and he punched Tommy across the cheek, sending the younger man sprawling into the table next to him. It was like the whole bar froze. The band stopped playing, an eerie silence falling. Joel flexed his hand as his brother staggered back to his feet, holding his face. 

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Joel,” he said, breathless. 

Joel looked up and immediately found your face in the crowd around the stage. Brad’s arms were around you, holding you back. Your eyes were wide, your mouth open in shock. Or maybe horror. He couldn’t quite tell. 

“C’mon man,” a bouncer grabbed Joel’s shoulder but he shrugged it off. 

“It’s cool,” Tommy glared at Joel as he said it. “Just my brother. He’s a dick. We’re goin’.” 

Joel walked straight past Tommy’s truck, shoving the hand he’d hit him with in his pocket. 

“Where the fuck you goin’ asshole?” Tommy yelled after him. Joel ignored him. Tommy ran and caught him, his hand on his shoulder pulling him around to face him. Joel got ready to punch him again but Tommy’s hands went up. “Don’t make this worse than it is. You want some meddling asshole to call the fuckin’ cops?” 

Joel dropped his fist, glaring at his brother. 

“You made a goddamn fool out of yourself,” he said, his cheek already bruising. “And you fuckin’ deserved it. The hell were you thinking, messing with that girl?” 

Joel didn’t say anything, just went back and climbed in the passenger seat of Tommy’s truck. 

The drive to Joel’s was silent and he hoped that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. Tommy followed him inside, either stupid as hell or itching for a fight. 

“What happened, Joel?” He asked, voice calm for the first time since the bar. “With you and her.” 

“Sarah was at a friend’s place,” he said, voice pained. “We had some wine… Fuck, Tommy, I didn’t mean for it to happen.” 

“Shit,” he sighed, sitting on the couch. “When was this?” 

“Few weeks back,” Joel muttered. 

“And she’s still working for you?” Tommy asked. Joel just nodded. “And nothing’s happened since?” 

“No,” Joel said. 

“Because you’re not interested?” He asked. Joel glared at him. “Yeah, thought that might be the case.”

“Don’t matter how I feel about it,” he sighed. “She’s too young, too big a future ahead of her to get bogged down with me. And Sarah… Sarah fuckin’ loves her. I couldn’t ruin that for her just because I couldn’t keep it in my pants and I…” 

Joel went quiet. 

“And you what.”

“I think… I think I love her, Tommy,” Joel groaned. “I just want her here all the damn time. Want to hear her voice and see her things and smell her hair. I want her leaving her fuckin’ hair in my damn shower every day, I kept finding it for days after and I miss it. Keep hoping I’ll find more sometime. And that guy… He didn’t seem bad, not like that last fuckin’ guy but I don’t trust him, don’t trust any of them, not with her.”  

“You can’t live like this, Joel,” Tommy said quietly. “Obviously. You can’t just go punching people because you’re a jealous asshole. You either need to get away from her entirely - which means cutting her out of Sarah’s life, too - or you need to figure your shit out. Either get over her or get with her - if she’ll still have you.” 

Tommy stood up, clapping Joel on the shoulder. 

“Sorry I hit you,” Joel muttered. 

“Rather get punched in the face than deal with the shit you’ve got goin’ on,” Tommy smiled a bit. “You’ll get it together.” 

“Thanks.” 

He walked him out, locking the door behind him. 

Joel wasn’t any calmer when Tommy left. He paced the living room for a bit before stepping out back, staring down at the pool, the place he’d stood the first time he’d kissed you. You were so fucking beautiful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been quite as happy as that night, felt quite so right with the world. He knew he should regret it but he couldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to regret a damn thing when it led to touching you. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered, going back inside and grabbing his keys. 

He made it to your place in less than 10 minutes, driving faster than he should have. Your car was in the lot but that didn’t mean much if you were still out with that guy. Or - fuck - what if you’d brought him back here. Didn’t matter, he’d made up his mind. If the guy was in your apartment, he wouldn’t punch him. It’d be hard, but he wouldn’t. 

He took the stairs up to your door two at a time and started knocking before he came to a stop in front of it. But there was no response. He tried knocking again. Nothing. 

Joel leaned out over the railing, around to where the windows to your apartment would be. All the lights looked to be off. So you were still out with Brad. Maybe you’d gone back to his place. After what he’d said to you that night, he wouldn’t blame you. 

He sat down, back against the wall next to your door, crossing his arms and leaning his head back against the siding. He closed his eyes. He’d just be here when you got home. You’d have to come home sometime. He could wait. For you, he had all the time in the world. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait that long. He heard you before he saw you. 

“It was nuts, Cass,” you were trying to be quiet as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. “I don’t know what the hell happened. I tried to explain it to Brad but I have no idea what he thinks. Probably that my boss is insane…” 

You were at the top of the stairs now, holding your phone to your ear with one hand, a small orange and white Whataburger cup clutched tight in the other. You stared at Joel for a second. 

“Cass?” You said, still staring at him as he got to his feet. “Call you in the morning.” 

You flipped the phone shut, putting it in your bag and getting out your keys, watching Joel the whole time like you thought he was a wild animal who could do something unhinged at any moment. Which, he figured, was fair. 

“You’ve got some nerve,” you said, keeping your eyes on him as you went to your door and put the keys in the deadbolt, stopping short of opening it. 

“I know,” he said. “Can we talk?” 

You watched him for a moment before you sighed and opened your door, welcoming him in. 

#joel miller x reader smut #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #fanfic #smut fic #joel miller x you #angst

[pawified]

while i have a wip on the way here's a littl treat for my angels, it's based on my fave song by laufey called promise

info: being deeply in love with blade, you are scared to admit your feelings so you distances yourself from him.

"i think we should spend less time together." you say looking out the coffee shop window, as u sat across from your friend blade.

he didn't say anything for a while, he had a look of confusion on his face, he was trying to think back to see if he did something too cause you came up with this decision.

you see him trying to create a timeline in his head, " it wasn't anything you did, if that's what your wondering. i just think we spend too much time together." you can hear your heart beat grow faster. it pained you to do this, but how can you be friends with someone you're in love with?

"is that what you truly want?" he is staring into your eyes, eyebrows frowned causing lines to form. he is trying to read you like he always does when he thinks you aren't telling him something. blade can't understand why you are suddenly just ending your 4 year friendship.

it doesn't make sense to him, nothing ever does.

"yes, i think its best for both of us." you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes and your sure he can see them. "i just can't come to a reason as to why" his voice is laced with hurt.

He never really showed emotion in front of others in your 4 years of knowing him, sure he has gotten mad but never really was the one to be vulnerable in front of others. "everything doesn't always have to have a reasoning blade." you whisper, words barley meeting blades ears.

"i'm starting to realize that now." he bites back, he looks at you once more. your head is hanging down, eyes not meeting his. he scoffs and there's a screech, as he pushed out his chair from the table. he grabbed his coat, heading towards the coffee shop entrance.

before leaving he stops next to you, looking down. "whatever the reason is, i hope it was worth throwing our friendship way." his tone is distant and cold. "blade-" you try to call out for him but the entrance bell had already spoken for you, indicating he had already left.

you don't know how long you had been sitting in the coffee shop but when you left the time had past and the sun is now setting, you had so many thoughts running through your head. you've made your choice and there was no taking it back, you regretted everything you had done.

this wasn't some rash decision you made randomly. it was days, weeks, months and years of back and forth with yourself. constant days of "is this truly what i want?" "will this make me stop what i feel?" it all came boiling down to this exact moment, the weight that once sat heavy on your heart, sat twice as heavier than before.

you cried yourself to sleep that night and many nights to come.

as the days pasted, the more heavier that weight felt. you constantly checked your phone in hopes of blade messaging you. it's stupid, you know that but you longed for it, but it never came.

what you hadn't know is blade fought with himself on contacting you. he prided his self into respecting your wishes even though he refused to believe them. He wanted nothing more to have you around.

it's been almost a month since you parted ways with blade. you were standing on the side walk to cross the street, its cold and rainy.

As the crosswalk light changed signaling it was your turn to cross, you see a guy walking towards you, with shaggy , long, dark violet hair and he has pricings along his ear. As he got closer, you realize it wasn't him. you let out a exhale of breath that you didn't realize you were holding.

walking down the city sidewalk, you stand off to the side to get cover from the harsh rain, you take out your phone. scrolling through your contacts and looking for a familiar contact.

"𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒 🐈 " you stall for a moment. debating if it was a good idea to call so randomly, anxiety bubbling up and creating things that go bond the person blade is. you take a deep breath and quickly press call listening to the phone ring, once , twice than a third time before a deep voice answers.

"❤︎?" he sounds like he just had woken up due to the state of his deep voice, you felt horrible. "i'm sorry, i did i wake you?" you apologetically say. your heart is beating, your pretty sure you're going to pass out from this whole thing.

"no, its fine. are you okay?" blade is always worrying about you, up until now he is still worrying. "m' okay?" you replied in a questioning tone, you shut your eyes. fuck this harder than you thought. "m' okay..i was just wondering if you had time to talk?" you hoped.

there was a pause, you quickly rush out an apology " you know what, im sorry. i don't know why i thought this was a good idea-" you sighed lifting the phone away from your face and going to end the call.

"❤︎." blade calls out, your name. you put the phone back up to your face, "yeah?" you softly say, the raining still patting against the roof of the building your standing under.

"i would love too talk, where are you? i will come over" you can hear the smile in blade's voice, it warms your heart in the cold weather. "no it's okay, m' out now. i can come over too yours .. if that's okay?" you tip toe around the question, smiling through your words. "that's more than okay."

#˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ #𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑛𝑘𝑎𝑖 — ♡ ᵎ #blade honkai #blade x reader #light angst #blade x female reader #໒ 𝑤𝑒𝑛’𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠 ১ #hm idk hw i feel abt dis ! #whack me in da cmmts pls #honkai star rail

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Flowing like a river (part 1)

Shanks x reader. Violence, blood - a lot of blood.

Sequel to Being a native of Foosha Village and falling for Shanks would involve..., even though it can be read as a standalone.

This fic is dedicated to @machinema7k, who first requested a sequel! This is part one of two.

Samuel Axe was a real-life pirate (actually a privateer) active in the 17th century. Chi is the japanese word for blood.

*****

Axe was starting to lose hope, as well as his temper; that state of affairs made him extremely dangerous, even more than normal, anyone who knew him could attest it. Unfortunately, the woman in front of him had never met him before, which meant she could not fully grasp how dangerous the situation she was in was. No matter; she'll understand it now, Axe thought; he raised his hand, and slapped her with the back of it, hard enough he got hurt, and to make the chair the woman was tied to fall on one side.

She screamed - or at least she tried to, even though what left her lips was actually a pained moan; she was probably hoarse, Axe thought with satisfaction, since screaming was all she had done for hours when, after refusing twice to answer his questions, she had been tied standing in the middle of the room, a position that gave Axe and his men the opportunity to whip her front and back. The woman's cries of pain had filled the room, reaching every corner of the ship that had by then left the island long behind it, taking advantage of a favourable wind. Still, when Axe had decided that had been enough to make his victim understand he wasn't playing nor the sort of man who would let a woman's tears deter him, and had asked her again what he wanted to know, her answer had been the least satisfactory possible.

I don't know. That was what she had said, crying in pain, and had kept repeating those same two words, fiercely at first and then more and more faintly while her strength failed her, and the pirates kept abusing her.

It had been hours by now, but Axe was not about to give up, nor did he believe her words; after all she was a woman, and therefore prone to lie and deceive. She probably wanted to keep her lover's secret, and believed that if she was able to persuade her captors she could be of no use to them, they would let her go. Nothing could be farther from the truth, and Axe decided it was time for Red-Haired Shanks' wench to tell him what she knew.

The room she had been brought to was under the ship's main deck, empty but for the chair the woman had been tied to and a wooden bench on which the whips and other torture instruments had been arranged.

"Pull her up." Axe ordered without raising his voice, and the two other men present in the room (his most faithful crewmembers, the same who together with two other had been entrusted with the woman's kidnapping) set the chair upright, bringing the prisoner face to face with her captor once more.

She wasn't even attractive, Axe thought. A famous and powerful man like Shanks had to have women throwing themselves at him on every island he docked at, but according to the intelligence he had gathered the red-haired pirate had been alone for years, and then he had entered in a monogamous relationship with his crew's new doctor; apparently the two of them were literally inseparable. Axe really couldn't see what Shanks saw in the woman before him, even before they beat her so severely not even her mother would recognize her, but if her captain was so fond of her, and in the unlikely case she was being sincere in saying she ignored what he wanted to know, her captain would be willing to ransom her.

The woman was gasping for breath. Blood stained her face and body, the wounds on her back and chest visible through her torn shirt; Axe waited for her to look up at him, then he walked leisurely to the bench, selected a tool among the ones waiting to be used and returned to her, passing it from one hand to the other.

"I can't tear your tongue out, since I need you to talk." he considered "But the thumbscrew has given me great satisfaction in situations like this. Believe me when I say I feel no pleasure in hurting a woman; but if you want to be still of interest to your captain when you return to him, you better start talking."

He bent to look at her in the eyes; pain and fear exhaled from her body, but the woman still stubbornly refused to talk. She was not a decent fighter, according to the men who had taken her away, but Axe had to admit it: she had spirit, enough not to give in, enough to stare back without flinching at the man who could easily kill her.

"I'll ask you once more." he announced; there was no need, since he had repeated his question so many times even the walls of the room had to have heard it, but for good misure, he slowly enunciated: "Where... is... the Devil Fruit?"

Axe was the captain of a powerful crew, but unlike many other pirates, he knew when an enemy was out of his league; Red-Haired Shanks was that sort of man, so much that facing him and his men in open battle would have been akin to suicide. Still, Axe knew it was often useful to keep tabs on his rivals, especially the most powerful ones, in the hope he would learn something of their affairs he could use to his advantage.

This is why, learning that the Red Force had been sighted moored in a nearby island, Axe had decided he wanted to know what the red-haired pirate was up to, perhaps searching for a fabulous treasure he could steal the map for. He had reached an abandoned pier miles away from the village Shanks' crew was staying at, and sent his most trusted men to investigate. Axe's pirates had reached the village, mingling with the locals so as not to draw attention to themselves; they had been lucky, and visiting the bar Shanks' men were spending the evening at and listening discreetly at their conversations, they had found two things.

First: the captain and a few of his men would leave on the following morning for most of the day, to meet with a former pirate he wanted to invite to join their crew, and who lived in the hinterland.

Second: the crew had recently come in possession of a very special item: a Devil Fruit they planned on selling for a fabulous price.

The man Axe had placed in charge of the little expedition, Nejima, had also noticed the only female crewmember, the crew's doctor who had spent the entire evening perched on Shanks' lap, kissing him as if they had soon to part for a year instead than for a day. Nejima had decided she would be the one to bring the fruit to them; on the following day, he had waited for Shanks to depart and for the woman to be alone as she walked to the village's market, and had run to her, begging her to come assist his brother who had suffered a terrible accident.

The plan had worked flawlessly: by the time the woman had realized she had been lured out of the village, without the time to ask any of her friends to accompany her or at least to tell them where she was going, it was too late. She had unsheated the dagger she carried on her hip, but Nejima and the others had overpowered her and brought her to the ship, and to the captain.

"It is useless to try and resist." Axe pointed out patiently "We have already left the island behind us, and your friends have no way to know where you are and what has happened to you. Tell me what I want to know..."

"... and then you'll let me go? Is this what you are proposing?" the woman interrupted him; her voice could barely rise above a whisper and the very act of speaking seemed to pain her, but there was a stubbornness and a defiance in her bearing Axe could have admired, in a different moment "Let's not kid ourselves. Whether I tell you what you want to know or not, for me it's over; you can't let me go because I know your name and you know my captain would come avenge me. At best you'll keep me as a slave, at worst you'll kill me."

"I could offer him to ransom you; if Shanks cares about you so much, I'm sure he won't haggle, but he will reward me handsomely, either with the Devil Fruit itself or with more money I could sell it for."

Suddenly, the woman smiled; she was in excruciating pain, exhausted, and tied up so tight she couldn't even scratch her nose, but there was something in that smile that led Axe to unconsciously take a step back... as if for a moment, his victim had been replaced by a wild beast, a merciless monster hungry for his blood.

"You have never met Shanks, have you, captain Axe?"

"Never had the pleasure, no."

"Well, you'll know his reputation at least; he is the friendliest, most generous man you could ever meet, but not one you would make an enemy of, especially if you hurt someone close to him. Please, let me go; sooner or later Shanks will find me, and then not even the Gods will be able to protect you from his fury. If you free me now, I promise I'll ask him not to pursue you, and we will both forget we ever met. Please, captain Axe; no ransom and no Devil Fruit are worthy your lives."

She seemed sincere, Axe decided, as if she really wanted to help; unfortunately for her, he didn't need it, and while Shanks was one of the most infamous pirates of the Grand Line, Axe knew he could stand his ground against the red-haired pirate, if he played his cards well.

He sighed, lazily lifting the thumbscrew in his hand as if to inspect it at the light of a lantern, hoping she could see how it worked and imagine the excruciating pain it would inflict. "I have never used this on a woman; I wonder if you'll scream louder than the men." he said, talking only partially to himself. The woman paled, but she didn't bat an eye. Axe wouldn't have been able to say why, but he didn't like her expression; it was as if she was keeping herself in check, refraining from... what? Crying? Begging? Or something else?

"I really don't know where the Devil Fruit is." she said after a while, her tone soft "Shanks... the captain decided to hide it, in case someone were to steal it."

"I'm sure he told you." Axe replied; the truth was, he was starting to doubt what until a moment ago he had been completely certain of, but it was too late to back down. A minute more, he promised himself, a last chance for her to talk, and then he would make good on his promise and use the thumbscrew; and if even that would prove ineffective, either because Shanks' wench actually ignored the Devil Fruit's whereabouts or because even torture could not loosen her tongue, he would find a way to demand a ransom without putting himself and his crew in danger. The red-haired pirate was too powerful an adversary, that he had to admit, but that didn't mean Axe couldn't find a way to get the better of him "Men talk to their women, especially in bed; I'm sure he told you where he would hide the Devil Fruit. Come on, wench, be reasonable. Don't you want to go home? I'm not afraid of your captain, and if you don't give me what I want, I'm going to reduce you to such a state even the most amorous lover would not touch you. Speak, it is your last chance."

A sob escaped the woman's lips; she swallowed, and licked her lips, even though she had drunk or eaten nothing since she had been captured and had to be severely dehydrated. "I... I don't..." she began, and there was nothing openly defiant in her, bound and on the verge of fainting, but Axe suddenly lost control. The thumbscrew was still in his hands, but he let it fall to the ground as he unsheathed the dagger on his belt; with a cry of anger, he lounged at the woman, and stabbed her in the shoulder.

The scream of pure agony seemed to reach every corner of the sea; she coughed, and seemed to collapse, only kept in a sitting position by the ropes binding her.

"She has fainted, cap'n." one the men assisting Axe said - rather unnecessarily, he thought, but when he retrieved his dagger and bent once more to check, the woman slowly raised her head, meeting his gaze once more. She was shaking, either with shock or some other emotion (rage, maybe? But what could she do to express it, at the mercy of her enemies as she was?) and when she spoke, Axe knew she was making an enormous effort to keep herself in check.

A merciless monster...

Suddenly, Axe felt cold. She spoke slowly, deliberately, as if carefully choosing her words.

"You were right; I was lying. I know perfectly where the Devil Fruit is. But it is completely beyond your reach; you'll never have it. This is your last chance: you... you can't even begin to understand what danger you are in. Let me go now, bring me back to the island my crew is staying at, and you'll live another day. Otherwise, I cannot guarantee your safety."

A woman alone on a ship full of enemies, tied like a hog, making threats, should have been ridiculous; even so, the last thing Axe felt like doing was laughing. The two men behind him exchanged a glance, both ill at ease for a reason neither could rationally explain.

A merciless monster hungry for his...

"Captain, maybe we should..." Nejima softly began. The helmsman's advice had saved the crew, and his own life, more than once, but in that moment Axe didn't want to hear it; the woman's last warning had stirred something inside him... a fear buried so deep he had almost forgotten it, and that he had last felt during his first meeting with a Sea King. She wasn't making empty threats; she was actually telling them to beware... what, exactly? What horror did she know was going to be unleashed against Axe's pirates to avenge her?

"Shut up." he said, silencing Nejima's protests; he knew, without the need to ask, that both men next to him would have freed the woman as she demanded, having taken her warning seriously. He also felt... unsettled, for some reason he couldn't understand, and that made him furious. Red-Haired Shanks was a powerful pirate, but not a God, and he had been at sea for more than thirty years; he would find a way to save himself and his men. He was captain Samuel Axe; he always found a way.

First, he would teach this insolent wench her place. He slapped her again, hard enough to break her nose. "I have already told you..."

"Captain..."

"Shut it, Nejima. I am not afraid of your lover, and in any case he is by now too far away to endanger us. If you really want to see him again, you're going to tell me..."

"Captain..." Nejima insisted; that was very unlike him, since the helmsman usually knew when he needed to shut his hole, unless there was something very important he needed to say, and it was this, as well the urgent tone in his voice, that led Axe to turn. "What?!"

"Where is her blood?

"... what?"

"The blood she lost from her wounds and everything; it... it has disappeared. And look at the wound on her shoulder."

It was such an unexpected, absurd thing to hear, Axe couldn't at first fully understand what he was being told. Mechanically, he turned to regard the woman he had done his best to break, and he couldn't deny what was clear in front of his own eyes. In the last twenty-four hours she had lost enough blood to need a transfusion, the dark red liquid staining her skin and clothes, but now, suddenly or in some way Axe, who prided himself on his power of observation, had not noticed, it had all disappeared. Pain was evident on the woman's face, a large black bruise surrounded her left eye and her clothes had been shred by the whipping, but not a single drop of blood was visible on her skin or on the fabric. The stabbing wound on her shoulder, deep enough to make her potentially bleed to death, was dry as well, as if Axe's dagger had penetrated through a log of wood, and not the skin and the flesh of a living woman. But she had bled; Axe had seen the scarlet liquid run down her body, impregnate her clothes, stain her lips when she bit them trying not to scream.

But now it had vanished, as if the woman had been granted a pause from her torture to take a bath, dress her wounds and change her clothes (putting some equally torn ones on). It was... disconcerting, somehow, but Axe didn't fully grasp the implications of what he was seeing until he saw the woman's expression.

She was smiling. No, she was smirking.

Hungry for his...

Axe's heart was seized by horror.

"Who said the danger would come from Shanks?" she asked, before shifting her gaze to regard the man at Axe's right. He started to cough, and again, Axe didn't find anything particularly dangerous about it, the man could simply reach the galley nearby and drink all the water he needed to catch his breath, but then a veritable, violent gush of blood erupted from the man's mouth, falling to the ground in a ruby-red flood, and then Axe understood, and knew he had been a fool not to listen to her.

The man at his left coughed blood, again and again, while Axe and Nejima observed in morbid fascination, horrified and at the same time unable to stop looking. The helmsman was the first to react.

"Stop it." he said, his tone pleading; the woman briefly glanced at him before returning to observe her victim, who had gone pale in the face as the blood kept pouring from his mouth "Please, stop it. All right, you have proved your point, you are not joking, now please, you're going to kill him..."

The woman ignored him, while her victim fell to his knees; Axe saw the man look up at him, try to speak, and fail. The stench of blood in the room was overwhelming; he would have given everything he owned to leave, to run away, but he knew without the need to ask he couldn't - he wasn't allowed to.

The agony of the man next to him lasted no more than four minutes, four minutes that Axe knew would remain engraved in his memory forever. He had once asked his ship's doctor how much blood the body of a man contained; he couldn't remember the answer, but it had to be a lot, gallons and gallons of red, metallic liquid now spread all around the body of the pirate who, after a last desperate look at the woman, as if trying to convey with his eyes the request for mercy he couldn't utter, fell to the floor, already dead. There was no more blood in his body than could be found in a tailor's mannequin.

For a full minute, no one spoke. Nejima looked insistently at his captain, but Axe pretended not to see, loathe to admit he had just realized he was way over his head and had no idea how to save them - or even just himself.

The woman gave them ample time to understand the seriousness of their situation, and to reflect on what to do.

"Do you know the rules about Devil Fruits, captain?" she said in the end; she wasn't gloating, enjoying the reversal of roles that had put the pirates at her mercy; rather, she looked saddened, and full of rage "How it works when you find one?"

"I... I..." Axe licked his lips, his mouth drier than a desert "Well... if you eat it, you get powers... and lose the ability to swim..."

"Correct; but I was thinking about what happens before that. Apparently there is an unwritten rule about the ownership of the fruit, according to which whoever finds it has the right to decide what to do with it, to eat it or sell it or whatever else. If while they spied on us your men seemed to understand Shanks had found the fruit they heard us talking about, they got it wrong; I did. The fruit was mine, and do you remember when I told you you could never have it, that it was beyond your reaching? That was the truth."

She didn't elaborate; she didn't need to. Axe's heart was beating so fast it hurt.

"You ate it."

"I did. Its official name is Chi Chi no Mi; the Blood-Blood Fruit. I was taking a walk in the woods outside the village, and as I followed a bird to take its picture, I saw it, growing on a mango tree among many normal fruits. It was pretty, yellow with some red swirls on it; I realized what it was because I had already seen one, many years ago, that a young friend of mine had eaten. So I picked it, I brought it back to the ship and... well." she added with a small smile "You don't need to hear all of this. I did think about selling it, since there are people in the world willing to pay enourmous prices for them, but... you see I was telling the truth? You should have let me go when I asked you to, captain Axe; not because my lover is going to find me and punish you... even though he would, believe me, and he would make you regret having been born. No, Shanks has nothing to do with it; the one you have to fear is me. I have had this power for less than two days, I am inexperienced, but believe me, I can still do some damage."

She looked at him; there was no joy in her eyes, nor the smallest amount of mercy. "And I will."

Axe's dagger slipped from his fingers, and he regretted it, because part of him wished he could stab himself in the heart and spare himself any more suffering. "Listen..." he started, without the faintest idea of what to say, of how to convince her to have mercy on him "I... I don't..."

"I bet you don't, captain Axe. But that doesn't matter anymore. You." she added moving her gaze on Nejima "Come here and untie me. You need your dagger? You can bring it; but only use it on the ropes, I can kill you both faster than you can kill me."

The helmsman wordlessly obeyed; he moved behind her and quickly cut through the ropes binding her to the chair, first around her torso and then at her wrists. A moment later, the woman was free, even if the abuse and the lack of food and drink had clearly debilitated her, so much that she had to sit again a minute after she had stood to stretch her legs. She may act as if she could kill them by simply raising a finger, Axe thought, and she probably could, but she was a woman, by her nature weak, and had admitted herself she had little experience with using her new powers. All was not lost; she was alone against his whole crew, and she couldn't swim - a dangerous situation to be in when one was sailing on the open sea. This was probably the most danger he had ever been in, but the captain had been a pirate for thirty years, and there was a ninety-five million berries bounty on his head; he would not meet his end at the hands of a wench whose only merit was that a powerful man liked to shag her. He could not tell anyone he had killed her, since her lover would immediately want to retaliate, but, Axe decided, he would send Shanks his wench's head in a box, with a pretty bow as if it were a birthday gift; and the red-haired pirate would never know who was responsible for that offence.

The woman, meanwhile, was still ordering Nejima around. "Call one of your crewmates through the door; have someone bring bandages, clean water, and the necessary to suture a wound, and something to eat and drink. You seem like a reasonable man, but again, no funny business."

The helmsman obeyed without batting an eyelid, slowly reaching the door and pounding on it until someone answered from the outside. He passed the woman's message to one of his crewmates.

"Why? Is someone hurt? Is the captain all right?" the man outside the door wondered; he spoke with a lisp.

"Do as I say, Knapp, I'll explain later."

"I will, but it is too early for lunch, there won't be much ready in the galley."

Nejima sighed. "Just bring whatever you find. Quickly."

In the end, the woman allowed the helmsman to open the door just enough to get the things she had requested in: Knapp had found some bread and cheese, and sent a bottle of water as well together with the medical supplies.

"What is going on in there, Nejima?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for the woman five steps away to hear "Where is Shanks' woman? Do I need to warn the others?"

"No need at all; the captain is still busy with the prisoner, but he inadvertently cut her too deep; we can't make her talk if she dies of blood loss." the helmsman explained in a reasonable tone; he turned, silently inviting Axe to go along with it "Isn't that right, captain?"

The woman looked at Axe; he gritted his teeth. "Yes, that's right; I'm taking care of it, Knapp." he said, taking a single step to meet the man's eyes through the crack in the door; he tried desperately to communicate the danger they were all in, hoping the man would tell by the look in his eyes something was wrong, but Knapp had never been the most observant of men, and reassured by the captain's response he closed the door without further protest.

Axe glared at Nejima; rationally, he knew the helmsman was trying to protect them both, keeping the rest of the crew in the dark regarding the situation they were in, but he couldn't help feeling the other had allied himself with the woman against his captain.

"Now what?" he asked, brusquely.

"Now the two of you will leave all your weapons on the floor and move at the corner of the room farthest from the door, and will remain there until I tell you otherwise."

"I will not be ordered around by a woman, you dirty..."

"Now." the woman added; she raised a hand, as if challenging him to insist "Please."

They obeyed, remaining as far as they could from the door, and from her, while their former prisoner ate and cleaned her wound. For a few minutes, no one spoke; Axe was burning with anger, while Nejima, while clearly terrified, seemed able to keep his emotions in check.

"What are you going to do with us?" he asked in the end; she looked at him, and sighed.

"I honestly don't know. Believe me when I say, I feel no pleasure in the idea of hurting you; but I have to. I have to kill your captain."

"You can try, you little..."

"Listen, you are a pirate as well." Nejima went on, clearly trying to cover his captain's threats "You know how it works. We kidnapped you, hurt you, and we could have killed you. I will not say I am sorry, or that I regret it, because it would be clear I'm only saying that to save our lives."

The woman, back sitting on the chair she had been tied to, her legs elegantly crossed, smiled softly. "You are a clever man."

"I try. You have the right to demand revenge. I'm not even going to appeal to your good heart saying that you should want to avoid unnecessary bloodshed... if you pardon the pun... since you're a doctor. Can't we reach a compromise? The treasure we have in the hold is worthy a few tens of million berries; you can take it as compensation."

The woman actually seemed to consider it, a closed fist under her chin. "It is an interesting offer." she admitted "But I'm afraid I have to refuse, for two reasons. First: the right to retaliate for my kidnapping is my captain's as much as mine; I cannot strike a deal without consulting Shanks. Second, I need to send a signal of strength: if words get around that you can kidnap one of the Red-Haired Pirates and get away with it, my captain's good name will be defiled; you must know a pirate's power comes from his reputation as well as from the objective power of his crew. I could kill you both and take your treasure, without having to waste time with diplomacy."

Axe had to admit (privately) her logic couldn't be faulted; Nejima, on the other hand, seemed to think the peace talk was not over yet.

"You would have to kill us all." he pointed out "Almost seventy people on this ship, all of them skilled fighters. No offense, but are you really sure you can do it? And then, to govern this ship by yourself?"

"I will have to only kill a few of you to prove I am not joking; if your crewmates are even just half as clever as you, they will accept to cooperate in exchange for their lives. I have already killed a few men, in the year I have been a pirate; it wasn't easy, nor pleasant, but I will do it again if forced. I will ask for a Den Den Mushi, call my captain, and ask him..."

That was too much for Axe. Being taken prisoner on his own ship was shameful. Being at the mercy of a woman, who could decide for his life, his crew, his booty, was outrageous. But to see her discuss his future as if he wasn't even present, and boast (in his opinion) she could do what she wanted with the riches he had accumulated? That he could not accept, and while the fury that had taken over him was not something he could control, he was rationally confident he could get the better of her. The woman had ordered them to leave all their weapons on the floor, but she had not searched them to make sure they had, which had allowed Axe to keep his second dagger, as usual hidden under his sash, behind his back.

He took it out taking advantage of a moment the woman was focused on Nejima; he knew he had one chance, and one chance only, and he took it. He would have liked to shout his war cry, but he decided not to; the later the woman realized she was being attacked, even by a fraction of a second, the better.

He pounced on her, the weapon raised above his head. She noticed quicker than Axe would have liked. Maybe ten paces separated her chair from the corner he had been banished to; he only covered eight.

She turned towards him, raising a hand with her fingers outstretched, not unlike the talons of a bird of prey, and at once, Axe found himself unable to move, as if his flesh had turned to stone. She was so close he could have spit at her, but Axe knew she might as well have been at the opposite side of the sea.

He knew his face betrayed the horror filling his very soul, clear for her and Nejima to see; he would have liked to face his death with dignity, but he was a moment away from soiling himself. Soon, he started feeling hot - unbearably, excruciatingly hot, but not the way one did in the middle of the summer or after a day of hard labour; horrified, Axe realized he was burning from the inside, the blood in his veins boiling like a pot of water on the stove.

The woman stood, slowly turning towards him; no mercy coloured her eyes. "Thank you." she said "For taking the decision out of my hands.", and she closed her fist.

A moment before his blood exploded, erupting from every orifice of his body not unlike the geysers he had seen once in a summer island and making him bleed to death in less than fifteen seconds, Axe realized he had never learnt the name of the woman who had killed him.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Shanks #Red-Haired Shanks #Shanks x reader #Red-Haired Shanks x reader #Peter Gadiot #Bellona's stuff

[starmeadowsystem]

Nif-Point Moral Evaluation: King Dedede from Kirby

What is Kirby?

Kirby is a videogame series where you play as a silly little guy named Kirby and go on silly little adventures. The lore gets pretty wild sometimes but it's like mostly lighthearted.

Who is King Dedede? What does he do?

King Dedede is a tyrant turned genuine hero of Popstar. After stealing all the food in Dreamland, he gets his ass handed to by Kirby in half an hour of gameplay. Interestingly, during the after credits scene of this game, he just cries and regretfully sulks away, with Kirby following after. In "Revenge of Dedede", a reimagining of the game's hard mode from Super Star Ultra, King Dedede tries settling his grudge with Kirby in a formal grudge match where he even gives them a hammer, at least after sending his army after them. Notably, when Bandana Waddle Dee, one of his minions, expresses concerns about being completely overshadowed by Kirby, Dedede decides to spare him. The minion fights Kirby anyway. And lives. After losing the electric cage match against Kirby, he solemnly gives up his grudge and accepts defeat as he and his remaining loyalists disappear into the desert.

In Kirby's Adventure, he at least tries doing something good. Learning about Nightmare invading Dreamland, King Dedede tries taking the Star Rod from the Dream Fountain and breaking it into little pieces. Unfortunately this doesn't work because Kirby, due to Dedede's lack of communication, believed that he was up to his old tricks at the time and fixed the star rod and put it back in its proper place, unintentionally unsealing Nightmare in the process. King Dedede then launched Kirby into space so he could take care of Nightmare, which they did.

Having been possessed by Dark Matter three times over, by Kirby 64 he decides to tag along with Kirby, Adeline, Ribbon, and a Waddle Dee while they save the galaxy from Dark Matter. He's also very teasy and he ends up helps Adeline through a portal in cutscene, as well as letting Kirby ride piggyback in a few levels.

He also tags along with Kirby in Return to Dreamland along with Meta Knight and Bandana Waddle Dee.

Mistaken for the hero of the lower world and kidnapped by Taranza for queen Sectonia's sake, King Dedede was once again saved by Kirby. However, this time, he proved to be essential to the safety of Dreamland and Floralia, as he piloted a cannon to launch Kirby to Sectonia, and when she had Kirby restrained, he broke them free and set up the final hypernova attack against Sectonia with Taranza, who had enough of her at this point.

He also... Tries fighting against the interstellar corporation of Haltmann in Planet Robobot, and tags along with Kirby again after he gets possessed by a jamba heart in Star Allies.

In his most recent outing, which at the time of making this post is Kirby and the Forgotten Land, King Dedede gets possessed yet again (this time by Fecto Elfilis, who I know is going to be controversial lmao) and has to be freed by Kirby. Once he is, he gives Kirby a little smile as thanks, but then the Beast Pack rapidly approaches their location. When one of the waddle dees in the scene trips, King Dedede immediately turns back and throws them into the escape elevator, giving up his chances in the process as he fights off the might of the Beast Pack offscreen.

dw hes ok

Although he stole all the food in Dreamland, King Dedede isn't heinous enough to stand out for two main reasons: The heinousness standard is extremely high in Kirby with Popstar being threatened pretty much every game at this point, and the manufactured famine he caused could have been far worse. On the benevolent side, however, I think he easily stands out- he helps save Popstar multiple times, even playing an essential part in this once or twice, and is perfectly willing to put himself in harm's way as shown in Kirby and the Forgotten Land.

Since he's completely past his old ways, the only thing I can count against him is his ego, honestly, which he's consistently characterized with. He has paintings of himself everywhere in his castle. In The Forgotten Land's post game, he opens his mouth and points to it. Even if I have to dock points for it, I have to admit it's quite endearing.

Author's Verdict: 52 (Strongly Good)

#nif-point moral scale #nif-point moral evaluation #starmeadowsystem #kirby #king dedede

[amorelray]

✨RECENT ANIME REVIEW✨

🐕🐈🐀FRUITS BASKET🐄🐇🐎

I just watched this show for the first time and I was very pleasantly surprised with how much I liked it. I'm usually not much of one for animes with the main character as a very ditsy girl, but this one was different. Tohru wasn't my favorite character, even though she was the main protagonist. That's also not to say that I didn't like her, she just didn't resonate with me the way that Kyo and Yuki did.

Initially, I found myself drawn to Haru. He made me laugh and smile - a kind character in his own way. I appreciated him more than Kyo or Yuk; but as the seasons went on, I found myself really liking them.

❗SPOILERS❗ At the end, when Kyo🐈 and Yuki🐀 got their happy endings - I felt different for both of them.

Throughout the series, Kyo slowly reminded me of parts of myself. He'd put others first by sacrificing his happiness. I've done that myself for ages; it hurts, and it's lonely. I believe that Kyo felt this way too. He felt as if he was protecting Tohru and her heart from what his fated future was supposed to be. He loved her so much, that he'd sacrifice his own selfishness in order to see her happy, going so far as to believe that maybe she belonged better with Yuki. It pained me to see him like this, because I've done the same things. I'll push people away in hopes of saving them potential heartache that would be attached to myself. It's a very self-isolating mechanism and it hurts more than one might think. We think we're being noble, but we're just denying someone a chance to make their own choice. It's taken some growing up for me to learn something like that, and it took Kyo awhile too. Towards the end of Season 3, it can be seen that Kyo will throw aside what he's supposed to do and be for Tohru. The amount of physical affection he shows her versus the other Zodiacs was very prominent throughout the entire show, but even moreso towards the end. When he finally drew her into his arms with reckless abandonment and didn't transform, my heart sighed of relief for them. It was finally over. Their worries, their suffering, their strife - it was gone. Kyo was free & free to love. I felt like I should have cried, but I couldn't. I was merely grateful; happy that Kyo finally was able to have what it was that his heart truly desired.

Yuki on the other hand - I cried over twice. The moment their bonds were released and he hugged Machi, silent tears filled my eyes. He. Was. Free. It hurt seeing him hurt and I cried because he was finally released from his past of pain and imprisonment. I knew that as soon as the bond broke, Yuki could finally TRULY be himself. I always felt as of many of the other Zodiacs were quite a bit of themselves while under the curse, but Yuki always gave me the impression that he held himself back due to what happened when he was a child. He was always afraid of losing people again the way that he did when he had made his first set of friends. Watching all of it crumble and fall away filled me with a mix of things I'm not sure I can find the right words to describe - so I cried.

The second time was when he told Tohru how loved she truly was. He was always afraid to tell her exactly what she was to him, but when he did - there was so much gratitude and love. It was one of the most wholesome things I think I've ever witnessed. Seeing her realize that she'll never be alone and that the bonds they all CREATED will never fade, and watching him FINALLY accepting and speaking his truth was so freeing.

I really couldn't have imagined a better show or end to it. 💖 ~Stupid Cat🐈 ~Stupid Rat🐀

#fruits basket #review

[anonymouslosersworld]

Punishing Perv Souya

Punishing perv Souya

warning: mentions of pervert Souya, sex, overstimulation, punishment and hand jobs/fingering(male receiving). Obviously it mentions sex and some good degradation.

All characters are over 18+ no minors allowed.

Perv-Souya Kawata     {Masterlist 1}   {masterlist 2}

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Sometimes Souya curses his own existence.

But he couldn't help himself.

You were just so freaking pretty and so close to him.

He can't help it. You were too much for him.

Souya is a very weak man when it comes to you. He's so desperate to touch you that he takes whatever excuse he can to touch you.

Oh sorry, the subway is too full and there's no space so I have to press up against you.

While having his whole ass body pressed against you. Souya remembers the way your body felt pressed up against his and he will never admit that he jerked off to that.

Windy day and you have a skirt on?? Souya wholeheartedly volunteers to hold your skirt down by leaving and pressing his hand on your ass.

" So that you won't flash strangers. "

Oh, you don't have a seat?? Consider it your throne. Feel free to sit on his lap. Man has to fight his own cock to not get a boner.

The same thing happens when he sees you bend down in front of him.

Souya will always jerk off to the feeling of your chest on him while the both of you cuddle. He almost cries because your breasts are so close yet so far.

Souya loves everything about you and your body. He wants you to use him. Punish him for being so dirty to you.

God, he wants you to touch him so badly or let him touch you.

The soft breathing beside him tells him you're asleep. It was your weekly Friday sleepover and you'd fallen asleep after watching a couple of movies with him. Your arms and legs were wrapped around him. He felt you pulling him closer with no space between the both of you.

The steady rise and fall of your chest was very luring.

If only he didn't pop a boner from just staring at your chest. He wondered how they felt like. What they felt like in his hand. God, he wanted to shove his face in your breasts. Just one touch and he'd satisfied.

Should he??

Could he?

He could feel your cushioned goodness. You weren't wearing a bra.

Just one touch, so close..

Souya's hand reached out, you wouldn't know right?? It would be a quick little touch.

The sound of sheets disrupted Souya's train of thought. Souya's eyes widened, were you awake?? Were you going to catch him red-handed??

" Souya?" You lightly whispered before moving one of your hands underneath his shirt. Your head moved between his shoulder and neck. He could feel your light breathing on his neck as you placed your hand onto his chest.

Souya's breath hitched and he became stiff as you moved.

Oh god, you were touching him.

"Souya?" Your voice called out to him as you rubbed his chest.

"Yes?"

"Were you trying to touch my tits as I was sleeping?"

"...."

"Souya I asked you a question."

"N-no?" Souya felt like a fish out of water. You had caught him red-handed.

" Oh really??" You smirked as you moved on top of him. Your body trapping his own.

Souya could feel your thighs around his hips, keeping him in place and you pinned his arms above his head.

He knows this is bad but he felt so good.

You were touching him..

"You know Souya I don't like it when you lie to me. " you whispered to his ear. "Are you sure ?"

" I..I didn't I wasn't." Souya struggled to say to you .

The way you looked at him went straight to his cock. He kept quiet as you sat on his hips. You leaned over his head and with your free hand pulled the neckline of your shirt.

" You don't want to see them Souya?" Souya could feel himself shaking a little as he looked down your shirt. With a heavy blush Souya looked at your breasts.

They were so cute.. Like you

"Do you like them? You stare at them so much. " you pressed them forward onto Souya's face before he could answer. His mouth watered as he felt them press onto his face. " lick them Souya."

"I ca-ah!" Souya moaned as you moved further into his lap right onto his cock. He could feel you on him. The only things separating his cock were both of your underwear. He felt dazed and overwhelmed. Your breasts were on his face and the warmth of your pussy was making his cock let out precum

"Can I touch you Souya??" You asked him as you lightly rocked your hips. He moaned as he buckled into your pussy.

" 'mm sorry. Please touch me."

"Good boy Souya." You smirk as you move your hips teasing his cock. Souya's cock practically chasing after your pussy . "baby your go'nna ruin my underwear."

Souya moans louder as he thrusts into ass. He wants to ruin your underwear so much and keep them.

" So naughty Souya." You say as you suck on his neck. " I have to punish you."

Souya looked at you with a dazed look not knowing what you had in store for him. 

Souya could feel the beads of sweat rolling off his body as you toyed with his cock after making him cum twice. 

“ Look at you slut. you look so cute covered in your cum.” You said as you jerked him off for the 3rd time that night “I can’t believe you were hiding your cock from me. You probably don’t even know how to use it, do you?? That’s why you never fucked anyone. Stupid useless dick of yours ” 

Souya whined while squirming around on his bed. Everything he had imagined was coming true. you were using him as he desired. But damn he wanted to cum. 

“Oh look your tip is red. “ You say as you lean down and give him a good long lick on his cock.

“Ah! pl-please!” Souya moaned out. Smirking you decide to have some mercy on him. you take off your shirt and press your breasts against his cock.

“Eyes on me Perv, I'm going to give you a little show.” Putting his dick between your breasts as you begin to rub his cock with your tits.  You duck your head down and suck on his tip as it peeks out of your breasts. 

Souya was losing his goddam mind, he looked at you with half-lidded eyes while moaning loudly. He honestly couldn’t take anymore. It was too much for him, but he would take anything you gave him. 

The next morning after you completely destroyed his dick, Souya woke up to your naked bodies entangled together. 

Souya blushes as he remembers  what the two of you did together last night. He thanked his lucky stars that you two did this while his brother was out because he wouldn’t hear the end of it. Since you decided to literally fuck him all over the house and fuck him dumb in the process. His entire body felt so sore as he tried to move a little. He smiled as he leaned down and kissed your temple before heading to the kitchen.  

“well you had a fun night.’’ he suddenly heard. His heart felt with dread as he turned to see his brother with his signature smile.

“oh wow she really did a number on you didn’t she.” Smiley teases him as he motions to all of the hickeys his now girlfriend left him. “ she has quite the appetite. set your ass straight?’’

Souya blushed as he turned to the fridge.

 “I-.’‘Souya he felt arms wrap around his waist before he could reply. 

“So this is where you went baby? I missed you.” you say as you feel him up. 

“ Baby, I can’t my cock is sore.’‘ hw whispered to you so Nahoya couldn't hear your conversation. Souya saw you smirked and had a familiar feeling bubble up in his stomach

“So I could just fuck your ass like I did last night.” you said as you sucked on his neck again while groping his ass shamelessly. “ you have such a good ass Souya, I want to fuck you again and again till you tap out. Till your dumb on my fingers like yesterday. So be a good little slut and get into bed because I'm not letting you out till you can’t walk and can’t think.” You say before leaving the kitchen and winking at Nahoya as you passed him.  

For the first time in the Kawata household, it was silent. No words were spoken as Souya left the kitchen after you. 

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#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers smut #souya kawata #souya kawata x reader #submale #dom female

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

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

A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 5

“She broke up with me.”

> genre : Angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 4k

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, lot of pining; explicit language; ambiguous infidelity; jjk heartbroken & crying; some wholesome flashbacks to make you swoon

previous - next

The next box arrives about a month or so later. You haven’t seen Jungkook in a while. He had been out of town, hopping from shop to shop, completing a series of long-awaited guest positions. 

He’s kept you up with his days and his appointments as much as he could, sending you dorky selfies, little videos of city landscapes you’ve never seen before, and exhausted late vocal notes made in tiny, with dragged on, mumbled words, to wish you luck and send you some courage for work. 

You did not expect that the day you’ll meet again, he’d be so different from the Jungkook you prefer and left a month ago.

It takes you a few seconds to realize. At first, you’re preoccupied with the sudden set of needles stinging your insides when you hear the peculiar sound of your front door being unlocked. There’s a very finite amount of probability that it’s not him, he's the rudest of your tiny group of friends and the only one that feels comfortable enough in your home to invite himself without any prior warning.

It’s him, your best friend and subject of too many of your both daily and nightly thoughts and preoccupations.

Once he appears in the door frame, with his heavy coat on his heavy XXL sweatshirt, in his heavy military pants, face turned down hidden by his hair, the magic thing, that grows so mysteriously quick. There’s the little explosion of warmth in your chest. The one that makes you smile tenderly without meaning to. He’s allowed to see how happy he makes you, as a friend anyway. Everybody smiles this way when he walks into a room.

Your eyes catch sight of a box, all white, that fits in his hand. Your eyes roll on reflex. You’re about to curse again. It’s not nice, you don’t want to, to attack him as soon as he returns to you but he’s asking for it, isn't he?

He’s still in the hallway, slowly slipping his shoes off, focus fixed on the present in his hand. The time he takes doing it and the seemingly seriousness you feel irradiating from his aura, confuse you.

Jungkook shakes his head twice, the way he does, kind of like a wet puppy would, before setting the box on the counter of your open kitchen.

It’s only when he starts walking towards you, that his head raises up, just a bit, enough for his eyes to meet yours through his hair. He has a tiny smile as a greeting. He looks really upset. 

He should be bouncing on the balls of his feet, he should be doing some TikTok cringe dance moves to make you laugh or yell some greetings in a dialect. He has a lot of peculiar, very Jungkook ways to celebrate meeting you again after a while. Even if neither of you has ever said the words, you do miss each other a lot when you can’t see each other, and the excitement that blooms during your reunions translates that. 

But he’s sad today. It’s obvious. 

When he takes a seat beside you on the couch, he avoids your gaze. You’re agape, watching him with probably too much insistence, a hand holding a spoon half-filled with yoghurt in the air.

These few moments are decisive. They’ll determine rather he’ll talk or not. Jungkook, for someone who cries easily, is not good with feelings and sharing them aloud. Sometimes he can, often he can’t. He’s told you not to worry about it before, that it was fine because sometimes he just didn’t need to, he just wanted a shoulder to lay his head-on. 

“You okay, Guk?”

He shrugs. You just have the time to catch his upper lip sucked in, a twinkle in his eye before he’s switching position, bumping into you and hitting his own shin against the coffee table like a giant dog, unaware of his own growth, would. Only to settle for an impressively tiny huddle against your side, cheek pressed to your shoulder. 

So that’s how it’ll be. 

It’s heartbreaking, torturesome. You always feel miserable when you know he’s sad but not knowing the reason makes it a thousand times worse. You might be the same vengeful kid you used to be. The one who’ll inquire straight away who made him cry and immediately went on her way to beat that reason up -it being another child or the troll of a tree that made him trip. 

Except you are grown-ups now. He knows he can deal with his problems on his own and he would probably not let you go and try to beat up everyone -he probably doesn’t believe you can too, even though he’d be wrong about that. 

Jungkook tears his hand out of his pocket only to mime you to turn up the volume of the television. You do so and the pretty hand is gone and if it wasn’t for his quiet sniffling and the heavy press on your side, you wouldn’t know he��s really here with you at all. 

Your heart hurts the whole duration of the shitty afternoon movie, even if having his warmth next to you helps a little. He leaves later the way he entered, mostly silently, only smiling a bit when you smooch the side of his head and squeeze his forearm in a wordless comforting effort.

Guk

Sorry for earlier

Guk

It was nice seeing you though

You

Don’t be sorry. Can you call?

Guk

Yes, in 5

The five minutes turn out to be twenty. You wonder, hoping to be wrong, how numerous those tears were that he needed twenty minutes to dry them. 

When he finally calls, voice quiet and throat dry, whispering through the phone straight in your ear, uneasiness settles deep and heavy in your stomach as you know, you were right. 

“What happened, Jungkook?”

He must not have heard you this soft and gentle for a while because you can hear a humourless chuckle you recognize as incredulity. He clears his throat a first time, inhales deep and has to clear it a second time before he can start, still choking out on a syllable or two. 

“She broke up with me.”

The gasp that escapes you, loud and obnoxious, could not have been faked. This news is hardly believable to you. First of all, because, to your greatest guilty despair, Jungkook and his girlfriend, who’ve been dating for almost a year, are probably the embodiment of The Power Couple. There’s no doubt, in all the people that know them, that they are meant to be. They look good together. They are on the same page, always, it seems. They’re beautiful and enviable, an example of a match from Heaven, healthy and aesthetic if that's even a mentionable point.

You can’t, even in your deepest, darkest fantasies, have imagined them to break up. 

But the thing that makes it all the harder to comprehend is that she is the one who did it. The girl is great. She’s beautiful, she’s smart and funny, so you heard. She has that glamour to her, with her dainty pretty milky hands and long thin milky neck, with her silky, shiny black locks wondrously floating over her shoulders. She is great, matches him well.

She is not that far behind him but she's still not Jeon-Jungkook-great.

How could she have broken up with him? Someone dumping him makes no sense to you. 

“That’s-“ You catch yourself before the words slip out clumsily. You’ve never really been talented at comforting people with words, especially a crying Jungkook which is the equivalent of your very own kryptonite. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook.” And you mean it. Even more so when you hear him snivel hard. You’ve never allowed yourself to, even just for yourself, in the quiet and discreet comfort of your own head, wish for that to happen. Because if there’s one thing that you want more than anything else, more than having him for yourself, more than your own fulfilment, it’s his happiness. And he was happy with Jiyeun. He’s got the girl he had a crush on for months and they went so well together. “But why? Did she give you a reason?”

You hate how eager you sound asking. The question is so pressing though. You wish to know so bad why, in what circumstances, Jeon Jungkook gets dumped. 

“She-“ There’s a sob he swallows back. “I know what you’ll say,” Your eyebrows dip low on reflex. You couldn’t imagine the reason. He must have really fucked up but Jungkook is not the kind to fuck up. Even when he’s annoying, even when his mindset on something turns a bit auto-centric, he’s too compassionate, he’s too considerate and loving, to suddenly stop wondering how the person facing him is feeling and act without care, hurt them, in any way. It’s just not his kind. So what did he do that even you’ll have a word to say about it. “Spare me because she’s done enough.” 

It takes another set of minutes for him to gather himself, find most of his voice back clear enough for you to decipher. You show yourself patient, not saying anything and leaving him all the time that he needs. In all honesty, in the darkness of your curtain closed bedroom, tucked comfortably in your mountain of pillows and blankets, with your phone stuck to your ear and just the quiet sound of his breathing and humming to himself to break the silence, but rock it rather than disturb it, it’s easy to be patient. Feels like an ASMR. A class A type of ASMR, his breathing to your ear could so easily lead you to sleep. 

“Yesterday, she came to welcome me back and-“ Rather than hurt, his tone sounds weakened by shame now. What the hell did he do? “She found the- the thing I brought for you today.”

The fucking idiot.

“Oh my God.” You feel instant nausea. It's not like you never thought about it. You wondered, multiple times, if she was aware that her boyfriend was buying you these. You never allowed dipping far in the questioning because what would be the point? Ultimately, it's his relationship. And it's his way of shaping your friendship. If she kept smiling pleasantly, asking politely, as she always would, how you're doing whenever you happened to cross her path, leaving his apartment, or visiting his shop, it was fine by you. It must have been fine by her. She might have known about it, or she might not, didn't really matter. Jeon Jungkook is a grown-ass man, who's allowed to make his own decisions, no matter if they make sense to you, or her, or whoever.

But he's a fucking idiot.

If she didn't know, if he didn't warn her, and now she's mad after learning about it, and he's surprised and he's sad then he's a fucking idiot.

“She asked if it was for her, I wasn’t gonna lie!” Fantastic. He's passed the shock, soaked in wrath now. That was quick.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook!"

"What?" He sounds a bit hysterical on the phone, voice rough and angry, incredulous, even mad that you might suggest he's wrong. Obviously, he already knew you'd react this way, hence the primary warning. "You're my best friend. I get to gift you whatever the fuck I want." He whisper-yells, suddenly very much aware again of the late time and the quiet calmness he'd perturbed. "She-"

"I don't think that's the issue, is it? Did she- Did you tell her that- Like, nothing was up?" You don't know how to articulate what you mean to ask. It sounds so bizarre, so irrealistic, the idea of something romantic or sexual going on between you two. It sounds so ludicrous you can't even say it. And again, you're scared to say the words. You don't know how they'll sound leaving your mouth. Suspicious, maybe revealing.

You owe to ask the question though. Because the cause of the sudden nausea comes from one surprisingly major reason, you would hate for her to hate you. To think of you as the bad guy, the massive bitch who stole her boyfriend. It shouldn't matter but it does.

"What do you mean?"

"That it was just friendly. Did you say that to her?" You stutter, largely on edge.

"Of course, I did." He doesn't seem to notice. Or to pay attention to the, evident to your ear, change in your tone. "She said that it didn't matter." You bite your tongue, along with the couple of words threatening to slide off it. Quite frankly, Jungkook is a weirdo with his own intake on the world surrounding him, she chose to date that special, in a lot of different ways, one, however, you can fairly understand that she wouldn't accept any explanation, of any kind, for this situation. "Do you get that? If she thought I was cheating, I'd understand that she'd be mad but- it's not even the case!"

You try to focus on the essence of the conversation, annihilate the faint words you can read in between the lines. The ones that say that even his girlfriend, in those strange circumstances, couldn't imagine the two of you as more than friends. Just as he couldn't. Just as you can't either.

"She knows and she's still mad. But- I do- I was just curious about it."

"About what?"

"The toys." He pouts, barely articulate like the kid he really is.

"Why didn't you get them for her, then? She's your girlfriend."

There's a pause after your words coming from him.

"She hates those." The pout sounds so thick now, in between the sniffs, you wonder if his mouth won't stay stuck in this position, like a cute permanent raspberry on his cute little dumb face. "I did once and she- threw it in my face and called me a freak."

"Jungkook." You sigh. "That explains a lot, by the way." This comment might be mainly for yourself. He doesn't need an explanation, as it seems. He doesn't seem that troubled about the whole deal, about that new hobby he's picked for himself. But you did. It's hard to simply content yourself with a "well, it is what it is" and nothing more.

He's been curious about them, couldn't buy them for Jiyeun because she wouldn't use them and make him feel guilty about his interest. He's sort of living it by procuration this way.

Now you feel guilty. He can't have found much satisfaction from your reviews if you ever have given him any. And she called him a freak. What a bitch. You wouldn't have imagined that coming from her.

Your mind is a mess.

"And it makes you happy. I see the way-" You hear the friction of tissues, the squeaking of his bed, and the deep sigh that follows when, as you picture, he finds a comfortable position on his back. "You seem much better. Less stressed and-" You cannot deny that. Even though it's partially frustrating, to think that he has this very unpleasant picture of you, of the version of you preceding the very first orgasm brought by him - sort of. You are feeling considerably better. Even if you have to force yourself not to abuse the masturbatory habits, not wishing to turn into a jerk off crazed teen like you once was when your hormones were fucking you up, it helps a lot. Sometimes it's a late-night quickie, other times a longer seance to celebrate the start of the weekend, or find force for the beginning of a new week.

"What was that again? Youthful?" You wonder aloud, an annoyingly amused smile on your face.

"Rejuvenated." He's laughing a bit. And for that, all the turmoil he's been putting you through feels fine and worth it. When you think about the heartbreaking tone of his voice when you first heard it through the phone, it eases an incredibly heavyweight to your heart, enchants you to know that he can still laugh, and you can still be the one reminding him how to. Unfortunately, his heart's just recalled how to hurt and the ache is back as quick as it pretended to leave an instant ago. "She said to never call her again." He confides with a hearable sorrow.

"She didn't mean it." It's surprisingly easy to be a good friend to him. The words you know he needs to hear not even hurting that bad.

"I don't know. We never fought like that before."

"Of course, you didn't. But it's been a year, it ought to happen at some point."

"But if she won't even let me talk to her, how am I supposed to make it better?"

"Be patient and leave her time to cool down." He sighs, already defeated. "Maybe send her a vocal note, she'll listen when she's ready.” They're awfully nice when he sends some to you. “It'll be fine." You're made to be together, probably, you should add. You could add, it might help him immensely, to dry the tears you can picture filling up his eyes. It's a little too much though. You're not that strong of a masochist to force this on you.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do. Don't worry too much." He can't. His heavy silence precisely screams that. "Do you wanna come to my island? I'll let you run in my flowers if you want."

It makes him laugh once again. The lovely, most satisfying sound to your ear.

"That's sweet of you." And it is, extremely sweet of you. If there's one thing that you despise is him sprinting through the mindfully planted flower beds of your Animal Crossing island. It pisses you off. Even more so when he does it by accident than on purpose, because this shit happens way too often. And now, you're allowing him to do so. You're definitely too good at being his friend. "It's fine though. Turnips sell at 138 on mine if you're interested."

It's your turn to be laughing now. You love how even with his heartbroken, upset and crying, he still picks up his Switch to check where's the turnips' stock at.

"Jungkook." I adore you.

You have for seemingly ever. Since the very first time you met.

You'd never forget it. How you almost passed out from laughing because of the street sign that nearly knocked him unconscious. His forehead was already bruising dark, eyes unfocused and shiny with tears. You didn't mean to laugh but he was adorable and funny, and even if you felt guilty for enjoying it, people don't run their faces into street signs every day. You called it in your own head a miracle.

He had to sit for a little while from how dizzy he felt. His ears were burning with embarrassment too, your uncontrollable giggling not helping. He just sat there, on a bench you had dragged him to, hands tucked in the pocket of his sweatshirt, waiting for you to allow him to leave.

The kid stood unbalanced the four times he tried to walk and even if at eleven, you had nothing close to a doctoral degree, you still felt like it was wrong to just let him stumble his way back home straight away. You had to hold him hostage for a little while. You had shared your homemade cookies with him, the ones you hid deep in your bag for you didn't want anyone to ask for a bite at school. You made him drink the whole content of your water bottle because drinking water is never an unhealthy thing to do, therefore, it felt like a good idea.

He was so shy that your own timidness quieted down enough to allow you to make conversation to him. Or more accurately talk over the silence and distract him. He giggled a lot and smiled with cute bunny teeth. Kept saying thank you for every bit of cookies you'd given him and once you had walked him home and he arrived safe and sound, he bowed very low, apologized and thanked you again.

You thought it'd be the end of it. He pretended to be going to the same school as you but you had never seen him also he was a few years younger.

The next day, and every single day after that, at recess, he would appear out of nowhere. Wearing his adorable smile, and a tint of red on his ears, a bunch of homemade cookies of his own filling up his pockets. As a puppy would, he'd follow you around with a certain distance until you waved him over, rolling your eyes, because if he was going to stick by your side, he might as well actually play with you.

The most precious friendship you have ever experienced bloomed from this seed. A friendship, at the start, mainly based on a shared interest for very sugary treats, marbles, and that common memory of him eating shit in this street sign. You didn't mean to remind him, it made him flush furiously each time and you were not that cruel, but you couldn't help bursting out in laughter whenever you'd walk home -with him or alone- and pass that sign. It's your favourite spot in your home town. You never miss an occasion to take a selfie for him whenever you go to visit your parents.

It's hard to define the moment your feelings, once purely platonic, changed. But there's a memory that feels notably significant.

A guy made you fall. A useless asshole, who in retrospect was not even worth a single crumble of your time. You were confused. As you often get, without really knowing why. Maybe it's just you, maybe it's for everyone the same. People start by being too good in your eyes, too good for you not to give them your all, and maybe build pyramides upon pyramides of expectations.

Until they're not anymore.

Suddenly, they hurt your feelings. They suck ass and you felt so invested emotionally, way too invested for it to be any kind of healthy, and their very human selves harm you straight in the heart, where it is the most painful.

It didn't feel like a mistake this time. Like any of the other times, at the beginning, of course, otherwise, it wouldn't catch you again and again.

You fell hard and it's Jungkook who picked you up. He had cooked for you, one of his mother's infamous recipes because he knew you wouldn't even bother eating otherwise. He had held you close. He had kissed the top of your head, your cheeks and your eyelids when a diehard tear had slipped. He had called you baby and sunshine and his little kitten. Had showered you in an unfamiliar type of loving. Something so soft, so tender and warm. Hands firm when they'd wrapped around you and pulled you in. Fingers gentle when they'd brush the hair out of your face. He took care of you, made you feel good in ways no one has ever had. You had not known him to be like that. Suddenly, he really felt like a man when he touched you, when he talked to you. He wasn't only a dorky little overgrown baby anymore. He was a man, shaped like one but also able to act like one. Able to take care of a woman, please one you were sure of it. And suddenly, you wanted, so desperately, to be that woman. To have the same free access you had on his usual candid-self, on this newly met man.

Of course, it's too ludicrous for you to ever act on it. But deep down, a naive tiny voice kept claiming, in the back of your mind, that you could spoil him. Very few people in this world know him the way you do, surely, no one can please him the way you could.

Guk

She listened to my note!!!

Guk

She said she'll make me miss her a bit more and then she'll call

It took less than a day for her to give him a sign. You're not surprised. It's hard not to miss him. You're not surprised but somehow, still, disappointed.

A/N: tadam!! i needed to include some flashbacks because i know my fellow f2l addicts just adore these, also, i just can’t get over writing kookie as a cute kid.

Guess what guys? there is only one chapter to go *sweats profusely* I- am worried. I hope you keep enjoying it and will enjoy the rest. :] For now, let me know your thoughts. I hope you have a sweet, lazy Sunday and wish you a lovely, peacful week! bises!

As always please ask to be tagged for the final chapter on this post

#btswriterscollective #networkbangtan #ggukienet #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #my writing

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Fake Dating Drabble No. 3

Today with Javier Peña (x OFC) who told Connie he had a (non existent) girlfriend so she stops setting him up on dates. Big thanks to @ladyreapermc​ for the idea 😘😘😘

Steph’s fake dating Drabble week

This is like 1.7k so not really a Drabble but 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: alcohol, cursing

He was fucked. Why the fuck did he agree to bring his girlfriend to the weekly Sunday dinner at the Murphy’s? The very much not real girlfriend he lied about because he didn’t want Connie to set him up with another nurse or doctor from the hospital she worked in.

He loved Connie, he really did. But sometimes she didn’t know when to stop.

“Don’t you want to settle down Javier? You’re not getting any younger,” she had asked.

“I have this very nice doctor friend at the hospital. She’s American and very intelligent and single…” Connie had started. He knew where this was going.

“Connie. I appreciate it but…” Javier looked at Steve who looked suspicious at him.

“I have a girlfriend. So you can stop setting me up on dates, okay?” He thought he had heard the last of it.

“You bring your girlfriend next week yeah?” Connie had asked, very much not about to take no for an answer as the Murphy’s walked him to the door. Javi had looked at Steve who almost cried silent tears to suppress his laughter.

“I don’t know…”

“See you next Sunday Javier. Let me know if she’s allergic to anything, yeah?” Connie smiled as she hugged him goodbye.

“Yeah…” he sighed. Connie went back inside, leaving Steve and him standing outside.

“So that girlfriend of yours…”

“Fuck you, Steve,” Javi hissed, making Steve chuckle.

“Don’t think about bringing one of your… Informants yeah? She’s gonna figure that out immediately.”

Javier turned around, giving Steve the finger as he walked back to his apartment.

It was Saturday and he still had no fucking idea who to bring. Javier wasn’t someone who had many friendships. The only real friend he really had was with Steve. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone. And he wouldn’t be any help. That fucker had teased him the whole week.

“Another one?” Mary asked. Javier found himself sitting at the counter of his favorite bar. It was getting close to midnight.

“You trying to get me drunk, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, looking up at the woman in front of him.

“You wish, Peña. I’m only this nice because you tip well,” she grinned, filling his glass. Javier kept looking at her. He didn’t know much about Mary. Only that she came to Colombia for a job that she quit after 6 months because the boss was harassing her. She started out working shifts at the bar. She was younger than him, but only by a couple of years. She was hilarious, intelligent and beautiful. It was like a lamp went on in his slightly drunk brain.

“You okay there, Javier? Is there something in my face?” she asked when he just kept looking at her.

“I need you to be my girlfriend,” Javier said.

“Excuse me?” she asked with big eyes.

“Fuck. Shit. It’s perfect. You’re perfect…” he ran a hand through his hair, his other hand grabbing the package of cigarettes, bringing one to his lips.

“Okay no more whiskey for you. I’m gonna call you a cab,” she shook her head at him.

“No… Let me explain. Fuck I shouldn’t drink that much.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for a year,” she teased and he grinned.

“And you’re right. Anyway. I need a date.”

“The brothel is right down the street.”

“No. Wow. Fuck you’re mean. No. I need a date because I told Connie that I have a girlfriend so she stops nagging me to settle down or set me up on dates with every woman in Bogotá she knows.” He explained. Mary looked at him before she burst out in laughter, gathering a few confused looks from the people around her.

“Sorry…” she shook her head, trying to stop herself from laughing.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Javier smirked, his cigarette almost out.

“Javier I saw you leave with another woman only two days ago. How would that even work?”

“That’s not a no,” Javier grinned and she sighed.

“It’s not a yes either.”

“Well… You’d only have to pretend. Connie likes you. Steve knows I’m lying so…”

“So... Why not tell Connie that you lied?”

“You know Connie…” he groaned. Mary looked at him, the man who somehow became her favorite customer because he was the only one not trying to get her to fuck him. And now he was asking her to play his girlfriend. She shook her head.

“You better tipping me really, really good, Peña.”

Mary was at his place 15 minutes early. She even had put a dress on. The food better was worth it. Javier opened the door after the third knock and she grinned.

“Hi babe,” she teased, walking past him.

“I’m regretting this already,” he muttered, trying not to let his eyes wander down her body, but failing miserably. He had never seen her in a dress, let alone anything that made her body look so… so…

“So how do we do this?” she turned around and Javier looked up into her eyes.

“Well, I’m a very physical man…”

“Is that your way of telling me that you won’t keep your hands to yourself?” she raised one eyebrow.

“Well it has to appear real…” he smirked. She bit her lip, looking at him as she crossed her arms in front of her. He fought the urge to look at her cleavage as she shamelessly checked him out.

“If you get too handsy, I will break your fingers,” she clarified.

“What is too handsy?” he asked with a smirk. She walked towards him, her hands on his chest as she blinked up at him.

“I think you know what’s too handsy, Agent Peña,” she winked and he shakily breathed out. Shit. Were her eyes always this bright green?

“You wanna kiss me, Javi?” she whispered with a small smile.

“You want me to?” he asked hoarsely. She chuckled before she shook her head, patting his chest twice, and parted from him.

“I’m starving, let’s go!”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that it’s Mary you’re dating,” Connie was sitting on the couch next to Steve who had the time of his life. He had to give it to Javier, he really did try hard. Mary was lovely. And funnily she would be just what Javi needed and the longer the night progressed the more Steve noticed the way Javi was looking at her. If Steve didn’t know better he would really buy it.

“So Javier ended up shitfaced at the bar and I took him home…” Mary told Connie and Javier rolled his eyes. That really did happen and she had been giving him shit about it for the last three months.

“And before I left him to sleep, he drunkenly asked me to be his girlfriend to which I only laughed and went out. Turns out he was genuine about it.” The way Mary lied without blinking an eye towards Connie who seemed smitten was unbelievable to Javi.

“Well, children and people who drink do speak the truth…” Connie teased. She patted Steve’s thigh. “Come one honey, I need your help in the kitchen.” Steve leaned in, kissing Connie on the cheek as he helped her up and they went to the kitchen.

“You are really selling this, Hermosa. Might think that you have thought about it before.”

“Well you were very affectionate when I brought you home that night,” she turned around to face him. Somehow they had gotten closer and closer over the evening. She was leaning against his shoulder, his arm around her waist, his fingers brushing over her thigh. He had noticed the goosebumps on her arms everytime he got closer.

“I didn’t do anything more….”

“Inappropriate than this?” she gestured around with a smile. “No. No you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled softly at her. He felt himself grow warm at the look in her eyes. Fuck. No. No. No. No. He reached to brush a stray of hair behind her ear and she smiled back at him. She shuddered when she felt his fingers brush over her cheek. Javier was a really beautiful man the longer she looked at him. There was a dimple on his cheek when he smiled at her. It was kinda cute. The thought that she wanted to kiss it crossed her mind. What? Kissing? Javier?

“Don’t break my fingers…” he whispered as he leaned in. He stopped inches from her lips and she gulped, breathing deeply before she softly pressed her lips on his. It was like she was hot and cold at the same time as their lips met and Javi sighed. He pulled her closer, his lips moving over hers.

A cough let them part from another and they both looked up at Steve who was holding a tray of what looked like a chocolate mousse with a teasing grin on his lips.

“Not. A word,” Javier hissed at him, making Steve chuckle, while Mary tried to control her breathing. Shit, she wanted more. More of Javi. More of his lips, his hands, his….

Javi grabbed her hand and she looked at him as he mouthed the word later before Connie walked in.

They said their goodbyes an hour later, waving at the Murphy’s.

“Be safe kids,” Steve called after them and Javi, again, gave him the finger while his other hand held Mary’s. When they were standing in front of Javi’s apartment they both sighed.

“Well this was certainly very interesting,” Mary had a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah. You could say that,” Javi said.

“You think she bought it?”

“Oh definitely. You… you were perfect.”

They stood in front of each other, both not really wanting to leave.

“So…” Mary said, sucking her bottom lip in. She looked into his eyes, only quickly to his lips and she caught him doing the same.

“I should get home….” she whispered. Javi nodded.

“I’ll drive you,” he said. She nodded but didn’t move.

“Or..”

“Or?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Or you could kiss me again,” she smiled and Javi sighed relieved before his arms pulled her close and his lips crashed down on hers.

#drabble #my writing #steph writes drabbles #pedro pascal #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x ofc #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fake dating drabbles #fake dating

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #not my gif #credit to owner

[superbadassnatural]

Not Friends

Summary: It’s time for a wedding! Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean needs someone to pretend to be his girlfriend in front of his family. Good thing his friend Y/N is willing to help. Pairing: Dean x Reader // Sam x Jess Word count: 8,846 Warnings: fluff, fake dating, nudity (but it’s barely there), waxing A/N: this was writen for “SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge” hosted by the darling @supernatural-jackles. There are 7 prompts in this one and they’re all in bold. Hope y’all enjoy!

“I still don’t get why you asked me to do this. I’m not a professional,” you mumbled. “Since it’s the first time you’re doing this, you  really should’ve gone to a professional.”

“I know, I know,” Jess sighed, taking another gulp of the wine. “I lost track of time and forgot to set an appointment. It’s just that Sam is planning something special for this weekend. I wanted to look nice.”

“You’ve been together for nearly five years, Jess. The guy asked you to marry him. And knowing him, he doesn’t mind if you wax or trim or do nothing down there.”

“I know he doesn’t. But I’m not just doing this for him. I’m doing this for me,” she said. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” you shrugged. “Alright, now lay down.”

Jess did as told, placing her glass on the nightstand. She was naked from the waist down, a white towel covered her lady bits. You could see it on her face that she was nervous. It would be better if she was a little drunk for you to do this.

“Move the towel so we can get going,” you asked, holding a popsicle with a large blob of yellow wax.

She gritted her teeth and her breath was caught in her throat when you spread the burning wax over the top of her mound. Jess clenched her eyes shut.

“We shouldn’t do this. I’m already regretting it.”

“You’ll be fine, Jess. Trust me.”

Jess took in a deep breath, relaxing a little.

“Before I do this, I need you to know that I have always loved you,” you said before pulling the strip off.

“Fuck!” She nearly screamed, sitting up straight.

“Here,” you offered her the bottle of wine. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

“It wasn’t that bad?” Her blue eyes widened. “It was worse than I expected.”

“You know that we’re not finished, right?”

“I know,” she cried, taking another gulp of the whine and finishing the bottle.

Jess laid back and you repeated the process. She winced once again.

“And to think I was gonna ask you to be my maid of honor.”

“You were what?” You exclaimed.

“Well, I was gonna ask you properly next week and it was gonna be beautiful, but I guess I ruined everything.”

“I can’t believe you chose me to be your maid of honor,” you couldn’t stop the big smile to spread over your lips, happy tears welled in your eyes.

“Really?” She smiled. “I thought it was kinda obvious.”

“Of course not! I was sure you were gonna ask one of your sisters.”

“Y/N, we both know that none of them would be able to help organize a wedding.”

“I’m truly honored, Jess,” you hugged her. “God, you’re gonna have the wedding of your dreams.”

“I love you, Y/N/N.”

“I love you too.”

Three years ago, Sam proposed to Jess. You still remember the day when she came running to your place to tell you everything and show the beautiful diamond ring on her finger. She was truly happy. Her blue eyes held a glisten you had never seen before. You were happy for her.

Jess wanted a big wedding. She had enough money to throw a magnificent ceremony. Sam was a bit worried about how they would afford it so they decided to wait to get married. They worked out on a budget and started saving money. Both of them had established jobs; Sam as a lawyer and Jess as a prosecutor. They saved enough money to have their dream wedding. Twice.

You helped Jess organize everything. You hired one of the best wedding planners in the U.S. and they were perfect. Jess was on cloud nine. She still had some stress, but in the end, she reminded herself that everything would be okay. She was nervous people wouldn’t come because it was a destination wedding. Sam and Jess picked Maui, Hawaii for their ceremony. More specifically, Makena Cove Beach. So she saved extra money to pay for the guests’ staying at a resort. It was a damn expensive wedding.

Jess was born into a wealthy family. They never had to worry about money. Good thing they weren’t snobs. Her parents insisted on paying for hers and the bridesmaids’ dresses. They paid yours too. They even wanted to pay for Sam’s tuxedo, but John and Mary wouldn’t have it. Her parents wanted to help. Their oldest daughter was getting married and they wanted to give her everything. It was nice of them. Jess and Sam were glad for their willingness to help, but they also wanted to be more independent and bear the expenses.

Sam wasn’t born into a rich family, but the Winchesters weren’t poor either. John owned a law firm in Lawrence and Mary owned a bakery. They couldn’t assist as much as Jess’ parents, but they managed to help out anyway.

October 24th was getting closer and closer. You were so excited about their wedding day. Seeing them so radiant was priceless. They deserved all the happiness in the world. With less than one week left for the ceremony, you had to do the last touch-ups for the reception. That includes finishing your speech.

You had never thought you’d enjoy organizing a wedding this much. Thanks to you and the bridesmaid team, Jess had an epic bachelorette party. And poor Sam had to deal with the bachelor party Dean threw for him. It was a nice party, of course, but Sam wasn’t the kind of guy that enjoyed being around strippers. The bridal shower was fun too and she got lots of nice gifts.

Dean, the best man and your best friend, was doing everything he could to support his brother. He even went out with Sam to buy his tuxedo.

“Hey Claire,” you grinned walking into the car shop.

“Hi Y/N,” she smiled. “Dean said you were coming. He’s in the back.”

“Thanks, darling.”

Winchester’s Auto Shop. Dean was passionate about cars since he was a little kid. He became a mechanic and after years of hard work, he opened his own shop. You were proud of him. Seeing him conquer so much in his life only made you love your best friend even more.

“Hey you,” grinning, you spotted Dean underneath his car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, struggling with whatever he was doing to the muscle car.

“Why are you working on Baby?” You nudged his feet.

“Had to replace the pipe,” he said before standing up to meet you. His grey shirt and denim jeans covered in grease. “And done.”

Your fingers trailed over the shining hood. Dean circled the car and started the engine. The impala roared to life, a purr following.

“There you go, Baby,” a wide smile spread on his lips. He turned off the ignition and took a step back, contemplating the beauty of his most precious possession. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yeah, Dean, she is,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, why did you call me here?”

“We can talk in my office,” he suggested. “With chairs and AC.”

You nodded and followed him to his office. He opened the door and you rushed to the comfortable chair in front of his desk. There was something about his office that was very homey. It made you feel at ease.

Dean headed to the mini-fridge and picked a couple of beers for the two of you. He sat on his desk, handing your beverage. You frowned at him, taking a gulp. He seemed tense.

“Alright, Winchester, spill.”

“I, uh, I know this kinda seems out of the blue and that I should’ve talked to you sooner, but,” he stopped his rambling and only made you more anxious.

“But?” You arched your eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I just need you to do this one little thing for me,” his pleading green eyes held your gaze.

“And that is…”

“Fake date me?” His lips curled into a weak smile as his brows furrowed, voice full of uncertainty.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “But why?”

“My parents are gonna be at Sam’s wedding and I don’t want them to pick on me for not having someone, you know?” His eyes fell to his lap, the beer in his hand untouched. “I mean, Sam’s their youngest and he’s getting married. I don’t even have a girlfriend. ‘Sides, you know everything there is to know about me so it would be easier for them to buy it. You sure you wanna do it?”

“I’m sure, Dean,” you smiled at him, placing your hand over his. Green eyes looked up to meet you. “There’s nothing wrong about being single at your age. And if your parents think otherwise, screw them.”

“Thanks, Y/N/N.”

“You’re lucky, you know?”

“And why’s that?” He took a large gulp of his beer.

“You’re gonna get to kiss me anytime you want,” you shrugged. “Just a heads up, people say I’m a pro at that.”

“Guess I’m gonna have to find that out myself,” he winked at you.

A comfortable silence fell in the room. Both of you nursed your beers isolated in your worlds.

“Did you finish your speech?” You asked.

“Yeah. It turned out really good actually. Did you finish yours?”

“Not yet,” you sighed. “I’m still trying to figure out how not to cry when I read it.”

Dean chuckled, standing up and putting on his blue flannel.

“I’m done for the day. Do you need a ride?” You nodded in response. “You going to Rocky’s or home?”

“Rocky’s,” you sighed in frustration as you headed to the door. “Gotta make up for the time Pam is gonna cover for me.”

“I thought you were gonna close the bar while we are in Hawaii.”

“I was, but Pam thought it was better to keep it open. She has way more experience in running a bar so I decided to go by her.”

Dean opened the door to the impala for you before getting behind the steering wheel. He turned the ignition and Baby’s loud purr filled your ears.

“I don’t get why we’re traveling tomorrow already,” he whined. “The wedding is only Saturday. We could hop on the plane on Thursday.”

“C’mon, I’m the maid of honor. In case anything goes wrong, I’m there,” you explained. “And you, Winchester, are the best man. You gotta help me.”

The ride to the bar was mostly quiet, saved for the sound of one of Dean’s cassettes. The night was falling and you were glad the bar closed at 10pm tonight. Dean pulled up in the driveway. You couldn’t find it in you to get out of the car and go to work. Monday nights were always dead and that’s way worse than having a busy night. The time just didn’t seem to pass.

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you smiled. “Thanks, Dean,” you leaned and pecked his stubbled cheek.

“Take care, sweetheart.”

You hopped out of the car, making your way to the bar. Every time he dropped you off at work or at home, he’d wait for you to come in then he’d head out. Tonight was no different.

“Y/N,” you turned and found Dean leaning on his seat. “Do you want to meet me at the airport or I pick you up and we head to the airport?”

“Pick me up,” you smiled. “Eight sharp, Dean.”

“Alrighty,” his lips curled into a smile. “Night, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean-o.”

————

“Ugh, I’m so, so tired,” you grumbled, plopping down onto the airplane seat.

“Hmm, me too.”  

Dean reclined his chair, his eyes were already closed. The plane hadn’t even taken off and he was almost asleep.

“Dean,” your voice was ever so soft.

“Hmm,” he blinked an eye open to take a peek at your pleading face.

“I’m cold.”

“Alright, c’mere,” he sneaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to his body. Your head laying on his chest. “Better?”

“Better.”

“You aren’t cold, are you?”

“Not really,” you chuckled. “Just love some snuggle before falling asleep. And I know that planes make you uncomfortable. So I hope this helps.”

“It does,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Now go to sleep.”

You and Dean slept through almost the entire flight. You called a cab and made your way to the resort you were staying at. Sam and Jess wanted to pay for yours and Dean’s stay, but you insisted on paying yourselves. They would already cover for most of the guests either way. Money would be a little tight this month, but it was worth it. It was your best friend’s wedding for Christ’s sake.

“Are you sure we’re at the right place?” You asked Dean as you both stood awestruck in front of the resort with your bags in hands.

“Uh-huh,” he swallowed thickly.

“This is so fancy. I don’t think I know how to behave in a place like this.”

“I don’t think I do either,” he chuckled.

You went to the reception and got the keys to your room. A gasp left your lips as you stepped inside. The room seemed to shine before your eyes. It was out of this world. The sprawling leather couch in front of the fifty inches tv had your breath hitching in your throat.  

“Oh my God, look at this view,” you let go of the bags and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The palm trees and the crystal blue water were a sight to behold. Sam and Jess had picked a beautiful place to get married.

“Y/N, come here,” Dean called from where you assumed to be the bathroom.

“Wow,” your eyes widened as they landed on the enormous bathtub. “I could easily drown in there.”

Your fingers roamed over the counter. Everything was in marble and hand-crafted tiles. Everything was magnificent and fancy. As well as the bath, the power shower was huge. Oh, the jacuzzi.

“I’m never leaving this room,” said Dean. “Sam can find another best man.”

“See? That’s one of the reasons why we came earlier.”

The cream Egyptian cotton sheets covering the king-sized bed made it difficult not to jump on and take a nap. You set on the edge, your body almost melting.

“Oh god, it’s memory foam.”

Dean’s lips curled into a smile as he watched you close your eyes. You were enjoying way too much. Your palms were flat on the mattress, taking in all its softness.

“I can sleep on the couch if you want,” he suggested.

“Don’t be silly. This bed is big enough for both of us. Plus, it’s not gonna be the first time we share a bed, fake boyfriend,” you shot him a wink. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna hop in the shower. I’m disgusting.”

“You go,” he nodded. “I’ll text Sam to let them know we arrived safe.”

“You do that,” you smiled, picking your clothes from the suitcase. “Also, can you call the ceremonial? Let her know that we’re here and we’d like to meet her today,” you asked before entering the bathroom. 

“Will do.”

Steam filled the room as you cut the shower on. The water poured on your body, massaging your tense muscles. You bathed quickly. You had a lot of things to do before Sam and Jess arrived.

The afternoon flew by you. Barbara, the ceremonial, had everything perfectly mapped out. Her team would arrive on Thursday. That would give them plenty of time to wrap up the last details of the rehearsal dinner and the ceremony.

You and Dean finished your speeches. It would be hard to hold back the tears. You spent the rest of the day mostly in the room. Both of you were still too tired to wander around the resort. The following morning, after having a delicious breakfast, you and Dean explored the resort.

Turned out that Dean isn’t that good at the tennis table. At least now you had something to hold against him. Then he kicked your ass at pool and darts. That wasn’t nice.

You spent most of the afternoon at the pool. Dean was a bit annoyed at first because he didn’t want to apply sunscreen. He said he didn’t need it. Boy, that pissed you off. If he wanted to look like a shrimp at his brother’s wedding, then he didn’t need it after all. Dean could be as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to. But he gave in and applied it. He was even embarrassed to ask you to apply it on his back.

Sam and Jess were on their way. You were excited about their arrival. You couldn’t wait to show her around the resort. Unfortunately, they arrived late at night. You just stopped by their room to check on them before going to bed. They were extremely tired. They had worked all morning and flew by lunchtime.

Dean was in bed, searching through the channels when you stepped into the room. His hair was a little wet, spiking in multiple directions. You plopped yourself down beside him, already in your pajamas.

“My mom and dad are on the plane right now,” he grumbled, his eyes fixated on the screen.

“That’s good.”

“They’re gonna be here tomorrow morning,” Dean added. “And they want to have lunch. You, me, Sam and Jess.”

“Guess it’s happening then, huh?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Do they know that you’re ’with’ me?” you glanced up at him.

“Mmhmm,” he turned his attention to you. “I didn’t say your name ‘cause I knew there was a chance you wouldn’t want to do this.”

“Guess I’m gonna meet your parents, boyfriend,” you grinned.

“You are,” Dean chuckled and you yawned.

“Good night, Dean,” you pressed a light kiss to his cheek.

“Night, sweetheart.”

You turned on your stomach, right leg hiking up as the other stood straight. Your arm was tucked under the pillow. The room went completely quiet as Dean turned off the tv. You found it odd that he remained sat instead of going to sleep.

“Y/N/N?” His voice was unsure and as quiet as a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You awake?”

“No, I’m dead,” Dean shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. “What’s up, Dean?” You turned on your back to face him. He laid on his side and you did the same.

“You sure you wanna do this?”

“I’m sure, Dean,” you reassured him, fingers making their way to play with his hair. “It’s bad that I’m gonna lie to your parents the first time I meet them. But I’m doing this for you. Don't overthink this, Dean.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Oh, I don’t think I do,” you teased.

“Ah, shut up,” he chuckled.

“I love you too.”

“I know you do,” he smiled, his warm hand came up to your cheek, knuckles caressing your skin. A trail of goosebumps wandering through your body. “Sleep tight, sweetheart,” his lips met your forehead, lingering a little bit longer than usual.

He turned his back to you, shifting in his sleeping position. His hand reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. You were facing the back of his head, breath still caught in your throat. You shook your head and turned to your side, waiting for the sleepiness that seemed to have faded.

Sunshine invaded the room. The curtains didn’t put any resistance on keeping the room dark. The orange glow made you clamp your eyes, before fluttering it open. You blinked a few times to adjust to the bright daylight. A heavyweight in your middle made you frown. Then you became more aware of your surroundings and realized what it was. Dean’s arm was draped over your waist, his knees tucked into yours. His chest was pressed flush to your back. You took in deep breaths. It was not the first time you’d shared a bed. But he has never been this close.

“Morning,” his voice sounded hoarse from sleep. Dean nuzzled into your neck, a shiver ran down your spine, his arm tightening around you.

“Good morning,” you beamed, voice a little husky.

“Don’t wanna get up,” he whined.

“Me neither,” you mumbled. “But I’ve got so much to do today.”

“No, you don’t. You have lunch with my parents and rehearsal dinner tonight. Other than that you’re free to spend the whole morning asleep.”

“Yeah, but I can’t. I’ve gotta talk to Jess about some things. Especially about our fake dating thing.”

“I’ve told Sam so she probably already knows.”

“You’re right,” you nodded. “Thank god I was able to set up a massage session for us after lunch.”

“We’re getting a massage?” You couldn’t see, but you were sure his eyes had lightened up like a Christmas tree.

“Not us, silly,” you chuckled. “Me and Jess.”

“You’re the worst.”

“If I had set it up for us, you’d hit on the masseuse and turn that into porn.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” his voice raised about an octave. “I would fall asleep the second she touched me.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, you would,” you scoffed.

“Why can’t we just go back to sleep? I’m tired,” he pleaded, burying his face in the curve of your neck. “You’re so comfy.”

He pulled you closer to him. Your body tensed as you felt a hardness against your ass.

“Dean, you, uh,” he noticed you stiffen in his hold.

“Oh, crap,” he pulled away as if your skin burned him. “Shit. Sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay. That’s normal, Dean. I know it wasn’t on purpose or because you were, uh, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I mean it,” you smiled sympathetically. “Now go get changed so we can have breakfast. I promised Jess I’d meet her in an hour.”

Sam decided to have breakfast with you while Jess was at a yoga class. Since they’d decided on a date to get married, Jess started to hit the gym and go to yoga classes. She wanted to be in her best shape on her wedding day. It wound up becoming more of a way to relieve stress than anything else.

“Have you two come up with a story for mom and dad?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?” Dean frowned at his brother, stuffing the last bite of his croissant in his mouth.

“They’re gonna ask you how you met, how long you met each other, how long you’ve been together, where’d you go on your first date-“

“Nah, they’re not gonna ask,” Dean shook his head. “They’re gonna focus on you and Jess.”

“Dude, you only introduced them to a girl once. And that was a long time ago. Of course, they’re gonna want to know more of you and Y/N. Take it from me. When I brought Jess home, mom wouldn’t stop asking questions. You know how she gets excited.”

“Leave it for me,” you said after taking a sip of your coffee. “I’m good at improv.”

“Your stories need to match.”

“I’m just gonna tell them the truth and change some bits. Add more romance. And voila. Dean and Y/N’s love story.”

“If you blow it, I’m gonna tell them you brainwashed me,” Dean warned you.

“Chill, Dean-o,” you bumped his shoulder. “I got everything under control.”

———

“Mom and dad, this is Y/N,” Dean motioned to you.

“Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Mary squealed, wrapping her arms around. Your eyes widened at her reaction. She squeezed you and you hugged her back.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Winchester.”

“Oh, please, call me Mary,” she said, pulling away and offering you a smile.

“So we finally meet the great Y/N, huh,” John grinned, a heat crept on your cheeks.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” you smiled.

“Call me John, kid.”

“Right.”

Dean pulled out the chair for you to sit and sat beside you. Mary and John were at each head of the table.

“Oh, Y/N, we heard so much about you,” Mary smiled.

“You did?” Your surprise couldn’t even be hidden. You glanced at Dean and he shrugged with a head tilt.

“Of course we did. This guy wouldn’t stop talking about you so it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“You got him wrapped around your finger, kiddo,” said John.

You smiled sheepishly. The table fell into a comfortable silence as you looked through te menu, deciding to have the same as Dean.

“Sam, are you nervous about tomorrow?” Mary grinned.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Jess’ eyes shone every time she mentioned her wedding.

“Jess, I can’t wait to see your dress,” Mary grinned.

“Oh, it’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve seen it?” Mary’s blue eyes widened at you.

“Not only have I seen it, but I was there when she bought it. You’re gonna love it.”

“Y/N is my maid of honor.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“We’ve known each other since kindergarten. She was the one to introduce me to Sam,” she smiled. “She’s my other half.”

Jess extended her hand across the table, linking your fingers.

“Hey!” Sam feigned offense. She chuckled and pecked his lips into a sweet kiss.

“Dean, honey, you’re awfully quiet today,” his mom said softly.

Dean looked up from his dish, his mouth full. Smiling at him, you reached for his hair. His shoulders were tense and he had barely said a word since you sat to eat.

“Oh, he’s just afraid you’re gonna like me better than him.”

Everyone laughed and you heard a small chuckle escape his lips. He was tense and even a little nervous. You could understand that. Dean was afraid his parents wouldn’t buy your story. That would be the worst.

The table was filled with laughter. Mary did most of the talking. She asked Sam and Jess a lot of questions about their wedding. You could hear how happy she was from the way she talked. You were surprised she didn’t question you about your relationship with Dean.

“So, Y/N,” Mary turned to you.

“Oh boy, here we go,” you straighten your posture, taking a deep breath. Everyone laughed at your response.

“Please, Y/N, tell me about you and Dean. I need all the details,” her pleading blue eyes only made a stain of guilt appear on your stomach. “No, not all the details. Those you can keep to yourself.”

“Mom,” Dean nearly whined, a shade of pink coloring his cheeks.

“Ugh, gross,” John chuckled.

“Where can I start…” you needed to articulate your thoughts so the story would be convincing enough for them to believe. “About six years ago, I was driving home from my parents' house and my car broke down. I called… what was the name again?” You asked Dean.

“Jamie’s auto shop.”

“Right. I called James's auto shop and waited for the guy. The guy took way too long. It was dark and there was no one on the road. I thought I was gonna be eaten by wolves-“

“Just to be clear, there are no wolves in Lebanon, Kansas,” he interrupted you.

“You don’t know that,” you spat at him and he shrugged. “As I was saying, the guy took so long I thought he was coming on foot. It turned down he wasn’t. He was just driving like my grandma,” Dean had to bite down a laugh as he shook his head. “Then he climbed out of the car. The moment I saw those piercing green eyes, I knew I was a goner. And all those things you see in movies like the heart beating out of your chest, butterflies in your stomach. I felt all that stuff. And he was a gentleman. He made sure to drive me home. He fixed my car and gave me a really nice discount.”

“Are you telling me that it took him six years to introduce you to us?” Mary’s blue eyes were wide under arched brows.

“If it makes you feel better it took him five years to ask me on a date,” you shrugged.

Mary kept on asking about yours and Dean’s relationship. Some things were easier to answer. Others not much. Your palms started to sweat when questions started to get a little more personal. She wanted to know more about you. She asked about your family and what you did for a living. Your voice started to waver. You didn’t want to tell her that you owned a bar. A part of you feared what she’d think of you once you told her about your job. Hell, not even your parents liked the idea. What would she think of you? And why did you feel like you needed her approval?

“I, uh, I-“ you couldn’t find the words to say, your mind was hazy and your thoughts seemed to have disappeared.

Dean must have noticed because you felt a warm hand reaching for your thigh. His touch was reluctant, but soothing. He squeezed your skin softly, reminding you that he was there.

“C’mon, mom. It’s been years since I presented you to a girl and now you’re trying to scare her off?” His arm sneaked around your back, bringing your body closer to his. “This one was so damn hard to find. And there’s still time for her to get sick of me and dump me. But you’re not gonna do that, right sweetheart?” You shook your head, a smile spreading over your lips. “Good,” Dean pressed a kiss to your temple and you relaxed instantly.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Mary apologized.

“It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you want.”

“But not today,” Dean stared at his mother, his voice almost sounded like a warning. “Hell, ask Jess all the questions. She can’t run away from Sam anymore. I mean, technically she still can-“

“Dude, don’t give her any ideas,” Sam played along.

“Anyways, it was lovely to meet you guys, but Y/N and I have a couples massage session in one hour back at the resort. We should get going,” Dean lied, he wanted to get you out of there as soon as possible. He was afraid his parents would make you uncomfortable again.

You hugged them and headed out of the restaurant. John and Mary would head back to their hotel while Sam and Jess were going to meet the ceremonial. They needed to go over a few things for the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Do you want me to call a cab or do you want to walk back to the resort?” He asked.

“We can walk,” you shrugged.

“Okay,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ve had it worse,” you brushed it off as if it didn’t matter.

“Of course it’s not fine. She shouldn’t have asked you so many questions. And she shouldn’t have made you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Dean. She was just making sure you were with someone decent.”

“Well, she’s anything but decent.”

“Dean,” you scolded. “She’s your mother. Don’t talk about her like that.”

He only shrugged. The rest of the way was quiet. You were in front of the resort in no time. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Jess. She’d meet you in your room in fifteen minutes then you’d head down to the spa.

You decided to take a shower before meeting her. The water helped ease the tension in your shoulders. You headed out of the bathroom and found Dean laying in bed. His ankles crossed as he flipped through the channels.

“You owe me a couples massage session,” he mumbled.

“You wish, Winchester,” you rolled your eyes. “Alright, I’ll be back in an hour or so, do I meet you here or you have plans with Sam?”

“Sam and I are gonna hit the bar.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Don’t drink too much and remember, mister, you have a girlfriend. So don’t go around hitting on chicks.”

“I’d never do that,” he winked. “Now go get your massage and see if you learn something from them so you can give me the best back massage ever.”

“Keep on dreaming, Dean.”

You met Jess at the spa. The masseuses handed you your robes and waited for you to get changed. The moment the woman started to pour her scented oils on your skin, you melted.

“So what has gotten into Mary anyway?” Jess asked. “She wasn’t too rude, but there was no reason for her to ask you all that stuff.”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I mean, she just wants the best for her son but I felt like I was being interrogated.”

“Yeah, I know,” she smiled sympathetically. “I had to kick Dean under the table so he’d do something,” you chuckled. “Men are so freaking dumb sometimes.”

“Yeah, they are,” you sighed. “Jess? Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can.”

“Does Dean seem different to you?”

“I haven’t spent much time with him lately, but he seems the same to me.”

“Are you sure he hasn’t been acting any different?”

“I am, Y/N. Now where is this coming from?”

“He’s just been very affectionate lately.”

“Affectionate?”

“Yeah. He’s just, uh- I mean, he always cared for me. Dean is so caring. But lately I feel like something might have changed.”

“And why is that?”

“We’re sleeping on the same bed. It’s not new. We used to have sleepovers and share a bed all the time, but we’d never cuddle or anything. Today, I woke up and he was spooning me. He was so close. His body was pressed against mine, his head buried in my neck. Then I felt his thing,” you blushed and Jess chuckled. “Not to mention that last night before we went to sleep he was a little weird. His hand was on my cheek and he was staring at me as if he could see my soul. Then he kissed my forehead and it lasted longer than it usually does. Now I don’t know if I’m overthinking this or not. I’m just a little confused.

“You like him, Y/N,” Jess’ smile reached her eyes.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, Y/N, you really like him.”

“Are you not hearing me? He’s my best friend. Of course I really like him.”

“Are you dumb or what? I mean love, Y/N. And not in a friendly way. I mean passion.”

“Pfft, you’re delusional.”

“You know I’m not.”

Silence fell in the room. You did your best to focus on the pressure of the masseuse's fingers pressing and pulling at your skin. The things Jess just said wouldn’t stop crossing  your mind. You knew she was wrong. You and Dean were just friends. But what if she was right?

You walked back to your room and figured Dean was in the shower. You walked to the window and opened. The soothing breeze hitting your skin ever so gently, sending goosebumps throughout your body.

“You’re back,” Dean beamed.

You turned to him. He was in jeans and a fitted grey t-shirt. His wet hair spiked in every possible direction.

“I am,” you smiled. “How was it to hit the bar with Sam?” You asked when you felt his presence beside you. Just like that, it became really hard to have a casual conversation with him.

“It was alright,” he chuckled. “How was the massage?”

“Best thing that ever happened to me,” you groaned in pleasure as you remembered how good it felt.

“Better than meeting me?”

“Almost,” you chuckled.

Dean moved behind you. His arms wrapped around your middle, his chest pressed flush against your back. You stiffened at first, but you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“You smell good,” he leaned to your neck. His gravel voice was barely upon a whisper. The feeling of his hot breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to focus on anything but the feeling of having him this close. Your eyes were fixated on the blue sea, on the way the waves crashed onto the shore. But it was impossible.

“Hmmm, really good,” he nearly moaned.

Then you remembered. He had a few drinks with Sam a bit earlier. This was the alcohol talking.

Dean turned you in his arms, his green eyes stared deep into your soul. The air seemed to have become thicker. Or maybe he was just too close. His eyes wandered to your lips. He leaned his head, his breath mingling with yours. You pulled away quickly, clearing your throat. Dean seemed to realize what was happening and turned his head. His eyes falling on the calm, blue waves.

“We should, uh, we should probably get ready,” you suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna get dressed in the bathroom.”

Dean grabbed his clothes and locked himself in the bathroom. You heard the water from the sink running. What was that? Was he out of his mind? He must have been. If you hadn’t pulled away when you did, he would have… no, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do that. He was your best friend. He just got a little carried away by the alcohol and the scent of the oils that previously bathed your skin.

You put on light makeup. Just a concealer, a thin coat of foundation and mascara. You picked the dress from the hanger and put it on. The navy blue dress fitted perfectly in your body. It hit your midthighs and seemed appropriate for the occasion.

The sound of the door unlocking echoed through the silent room. Dean got out of the bathroom all dressed up. His suit hugged his body just the right way.

“Can you help me?” You asked.

“Sure.”

“I can’t zip it. Can you do it for me?”

Dean nodded, standing beside you. The soft skin of his fingers touched your skin slightly as he zipped the dress. A different kind of electricity ran through your body.

“Thanks,” you smiled as you turned to him. “Do you want me to…” you motioned to the tie in his hand.

“Yeah, sure.”

You tied his silky red tie, smoothing it’s length. His eyes were roaming around the room, looking anywhere but you. Adjusting the collar of his shirt, you felt his gaze on you. You don’t know how much time you spent staring into each other’s eyes, but after a while he cleared his throat, breaking the trance.

“You ready?”

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, grabbing your purse and slipping into your heels. “Shall we?”

You headed out of the room and walked down the street. The restaurant Sam and Jess picked was close to the resort. So you wouldn’t get tired of going on foot.

“Hold my hand, we gotta make this look convincing, remember?” You smiled.

His warm hand took a hold of yours before stepping into the restaurant. Most of the people were already there. Jess’ parents were so happy to see you. It had been a while since you had last seen them. Her sisters cheered when their eyes landed on you. They wouldn’t stop giving you malicious looks and wiggling their eyebrows because you got the other brother.

Mary sat beside Dean. At first you were nervous she’d try to make any questions. You knew Dean wouldn’t let her do it, but you still had that feeling. That dissipated the second they started serving dinner. It was delicious and you were glad they had picked this restaurant. The room was filled with laughter and happy conversations.

After everyone had finished eating, Sam and Jess distributed gifts to their parents. They made their toasts, thanking everyone for supporting them and being there for their special day.

“I’ve been waiting for dessert the whole night,” Dean leaned, whispering to you.

“Me too,” you chuckled.

“Though it would be a whole lot better if it were pie.”

They started serving the cake and you were almost drooling. Just as you took the first bite, Mary called you.

“I need to go to the restroom,” her voice was barely audible. “Y/N, do you mind coming with me?”

You were a little taken aback, but agreed anyway. You knew she wanted to talk to you.

“Don’t let anyone touch my cake,” you asked Dean.

You followed Mary to the restroom. You tried to look for any sign of anger on her face but it didn’t show.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier,” she smiled weakly. “I should have treated you better. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Mary, it’s okay. Really. You were just looking out for Dean.”

“He loves you, you know?” You smiled. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you as if you were his whole world. John used to look at me that way when we were your age.”

You didn’t know what to say to her. A part of you wanted to tell her it wasn’t real. He was faking it and he needed her to buy it. But another part of you wanted to believe in what she said.

“I’m glad he has someone like you, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Mary,” you smiled.

God, she’s gonna hate you if she ever finds out the truth.

“Now let’s go. I’ve stolen much of your time already.”

You made your way back to the table feeling a lot lighter.

“Everything okay?” Dean asked once you sat beside him.

“Yeah,” you smiled. Finally, you’d be able to eat your cake. Except there was no cake. “Where’s my dessert, Dean?”

“What?”

“Where’s my cake?” You made sure to not speak too loud for others to hear.

“I don’t know,” he sounded nervous.

“I can’t believe you ate my cake.”

“No, I didn’t,” he chuckled.

“Of course you did! You’re laughing,” you argued. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with my food.”

“Look, I’m laughing because you’re angry. I swear I didn’t do it,” he held his hands up in surrender.

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“I don’t know. It probably was that kid,” he pointed to Jess’ nephew.

“Of course, Dean, blame it on the kid,” you hissed with a roll of your eyes.

“Look, I’m gonna get you another piece, alright?”

“You better.”

He did get another piece of dessert. It was delicious and you were as happy as a kid in a candy shop.

The rehearsal dinner came to an end and people started to leave.

“You guys are not heading back with us?” You asked the happy, soon-to-be-married couple.

“No, we still have some things to wrap up here,” Sam smiled.

“Okay,” you nodded. “You were amazing today. Everything was beautiful. I can’t wait for tomorrow,” you smiled, hugging Sam before hugging your best friend. “I love you both.”

You and Dean headed out of the restaurant and started to walk back to the resort.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“I’d love that,” you said.

You walked to the beach. You breathed in the ocean carried air. Dean took off his shoes and you did the same. The soft golden sand seemed to caress your feet with its comforting warmth. The night sky along the calm sea looked like a painting.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said as he noticed your eyes shine just as bright as the stars in the sky.

“It is,” you smiled.

“Let’s go in there.”

“What?” You turned abruptly to him.

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged. “There’s no here. We can go in fully clothed or not.”

“Okay.”

“We’re doing this fully clothed or not?”

“Fully clothed.”

He nodded, shrugging off his suit, and loosening his tie. Dean took your heels from you and placed it along with his pieces of clothes on the sand. Distant enough so nothing would get wet.

Dean held out his hand for you to take. He grinned before running into the water with you. You squeaked when the cold water hit your legs.

“Shit, it’s cold,” goosebumps crept up on your skin.

“Stop being such a baby,” he teased, splashing water at you.

“Oh, you did not!”

You did the same to him. Dean chuckled, splashing more water at you. You didn’t know how much time you spent acting like kids. The sound of waves of laughter echoed through the quiet beach. You pushed him and he fell, getting completely drenched. His arms reached out for you, bringing you down with him.

“You’re so mean,” you squealed.

“You started it,” he stood to his feet, holding his hands out.

“No, you started it,” he pulled you up, and once again you were too close to his body.

“Admit it, you had fun,” his hand reached to your face, brushing a few damp strands off your face.

“It was too cold,” you shivered.

“But you had fun.”

“I did,” you smiled.

“Let’s head back, shall we?” 

You nodded. Dean picked up your stuff and put his jacket around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“Just making sure you won’t freeze to death, sweetheart,” he sneaked his arm around your waist.

You walked in silence. You quietly thanked once you saw the resort get closer and closer. Your sore feet were more than glad to be back in your room.

“We should try that jacuzzi, huh?” He suggested.

“Yeah, we should,” you sighed, heading to the bathroom.

“I meant together, like-“

“I know what you meant, Dean,” you said, turning on the jacuzzi. “Now grab that champagne in the mini-fridge.”

He nodded and did as told. You could see there was something off about him.

“You sure you’re okay with the naked thing?” He asked.

“Yeah, of course,” you checked on the temperature and turned on the jets. “Are you?”

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He was nervous. You chuckled. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you seem a little nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Okay, good,” you shrugged. “Can you, uh…” you turned to him.

“Yeah, sure,” he slowly unzipped your dress.

The dress pooled around your feet. Dean swallowed thickly at the sight of you in your underwear. His breath was caught in his throat. You slipped off your panties and he instinctively licked his lips. He was glad you had your back to him.

“Alright, I’m not gonna be the only one naked here, right?” You turned to him.

“Wanna see what I’m wearing underneath all this?”

You frowned. He unbuttoned his white shirt and tugged down his pants. You blurt out laughing.

“I can’t believe you have a Scooby-Doo underwear!”

“Cool right?” He grinned, pulling off his boxers.

“It’s awesome, you beamed.

You hopped on the jacuzzi, the warm water making you relax instantly. Dean poured champagne for the both of you.

“So I was thinking,” you said before taking a sip at your drink. “Can I grab your butt in front of your parents?”

“No, Y/N, you can’t grab my butt in front of my parents.”

“But it’s so perky,” you pleaded.

“Y/N,” he gave a warning look.

“Okay, okay. I won’t grab your butt in front of your parents.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Can I kiss you in front of my parents?”

“Sure,” you shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be right in front of your parents, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. I mean, friends kiss sometimes.”

“Really?”

“I’m actually surprised you’re asking me this, but yeah, Dean, they do,” you said. “How do you think Jess and I learned how to kiss?”

“Oh, I never thought about that part.”

You chuckled. Both of you fell into silly conversations. It made you forget you were actually naked in front of him.

“We should get out,” he said. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah, we should.”

Dean stood up, picking your glass from your hand.

“See, it’s perky,” you said.

He chuckled.

“Here you go,” he took your hand in his, helping you out of the tub. Dean wrapped a towel around your shoulders before wrapping one around his waist.

“Dean?”

“What?”

“I dare you to kiss me,”

His green eyes widened, but also looked for any sign that indicated you were kidding. His hand came up to cup your cheek. His plump lips captured yours in a sweet kiss. They glided over each other as if you had done this before. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your towel falling in the process. He deepened the kiss as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to delve into your mouth. His hand on your hip, squeezed your skin, drawing you closer to him. His tongue traced yours in a sensual dance. You tasted the champagne in his warm muscle. A moan was muffled by his lips.

The need for air came sooner than you hoped for. You parted. Neither of you dared to open your eyes. Dean pecked your lips softly before resting his forehead against yours. His thumb caressed your flushed cheek.

“I should, uh, I should go get changed,” he cleared his throat.

You nodded, watching him exit the room. Your fingers traced up to your kiss swollen lips. God, you were screwed.

——— “You look so beautiful. I think I’m gonna cry,” you said to Jess.

She looked perfect. Her gown looked even more beautiful than you remembered.

“Sam won’t know what hit him,” you smiled.

“I’m so glad I chose you as my maid of honor,” she grinned, hugging you. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you kissed her cheek. “I need to get going. It’s almost time.”

You headed to the lounge to meet Dean. He was standing there in his tuxedo. You could swear you had never seen him this handsome.

His eyes widened once he saw you. Dean nearly gasped. The rose gold gown fitted your body perfectly, hugging every curve.

“You look, wow,” he smiled. “You look beautiful.”

“You don’t look bad yourself,” you smiled, pecking his lips. “Shall we?”

He linked his arm with yours, guiding you towards the beach. Everything looked so beautiful. It looked as if it had come out of a movie.

You waited for your queue and walked down the aisle to the altar. You and Dean stood on opposite sides.

A trail of goosebumps ran through your body once you spotted Jess. She grinned wide as her eyes found Sam’s. It was happening. Their dream was coming true.

“Family and friends, we’re gathered here today to celebrate the love of Samuel and Jessica.”

You forced your eyes away from the couple only to meet Dean’s green orbs staring at you. His lips curled into a smile. You held each other’s gaze. Your cheeks started to heat up at the intensity of his look.

Sam and Jess read their vows. You cursed at yourself for not focusing on them. Dean’s eyes were drawing you to him. Silly smiles spread wide on your lips.

The ceremony was beautiful. It was better than you and Jess expected. They were pronounced husband and wife and everyone headed to the wedding reception. They danced to the sound of their favorite song. Everyone could see how much they loved each other and how happy they were.

You and Dean made your toasts separately. Both Jess and Sam teared up a little. After the toasts, most people headed to the dance floor.

“Would you like to dance?” Dean held his hand for you as a slow song echoed through the room.

“With you? Always.”

He guided you to where couples were dancing. His hands were placed on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, both of you swaying to the rhythm of the song.

“So where does this leave us huh?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what happened last night. That wasn’t just two friends kissing. I know it and you know it too.”

“I know, you’re right,” you looked up at him.

“Good,” he smiled. “So no more fake dating?”

“No more fake dating.”

He pecked your lips into a passionate kiss and the whole world fell away.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you,” he said as you parted. “Not even your friends kissing you.”

“Same goes for you, Winchester.”

———

“You’re not gonna join them?” Dean asked behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Nah, let them have their fun,” you said, watching the group of women gather not so far as they waited for Jess to throw the bouquet.

They all cheered and screamed when she tossed it. You jumped when the flowers fell on your feet.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you rolled your eyes.

“It’s way too soon, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled.

“Alright, ladies,” you announced, holding up the flowers. “$20 and the bouquet is yours,” they all laughed. “No? Ten bucks maybe?”

Dean chuckled, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“You’re one of a kind, sweetheart.”

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