#i just need to get this done otherwise my week will never start off

[hughesyodaddy43]

Pizza solves everything ⎸ L.H

pairings: bf! Luke x fem!reader. Platonic!Ethan Edwards and Mark Estapa x reader Genre: fluff warnings: angst?,mentions of cheating, stressed reader, exam season synopsis: Lukes girlfriend gets worked up over finals. Ethan and Mark attempt to make her feel better. requested?: yes word count: 3.1k authors note: I am not from America so i don't know how exams and schooling work over there, i hope this still makes sense. i gave reader a nickname, 'missy' and will probably use that name for future Luke fics.

You groan as you type on your computer, sitting at your desk with mindless tv playing in the background. You currently live in a tiny apartment with your best friend, Ethan. It's a two bedroom and can only really house two people before feeling cramped. However it is right next to Umich and is far more convenient than living in the dorms. 

You only started living with Ethan last year, after your previous roommate moved out and you needed someone to share utilities with. Seeming as though Luke was leaving for New Jersey and Ethan never left your house anyway - it seemed only logical that he started paying rent.

Having a boyfriend in the NHL is both a blessing and a curse, the blessing being the fact that your hot boyfriend is in the NHL and the curse being that everyone else thinks he is hot too. 

You never were the jealous type, or at least not before you saw all the girls that crowded Luke when he went to parties. Something in you cringed when you saw how awkward he got when denying girls, it was common that you'd have to step in otherwise that man would have just stood there like a statue the entire encounter. It wasn't like he would ever cheat on you, you were confident that he wouldn't. However when your hair is fitted to a much darker shade then the girls he interacts with, it's hard to not think about him wanting a more ‘conventional’ Hockey Girlfriend. 

Luke is always first to tell you he doesn't care about that stuff and you believe him, but when you haven't called him in days, sometimes weeks, it gets less easy to control the unsettling feelings.

Everytime you call with Luke, it's always cut short, whether it’s Ethan banging on your door at 11 o’clock  for a ‘late night snack’ or Jack barging in to argue with Luke about something, you never get to talk about what you're really feeling. 

Because of the distance and lack of communication, the relationship has been a bit strained, it's not like you could tell if luke felt the same since he's too busy sleeping or playing hockey to communicate that with you. You were so proud of Luke, no doubt about it, however something in you boiled when he only ever mentioned hockey during the ten minute phone calls.

Since the last phone call you had with him, you've only really exchanged small text messages every couple hours. It was upsetting that you couldn't talk to your boyfriend about everything going on but it was also a nice way to get away so you can finish up and focus on all the upcoming exams.

You had your next one tomorrow and really needed to knuckle down and get studying for it. You've managed to get what you needed done for tonight so you thought you'd call Luke for a final call before bed.

After wriggling comfortably against your pillows, you lean against your head board. bringing your phone up close to your ear, you press the dial on luke's contact  listening closely to the ringing sound on the other end.

Ring 

Ring 

Ring 

You breathe hitches as you hear Lukes voice on the other end, only this time it was his voicemail. You take one last deep breath before shutting your phone off and sinking into your pillows. 

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand and you view a message from your best friend and biggest hater, Ethan.

House rat: the team got too much pizza, if you're still up I can bring you some?

House rat : Silence speaks volumes missy 

Pissy missy : no. i'm just asleep

Pissy missy : You're disturbing my slumber 

House rat: oh well pizza is good for your soul. Mark is coming too ;)

Pissy missy: Fuck.

You sigh and put your phone back down, wiping your eyes, you sit up against the headboard once again and pull your computer onto your lap, Resuming your place in your essay.

“MISSY  COME HERE GIRL” Ethan calls out from the front door, walking towards your room in long strides. He bursts through the door with a box of pizza in his hand and makes his way to sit at the end of your bed, Mark slowly entering behind him. Mark moves to sit further on the bed, next to Ethan, pulling out a piece of pizza from the box.

“How are you?” Mark asks as he stuffs his face with the crust.

You sigh, reaching to rip a piece of pizza from the rest, bringing it up close to your lips

“Been okay, I guess” you take a bite, avoiding eye contact with the two boys in front of you “are you sure? You've seemed a bit distant'' Mark asks “im fine.” you say, taking another big bite of the saucy crust “are you sur-” “I'm fine so quit asking” you yell, adding an edge of venom to your words. Taking the boys by surprise “wow, someones a bit extra pissy tonight” Ethan adds. 

That's when something in your throat tightens, you feel yourself bubbling over. You don't understand why, your whole nickname stems from the fact that you get pissy from time to time but it feels like that was the last straw.

Tears begin filling your eyes, vision goes blurry as you feel your cheeks burn up. Sniffles are heard as the boys go silent before you. Tears drip onto the final bite of your pizza.

“Im-sorry-i-just-so-stressed-and-upset-and-luke-hasnt-been-talking-to-me-and-i-miss-him-and-i-think-hes-gonna-breakup-with-me-and-im-just-so-sad-and-i-dont-mean-to-be-mean-but-im-just-so-angry” you hurry through muffled sobs as your eyes go red and your sinuses block up.

“Woah hey hey, Missy i didn't mean to make you upset.” Ethan says , leaning forward to meet your eyes

“Yeah, talk to us..but a bit slower please” Mark says softly, careful to not make you cry again.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head up to see the two young hockey boys worried faces, your lip quivers slightly as you breathe in and out, ready to spill out what has been hurting you.

“I don't know, I'm just so stressed with these exams and I think I'm gonna do fine but I'm just scared.” you start, trying to get one problem out at a time 

“I know for a fact that you'll do fine in your exams and assignments” Ethan comforts “yeah! you're like the smartest person i know!” 

“Thanks.. It's not just that tho” you say, sniffling a bit as tears continue down your face and onto your swollen lips, the taste of salt sinks into your mouth. The Hockey players stay silent, waiting patiently for you to continue. 

“Luke and I haven't really been talking and I think he wants to break up.”

 The boys share a knowing glance but say nothing. 

“And you know i've seen all the girls jack brings home, the pretty blonde girls i mean what if luke met one of them and they fell in love” you say, growing more and more hysterical as each thought processes through your head.

Logically you new Luke would never cheat but with your emotions running high you couldnt help but think that  Luke had fucked the entire female poplutation of new jersey ranging from 18-25 by now.

“And all he every talks about when we do call is stupid fucking hockey” you rise your voice slightly before looking at the boys 

“no offence” you add, placing your hands in your lap and finishing your pizza

 “ he didn't even answer my call tonight” you finish, the last sentence being muffled as you swallow your food. 

To your surprise the boys stay silent and stare at each other with Ethan looking down at his phone then back up at mark then sharing a look back to you.

“OMG SO HE IS GONNA BREAK UP WITH ME” you scream, tears streaming down your face harder 

“WHAT NO NO NO” the boys choir, eyes wide.

“Then why are you looking at eachother like that? And who the fuck are you messaging at 12o’clock at night???” you yell pointing towards ethan. 

“No-no one” ethan adds, throwing his phone away to the end of the bed.

Mark moves to sit next to you, throwing an awkward arm around you in a comforting embrace 

“missy, he's probably not gonna break up with you'' Mark adds 

“PROBABLY??” you cry 

“NONO he means he is NOT going to break up with you” Ethan interjects, throwing a pointed look at Mark “oh yeah sorry that's what i meant” Mark stuttered

You groan loudly as your head flys back onto your pillows, you bury yourself into your blanket

“Okayyy so you're tired so we're gonna get outta here” Ethan says, dragging the pizza off your bed with Mark sliding off behind him.

“Good night, Missy'' Mark says, patting your head, peeking out slightly 

“Good night!!” Ethan yells from the kitchen with a mouthful of pizza.

X

X

You wake up to the blaring sound of your alarm, you look at your phone that reads ‘7 am’ and still you have no response from Luke. You sigh and remove yourself from your bed, making your way towards the shared bathroom you have with Ethan. 

You walk down the hall and pass Mark who is sleeping soundly on the couch, you continue walking and stop by  Ethan's room, you peer in to see him sprawled out on his bed, keeping note that you should keep quiet as you get ready so you don't wake the two up prematurely.

You take time in your shower to clear your mind, enjoying the warm hug as the water runs down your back and soothes your sore neck. You recite in your head that everything will be okay and to just focus on your exam first, then worry about whatever bullshit Luke is pulling.you finish your shower and get dressed in warm attire. You pair your favourite long sleeve shirt with your fav baggy sweats and continue on with your hair and makeup. Finishing up, you leave the bathroom and are met with the inviting smell of fresh breakfast.

Walking down the hallway you are met with Mark and Ethan who have both woken up and are now stuffing their faces with every breakfast food you own.

“Good morning” you say, giggling slightly 

“Morning” Mark says, eyes still drawn to the tv 

“Heyy, do you want a bagel?” Ethan asks, walking over towards you “you're gonna need some brain food” he adds 

“Maybe not, i'm too nervous to eat right now” you say

“Hmm, are you sure? What about I make you one for later?” he asks

“Maybe next time” you say as you turn on your heels back to your room, rummaging through your cupboard you find a comfy hoodie to throw over your body to keep you warm and toasty throughout your exam. You pack up your bag and walk back out into the kitchen. You return back to your room, retrieving your charging phone. 

“Missy, do you need a ride?” Ethan asks 

“Nah, the walk will be nice for me, good way to clear my head” you add, walking back out of your room. 

You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulders 

“Thank you by the way, for last night” you add looking back towards Ethan and Mark 

“No problemo, i'm sure you'll feel better soon” Mark says, turning his head to give you a cheeky wink 

You giggle a bit as You look back at ethan confusion still evident in your face 

“Don't listen to him, he's weird” Ethan adds as he walks towards you to give you a pat on the back “you'll do great” 

“Thank you” you say as you move out the door and towards school.

X

X

The timer blares through the room as everyone stands , making their way towards the teachers desk to send off their papers. You sit there for a minute, staring down at your paper, revising everything you wrote down. The girl beside you nudges you out of your trance as she waits for you to stand up and hand you paper i with her. All you can do is quietly walk your way down the daring stares that lead to the front of the class. You hand in your work with a deep breath and make your way back to your previous seat, ready to go home and eat your feelings. 

“How do you think you went?” the girl beside you asks as you both walk out of the room,

“Um i think i did okay, passable i hope” you responde 

“I'm sure you did great, you wrote a lot more than i did”

“Hmm how do you think you went?” you ask 

“Good.. i hope”

“You did good, i know it”

“Thanks, missy. I was gonna ask before but how's everything going with Luke? Are you gonna see him soon?” she asks

“Maybe, idk. We haven't been talking too much recently”

“Aww thats a shame well i hope all goes well”

“Yeah, thanks”

“Bye missy” she exits the conversation, making her way over to her next class 

“Bye” you add, thankful that this was the only class you had scheduled for the day.

The walk home was calming , the cold breeze blowing on your face created a refreshing cooling to your hot body as you walked through the campus, passing a couple friends and saying hi briefly before separating.

You make your way to your apartment, trudging up the stairs in a final burst of energy. Unlocking the door you walk into your heated apartment, looking down as you remove your bag, take off your hoodie and hang your keys up, not making note of the tall figure sitting on the bar stools next to your kitchen. 

You turn around and are met with Luke - your boyfriend. The man who you love. The man who's been ignoring you. 

“Hey baby” he says, standing up to walk towards you

You take a step back, anger and confusion plastered on your face 

“Well at least you have the courtesy to do it in person” you say, crossing your arms over your body, sliding your sleeves over your knuckles.

Luke looms over at you, he stares in confusion, trying to read your emotions.

“What are you talking about?” 

Your gaze leaves the floor and meets his, anger bubbling inside your stomach 

“You wanna break up?” you say bluntly, mono toned and unnatural 

“What?? No ??Why would you think that?” Luke argues, voice becoming higher and his breath itching slightly at the information that his girlfriend thinks he drove 9 and a half hours just  to break up with her.

“Are you serious? No call? no text? no nothing, not even a stupid instagram reel and you think my mind wouldn’t wander to that?” you say, stepping forward at each word, announcing your words with a spit of fury.

“I did call and I did text” Luke defends, hands slapping against his sides.

“Barely, Luke we only called for ten minutes a week and all you talked about was stupid hockey and I love hockey but that's all you would talk about. And not to mention the dry messages I mean we barely even talked like normal people, just robots with no love for each other.” you rant on, eyes feeling heavy as tears glistened in your sockets, afraid to let them fall you do your best to blink them away before luke notices.

“Missy” Luke whispers, snaking his hands to your forearms 

“I was only trying to give you space, I knew you would get stressed with your upcoming finals so I wanted to give you as much time as you needed to study. I didn't mean to be dry and unloving towards you” his voice was soothing and calm, his fingers brushing lightly on your clothed arms.

“Well it was a dumb decision” you argue, earning a snicker from luke 

“yeah , it was and I'm sorry.” he agrees 

“So why are you here then? If you aren't gonna break up with me?”

“I was planning to come down after your finals were finished, I was originally driving in tomorrow but Ethan messaged me last night telling me to come early” 

“Oh. so that's why they were acting weird” you say, reciting the events of last night in your head.

“Yeah, Do you know why he said that?” 

“Well i was a bit emotional last night, i was crying while stuffing my face with pizza” you laugh looking back up at luke.

“Oh my, so is that why Ethan sent me 43  messages at midnight?” Luke adds, smiling to himself before pulling up his phone to show you the absurdly concerning amount of texts from the boy.

“I'll take it that Ethan and Mark were not very good at comforting you?” he says, sitting back down on the bar stool and pulling you to stand in between his legs 

“They weren't too bad , maybe not the best tho” you say, giggling slightly at the situation 

Silence fills the room for a bit before luke speaks up 

“I'm sorry I caused you so much stress, I love you and I wouldn't trade you for the world. Maybe I should try and talk to you more and not just about hockey, hm?” he speaks, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear 

“Yes please” you smile before leaning in to give him a deep kiss. You both pull away before going back in for a warm and comforting hug, swaying slightly.

“I don't know about you but i'm starving, do you wanna go get some food?” Luke asks, speaking into the crook of your neck 

“mhm, exams make me hungry and that breakfast bar Ethan snuck into my bag wasn't very filling” you add, moving so you can look at Luke once more, placing a delicate kiss on his lips 

“About Ethan, should I talk to him about how pizza doesn't solve every problem?” 

You giggle at his comment, staring softly into his muddy blue eyes before being interrupted by Ethan opening his door 

“PIZZA SOLVES EVERYTHING” he shouts just before slamming his bedroom door closed.

“He's been home this whole time?” I ask Luke 

“Who do you think let me in?” Luke chimes, smirking down at you.

wriggling out of his arms its not long till you're pulled back by a  gentle hand on your wrist 

“Wait, I  gotta ask how your exam went” Luke asks, hands sneaking around my waist and resting on my lower back.

“It went okay, i didn't give up so that's good” i say, shrugging.

“Mhm good, never give up” he says, finishing his comment by  patting my head.

Silence is left between us once again, eyes frowning as he tries to read my expression 

“I missed you, Lukey. Don't pull that shit again”

“I missed you too, and judging by how angry you were when you came home i definitely won't” he says as we both make our way out the door and down the stairs.

#nhl hockey #nhl imagine #ethan edwards #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes imagine #mark estapa #Lh43

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty six : crucifixion

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 12.7k

summary : judgement day.

warnings: major character death, above canon typical violence, very brief references to suicide, torture, body horror (briefly), feelings of despair, blood, wounds, general kodo grossness, vomit (reader vomits several times, it is never described in detail), language, angst, brief smut, pregnancy, death, reader is not doing well in this like she's at a breaking point, i may have missed some so feel free to let me know.

a/n: please read the warnings on this chap! it's the most serious of the bks updates, definitely a bit more intense than the rest. gonna work on getting 27 out within the next few day. i've been terrified of releasing this chapter since i started writing it so once i post this i'm going to dig a hole and sit in it and hide for a while lmao.

i changed my editing style so if there's spelling errors lmk!! apologies in advance!!

“My room is too big.” 

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” You’re giggling along with him now, it’s the hardest you’ve ever heard him laugh. You both just laugh for a few minutes, as if each other's company is the most amusing thing in the world. 

Once your giggles fizzle out you wait another moment before breaking the silence. 

“Where did you grow up?” You can’t see him but you can sense where he sits in the darkness, you crawl forward so you’re sitting between his legs, your own legs wrap around his waist. “I’m just curious.” 

“Aq Vetina.” You can’t recall anything about the planet. You aren’t even sure you’ve heard of it. 

“Do you remember your parents well? You don’t talk about them very much.” You put your hands on his shoulders, ever so slowly moving them up to his neck until you’re cupping his face. 

“I’ll never forget them.” He whispers. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We can’t change the past.” You rub your nose against his, bumping them together as you hum and nod. “My mother loved ships. We didn’t travel, we never had a reason to, but she would take me outside and we’d watch ships fly past. I could never comprehend how she knew the name for all of them, it blew my mind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, staying silent in hopes that he’ll continue, he so rarely speaks so much. “My father worked a lot but he always made time for us, he was always home in time to say goodnight to me. He was always around when I needed him, he always provided for us. On his day off he’d spend the whole day cooking, I’d sit on the kitchen counter and tell him what my mother and I had done that week. When she’d come home we’d all eat dinner together.” 

“You sound like you were a happy child.” You can’t help but smile. 

“I never had reason to be otherwise.” He says it so matter of factly that you don’t doubt it for a second. He was loved. It only makes you smile wider.         

“What were you like, as a child?”

“Well behaved.” You immediately begin laughing once more. 

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My mother homeschooled me, she always made sure I had manners. I wasn’t particularly athletic or talkative so I didn’t play with other kids a lot. It was just me and mama.” He sounds far away, it makes you want to hold him close and never let him go.

“So what did you do all day?” Your tone has softened significantly. 

“I would sew.” 

“Be serious.” He’s the one who laughs now at the disbelief in your voice.

“I am! I would sit with my mother after my lessons and we’d sew.” His fingertips dance along the back of your neck as he reminisces. 

“What kinds of things?” You don’t tease. When you really think about it you suppose such a hobby is fitting for him. A task that requires precision and care. 

“I would help her make clothes and blankets that she would sell most days. On the weekends she’d let me do whatever I wanted so I would practice my embroidery.” 

“My heart is actually about to explode out of my chest, you’re so cute.” You put on a mocking tone but the thought of such a thing really does make your heart clench. “Little Din Djarin stitching his name into his clothes.”

“You’re a cruel woman.” He leans forward, knocking his forehead against yours, almost as if he were reprimanding you. 

“What sorts of things would you embroider?” Your tone goes back to genuine, you could listen to him talk about himself for days and you’d never get bored. 

“Whatever my mother wanted. I would ask her what I should do and then I’d stitch it onto her blanket or the hem of her skirt. Mostly flowers, she loved daisies.” You’re pretty sure one of your ovaries literally popped at the thought of a little boy with dark curls and big brown eyes sitting beside his mother and embroidering a daisy onto her skirt. Your heart flutters a bit as you think of the necklace he got you. The silver outline of a flower you now realize is a daisy. “If he was ever gone for more than one night for work my father would bring her daisies, one for each day he was away.”

“Do you still know how?”

“I used to fix Grogu’s clothes when he ripped them but I haven’t done much else since I was a boy. He says it with finality but you carry on, not wanting him to stop talking. 

“What were their names? Your parents?”

“Clara and Arin Djarin.”  

“Those are pretty names.”

“What was it like for you? You said you had seven siblings right?”

“Eight actually.” You think of them now. There were eight of you and your parents' love for all of you combined wasn’t even a tenth of how much Din’s parents loved him. 

“Do you like having a big family?” He lifts you off of his lap, laying you back down as he crawls on top of you, laying against your chest. 

“I love it. I miss my siblings everyday, do you think we’ll be able to visit them someday?”

“If it’s safe to, of course we will.” He tilts his head, if you weren’t in darkness he’d be looking at you. 

“I wish they had visited here. They would have loved you.”

“You think?”

“Are you kidding me? The younger ones would adore you.” You tangle your finger in his hair, scratching his scalp. “Kids just naturally like you.” 

“They just haven’t learned to fear me.” You frown when he says it like a fact.

“I think it’s more than that.”

“Yeah?” The hopeful tilt to his voice has you leaning down to press a kiss into his hair. 

“Kids are intuitive, they can sense that you’re a good person.” He tenses up as you tell him he’s a good person. You know exactly what he’s thinking about now, how he punched your husband and then refused to leave. 

Neither one of you wants to talk about that though, not today. 

“What kind of room would you want? Since your current room isn’t to your liking.” He’s quick to change the subject and you let him.

“In all honesty, I like the cabin, I wish we could just live there.” You run your fingers through his curls as you think about it, gently pulling through any tangles.

“My cabin?” His voice is full of uncertainty as he pulls back a bit.

“It’s nice.” You feel a bit defensive, you consider the cabin to be the closest thing you have to a home. “Can you imagine getting to stay on Naboo? We could spend our mornings walking the market.” You rest your hand on the back of his neck now. “We could get jobs in the city, and then at night we’d come home.” 

“To the cabin?” He still sounds rather skeptical of your hypothetical future. 

“I’d cook dinner, you’d do the chores.”

“The cabin’s a bit small for us.” 

“We’d make it a bit bigger, add a few bedrooms, we don’t need that much space.” 

“A few?” He turns his head, his lips brush against your collar briefly as he kisses you there, freezing up when you speak again. 

“At least two, one for us and then some for any little Djarin’s who might need space.” With that he sits up entirely, his legs straddle your stomach.

“Little Djarin’s?”

“And Grogu, he would come live with us as well.” 

“You’d want him to live with us?”

“Of course, he’s a little Djarin.” Your hands rest on his thighs now as he seemingly ponders above you. He hums to himself in silence for a moment and you can’t help but grin at how seriously he’s taking all of this. 

“How many?” He finally speaks again and you laugh at the bluntness of his question. 

“Kids?”

“How many would you want?”

“You go first.” You haven’t ever talked about this sort of thing so you want to gauge his answer first so you don’t scare him too much with all the kids talk. 

“Maybe five? Or six.”

“Six?” Your voice pitches up immediately and you feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs. 

“Or five.”

“How about two, counting Grogu.” Turns out you didn’t need to worry about scaring him off. 

“How about three?” Three is manageable. 

“Counting Grogu?” 

“Counting Grogu.” He seems satisfied with that. 

“I suppose we could have three, you’re the one who has to build all the extra bedrooms.” 

“I don’t mind.”

“I’d work at the library and you’d work in a shipyard, we’d take turns staying home with the kids.” You pull him back to you, taking his hands and dragging him to lay his head on your chest once more.

“I’ve got enough savings, neither one of us has to work if you’d like.” It sends a twinge of pain to your heart how real this conversation has become, knowing that this exact dream isn’t possible. 

You could always make parts of it real.

Someday. 

“I’d want to work, to get out of the house, but you could stay home if you’d like.”

“When they’re still ik’aad, at least for the first few years I’d want to be with them.” He’s going to be a wonderful father. 

“Then I’d work, not long hours, just enough to get me out of the house, when I come home I’d give you a break, you could do the shopping and I’d watch the little’s.” 

“We’d go as a family, I wouldn’t want ‘a break.’” 

“You’d want to wrangle three kids in the markets?” You scoff in disbelief but he continues to sound completely serious. 

“They’d be well behaved.” You seriously doubt that. 

“What about either one of us makes you think our children will be well behaved? Is Grogu well behaved?” 

“We’ll manage.”

“They’ll be wild.” They will, not they would. 

“And smart.” He sits up again, hovering above you to give you a quick kiss. 

“And happy.” There isn’t a doubt in your mind that your children would be happy with Din as their father. 

“You’d really want to live here? I could build us a house anywhere.”

“I like Naboo, at least everything outside of the castle. I don’t even mind the castle, I just don’t care for the people inside it.” It’s true, somewhere along the way this place grew on you immensely. You love the city and the people in it. “And they’d get to play in the garden.” 

“I would build you a cabin anywhere you wanted, and I’d plant you a new garden.” He kisses along your cheeks and forehead as he speaks. 

“You wouldn’t need to plant me a garden if we lived here.” You insist. 

“We can’t live here, mesh’la.” He rubs a small circle with his thumb against your cheek. “This is too serious now, we’re supposed to be relaxed today.”

“When did we agree on that?” You muster up a weak laugh. 

“It was a silent mutual agreement.”

“I’m plenty relaxed.” You mumble. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his stubble tickling you as you let out an airy giggle. 

“I’m actually very tense and I think we should take a break from all this talking and take care of that.” He mumbles against your shoulder.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” He emphasizes his point by pressing his erection against your hip, you hadn’t even realized that this is where he was going with that. 

“How long have you been waiting to jump me?”

“When we started talking about the five kids I was gonna put in you.” He continues to nip at your neck and shoulders as he speaks. 

“Skipping the agreed upon three and going straight to five already? You’re not even going to attempt to negotiate for four?” 

“So you’re open to four?” He pulls back and you can hear his smile. 

“Let’s start with one and go from there.”

“Right now?” His hips stutter down a bit against yours. 

“Maker, you’re insatiable.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“I could get pregnant, and considering the lack of sex I’ve had with my husband I’m sure that might raise a few eyebrows.” 

“It would never get to that point, when we’re in the clear with this whole Kodo mess I’m getting you out of here.”

“Like… actually leaving Naboo?” 

“Exactly like that. I’m gonna take you far away from here when this is over, gonna keep you all for myself.” His hands move down, giving your hips a squeeze. 

“I’m already yours.” You laughed, rolling over to be on top of him. He’s right, if you’re going to leave anyway then what’s the worst thing that could happen? 

You never talked about that night after that. 

When everything sorted itself out you realized how crazy your fear had made you. You couldn’t just leave. At least that’s what you’d told yourself, now you feel like an idiot for not holding him to his words. It wasn’t realistic, you both knew actually leaving would take so much more preparation than a few whispered ideas during a time where neither one of you was in any position to be making such promises. 

It was just talk.

Lysa came to get you from the dining room. 

After everyone left you had no motivation to move, you just stood there, frozen in time. After a few hours she found you, she had taken your hand and walked you back to your chambers. She held your hand, she kept you upright when you threatened to crumble. And when you felt a wave of nausea ripple through you she rushed you to the fresher, a hand on your back as you threw up all over again. 

You sat breathlessly on the tile, Lysa rubbing your back.

“Gods, I’ve been nauseous since the wedding. Even before everything fell apart.” It’s the first words you’ve spoken since they took Din, your stomach is still churning. “This has never happened before.” You groan, you’ve had many moments of upset throughout your life, but none that made you physically ill. Lysa looks almost painfully worried. 

“Ma’am… is there a chance you might be…” 

Kriff.

You never talked about that night after that. 

Maybe you should have. 

You both did a lot of things during those days. You had been so angry, and he had done everything in his power to ease that anger, to keep both of you as happy as someone could be in your situation. 

You shouldn’t have used that as an excuse to be reckless. 

“I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Of course.” She helps you to your feet, walking you back to your room, you turn to her one last time before you close the door. 

“I’m sorry. Elaine never should have gotten involved in all this.” You’d trade places with her in a heartbeat if you could. 

“It’s not your fault.” She truly seems to believe that. 

Except it is. Elaine never would have found herself in this situation if she hadn’t so often been helping the two of you keep your secret. 

“Goodnight, Lysa.” 

“Goodnight, princess.” 

You lay on the bed, unable to bring yourself to sleep in the closet. 

It’s cold. Colder than Hoth, as you stare at the ceiling in your far too big bed in your far too big room. Even bigger now that it’s just you. 

You let your hand roam down your torso to rest on your stomach.

Just you, hopefully. 

☆

You’re now having nightly dinners with Kodo. 

You don’t get any respite from him, you just want to stay in bed. You’re nauseous and tired and your head hasn’t stopped spinning since that night. A million thoughts a minute. 

Where is he?

Is he okay?

What the fuck can I do about it?

Mostly that. 

The worst part is your lack of a plan. If the roles were reversed Din would have already rescued you and you’d be living happily ever after. 

But that isn’t how your story is going. Instead you are alone, with no scheme on how to get to him. It’s only been three days but it’s driving you insane, you have never known such hopelessness, it’s maddening. To sit alone in your room all day, staring at the ceiling until Lysa comes to dress you for dinner. Neither one of you ever speaks, afterall, what would you say to each other?

“I’m sorry the love of your life had been sentenced to die?”

How morbid. 

Not that you’re above being morbid. 

You think about it often. How easy it would be to drive your dinner knife into Kodo’s throat. You’re seated beside him now at dinner, both of you at the head of the table, joined by the rest of his family. 

The thought of killing him is the only thing that brings you peace these days. You’ve never once in your life been violent until now. Din is good. He’s a good man. In every way he is the opposite of your husband yet Din is the one locked away, Maker knows where, while Kodo is being rewarded. 

It doesn’t make you mad, it makes you furious. 

It makes you want to poison his wine. 

But you don’t have poison. 

And you can’t put yourself in danger. Because you feel fundamentally different, and even if you refuse to think that such a thing is possible you know you wouldn’t just be putting yourself in danger. There’s more at stake now. 

That’s what you tell yourself to stay calm, a feat that is getting harder by the minute as you’re sat beside Kodo who is currently bragging about how he defeated a Mandalorian. 

“They aren’t as strong as you think they are. Under the armor they’re weak, pathetic.” 

It took six battle droids to keep him down. You didn’t even get near him. 

“Some people just need to be taught a lesson, don’t touch what isn’t yours.” He sneers and the rest of the table erupts into laughter. “I certainly taught that horned bitch a lesson as well, you all should have seen what they brought me last night.” 

You perk up, this is the only thing they’ve said in days that truly matters to you. You’ve heard nothing about the current state of either of them until now. 

“What did they do to Elaine?” Everyone’s head turns to you, all their expressions look as if you’ve announced something treasonous but Kodo smiles as if he were explaining something to a child. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” He puts his hand over yours when he says it. 

You don’t ask for any follow up. 

You don’t think you could stomach it, so you stay silent for the rest of your meal. When you’re finished you stand, the rest of the table is starting to pour more drinks but you simply lean down, mumbling something about being tired before giving Kodo a quick kiss on the cheek and dismissing yourself. 

You’re waiting for the night where he joins you in your chambers, after all his father is dead, but it has yet to happen. He had told you that once he was king he would be in need of heirs but he seems happy enough with his pleasure houses and you’re more than grateful for the women you entertain him so you don’t have to. 

So you return to your chambers alone, peeling off your gown before burying yourself under the covers. 

Sleep evades you as you toss and turn. You aren’t even tired, there’s too much going on in your mind, there’s no room for exhaustion. After about an hour you manage to drift in and out of unconsciousness, earning a brief reprieve from your anxieties until a sharp knocking has you jolting upright. 

You don your robe, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you rush to the door, you’re too tired to wonder who might even be bothering you at such an hour as you pull the door open. 

Lysa?

“We have to hurry, ma’am.” She grabs your arm, frantically tugging you into the hall. 

“Lysa? What are you doing? Are you okay?” 

“I am fine, but we don’t have much time.”

“Surely you have enough to tell me where we are going.” 

“Do you want to see him or not?” 

Din.

You nod, taking her hand as he rushes onward, stopping at each hall to peer around the corners until you make your way to a servants stairwell, skipping several steps in your descent until you run out of stairs. You’ve never been down here, you didn’t even know there were dungeons until recently. 

It makes your stomach twist in knots the moment you stare into the darkness. 

“Are there no guards?” You whisper, squeezing her hand.

“Not for the next hour, I’ve made sure of it.” She begins walking down the poorly lit corridor, pulling you along behind her. 

The stone floor is damp and it smells of mildew. Your bare feet are already freezing after just a few steps.

Every cell you pass is lit from the outside with a hanging lantern, they’re mostly empty, but you catch glimpses of movement out of the corner of your eye every now and then. In all honesty you’re doing your best to take in as little as possible, you don’t want to think about Din being down here in such a place, but there’s one element you can’t ignore. 

The wailing. 

Someone is weeping, a low, sorrowful song filling the vast maze of halls and you realize quickly you’re heading in its direction, Lysa tenses beside you as you continue on. You’re about to turn one more corner when she abruptly stops, turning to face you.

“He needs to eat.” She removes a fistful of rations from her apron pocket, shoving them into your hands. 

“He hasn’t?” He’s been down here for three days. 

“He won’t… let me.” You pause, cocking your head to the side and she gives you an apologetic look when she turns. “He won’t let me uncover his face.”

Oh. 

“I’ll feed him.” You nod slowly, tucking them into your own pockets before turning the corner. The contents of the cell immediately on your right have you stumbling backwards but Lysa is not swayed, pulling a key from her pocket, unlocking the door quickly before handing it to you. 

“He’s two cells down, on your right.” She doesn’t look at you as she rushes in, pulling a roll of bandages from her dress. “Shh… it’s okay, I’m here.” Her voice goes soft as she kneels beside Elaine. You can’t help it as you step into the entryway of the cell. 

Well, you’ve found the source of the wailing. 

She’s sat on a cot, curled in on herself as Lysa carefully peels back a series of soiled bandages from her face. 

“I’ve got you, it’s just me.” She continues to make an attempt to sooth a rather hysterical Elaine as she peels back the final layer of bandages and your stomach flips. “You’re okay, love, I need to change these.” You don’t know how Lysa is so calm, even in the darkness you can see the extent of her wounds. Now you know what they brought Kodo last night.  

Both eyes. 

“She was properly punished, the way someone who observed such a crime with no intervention should be.” 

Oh gods. 

You’re worried you may collapse as you watch Lysa tend to her with no hesitation, cleaning them with a careful hand before she begins to redress them. You can’t bear to watch any longer as Elaine begins sobbing once more. You try desperately to force the sight of your mutilated friend from your mind as you count down two more cells before quickly fumbling for the lock, letting it hit the floor as you take the lantern outside the door off its hook, bringing it into the dark room. 

It isn’t like Elaine’s cell. 

There’s no bed or interior light, it’s terribly dark and fetid, his cell running deeper than her’s. It takes a few steps for you to finally illuminate the room enough to see him. 

Maker. 

What have they done to your Din? 

You don’t hear Elaine anymore, there isn't a single thing that could distract you from the scene in front of you. There is nothing but the sight of your kar’ta. There’s too much for you to worry about, you don’t even know where to start, you’re frozen in place, a small part of your brain refuses to recognize the man before you as Din at all. He shouldn’t look like this. 

Armorless. 

They’ve stripped him of any clothing you recognize, the thought alone makes you nearly lose your dinner. 

They took his helmet, replacing it with a linen sack.  

Did they see his face?

You briefly have to shut your eyes, taking a deep breath as you take in the rest of him. His clothes are too thin, he must be freezing, they’ve dressed him in a cotton tunic and trousers that end just below the knee. You can see just how beaten and bruised he is. Unlike Elaine he’s in chains, kneeling on the floor with his hands shackled, taut above his head. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally crouch down in front of him, setting the lantern down beside you as you reach out to place a hand on his chest.

“Din…” Your voice cracks and the moment you come in contact with him he flinches back. Suddenly you know how Lysa held it together so well with Elaine, she just had to. You can’t fall apart, who would care for him now if you did? “It’s me, just me. Just me.” You whisper and place a hand over his heart but withdraw it quickly when he trembles under your touch. You ache at the sight of it but more than anything you’re confused, it only takes a moment for you to realize the issue. 

He doesn’t have his helmet. They’ve not only left him here blind, but deaf, of course any touch would frighten him. 

He assumes you're here to harm him. 

You lean in, careful not to come in contact with him as you speak clearly and loudly. 

“Din?” His trembling stops instantly. You find it a bit troublesome how much worse his hearing seems to have gotten in such a short time, you’re half tempted to reach under the bag to make sure he still has his ears. 

“Sarad?” Oh, Din. His voice is terribly small and it sends you forward, wrapping your arms around him as you pull him into an unreciprocated embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You make sure to speak loud enough for him before pulling back, placing your hands against the fabric covering his face. 

“Are you okay?” He coughs a bit as he asks and you almost laugh at how ridiculous the question is considering the state he’s in. Are you okay? 

Technically no. 

But far better than he’s doing. 

“I’m perfectly fine, what can I do for you? Are you hurting?” You feel his face through the bag as you look down across his body. It doesn’t look like there’s been any permanent damage outside of a pretty nasty cut on one of his legs. 

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Now’s not the time to play the hero, Din.” He flinches a little and you calm your tone immediately. What the hell did they do to him? “Just let me help.”

“How’d you get down here?” 

“Lysa, she says you aren’t eating.” 

“She’d have to lift my- the bag to do it.” He sounds apologetic, as if you could ever fault him for following his creed. 

“It’s okay… may I?” You bring your hands to the hem of the bag but his head turns sharply.

“I- I don’t want you to look.” 

You have no response. He’s always wanted you to look. 

“I just, I don’t think you wanna see the condition I’m in. I don’t want your only memories of my face to be this.” He whispers when you don’t respond.

You should have looked when he asked you to. You should have done a lot of things differently. 

You shouldn’t have waited so long to look. 

You shouldn't have waited so long to tell him you loved him. 

You should have just let yourself love him. Why did you fight it for so long? It seems silly now. If you could do it all again you would have just taken his helmet off the first night you met him and you would have married him right then and there. You would have left Naboo that night.

And you would never keep any of it from him. You would tell him how important he is and how loved he is, you wouldn’t make him wait. 

Even now you can’t help it though, censoring yourself out of fear. Do you tell him about how nauseous you get every morning? About the way Lysa stares at your belly when she does your makeup? 

No. 

It wouldn’t do either of you any good, not when he’s in this situation. 

You take hold of the edges of the bag once more, gentler this time. 

“I’ll close my eyes.” You lift the fabric completely off of him, setting it in your lap as you simultaneously shut your eyes. You keep one hand on his face, using your thumb to find the corner of his mouth as your other hand fumbles to open a ration bar. You feel him part his lips as you feed him. He’s barely chewing, eating quickly and swallowing most of it whole. “Have they fed you at all?” You whisper as he finishes the first bar in a matter of seconds, his teeth lightly scraping against your fingers before you withdraw them, tearing open another bar.

“No.” His voice is still soft as you go to feed him once more, opening each package until he’s eaten them all. 

“Are you still hungry? I could see if Lysa has more.” 

“I’m okay.” You let your head fall forward, resting your forehead on his. 

“What else can I do for you?” 

“Nothing. Being here is enough.” 

If you had felt helpless before it was nothing compared to this. This is more than helplessness, it’s despair. 

“I’m sorry.” You pull yourself further into his lap, wrapping your arms around him in the process. 

“Hey… none of this is your fault.” It certainly feels like it is. Why does he keep comforting you when he’s the one shivering and alone down here? 

“Please, there has to be something I can do to help you.” 

“There is one thing.” You almost open your eyes, you're so relieved, you just want to ease his pain. 

“Anything. I’ll do anything.” 

“I need you to promise me you won’t look.”

“Won’t look?” Your eyes are already closed, you couldn’t look any less if you tried. 

“When they do it. I don’t want you to see it- it won’t be pretty.”

When they separate his head from his body. 

“I won’t.” You can’t deny him this, you’ll give him anything he wants. “Do you know how much I love you?” You whisper before leaning forward another inch to kiss him. 

The question is genuine. It terrifies you to your core to think that he may not know just how much you love him. 

“Of course sarad.” He murmurs against your lips until you let your head rest on his shoulder, fighting back tears. 

What do you say now?

What do you say to a man condemned to death? 

“I love you.” You mumble into the thin fabric of his tunic. 

“I love you too.” After a moment more with him you hear metal jingling as Lysa locks Elaine's cell once more. You quickly pull back from him, pulling the bag back over his head, once you know he can’t see you anymore the tears flow freely. Lysa steps into the cell and you remove your robe, wrapping it around him, immediately he begins to protest. 

“Mesh’la, you can’t leave this here.” His voice is strained and it makes you sick to think he started crying once he was out of sight as well. 

“Please, y-you’re gonna freeze.”

“They’ll know you were here, sarad’ika.” 

“Din…” You’re practically babbling as Lysa removes your robe from his shoulders, an apologetic look on her face as she grabs your arm. 

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we need to go.” Tears sting your eyes as Lysa urges you to hurry but you don’t want to leave him, you want to stay, no matter the consequence. You pull away from her, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

“You need to go.” His voice is urgent through the fabric as you cling to him tighter. 

Would it be easier to just stay? Get caught and join him at the executioners? You’re genuinely considering it when you feel your stomach churn once more and you’re reminded of the exact reason why you can’t stay. Before you lose your nerve and shatter completely you lift the bag, just enough to give you an eyeful of his split lip and bruised jaw as you gently lean in and kiss him one more time. 

Doing everything in your power to remember exactly what it feels like.

The curve of his lips and the shape of his chin, the overgrown stubble brushing against your skin as you press your face harder against his, desperation taking over as you taste salt on his lips. You hold him as long as you can, until you hear Lysa urging you to make haste once more. 

“I love you.” You press your forehead to his through the fabric, feeling the familiar shape of his face against yours. 

“I’ll always be yours.” 

That was the last thing he was able to say before you let Lysa drag you out of the dungeons. 

☆

It’s like everythings suddenly back to the beginning. 

You wake up alone, you go to bed alone, and you wander the castle alone.

There is no plotting or scheming to free Din. 

Even if you were a trained killer or bounty hunter, it would be more than difficult to get him out of the dungeon and on a ship off Naboo. It would be even harder to do so when you’re one of the most recognizable people on the planet. 

He is buried deep beneath the ground and there is nothing you can do about it. 

After all, you're just a doll. 

You don’t know when it happened but all your clothes are blue again. Every dress Lysa fetches from the closet is a different shade of blue and all your nightgowns are the color of the sky. A personal brand put on you by Kodo. It’s clearly more than just a preference now, it’s a reminder to you and everyone else that you’re his. 

And time blends. 

You know a date was set right around the time you visited him. One week until Kodo’s coronation and two until the execution. His first public event after being crowned king will be a death sentence, how fitting. 

So you wake. 

And you sleep. 

And you walk. 

Kodo never replaces Din and you haven’t seen Leo since that night, so you’re completely alone. It’s like he’s rubbing in the fact that you’re powerless. There’s no need for you to have a guard, you can’t leave. If you tried you’d be escorted back in an instant. 

You tried to convince Lysa to let you see him again last night. 

“Please, just a few minutes-“

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just not possible. The only reason I was able to get you down there the first time was because the guard that usually lets me in was working nights, he won’t be working nights again until next month.”

Din won’t live to see next month. 

“Is he eating?”

“He won’t let me-“

“You need to insist. Tell him I insist, and tell him you’ll close your eyes.” 

She pins back a bit of your hair, leaving half up and half down. You both bask in the silence for a moment.

“I’ll make sure he eats.”

“Thank you.”

That had been the last conversation you had with Lysa. 

She doesn’t come to dress you in the morning. You think nothing of it and dress yourself in the gown she’d laid out last night. It’s a bit difficult, putting your coronation gown on on your own but eventually you manage, when you’re fully dressed in the obscenely decadent blue fabric you begin to worry. 

You have no reason to assume that everything is fine. It would actually make sense for this to be a worst case scenario situation, everything else in your life is right now. 

You’re about to leave in search of her but you decide against it. Sitting at the vanity and doing your makeup as quickly as possible, the last thing you need to do right now is give Kodo a reason to be upset with you, you have to be presentable. You smear the shimmering blue eyeshadow across your lids before rushing out of your room. 

The halls are full. Servants move quickly from room to room, cleaning every inch as you carefully push through the crowds, making a beeline towards the dining room. 

Kodo is seething when you push open the large doors. 

He stands at the end of the table, shoving an armored guard as the veins in his neck jut out in his rage. 

“Where could she have possibly gone? She’s blind. You’re telling me some blind bitch outsmarted my entire guard?” 

Your heart flutters at the thought.

They escaped.

Your hope is shattered the moment Kodo begins speaking again.

“At least we still have the Mandalorian… I want security tripled, guards stationed outside his cell at all times.” He continues grumbling for a moment until he realizes you’re there. “Happy coronation day dear wife! I’m afraid we’ve had a rough morning here, somehow in the night the Togruta girl escaped, do not fret, we’ll find her.” 

God's you hope not.

Even if things are worse than ever regarding Din there is one flicker of light in that darkness. Lysa got Elaine out. Knowing that almost puts you at ease.

“Happy coronation day.” You actually manage a smile when you look at your husband, it’s weak but it’s genuine. You want to be mad that they didn’t help Din escape but you just can’t be. You know they most likely tried but if the roles had been reversed and you could only get one of them out you wouldn’t hesitate. 

So there is no animosity. Just a flicker of happiness for them.

They got out.

☆

You were under the impression that a coronation was a happy event. Yet when you step out onto the castle steps it seems to be quite the opposite. 

They look miserable. 

All of their faces are sullen and dejected. How shocking, no one is excited about Kodo being crowned king. He didn’t have any of the outside of the castle decorated or made presentable in any way. No one reacts when Kodo reads from an ancient looking book until a crown is placed on his head. 

A moment afterwards you’re instructed to kneel and a tiara is placed onto your head. 

The audience is silent and you feel shame when you stare out at them.

Even if you don’t have very much power you still feel as if you’ve failed them. The feeling follows you when you’re directed to the dining hall with Kodo.

“I have a couple gifts for you, wife.” His twisted smile makes your stomach turn as you enter the dining hall, now decorated with blue and gray banners.  

“A gift? You shouldn’t have, my king, I- I didn’t get you anything.” You feign remorse as you take a sip of the wine in front of you on instinct before spitting it back up into the cup. 

“That’s more than okay, you’re my gift, sweet wife, all mine.” The thought of such a thing makes you sick, you smile despite yourself. 

“That’s very kind.” You’ll only ever be Din’s. No amount of blue fabric and faux smiles can change that. He snaps his fingers and a large box is brought to you by a servant, they set it directly in front of you on the table. You look at Kodo who nods, sitting back in his chair as you stand, the box is wrapped in checkered blue paper, a large bow adorning the top. Your hands tremble a bit as you take hold of the edges of the ribbon, tugging on them until the bow slips free, much to your surprise the entire box falls open, the sides collapsing giving you an immediate view of the contents. 

The silver, shimmering contents. 

Din’s helmet. 

Polished like new, it sits before you, and the room suddenly empties. It’s as if you are completely alone, despite all the eyes that are most definitely pinned on you right now. Your hands continue to shake as your fingers wrap around the beskar steel, like you would when you held Din’s face, lifting it to glare into the visor. 

Empty. 

You can’t help but stare at your own emptiness reflected back at you. 

You want to hold it close, press it to your forehead but you’re snapped back to reality by the grating sound of Kodo’s voice breaking you from your focus on the helm between your hands. 

“That’s only one of your presents, open the next one.” He hisses gleefully. 

You set the helmet down, realizing there was another, much smaller box underneath it. Silently you scoop it up and cradle it in your hands. It’s a larger than a ring box, it just barely fits in your palm as you ever so gently open it, swinging the top open as if it were a tiny treasure chest.              

Huh.

It takes a moment.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re looking at at first but when it registers your entire body tenses up, your grip tightening on the gift box. 

Bloody and pink, a tongue. 

Of course you know better than to assume Kodo would give you any old tongue. This is a special someone’s tongue. 

No, no, no, no, no. 

You had loved his tongue before anything else.

He can’t do this, he cannot do this to you.

You had fallen for his sharp wit first, it was what drew you into him. His sweet words had won you back, his declaration of devotion.

Now you hold all of that in the palm of your hand. 

“What do we say?” His nasally voice breaks through your mental anguish. 

No.

“Come on, where are your manners?”

Please. 

“Thank you.” Your whisper is nearly silent as you struggle to keep down the scream bubbling in your throat.

“What was that?” 

You clear your throat. 

“Thank you.” 

He makes you take it with you. You don’t bother telling him you won’t be attending the coronation ball in a few minutes, it’s not like you’ll be missed. 

In one arm you’re cradling his helmet, in the other the little blue box. 

You set each one down carefully onto the bed, even if it’s a bit demented these are the only parts of him you have left. You stare at the little box. 

You have never been hateful. 

Kodo made you into this. You are full of hate, for most things at this point. You hate your husband, you hate your room, and most of all you hate the little blue box on the bed. 

And the music starts. 

It must be deafening in the hall for you to hear it from your room but it’s there, loud and demanding of your attention. 

You’re moving before you even have a chance to think about it, in a few quick strides you’re standing beside the vanity, your hands gripping the top of the mirror as you pull it down in one swift motion, the contents spill everywhere and the glass shatters in an instant, shards splattering the floor but you take no time to process it. 

You move on to the next thing.

You yank each drawer from the dresser, throwing them to the floor, clothes strewn about until it’s light enough for you to push the entire dresser over. In your frenzy you go about the room toppling every stupid fucking table over. So many fucking end tables in  one room, and you throw everyone to the floor, trinkets and vases clattering to the ground as you destroy the room. You get a rush of adrenaline as you lift one of your nightstands and throw it against the wall leaving a small dent but more importantly the force of it makes anything hanging on the wall tumble to the floor, glass frames shatter. 

Your chest heaves as you stare at the carnage.  

And it isn’t enough.

Your face is wet with tears and your hands with blood from cuts you didn’t feel upon your skin as you tear open the closet door, the pile of blankets mock you from the floor, you grab them, your vision now blurry with tears as you pull them out of the closet, throwing them onto your bedroom floor. When you return to the closet you’re in a frenzy, you tear at the fabric before you, yanking each and every dress off their hangers, ripping what you can.

There is nothing else for you to do, so you destroy everything you can get your hands on until the only thing left untouched is your bed, left in pristine condition as you let out a small sob. 

Maybe you are a hateful person now. 

You feel as though you have every right to be at this point. 

You step over the shard of glass, giving your bloody hands a glance before wiping them on your gown.

Happy coronation day. 

You sit on the bed, your trembling fingers wrap around the helmet, now that you’re alone you waste no time to hold it against you face, until your body just gives up, too tired to stay awake anymore.

☆

A guard wakes you in the morning, knocking on your door, when you answer it they tell you Kodo requires your presence in his chambers.

You dress in a blue gown that you don’t look too closely at. Stopping at the fresher on the way, rinsing the dried gore from your palms, wincing as you clean your wounds. None of which seem too deep. 

You want to cut Kodo’s tongue out, to make him feel it. But you know that sort of thing would be an impossible task. So you daydream about it as you walk. You’re more than displeased when you open the door and are greeted by Leodall. You hadn’t seen him since that night and from the looks of it he wasn’t expecting you. He swallows loudly when you step inside Kodo’s room.

Normally you’d be curious, you’d probably take a look around but your eyes refuse to focus on anything but Leo as you scowl at him. 

“Why’d you do it?” You don’t hesitate to ask, you have no idea how quickly Kodo will be joining you. 

He simply stares at you, shame apparent on his face.

“You owe me an explanation at the very least.” You cross your arms in front of your chest as he clears his throat. 

“I thought he’d reward me.”

You laugh. A harsh dry sound 

“What could he have possibly given you that you couldn’t have just asked me for?” Your gaze never softens and you’re practically seeing red as you stare at him.

“I thought he’d give me a lordship.” 

You can’t help it as another crisp and pained laugh slips past your lips. 

“You thought Kodo would raise your status? I thought you were supposed to be smart.” Is he an idiot? “He doesn’t see servants as people, if you wanted such a thing you could have asked me, maybe I could have done something.” 

A glimmer of something similar to hope flashes through his eyes. 

“Would you- would you consider doing so now?”

“You cannot be serious-” Your expression goes from fury to disbelief as you stand. 

“It seemed worth asking.” He puts his hands up defensively as you storm up to him, poking a finger into his face. 

“You slimy little weasel, it should be you on the chopping block, not him. If it were up to me I’d have them put your head on a spike.” The words pour out of you like venom. 

“I would be nicer to me if I were you.” He sneers and your incredulity only grows. You can’t help it, you scoff in his face. 

“I would rather die.” A part of you really means it. 

“You might if you aren’t careful, I saved your life by letting Elaine and your Mandalorian take the fall, I could have told the king that you were a willing participant. I saw the two of you together, I read your little rules. He never forced himself on you. I wonder what Kodo might think about that.” You aren’t a fighter, you’ve never so much as thrown a punch in your life but you grab him by the collar of his shirt and slam him into the wall, the back of his head hits the stone and you don’t feel an ounce of remorse as you do so. 

“Do it.” You tilt your head to the side, almost as if you’re taunting him. “Tell him.” Any of the confidence he briefly had is gone in an instant. “The moment you do I’ll tell him that you’re covering your tracks, and that you made a pass at me. I wonder how Kodo would reward you for trying to touch what’s his?” Leo’s head turns as you both hear Kodo’s piercing voice in the hall. You release your grip on his shirt, brushing off your gown as you turn towards the door. Kodo and three others make their way into the room as Leo coughs behind you. 

“Dear wife, I have another gift for you.” He takes a step to the side, gesturing at a line of three people you don’t give so much as a glance. He doesn’t even seem to notice the obvious tension in the room. “A new staff!”

“I don’t need a new staff, I’m fine on my own.” You abandon the pleasantries. You’re in such a state of upset right now, what's the point? 

“You’re the queen now, staff is required. These three will replace the ones you've lost in a week, until then Leodall will be training them intensively to tend to your every need. Two guards will also be assigned to you but I promise they will be much less loathsome than your Mandalorian.”

All five of them will be trained to keep an eye on you. To report back to Kodo, after everything with Din you should have known he’d keep you on a shorter leash. 

You barely look at them. 

You hate them. 

You shouldn’t, they’ve done nothing wrong, but you hate them. 

You give each one a quick up and down, naming them in your mind. 

A BD-3000 droid commands the most authority just based on how she stands so you mentally note her as Elaine's replacement. You’ll call her new Elaine. 

New Lysa is a pasty young blonde woman with rosy cheeks. You truly wonder how well informed she has been on your circumstance. She’s smiling from ear to ear and seemingly couldn’t be happier to be here. 

And new Leo is somehow even more nervous looking than actual Leo, practically shaking like a leaf at the sight of you. The bags under his eyes are worse than your own. A lanky thing with messy brown hair. 

There’s no reason for you to fight this, Kodo always gets his way so why bother. So you nod. You don’t pretend to be grateful this time, instead you shove your way past all of them, content to return to your room and never leave. 

☆

The morning of the execution comes before you’re ready for it. 

Of course you didn’t sleep last night, how could you?

You dress yourself, apparently your new staff isn’t starting until tomorrow, not that you mind another day to yourself. You manage to find something that isn’t blue, a gray dress trimmed with gold, the closest thing you’ll find to funeral attire. No one else will dress with any respect for him but they can’t stop you. Your vanity is destroyed so you don’t bother with your hair or your makeup, you simply don’t care enough. 

For the most part you feel nothing when you open the door, only emptiness until you look down. 

Someone left you a small vase of flowers. 

You pick them up, taking a closer look but your heart skips a beat when you do so.

Daisies. 

After a few short breaths you throw the vase into the wall across from your door, tiny shards of porcelain fly everywhere as two servants at the end of the hall give you a look of horror. Your shoes crunch over the remains of it as you make your way down the hall and to the entryway of the castle. 

Kodo insists that the two of you get to see him first. 

You’re sweating wildly out on the steps as you wait.

Long before you’re ready for it they bring him out. 

A shivering skeleton of a man with a linen bag over his head, immediately bile rises in your throat. Kodo is grinning ear to ear when his legs are kicked out from under him and he’s forced to kneel.

Kodo himself reaches forward and tears the bag off, too excited for any decorum or finesse. 

You gasp as you stare down at the broken man before you.

In all honesty he isn’t at all what you envisioned. 

His eyes verge on being hazel; they're such a light brown. You’d always pictured them to be nearly black. It doesn’t matter what color they are though, when you see the tears forming in his lash line you flinch, clutching the ring on your necklace to silently let him know silently just how much he means to you. 

He’s a mess. 

You don’t like looking at what those weeks in the dungeons did to him and the last thing you need to do right now is empty your stomach on the palace steps. 

He’s too thin. Far, far, too thin, it’s like his entire being has shrunk down. He’s hollow.

Your breath hitches when Kodo grabs a fistful of his dark hair, forcing him to turn and stare at the crowd. They must have cut it while he was down there it’s a mess, jagged edges and shorter than you’re used to. 

“This man has committed an act of treason against the crown.” His voice is loud and booming as the city goes quiet. “For such a crime he shall face the proper punishment.” He yanks him downawards, you watch in horror as Din’s head hits the stone, an incoherent mess of sounds pour from his bloody mouth and you have to look away. 

He didn’t want you to look.

You remind yourself to try and calm your breathing. You can hear the scuffle as they drag him to the guillotine, placing his neck into the wooden divot, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest as you turn to look. His eyes are everywhere but on you as he looks at the people around him, desperately pleading for his life. Not a single person so much as glances at him, afterall, it’s just nonsense, no one can understand him without a tongue. 

You can’t stand it, you almost cover your ears but you manage to resist as Kodo puts an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

“You’re welcome, sweet wife.” He whispers, his breath hot and wet against your ear. 

Fuck it. 

You don’t suppress the shudder in your spine as you shoot him a look of disgust. In a matter of moments everything you care about will be gone, why pretend any longer.

A bellowing chime plays from a nearby clock tower and you know it’s time, you straighten up as you stare at the guillotine in abject horror. 

This is it. 

Your chest rises and falls in sharp short bursts as everyone prepares themselves, a hush forming among the crowd on the street. 

And it begins, a chain reaction that you cannot stop now that the executioner has his ax raised above his head.

You had expected more. More time.

A part of you thought that time would slow, that you’d have a chance to stop it. 

But no. 

There is no epic fairy tale moment where the sun glimmers off of the blade and the executioner raises his ax, giving you this perfect moment to run to him, to shield him from the inevitable, to beg them to take you with him. 

That moment never comes. 

You barely have enough time to close your eyes like you promised him. In one unbroken motion the rope is cut, the blade falls and boom. 

Just like that, he’s gone. 

When you hear the metal slicing through the air you squeeze your eyes shut, hearing only the wet crunch as it cuts through flesh and bone. A soft, squishy thud when his head hits the stone. 

In fashion with your decision to no longer hide your disgust from Kodo you vomit. Bending down you puke onto the stones, spraying your own, and Kodo’s feet. The triumphant smile on his face vanishes as he realizes what’s happened. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, refusing to look at Din’s limp body as you give Kodo one last look of detestation before turning around and running back into the castle, not caring what anyone thinks anymore.

The moment you’re inside the reality of it all settles in as you feel tears falling wildly as you run up the steps to your room.

☆

You have been good, and kind, and in return the maker rewarded you by killing the love of your life. 

So when you stand in the center of your demolished room you do the only thing your body can do at this point. 

You scream. 

From deep within your stomach, you scream, loud and raw. 

If anything was left unbroken in your room you’d be throwing it at the wall. But there’s nothing so you scream. 

You shriek.

You howl. 

And you wail.

You scream until there is no more noise. Your voice, like the rest of you, gives up. 

You aren’t sure how late it is when you finally stop. You’re tired and it’s dark outside and your throat is raw. 

And you lay on the floor. Because the bed is too big, and too cold, and the closet is so empty. So the only place left to sleep is there. You lay on the floor with no more tears to cry and no more sounds to scream as you stare at your bed, only from this angle can you see a rectangular shape under your bed frame. 

You wipe your nose with a stray piece of fabric before slowly crawling over to it, you sit on the floor and when you retrieve the item a brand new lump forms in your throat as you stare down at the box Din had bought all those days ago at the market. 

Your failsafe. 

With quivering hands you open it, staring into the small space containing a mess of items but what catches your eye is a piece of folded paper with your name on it. You take it between your fingers, opening it, careful to not let your tears fall onto it. 

Sarad’ika,

If you’re reading this then I’m afraid things aren’t going all that well for me. There are plenty of possible reasons as to why I’m no longer with you, but what’s important is that I plan on doing everything in my power to get back to you. There is only one thing in the galaxy that could keep me from your side, and if that is my fate then this box will ensure you’re taken care of. 

The most important thing is for you to get off this planet. I have included a few possible plans for you, do what you have to to survive. Elaine will help you escape. 

You can seek out Greef Karga on Nevarro. Tell him Din Djarin sent you, tell him what’s happened and he will see to it that you are cared for. Explain our circumstances and I am certain he will provide you with safe lodging. 

Tatooine is also an option. You’ll find a Mandalorian there by the name of Boba Fett, he will not turn you away. You will be protected there, if you need to relocate for some reason after that he will help you locate the Mandalorian convert. Show the Mandalorians your ring and you will be cared for the rest of your life, the convert will protect you. 

As an absolute last resort there is a planet located in the Outer Ring called Ossus. There is a school there, taught by a man named Luke Skywalker. I doubt he would be eager to take you in but you must insist. Bring the chainmail, they’ll know who sent you. Take care of each other. 

In this box you will find enough credits to get you off planet and take care of you for several months, a year if you’re frugal, I suggest you take a few jewelry pieces to pawn off for extra credits as well. You will find a small chainmail shirt, and a necklace of mine. 

And lastly you will find your vibroblade. 

Protect yourself. You’re strong, and more than capable of doing so.

I have one request for you, please, I will only ask this one thing of you. 

Be smart. 

You are the smartest and kindest person I have ever had the honor of knowing. Be smart, take care of yourself. If the roles were reversed I know that I would go to extremes to either get you back, or find justice for you. And all I can do is ask that you do not attempt any such thing, the only thing I would ever want for you is safety and happiness. 

So seek those things out. 

Be safe. Be happy.   

I was lucky to know you, and even luckier to be yours. 

an ner kar'taylir darasuum, 

Din

All my love. 

You flip the paper over, desperate for more, more Din, but all you find is scrawled coordinates to each location. Your fingers sift through the items, everything he promised is found inside but you latch onto the blade. Laying back down on the floor you clutch it between your fingers as you think of Din.

Din, who was yours.

Din, who they took from you.

Who Kodo, took from you. 

And your grip on the knife tightens. 

☆

Two guards stand outside your door round the clock now. 

They never follow you or come into your room but they’re there, silently watching as you direct all your anger at your new staff. As promised Leo trained them to be as persistent and infuriating as he was. 

When the two new girls come to fetch you in the morning you can’t help it when you scream at them to leave you alone and to stop trying to clean the ever growing mess of things. 

It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their fault, you can’t stand the sight of anyone. 

All three of them try. New Elaine and Lysa show up three times a day, trying to dress you and squeeze their way past you into the room but after enough shrieking they always leave you be. 

New Leo usually tries once or twice a day, you don’t even look at him. You always stare at the floor, when he tries to speak you give him the same treatment as the girls, screaming at him and slamming the door. 

Why should you let them in? You know what they are. They’re here to spy on you, to be Kodo’s eyes while he’s busy being king. They’re easy to evade. When you leave to fetch yourself food or a book from the library you easily outrun them. The two girls are worse at navigating the castle than you were when you first arrived and new Leo has a bad leg, sometimes he’ll make attempts to limp after you but they’re always unsuccessful. 

You think of nothing, day after day because there is nothing to think about. 

Except for the fact that Kodo took your future away from you. He took everything from you. 

If you thought time was blending before Din’s death nothing could have prepared you for now. You don’t track the days as well, you keep your curtains drawn and only leave when you get hungry or start to think of Din. The last thing you need to do is have another screaming fit so you keep him locked away in your heart, an ache that’s always there that you don’t address. 

One day, in a fit of tears you took your knife and decided on a whim to kill Kodo. You didn’t care about the repercussions at that point you just wanted him to suffer but the moment you opened the door you nearly tripped, stumbling backwards the guards didn’t so much as glance at you. 

Another vase of flowers.

You’re tempted to just kick them down the hall but you can’t help yourself when you lean down to pick them up. 

A bouquet of blue lilies. Your nose twitches at the sight of them, out of the corner of your eye you see new Lysa and new Elaine approaching so you take the opportunity to slam the little glass vase into the stone floor. Glaring at them when you do before returning to your room. 

☆

Maybe it’s been three days since Din died. 

Maybe it’s been three months. 

You aren’t sure.

You aren’t sure when you made plans to kill Kodo either but suddenly you have them. A fool proof way to get him alone. 

And suddenly you’re dressed for the first time in, well, however long it’s been. In a baby blue nightie with a robe you march out into the hall. The guards watch in silence as you walk away, your bare feet scampering down the stairs until you find yourself watching the main entrance. Waiting for your loving husband to make his nightly trip to a pleasure house, a trip that is typically accompanied by guards. 

You grip the handle of the knife in your pocket as you wait until you finally hear footsteps approaching. 

“Kodo, honey?” You step out from behind the stone column, holding your robe closed as you bat your eyelashes at him. He stumbles around drunkenly until his eyes focus on you. 

You’ve only used your voice for screaming for so long you sound meek, exactly as you want to right now. 

“Wife?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to join me tonight…” You hold a hand out towards him, putting on a sickly sweet tone of innocence. His mouth twists into a grin. 

“I knew you’d come around eventually.”

He doesn’t question where you’re taking him, he simply follows.

What a joke. 

You pull him up the stairs, you know from hide and seek where to find an empty room so you guide him there in calculated silence until he trips a bit, laughing to himself as he stutters.

“I knew if I got rid of the Mandalorian you’d realize how much better I am than him.” The statement doesn’t sit right with you and he can see it on your face, even in his drunken state he can sense your confusion. 

You both stop, you’re above him on the stairs as you turn and stare into his eyes.

“You- you knew?”

He simply nods, that sickening smile of his is plastered on his face. His icy blue eyes shimmer with delight. 

“How long?”

“When Leo told me I remembered everything. That little altercation in the hall when your boy knocked me out came right back to me, from there it wasn’t hard to figure out.” Your eye twitches as he speaks.

He knew you loved him and he took him from you anyway.

Any hesitations you had are gone as you nod, pulling him onward until you reach the large vacant tower room. He’s so drunk you decide to just drop the voice, pointing at a spot on the floor. 

“Lay down.” You mumble, reaching into your pocket once more.

He eagerly does as he’s told, laying down on the cold stone, you take a deep breath, in one swift motion you grab your knife, holding it behind your back as you toss your robe aside. He gives you a toothy grin as you ever so slowly walk to him, standing above him before sitting, straddling his waist. 

You look him up and down, one last time. 

Your loving husband. 

One of his hands plays with the blue lace of your nightie as you collect yourself. You look up at the ceiling briefly. 

I’m sorry. 

Not for Kodo, but for Din. This is exactly what he didn’t want you to do. 

You aren’t a killer. And you aren’t hateful, but a person can only be pushed so far before something breaks. 

Be smart. 

You think of Din’s note one last time before you bring the blade out in front of you and slam the blade into Kodo’s chest. 

He makes a sickly wet sound, coughing as he stares at you in shock.

You remove the knife, the hot steel cauterizes his wounds, there isn’t so much as a drop of blood as your face twists with fury and you bring it down again into his stomach now. 

How dare he look surprised by any of this. 

After what he took from you? He deserves galaxies worse. 

So you remove the knife. 

And you stab him again.

And again,

and again,

and again,

and again,

and again.

Until there is no more shocked look on his face. You don’t have a snarky remark or a statement to commemorate your revenge, you’re all used up at this point, all you have is this, this stabbing motion. 

He didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

You crawl off of his body, sitting on the stones as you toss the knife to the side, waiting for a rush of euphoria. 

But it never comes. 

It doesn’t feel as good as you thought it would. 

Staring down at Kodo’s lifeless body. You let yourself crumble. Collapsing down onto the floor, gasping for air as you sob. 

This was never going to bring him back. 

You lay there on your hands and knees for quite some time, just wailing, because what else are you supposed to do right now? You realize far too late that this was never an act of malice, some demented and shattered part of you thought that this would somehow bring him back, that it would give you peace. 

They won’t execute you. 

You planned this exactly so they wouldn’t.

Kodo didn’t tell anyone about your relationship with Din in much detail, not enough for them to assume that you could be with child. Everyone will assume that it’s Kodo’s. They won’t kill you, they can’t. 

Not if they think you’re carrying Kodo’s child. Now that Kodo’s dead, there’s no one to tell the royal family that you never consummated your marriage, your child is the most well protected person on the planet. The future monarch. It’s almost funny, you haven’t permitted yourself to think about the stirring within you as a child until just now, in this moment of weakness. A child, your child. 

Who will most likely grow up without a mother because of the decisions you've made today.

You bite your fist, swallowing a scream as you sit back on your heels. 

Your child will never know how loved they were. Your little one will never get to sit beside their mother while their father teaches them to sew. You put your head in your hands as you wail, no longer caring who hears. Your fate is sealed, what does it matter? 

You don’t turn when you hear someone coming up the stairs. When they pull you into their arms you try uselessly to shove them away. Your vision is blurry and filled with tears as you stare up at the unfamiliar figure now holding you. They rub your back, drawing swirls and stars against your spine as they pull you closer. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” They mumble into your hair. You dry your eyes hastily on your sleeve, confused by the voice you’re hearing, it’s painfully familiar, on instinct you wrap your arms around their torso, pulling yourself into their lap as you both sit on the floor beside Kodo’s body. “You’re okay, I’m here.”

“I’m- I’m sorry.” You whisper against the stranger's shirt. You knew you weren’t hateful. You’re certain of it now because even though he took quite literally everything from you, you still feel bad when you look at Kodo. 

A large hand cups your face, pulling you back to their chest so you can’t see the corpse anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it- I- I didn’t mean to kill him. Well I did but I just-” You begin to ramble as a fresh flood of tears begin sliding down your cheeks. 

“Hey- hey it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. We gotta get you cleaned up, okay? I’ll take care of this, I’ll fix it.” Their arms tighten around you, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You finally find the courage to look at your companion and it takes a moment for you to even realize who you’re looking at. 

New Leo. 

Why would he help you? You treat him like shit. When you look at him he looks like he’s about to cry and for the first time since Din was taken from you drop the walls you’ve put up and you let yourself feel bad for him. You show an ounce of kindness to him because in all honesty he’s the first person to make you feel safe since the night Din was taken from you. 

A lighthouse while you sail through a storm.

So you hug him. 

You pull yourself closer to him and you offer him a comfort you haven’t known for days.

“I’m sorry… for all of it, but especially the flowers, I should have told you, I just- you wouldn’t let me and the guards wouldn’t let me in without your permission and you just wouldn’t look at me.” He begins to mumble his own apologies, sending a surge of confusion through you. 

You furrow your brows, pulling back once more giving him a perplexed look as you search his nearly black eyes for some kind of answer. 

And it clicks. 

All at once it snaps into place and you want to say his name, so desperately, but you’re terribly afraid of being wrong. 

And then he smiles. A soft smile that makes you feel okay and you don’t even care if you’re wrong and you don’t care if it doesn’t make sense you just have to ask.

“Din?”

☆

a/n : yeah so uhhhhh yeah uhhhh this is the first chapter i've ever written where im actually very fond of the writing and nervous about the plot stuff so im gonna go hide?? and just vanish for a while lol

//

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#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #din djarin/reader #din djarin/you

[wososcripts]

Tell Me of Your Grief

Stina Blackstenius x Reader

Summary: The fourteenth of March brings back some rather difficult memories, and you don't always make the healthiest decisions. Stina intervenes.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: sorry it's been a while, I've started uni again which means my writing is somewhat slower! With some luck I'll be able to get things up once a week? But that remains to be seen... I promise this is hurt/comfort and not just pain btw.

Warnings ⚠️: discussion of death, self harm behaviors (mild), angst angst angst

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

You woke up that morning to a text from Jonas saying you didn’t have to come to training. 

It felt weak to admit it, but part of you was relieved. You knew Katie must’ve talked to him, which was mortifying if you let yourself think about it too much, but she knew you needed this day to yourself. 

It was the anniversary of your best friend’s passing—five years in the making. You hadn’t told many of your teammates what happened, or why you became so withdrawn and somber the week around the 14th of March. It was too difficult to explain. All of the dramatics that surrounded the event, the pain, what you had done wrong, what she had too, it was all still too delicate for eyes you didn’t completely trust. 

You hadn’t even told your girlfriend Stina yet. You’d meant to, really, you had, but the days slipped by and there never seemed like a good time to do it. You knew it would ruin any good mood you were in, and honestly you enjoyed having Stina as your respite when the rest of the world seemed to be knocking against your skull. But it felt wrong that she didn’t know. It felt as though you were hiding something from her, even if it wasn’t intentional.

“Hi baby, I’m not feeling well today so I won’t be at practice. Don’t worry your head when I’m not there. It’s nothing too serious, though, so I’ll be back tomorrow.” You spoke into your phone, recording a voice note to send to her so she wouldn’t be left in the dark about where you were. 

Stina was a worrier, something you yourself could understand, so you always made the effort to let her know if you were running late or not going to something. Otherwise you’d inevitably get a call with her anxious voice on the other line. 

It was early, too early for even Stina to be up. The sun had barely begun cresting over the horizon, casting a slight glow to everything. You wanted to go back to sleep, particularly since you hadn't slept all that well to begin with. Your back hurt from being tensed all night as you were plagued with anxious dreams. On your palms were the remnants of nail indentations—some of them bloody from how hard you had been pressing.

You turned on a podcast and closed your eyes, hoping the sound of human voices would lull you to sleep. It must've worked for a little while, because the next time you opened your eyes it was truly morning, and the podcast had switched to another episode. 

The dreams had continued, unsurprisingly considering your waking mental state, and the extra hour of sleep you might be able to get if you closed your eyes wasn't worth it. So you got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to go for a run. 

You weren't typically a runner—in fact you were practically ethically against doing it as a hobby—but it was useful for clearing your head. And with no training today, it would feel good to get out for at least a little while. So you blasted your music and took off into the streets of London, completely lost in your own world. Nobody spoke to you, nobody looked at you. 

By the time you had finished, you were sweaty, red-faced, and exhausted. The endorphins began to flood your system as you stripped and started the shower. You turned it almost as high as it could go, hoping for the burn against your skin. You hissed, stepping under the spray, and tears sprung to your eyes. Your skin immediately began to redden. But you didn’t move to lower the heat, instead grabbing your shampoo, gritting your teeth, and bearing it. 

—

“Morning, Blackstenius.” Beth called, clapping her on the back soundly as she wandered into the locker room. 

Stina expected to find you there, sitting by your locker getting changed into your kit and reading your book as you always did, each morning. But you weren’t there. Your locker hadn’t even been touched. She furrowed her brow, then remembered that you had sent her a message earlier. Maybe you had asked her for a ride and she hadn’t seen? Maybe you were going to be late today? Maybe you had some kind of appointment you’d forgotten about until the last minute—you were notorious for that. 

“Morning,” Katie said, sitting down next to Stina on the bench and pulling her kit out of her bag. 

“Morning, Katie.” She replied, opening her phone to look at her message. 

She brought the phone to her ear, confusion and concern filling her chest as she listened to your voice. Though your words weren’t all that worrying, she could hear in your voice that things weren’t right. 

“How’s she doing?” Katie asked, having heard your voice coming from the phone. Her voice was cautious, something unusual for the Irish captain.

“Did you know she wouldn’t be here today?” Stina asked, confused as to why Katie seemed to be clued in to your mood before her. Maybe you had sent her a similar message? She was your best friend, after all. The two of you made a ridiculous pair—her loud and aggressive, you nearly silent and composed—but you’d known each other longer than anyone else on the team, and everyone knew Katie would do practically anything for you. 

Katie was quiet, glancing around at the other girls in the room. Now Stina was worried. Even though you had told her not to be, that it wasn’t anything serious, she couldn’t help it now that Katie was acting so strangely. 

Once it was just Stina and Katie in the locker room, Katie answered her question. 

“Listen, it isn’t my place to tell you anything. You know how private she is…” Katie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, probably didn’t want to worry you, the idiot,” she mumbled under her breath to an increasingly concerned Stina. 

“Katie.” Stina said firmly, “What the fuck is going on?” 

She wasn’t usually one to swear. But where you were concerned, the possibility that you were hurting, and had hidden it from her, that warranted much more than cursing. 

“Today is difficult for her, very difficult. That’s all I feel comfortable saying. But if you want to go, Jonas is going to understand.” 

Stina’s heart was in her stomach. Images flashed through her mind, a thousand different horrible things this could mean. 

"Difficult?" She questioned, "Katie, is she safe? Do I have to be prepared for—"

"It's not like that, she isn't in physical danger." 

The answer wasn't reassuring to Stina, who now felt a little ill at the thought of you home alone today. She should be there with you. Someone should be there, if you didn't want her (God, she hoped you wanted her, trusted her). The urge to press more information out of Katie was strong, but Stina held herself back. Katie was right—you needed to tell Stina yourself. Otherwise any insight into your head would be forced entry, a violation of the trust you had both with Katie and with her.

So Stina simply nodded and looked back at her phone to reply to your message. 

Okay, I hope you're feeling all right. Can I swing by later and bring you something? I'd love to see you <3

She wanted to give you an option to say no to her visit—though she would prefer to just go over there now. At least now if you didn't answer before she showed up she could say she had reached out.

—

You waited until the water ran cold to get out of the shower. Your skin was raw to the touch, and still a subtle red color after you had dried yourself off and began braiding your hair. You could hardly stand to look at yourself.  

You threw on the only clothes you could stand on your skin—a pair of soft sweatpants and fuzzy socks—along with Stina's old Häcken hoodie she left at your place a few days ago. It smelled of her which comforted you even if she wasn't here. 

Your phone dinged with a message. Upon opening it, you saw Stina and Katie had messaged, and that you had two missed calls. 

"Eat something." Was all your message from Katie said. 

She knew you, and knew you wouldn't want to eat today. But you had to.

You went to open Stina's text when your phone lit up with another incoming call. It was from Sandra, the mother of your friend. She did this every year, and every year you told yourself you wouldn't pick up. It wasn't healthy for either of you—it reopened wounds that were barely scabbing over as it was. She inevitably cried, and asked why you had left her daughter alone that night, and you bit your lip raw trying to keep quiet and apologize.

But even though you knew the script, you picked up the phone. 

"Hi," you said, your voice noticeably smaller.

You heard a sigh of relief on the other end.

"How are you, Sandra?" You continued, your fingers picking at your lip anxiously. You felt it start to bleed and did nothing.

"Are you still in Limerick?" You continued your flood of questions, waiting for her onslaught to begin.

A few minutes later, once you were on your tenth question and you'd switched from your lip to pressing your nails into your bloodied palm, you heard her begin to cry.

You weren't sure how you managed this every year. Memories of the funeral flashed behind your eyes, and how you hadn't been allowed to stand near the front with the rest of the friends and family. How Sandra had wailed, and smacked you across the face in the parking lot. You stared at your kitchen backsplash and just listened.

"Why, why did you do it?" She cried, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"I'm sorry." You whispered. 

"You left her alone, you killed her, you always brought her home expect that one fucking night and look what happened. It should've been you, it should've been you, you don't deserve this—" 

And so it continued. Tears streamed down your face as your brain began to shut down as a defense mechanism. You just felt numb. Nobody else existed in the world except for you and this woman whose life you had ruined. No Katie, No Stina, Nobody that gave you their love and wanted you here. You didn't deserve what you had, not your success where it should've been your friend's, not your team, not your girlfriend. You were an imposter on this planet, a thief.

—

It turned out that going over to your place wasn't as simple as it seemed. Stina tried asking Jonas if she could be excused from practice, but he insisted that she stay just for an hour. Arsenal had a match with the Spurs in four days and Jonas wanted to go over strategies with the forwards. No skipping. 

So Stina stayed—looking at her phone every thirty seconds for a text from you. There was nothing, and it freaked her out even more.

Whatever Jonas was saying, none of it was registering. She would ride the bench if she had to, it didn't matter to her now. Her leg bounced nervously, and Viv looked at her with concern on her face every couple of minutes. When Jonas went outside to take a quick call, she turned to Stina and immediately asked after her.

"What's wrong, is it something with Odi?" 

Stina nodded, her tight lipped expression telling Viv all she needed to know. She gave Stina a look of sympathy and glanced at her watch, clearly wondering when the meeting would be over as well.

"Odi, something's wrong with her?" Beth butted in unabashedly.

You'd gotten the nickname for a few reasons: you'd danced for years as a child as a ballerina, which showed in your play. You were showy, and graceful, not the aggressive type. Like a swan, someone had once said to you—and the swan lake association stuck: Odette, or Odi for short. Arsenal's dancer.

Jonas re-entered the room before Beth could ask any more questions, saving Stina the struggle.

"For Christ's sake, let the poor girl go," Beth called out as Stina checked her phone for the hundredth time.

Jonas sent a look Beth's way, but decided to be merciful.

"Alright, Blackstenius, you're excused. But I'll be seeing you tomorrow."

Stina practically ran back to the locker room, throwing her kit into her bag and getting changed as fast as she could. A steady sense of dread was building in her. She decided to call you as she left the training grounds and walked to her car, hoping she could catch you and tell you she was coming. It would soothe her mind just to hear your voice.

But instead of your voice on the other end, Stina was met with the busy signal. That confused her even more—you weren't a fan of phone calls necessarily, and she knew your parents would be working now, so it was unlikely they would have called you.

She tried once more, hoping she had just happened to catch you at the tail end of a call, but you still didn't answer.

—

You had barely hung up the phone with Sandra before the tears began to pour from your eyes. It was as though time had made no difference and you were hearing of your friend's death for the first time. All the pain, all the self loathing that had fallen down upon you then still crushed your shoulders with its weight.

Your phone dinged again—a message from Katie.

Respond to me or I'm coming over there myself.

You didn't want Katie here. She had been there in years past, and for her to see you no better despite the time and therapy you put in, well you couldn't handle the shame.

I'm alive and well - see you tomorrow at training

You replied, knowing if you told her you were fine and left it at that she might kill you herself. 

You giggled at the thought of her huffing and puffing at you, demanding you take better care of yourself like a surrogate mother. When your mother wasn’t around, Katie did a damn good impression of her. You never got away with anything if Katie had a say. You laughed through your tears, feeling like every nerve of yours was on a razor's edge. 

A knock at the door barely registered in your mind as you wandered over to the couch, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and waste away for the next twelve hours. Your head was beginning to hurt from all the crying, which only soured your mood further. For the first time you had the thought: I don't want to be alone.

You thought it must’ve been a hallucination, the way Stina appeared in front of you. 

—

Stina wasn’t sure what to expect when she knocked on the door of your apartment. She had spent the entire drive over worrying about how she could find you, partially cursing Katie for giving her just enough info to get her mind going in a million unhelpful directions. The fact that you weren’t texting her back hadn’t helped either. The road before her blurred as she drove without thinking, her body getting her to your apartment building on instinct. 

The elevator dinged at each floor and with it her heartbeat increased. 

When you didn’t answer the door it dropped. 

“Hello?” Stina called out, having opened the door with the spare key you had given her a few months ago. She cursed herself for not staying with you last night when you looked so weighed down, so tired. She’d let you convince her you were fine—something she wouldn’t do again anytime soon.  

When she turned the corner from your kitchen into the open space of your living room she spotted you. There you were, curled up on the couch in a small ball, silent. 

“Did you hear me knock?” She asked softly, approaching you.

You didn’t reply, didn’t even look at her. 

She slowly reached out a hand to place it on your head gently, when you turned and looked at her. It frightened her—the look in your eyes. She hadn’t ever seen them so empty. 

“Stina?” you whispered, confusion present in your tone. 

“Yes, min kärlek, jag är här.”

She put a hand softly on your face, cupping your cheek.

“You’re really here?” 

There were tears beginning to gather in your already red eyes. Stina felt her throat constrict. You’d been crying, clearly a lot by how swollen your face was. 

Stina pulled you up and into her arms easily, shifting you so she could sit on the couch with you in her lap. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, remembering that you had said once that hearing her speak her native Swedish calmed you down. 

You wiped your eyes, lip still trembling slightly. 

“Did Katie say something? Or Jonas?” 

Stina wiped your cheeks with the pad of her thumb, brow creased with worry. 

“Katie said today was hard for you, that’s it. Promise.” 

You went silent, thinking. 

“I was going to tell you. I promise, I meant to. But it just never seemed like a good time, or I just wanted to avoid it as long as possible…you see, Katie met me not long after it happened, she was there, it’s different. I didn’t trust her with this and not you on purpose. She can’t help but know.” You shifted off of Stina’s lap, curling in on yourself next to her so your skin wasn’t touching.

“I hate myself for it. I do, really. And every time I tell someone, they might hate me too, I know that. And I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t give you the chance to hate me.”

Stina put a hand on your shoulder, biting her lip to contain a small sob when you flinched away from her. It was as if you weren’t even there in front of her. All of the grace and kindness and light that had been there just a few days ago seemed to have been swallowed by darkness. To hear you say the words ‘I hate myself’? Stina could cry at the thought of it. Those were words that should never come from your mouth. It was like a knife in her ribcage. 

“Min söta… älskling”

“Don’t call me that,” you sobbed, putting your hands over your eyes and hiding your face from her. 

"Snälla, låt mig hjälpa dig, please, I want to help.” 

You shook your head, face still obscured from Stina’s view. 

This was horrible. Stina felt as though she’d eaten something rotten the way her stomach churned. She was helpless, completely in the dark. Here she was, the person who was supposed to take care of you and love you, and she could hardly do anything. All she could think to do as you cried quietly was pull you into her side and rock you slowly. A melody popped into her head—one her mother had sang to her as a child when she was ill. 

Stina softly sang, trying not to feel embarrassed by her voice. You were beginning to calm, your hands dropping from your face to her shirt, holding it close. By the time she was finished, the room was quiet, empty of your cries. You were clinging to her, your face buried in the crook of her neck as if you were ashamed of the comfort you needed. 

“What was that song?” you asked, voice hoarse. 

“It’s a lullaby. I can’t remember the name.” 

Stina felt you nod against her skin. 

She opted not to say anything further. You were exhausted, she could tell. Anything you wanted to say, you needed to volunteer. 

After a few moments, she felt your grip on her shirt tighten. 

“When I was nineteen, my best friend died.” 

Whatever Stina had been expecting to come out of your mouth, that wasn’t it. She sucked in a breath, trying to remain unaffected. You needed her strength. 

“We had been friends for years, since we were kids. And we’d gotten in this huge fight over something… uni I think. I had an offer to play professionally. I had been drinking, so had she. And I always walked her home, always, when she had been drinking. The way to her house was a bit sketchy, you know? So I figured two people were better than one if anything happened. But the things she said to me that night… I’d never been so upset in my life.” 

You took a breath, 

“So I refused to walk her. She didn’t press, just turned up her nose and walked away, didn’t even say goodbye. And I waited for my bus. The next morning I get a call from her mum—she’s been killed.”

Stina could barely trust herself to breathe. 

“I let it happen, I’m the reason she died.” 

“No—” Stina began, but you cut her off. 

“When they held the funeral, I wasn’t allowed to say anything. I wasn’t allowed anywhere but the very back of the church, because they all knew it was my fault. And still, they know it, they remind me of what happened, what I’ve done. I stole her life!” 

“Stop!” Stina demanded, her face flushed with anger. You were taken aback by her passion, and quieted. “You did not steal anything, you didn’t kill her, it isn’t your fault!” She grabbed your hand as you pulled back from her. 

“You lost your best friend in such a horrible way, and nobody checked in? Nobody held you?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, but this time Stina silenced you.

“I want you to tell me what you mean by ‘they remind you’ of what happened.” 

You refused to meet her eyes. 

“It’s not good. Not for me or her… she calls me, my friend’s mom, to talk.” You hesitated, but explained the routine to your girlfriend when she fixed you with a look. 

“That’s…” Stina seemed at a loss for words, “you are the strongest person I know. And you rake yourself across hot coals for a crime that isn’t even yours. For a woman who wants to see you suffer, who can’t accept your healing. That isn’t right. You did not kill her. That is someone else’s burden to carry.” 

You burst into tears again. 

—

You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you wake up you’re in bed, and Stina is wrapped protectively around you. Her warmth encases you; she holds you more protectively than usual, her arms shielding you from the world. 

Eventually the two of you get back up, though not before Stina wraps you in a crushing embrace and lets you know she’s staying for a couple of days. No negotiating. 

She makes dinner, you clean. It’s the first time you’ve eaten all day, and you think she can tell by the way she watches you intently. You feel cared for, and it’s a little overwhelming. Stina doesn’t let you out of her sight save a few trips to the bathroom and one brief call from her sister that she has to take.

You didn’t expect things to shake her up so much. 

She helps you clean the wounds on your palms, grimacing at the sight of them once you unfurl your fingers for her. You try to tell her you can deal with them yourself—especially with how much it seems to upset her—but she isn't having it. You see her set her brow and concentrate on cleaning and bandaging the damaged skin, tears only glazing her eyes as you hiss in pain. 

Eventually you convince her that you're fine enough to settle down on the couch and watch a movie. She insists on having you in her lap—something that you find equally as comforting. Stina isn't typically all that tactile, but now each moment apart from you seems to worry her.

You're about halfway into the film and slowly drifting off into her chest when you feel her whisper something into your skin. You think she assumes you're asleep (and you nearly are) but you make out her voice slightly.

"Tack Gud att du är här." She repeats it, and soon you can feel the drops of her tears hitting your shoulder. 

"Stina…" you whisper, repositioning yourself to face her.

"förlåt" she says, wiping her eyes.

"You don't have to be sorry… It was an intense day." You press a kiss to her cheek.

"I was so worried," Stina starts, and you figure it's best not to interrupt her, "when Katie said that you might be struggling, I couldn't think of anything else. You can't hurt yourself anymore, please." Stina takes your bandaged hand.

"If you were gone one day, I don't know how I'd cope." 

"You don't have to worry about that, ever."

"You are the most important thing in my life." Stina's lip trembles, and you wonder how you're managing to keep it together.

You pull her into another kiss, lips sore from how you had abused them earlier. The pain reminds you of the struggle of the day, but Stina's hand holds the depths in front of you at bay.

"I'll always be here." She promises.

You begin to think of something lighter. Of an ounce of forgiveness. Of a year that does not revolve around the rising and setting of the sun on this one day. A moment of peace afforded to yourself. The thought passes your mind—you do not deserve this. You instead think of love.

#woso x reader #stina blackstenius x reader #stina blackstenius imagine #woso imagine #woso fanfics #stina blackstenius #woso #woso community #arsenal x reader #swewnt x reader #my writing #i hope this satisfies some of the stina girls #and happy new year (belated lol)

[maximumsass]

Green Eyes of Envy Pt. 1

Summary: Melissa and the reader have been teaching for a couple years together and they have a close work friendship. But there’s something that draws them to each other that neither one of them has admitted to themselves or the other. The only problem is they’re both seeing other people. Keep reading to see if they’ll make the safe choice or risk everything to explore what could be.

Writing Inspiration: It sounds like in Season 3 Gary is gonna propose to Melissa. And I am throwing a curve ball into that situation to make all my wlw Schemmenti fans keep hope in their hearts that Schemmenti will end up with a woman.

Author’s Note: Please be gentle with me. This is my first fanfic. And writing is my biggest passion so to say I’m a little sensitive when it comes to my writing is an understatement. I love you all. Please send me requests if you have them. And I’d love to hear your thoughts. Hope you enjoy my lovelies!

Word Count 2.8K

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You had been at Abbott Elementary for two years now. School was just about to start and it was in service week before the classes started. You make it a point to get in early and hopefully get into the routine of that. You walk into the empty break room and start making the first of many coffees throughout your day. Caffeine fueled you to be as high energy as the kiddos. And even though it was only in service you needed the caffeine to get through the sessions without nodding off.

You hear the break room door open and shut, you don’t look up though because you’re too focused on getting your coffee done and ready to inhale. You feel a manicured hand slide up your arm.

“Hey stranger, long time no see.” A certain redhead greets you with a grin.

“Hey Mel, how was your summer?” You look her up and down with a smile.

“Oh you know Gary and I got a place at the Jersey Shore for a couple weeks. That was the big highlight of the summer. Other than that just reading, working on the house, cooking for Gary and my family of course. How was your summer? You look very sun kissed! The sun’s a lucky guy.” She teases you with a wink.

“I went to the south of France with my girlfriend and we spent a lot of time on a boat out at sea. I guess I am a little tan. Be careful Ms. Schemmenti someone might think that you’re flirting with me.” You say with a smirk.

“Who says I’m not flirting with you?” She says in a deep husky voice right in your ear.

You roll your eyes and give her a playful nudge. You two had this unspoken chemistry since the first day you started at Abbott. But she was already with Gary the Vending Machine Guy and shortly after you got together with your girlfriend.

“No but seriously you look great Ms. (Y/L/N).” She says softly as you walk past her towards the door.

“You look pretty great yourself Mel.” You say as you open the door and look back to smile at her.

As you walk back to your classroom you replay the scene between you and Mel just moments before… it felt different. You’ve always found Mel to be drop dead gorgeous and she’s always been unusually sweet to you compared to how she is with the other teachers. If you were being honest with yourself you had feelings for her, but feelings you could never act on because of your girlfriend and Gary and because there’s a high chance she didn’t reciprocate those feelings. The interaction y’all just had was saying otherwise about her feelings towards you. Or you’re overthinking this too much and it really was just her being playful, you let out a big sigh.

“(Y/N)! I have something to share with you! Come into my classroom.” Barb says to you with a big smile.

You walk into the brunette’s classroom as you hear her shut the door. You turn around to look at her.

“What’s the news Barb?” You say with excited curiosity.

“I have been talking with Gary and he said that he’s bought Melissa an engagement ring and is going to propose to her soon! God is good!” She says excitedly with a bright smile.

Your jaw hits the floor, but as soon as it hits you fix it to mirror the smile that Barb has.

“Wow! What great news! They both deserve to be happy and feel loved and if they have that, then I guess it’s meant to be! I’m really happy for them! Our first Abbott proposal and wedding, how exciting!” You say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

“I knew you’d be as excited as I am! You were definitely the right choice as the first person I told! You’ll have to help me plan all the wedding stuff for her, I know that you two are close.” Barb says enthusiastically.

“Yeah just let me know whatever you need help with. I want to make this time in her life as special as possible! Thanks for telling me Barb, I appreciate it. I’ll see you in the first session.” You say as you smile and do a little wave as you walk out of her classroom.

You go to the sessions and make a point not to sit by Melissa. After the talk with Barb you physically feel sick, it makes you realize that your feelings towards Melissa aren’t just a playful game but very real. Melissa keeps looking at you, you can tell that she’s confused why you’re not sitting with her. You keep staring at her left hand and picturing her with an engagement ring on. He probably picked out the most basic ass ring for her. That’s all you can think about until you hear the lunch bell ring! Thank god! You can’t get out of there fast enough.

You hear heels behind you but you don’t look back, you can’t face the redhead right now. You get to your classroom and in your classroom is your girlfriend purposefully hiding behind a big bouquet of flowers, you let out a big squeal.

“Oh my god! You did not!!” You exclaim. Your girlfriend sets down the flowers so you can do your infamous jump into her arms as she lifts you up as you wrap your legs around her waist and kiss her. When you finally break away to catch your breath, you put your forehead against hers and gaze into her eyes with the biggest smile.

“I know that in service isn’t your favorite so I wanted to brighten your day a little.” She says with a smile.

“You’re the best girlfriend a girl could ask for!” You exclaim. As you lean in to kiss her again.

Your girlfriend clears her throat when you break away again. “It looks like we have an audience.” She says with an embarrassed smile as she nods towards the door. You look towards the door and standing there looking at you like you’re an exhibit at the zoo is Ava, Barb, Jacob, Janine, Gregory, Mr. Johnson lurking in the background and unfortunately Melissa.

You immediately scramble down from your girlfriend and make your way towards them. “Sorry for the commotion y’all, she just surprised me with flowers and I….”

“Was showing her your unyielding gratitude? Was giving her a preview of what’s going to happen tonight? Or all of the above and then some?” Ava said with a huge smirk.

“Well I am in my classroom and usually I don’t have a handful of busybodies gawking at what I do in my classroom. But I must've missed the memo about today being gawk at Ms. (Y/L/N) day.” You say smirking back, putting them all in there place.

They all mumble their apologies and then scatter. You hear Janine say to Gregory what a sweet thing for your girlfriend to do for you. No doubt making Gregory feel the need to step up his game. The only one left standing there is the redhead, and she looks weirdly pissed.

You give her a confused look. “I’ll see you in the teacher’s lounge in a few minutes Mel.” You give her a nod before shutting your classroom door.

“Sorry for creating the spectacle.” Your girlfriend says as she blushes as you turn back towards her.

“No! Don’t be sorry! I absolutely loved it! I apologize that I work with people who need to live vicariously through my life.” You chuckle.

“I think they’re just happy for you, that you have a woman who romances you during the work day.” She says with a grin.

“I am pretty lucky.” You say as you kiss her softly.

“I should be getting back to work. Glad you love the flowers. Please eat all of your lunch and I’ll see you tonight. Okay?” She says with a loving look towards you.

“Yes ma’am.” You say as you kiss her goodbye. “Have a good rest of your day at work. Love ya.” You say as she heads towards the door.

“You too! Love you more gorgeous.” She stops at the door and blows you a kiss. You grab the air kiss and put it in your pocket.

As she leaves you collect your lunch and make your way to the break room. When you enter you are met with a chorus of ow ow’s and kissing noises.

“I thought this was the week not being with children.” You tease.

“Did you really think we weren’t going to say anything?” Jacob says with a smile

“It was so cute (Y/N)! Gosh don’t you just love, love?” Janine gushes.

“Glad to be y’all’s entertainment for the day.” You say with a chuckle as you sit on the couch.

“We are very happy for you dear. You deserve to be treated like the queen you are and it looks like that young lady knows it!” Barb says to you with a bright smile.

You thank Barb as you look at her your eyes go to Melissa she still looks as pissed as she did outside of your classroom if not more.

You talk with your coworkers as you eat your lunch. You see the redhead get up for another cup of coffee. You need to ask her what’s up. You go next to the coffee machine and lean into her so only she can hear you.

“What is up with you? It looks like someone kicked your dog.” You say quietly.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The redhead quips at you.

“Well you should really tell your face that because it’s telling a different story.” You say teasingly.

“You don’t have to worry about me okay? Just worry about your little florist of a girlfriend.” She bites back.

Oh my god, is Melissa Schemmenti jealous? You think to yourself. “Look you’re obviously not okay. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t want to talk to me about it. But I’ll be here if you do want to talk.” You say gently and before walking back to the couch, you give her arm a little squeeze, saying that you’re always going to be there for her without saying anything at all.

The rest of the day flies by and Ava ends the sessions early so we could work on getting our classrooms ready for next week. You are working on a bulletin board in your classroom and Britney Spears’s Oops I did it Again is playing in the background. “I played with your heart, got lost in the game.” You sing along. You hear your door open and then close again. You’re in the zone trying to get the board just right.

“How can I help you?” You say absent mindedly.

“I’m ready to talk.” You hear the deep husky voice say.

You turn around and leaning against the door is Jessica Rabbit herself. You pause your music and walk to your desk and lean on it with your arms crossed.

“Okay I’m all yours.” You say gently.

“You were right at lunch. I wasn’t fine. I was…” You see the redhead trying to make herself okay with being vulnerable with you. You walk towards her and take her hand, letting her know that she’s safe with you. She squeezes your hand in unspoken appreciation.

“I was jealous of you and your little florist of a girlfriend.” She says quietly.

“Oh Mel. Some guys don’t get the romance thing too well. You really have to spell it out for them. For example Gary asks you how your day was. You say well (Y/N)’s significant other surprised her with flowers today and I thought it was real sweet. If someone were to surprise me with flowers, it’d make my day. Or some shit like that.” You explain to her.

The redhead chuckles a little. “No that’s not what I meant. Although now that you say it Gary could improve in the romance department.” She takes a shaky breath. “What I meant was I want to be the one who is surprising you with flowers and to make you as happy as you were at lunch. And for you to fucking kiss me like you kissed her….” She explains quietly.

“Are you saying that you have feelings for me?” You ask gently as you move closer to her.

“Yeah I think I’ve been falling in love with you since you started at Abbott. I thought that I just found you pretty and I was already with Gary so I didn’t really think much of it. But then I got to really know you as a person and you stole my heart, to really know you is to love you (Y/N). But then you met your girlfriend and I didn’t want to take that away from you. And so I shoved my feelings down and tried to go on normally. But seeing you today and how it made me feel, and then of course you seeing that I was upset. I just had to tell you. I don’t expect it to be reciprocated but I just needed to tell you and then we can go back to being-“

You push her gently against the door and give her the softest kiss in the history of kisses. You feel the neediness of Melissa lips and body trying to touch as much of you as possible. You felt the same need, her warmth, her scent, her curves all pressed on you was intoxicating.

You needed air so you disappointedly had to break away. The woman standing before you looked like she couldn’t believe what just happened.

“That was so much better than I ever imagined.” You say with a smile. “Obviously the feelings are mutual. But we have people that we need to think about and if we really want to burn those bridges so we can see if we have a future together.” You say quietly.

“Do you think you’d really leave your little florist girlfriend for me?” She asks with a smirk but you can see the vulnerability in her eyes.

“I dont know, are you going to surprise me with flowers?” You tease as you lean your forehead against hers.

“Mhmmm. And so much more than that. You really do deserve the world (Y/N). And if we give this thing a shot, I’m going to do everything I can to give you just that.” She says softly gazing lovingly into your eyes.

You pull away because you need a clear head to say what you’re about to say.

“I need to tell you something. Now I’m not trying to wreck the surprise or anything but you should know this before you decide what you’re going to do. Barb pulled me into her classroom today, said she’s been talking to Gary recently. Mel he’s going to propose to you soon. Already has the ring and everything.” You say, knowing that this could totally end with her choosing him.

“Shit!” She exclaims.

You move back towards her putting your hands on her waist.

“I just want you to be happy. And if that’s choosing Gary and saying yes to his proposal, then that’s what you should do. And I’ll be fine and we’ll be fine. I’ll still be your number one after Barb.” You chuckle but you can hear the sadness in your voice.

She pulls you closer. “Why is life like this?” She says into your neck.

“Wouldn’t be fun, if it was easy.” You tease her chuckling a little. “In my mind we have two options, we can keep going as is and do the safe option. You’ll marry him. I’ll do what I’m doing and see how that ends up. And we remain friends. And if it gets too hard to work with each other. I’ll transfer out, and you’ll stay here until you retire. I’m not going to make any other aspect of your life harder. You get everything in the “divorce”.” You say quietly.

The redheads eyes fill with tears. You caress her head and stroke her hair. “It’s okay, gorgeous. I got you. Option two is we hurt two people who really don’t deserve to be hurt. But they also don’t deserve to be with someone who deep down wants someone else.” You pause to gather your thoughts

“I know that I come across as strong and independent and fine all the time. But I’ve worked on myself enough where I know that I need to be loved with gentleness, empathy, and kindness. If you really think you can love me in those ways then there’s a high possibility we can do this damn thing, and do it well. But if you know those things are hard for you because of your own stuff and it’ll be really hard to love me in those ways, please choose Gary and spare me the heartache. We both have some thinking to do.” You say softly as you lean in and kiss her forehead.

And then you turn and walk back to your bulletin board and press play on the speaker.

#wlw #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #girls like girls #fanfic #abbott elementary #lesbian #lesbian couples #queer #loveislove #alphabet mafia #bisexual #pansexual

[spidervee]

in which jake is your roommate and ruins all your dates. accidentally. accidentally, right?🌻 18+ only!

Jake Seresin isn’t an ideal roommate. He sings in the shower at 5 a.m., he can’t load a dishwasher to save his life—seriously, who puts mugs on the bottom—and he has a habit of walking around shirtless that is beginning to interfere with your love life.

Of course, he’s got a lot of good qualities. He’s a surprisingly good cook, with a recipe for chicken and dumplings you’re pretty sure is the best thing you’ve ever eaten. He’s also got that Navy-mandated tidiness, so the apartment you share is always vacuumed and dusted. And he has a habit of walking around shirtless, which, as appealing as it is for your eyes, is…

Yepp. Starting to mess with your love life.

Because guys see Jake making a smoothie in the kitchen or getting back from a run or literally doing anything and decide they have to have some stupid pissing contest with your roommate, who remains, you think, entirely oblivious to how threatened he makes the men you bring home. Because why would he see them as a threat, right? He’s so far out of your league that your dates have nothing to worry about. Jake Seresin could pull any girl he ever wanted so why would he want you?

You’re almost grateful he’s deployed—despite your usual worry for his safety—when you bring a new guy home from the bar. No Jake means no weird energy and maybe a chance to actually let a relationship get off its feet.

Until he comes out of the bathroom and you’re smiling at your phone because Jake sent you a text, a photo of the two of you at the beach from last year. One of those iPhone memories that apparently made him think of you.

This came up on my phone yesterday. Miss you, sweetheart. Don’t burn the place down. Oh and I’m safe in case you couldn’t tell.

Your date isn’t thrilled to see the photo, even though he asks to. Tells you it looks like you’re a couple—as if—and that Jake seems really comfortable touching you—he’s just a touchy person.

The night ends with some mediocre sex and, despite his words to the otherwise, your date never calls you back.

You try not to blame Jake, but it’s hard not to see him as the root of all your woes in love. And if you’re not mad at him, you’ll have to analyze why he’s accidentally ruining every date you’re on and maybe you’ll have to admit that it’s because none of these guys actually measure up to Jake.

You’d have to have the startling realization that you are hopelessly in love with your roommate.

So when Jake comes back a few weeks later maybe you’re cold. Maybe you’re quiet. Maybe you’re keeping to yourself and maybe you tell him to fuck off when he keeps asking what he did wrong.

You move to storm out of the apartment and it’s all very dramatic, but Jake stops you with a hand grasped firmly around your wrist. It’s not rough, but determined, and he pulls you gently closer to him, his green eyes burning with confusion under furrowed brows.

“What was that?” His skin is sun-kissed and he can’t tell you where he was deployed but you know it was somewhere warm from the way the few freckles that dot his nose are more prominent than usual.

“Fuck. Off.”

Jake blinks, undeterred. And then he stares at you, gaze so focused you feel like you’re a target in one of his stupid training exercises. You want to shy away, but when his other hand comes up to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized we’re gathering in your eyes it all comes out. All your weird and messy feelings that will certainly ruin everything and make it so you need to find another place to live.

But when you’re done talking, Jake just frowns. He pulls you impossibly closer and rests his chin atop your head. “I’m sorry, sweets,” he mutters, “But I’m glad I scared those guys off.” He doesn’t add that he was totally doing it on purpose as often as he could—things are still too fragile for that. One day he’ll tell you. And on that day, he’ll receive a face full of chocolate cake as punishment.

But for today, he just lets you sniffle in his arms, holds you close as you put a wet spot down the front of his t-shirt. “They’re not good enough for you,” he continues, “I just helped them realize that sooner rather than later.”

“Jake,” you complain, “You can’t keep doing that. I need…I want to find someone.”

His frown deepens and he places his hands on your waist, tapping your hips lightly to warn you that he’s going to pick you up. Carrying you into your bedroom, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll stop, if you give this guy I know a shot.”

“I’m listening.”

“He’s Navy,” Jake continues, “And he’s got a killer body.”

“Definitely listening,” you laugh, but try to ignore the pang of hurt that is Jake setting you up with one of his friends.

Jake rolls his eyes and takes a spot beside you on your bed. “He’s a great pilot, some say the best. And he’s a gentleman, Texas-raised so he knows his way around a kitchen.”

Oh. Oh.

“Jake…”

He holds up a hand, not willing to be interrupted. “And he’s shit at loading the dishwasher, sweets, but I know he’d be willing to learn.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin drabble #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x reader fluff #hangman x reader #hangman x you

[daizymax]

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

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[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 1: Break

A night out takes a turn. The first chapter of Yearling, a TLOU fan fiction. Find the Masterlist here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 5.6k

AO3 | Next Chapter

Friday, September 26, 2003

Dubois, Wyoming 

“They ain’t even that good,” you took a sip of beer, glaring at the girl in the short, white eyelet lace sundress standing near the band on stage. Your Texas accent got stronger when you were drunk. It also got stronger when you were pissed. You were speaking with a full blown drawl now. “I can play better n’them.” 

“Baby Doll, you can play better than everyone in town,” Justin leaned down, his head so close to you that you could feel his breath on your cheek, his lips brushing the shell of your ear when he spoke. His arm went around your waist. “Better than you is a damn a high bar…” 

You could hear the smile on his voice and you turned around in his arms to face him, eyes narrowed. 

“You’re lovin’ this,” you said. “I can tell, you’re just havin’ the time of your life…” 

“I ain’t gonna lie to you,” he smirked. “It is fun seein’ you get all worked up over a girl hittin’ on me.” 

“I am not!” You swatted his chest. “I just think it’s disrespectful, she saw me come in with you, she should know that you’re gonna dance with the one that brung ya…” 

“Hey,” he teased. “I brung you, not the other way ‘round…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off, turning back around and taking another sip of beer just in time to see the girl in question heading to the bathroom with one of her friends. She looked a little green and you smiled a little. Served her right. You looked back up at Justin. “Don’t go thinkin’ you’re hot shit now just because I didn’t like some rancher’s daughter tryin’ to climb you like a tree.” 

“Oh I’d never dream that you thought I was hot shit,” he kissed your temple. “Don’t you worry. Need another?” 

“It’s Friday night and if I’m gonna listen to that band fuck up ‘Devil Went Down to Georgia’ you better goddamm well get me another,” you said. He just shook his head and worked his way up to the bar. You smiled a little, watching him go, rapping your fingers along the side of your almost empty beer bottle. 

You were getting attached to Justin. 

He’d started out as something fun to do over the summer when he showed up at the ranch you’d been working at for more than a year now. He was a few years older - not enough to make it scandalous but enough that he knew what the fuck he was doing. He was rugged and handsome and he was happy to buy you beer and whiskey because, at 19, getting your hands on the stuff was tricky. It had started in May with you fucking him. 

At first, that’s all it had been. After a few weeks of him staring at you when you were hanging tack back up at the end of the day, you all but cornered him in the barn. 

“You got some kind of problem with me, cowboy?” You snapped, getting so close to him that the brim of your hat almost caught his chin. 

“No I do not,” he replied. “Unless you count the fact that your ass looks way too damn good in those jeans to be doin’ nothin’ but ridin’ horses all day. Otherwise, I got the opposite of a problem with you.” 

“Oh,” you stepped back from him, looking him up and down. He was tall, broad, handsome. He reminded you a bit of the boy you’d lost your virginity to when you were 16 and he’d been working on your parents’ ranch back in Texas. “Well, I’m done for the day, headin’ back to my room. You’re welcome to join if you want to see what else I’m good at ridin’ on.” 

You turned and started off toward the bunkhouse. He scrambled to catch up with you and you smirked a little. He was definitely going to be fun. 

In August, he asked if you wanted to go to dinner sometime. You frowned, looking over at him, his naked body shiny with sweat. 

“Dinner,” you said, incredulous. “With me.” 

“That’s what I said,” he replied, looking over at you. “Unless there’s someone else you’d rather go to dinner with…” 

“You realize you’re already fucking me, right?” You frowned. “You don’t have to try.” 

“Oh trust me, I noticed,” he grinned, a little cocky. “But I’d like to do more than fuck you. So I’m askin’ you to dinner. Gonna try to make a proper lady outta you and all that.” 

You snorted. 

“No proper lady to be had here,” you said. “But… we can have dinner.” 

This was actual date number five. Not that the number of dates meant much when you were already screwing every chance you got. 

But you’d gotten to really like Justin, especially now that you were spending almost every spare second together. Maybe love him. A little. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it. 

“You know,” he came and pressed a new beer into your hand and took your empty bottle, putting it on a nearby table. “Bet you’d look pretty as hell in a little dress like that…” 

He ran his nose along your temple and you glared at him a little. 

“OK, first of all, it’s after Labor Day, wearin’ all white like that is tacky,” you said. “Second of all, you get frustrated when I take 10 minutes to tame my hair before we leave, you know how long it takes to look that put together? Longer than you want to wait, cowboy.” 

“OK well I’m dyin’ to know where you got that Labor Day thing from. But you’re prettier than her, so I’m sure it wouldn’t take you that long,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I’m not talkin’ about for every day. Maybe if we were to… I dunno… take a trip somewhere.” 

“A trip?” You smiled, brows raised. “You tryin’ to take me away from all this, that it?” 

“Maybe,” he winked. “Thinkin’ maybe a few days, we run away to a cabin on a lake, find some fun restaurants, I get to spend way more time kissin’ you than usual…” 

“Sounds good to me,” you were about to move to kiss him when there was a strange, snarling sound from over his shoulder. You frowned, leaning around him just as he turned to look. 

The girl from before - in the stupid white dress - flew at him, her blonde hair tangled, her fingers curved so her nails were more like claws. He stepped back, his hands going up to stop her but she didn’t seem to notice or care. 

She jumped, knocking him to the ground as you jumped out of the way, the girl ripping at his shirt before digging her bared teeth into his neck. 

“What the fuck!” You yelled, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward. She sprawled on the floor next to Justin for a second before she scrambled up onto all fours and tried to rush you. You took your half full beer bottle and throttled her on the side of her head, hitting her with every ounce to strength you had, sending her down to the ground, unconscious. 

“Shit!” A man near you looked between you and the girl. 

“Hey, she fuckin’ started it!” You snapped. “She just tried to take a chunk out of my boyfriend’s neck!” 

Someone else got down on the ground with the girl as Justin got to his feet. You looked at his throat, her teeth marks red and oozing. 

“Jesus, she got you good…” you frowned, leaning in close. 

“We should call the cops,” the man near you said. 

“And that’s our cue,” Justin took you by the elbow and started pulling you to the door. 

“Hey, we didn’t do a damn thing wrong,” you said as he dragged you along beside him. “She went fuckin’ nuts…” 

“Yeah but that’s your third beer of the night and you’re 19,” he said quickly. “Rather not get in trouble for buyin’ you booze…” 

“That’s the girl that hit ‘er!” Someone yelled. You looked up at Justin.

“Run!” Justin pulled you with him as the two of you took off, him clearing a path with you at his heels until you were in the parking lot, a handful of people on your tail. 

“Sure hope you ain’t drunk!” You said as you jumped into the passenger side of his rusted pickup. 

“Sober enough to get us outta this,” he said, turning the key and holding it until the old engine turned over with a growl. He floored it, nearly taking out the front of a sedan on his way onto the main road. 

He careened through town at 80 until the streetlights had faded in the distance and the sky was bursting with stars. 

“What the fuck was her problem?” You crawled to the middle of the bench seat and tried to get a look at his neck. “Maybe you should go to a hospital, this looks bad…” 

“I’ll just clean it up when we get back,” he waved you off. “I’m too eager to find out what kind of sex I get as your boyfriend…” 

“What?” You sat back, incredulous. 

“You called me your boyfriend back there,” he smirked. “I’m really ready to find out what that means once I’m in your bed…” 

“Oh, Jesus,” you shoved him playfully. “You got a one track mind. And you shouldn’t read too much into what I say when I’m defending myself because some psycho tried to take a chunk out of ya.” 

He winked and you rolled your eyes. 

The two of you made it back to your room without any more excitement - something you were plenty thankful for. Once you were inside, you took Justin’s plaid button down off and draped it over your worn wooden desk chair before getting out your first aid kit. You usually used it for patching up cuts when a horse did manage to throw you - a rare occurrence - or when you weren’t paying close enough attention and cut yourself on barbed wire - less rare. 

You frowned at the bite mark, the skin around it red and angry, as you cleaned it with rubbing alcohol and applied a bandage.

“This looks infected,” you said. “Really should take you to a hospital…” 

“Nah,” he waved you off. “I’ll go to a doctor in a day or two if somethin’ ain’t feelin’ right. I’m fine, Baby Doll, really.” 

He tugged you onto his lap and kissed your cheek. 

“You’re cute when you’re worryin’ though,” he smiled a little. “If I’d known all it took was some rancher’s daughter gettin’ handsy with me to get you to be all over me, callin’ me your boyfriend, I’d have done it sooner…” 

You rolled your eyes and shifted so you were less sitting on his lap and more straddling him and his hands went to your waist. 

“See if you were in a dress, this’d be easier…” 

You glared at him. 

“You’re not careful I’ll give you a matchin’ bite mark on the other side of your neck.” 

“Oh, from you, I’d welcome it,” he smiled, kissing you as he unbuttoned your shirt. 

You ground your hips down against his as he undressed you, his hands exploring you as he kissed you. Once you were bare from the waist up, he pulled you down on the bed and you crawled down his body, opening his pants and stroking his hardening length a few times before taking him in your mouth in one, swift motion. 

“Fuck, Baby Doll,” he groaned, one of his hands going to your hair. “Fuckin’ love your mouth…” 

You hummed in approval, making his legs twitch as you sucked him, bobbing your head up and down his length as his fingers dug into your scalp. You worked his cock until he pulled your head roughly away from him, panting for breath. 

“Really don’t want to come before I have a chance to properly fuck ya,” he said, grip loosening on your hair. 

“So demanding,” you teased, looping your fingers over the top of his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down his legs and leaving them on the floor. You took off your own jeans and underwear, too, and crawled up his body, leaning over him to grab a condom from your bedside table. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked you as your breasts hung over his face, his fingers sinking into your hips. 

He reluctantly released you when you moved back down to straddle his thighs, opening the wrapper and sliding the condom on over his thick length. You looked at him naked in front of you and rubbed two fingers through your slit, spreading the wetness that had gathered there. 

“You gettin’ wet from suckin’ me off has to be the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” his hands slid up your legs as he watched you arrange yourself over him. 

“I’m so busy thinking about this the whole time I can’t help it,” you said, breathless, as you sank down onto him. He groaned as you did, your body slowly and surely taking all of his cock into you. Your hips met his and you ground yourself down against him, his hardness just big enough to stretch you enough to satisfy. You rode him like that, rubbing your clit as you did, his hands on your hips as you worked yourself to an orgasm on his length, coming around him with a whimper. 

He took advantage of your orgasm and grabbed you, flipping you onto your back and driving into you as you rode out the last waves of pleasure, arranging your legs so he was pressing deeper. You groaned as he started to fuck you harder, faster, the force of it making your tits bounce. 

“Love seein’ you come on my cock,” he grunted. “Love seein’ how this tight little pussy takes me…” 

He ground himself in as deep as he could reach, your body tightening around him again. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he gasped it out as he started to come deep inside you, spilling into the condom. 

Your eyes went wide and your orgasm hit - soft and subdued but not entirely put off by his words. He collapsed beside you when both of you were spent, your own slick leaking out between your legs. You stared up at the ceiling. 

“Knew boyfriend sex would be good,” he teased, a little breathless and smiling at you. 

“Yeah, about that,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What did you say at the end there?” 

He frowned. 

“I said…” and his eyes went wide. “Oh shit… I didn’t mean… I don’t expect… Look, I…” 

“Did you mean it?” You asked, brows raised. 

He flinched. 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I wasn’t plannin’ on sayin’ a damn thing about it to you, alright? So please don’t freak out about this, OK? I feel like we’re in a good place…” 

“I…” you paused. “Well I dunno if I love you yet or not but… I do like you. A lot. You’re kind of my favorite person so… I might love you a little. But just a little.” 

You shrugged and fell back down onto your back. He smiled. 

“Well, you’re my favorite person, too.” 

“Don’t read too much into it,” you smiled a little. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Baby Doll.” 

He rolled over to kiss you before getting out of bed. You frowned. 

“Gonna go rinse off,” he said. “I’m feelin’… I dunno, just off.” 

“I’m telling you, that stupid bite is infected,” you called after him as he went to shower. You waited until you heard the water turn on and got out bed yourself, getting his shirt from the chair and shrugging into it. It hung on you and you had to roll up the sleeves. You smiled a little at the physical representation of him enveloping you, the shirt smelling like his cologne with the faint smell of hay below it - a smell he never seemed to really shake. You liked it. 

You got your guitar from its stand in the corner and settled back down on the bed, tuning it briefly before just noodling on it. You’d been experimenting with a combination of chords and the rhythm you could get from tapping on the guitar body itself. 

“That’s soundin’ good,” Justin said, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. He got is boxers off the floor and stepped into them, draping the towel over the chair. 

“Thanks,” you said. “Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet but something eventually… Feeling any better?” 

“Bit worse actually,” he frowned. “Maybe I should go back to mine, what if I’m comin’ down with somethin’. Don’t need to be gettin’ you sick, too…” 

“You were just inside me, Justin, whatever you got I’m gonna get,” you rolled your eyes. “Assuming it’s contagious and it’s not from that damn bite.” 

“She wasn’t rabid,” he teased, climbing into bed beside you. “Sure I just picked up somethin’ somewhere…” 

You put the guitar down beside the bed and curled into him, falling asleep breathing in the smell of hay on his skin. 

His twitching is what woke you up. 

“Justin,” you whispered, nudging him. He didn’t respond. “You’re dreaming, c’mon baby…” 

You gave him a shake but he didn’t wake up. You sighed and untangled yourself from him and the sheets. You grabbed your panties off the floor and ducked into the bathroom. If you were awake, you might as well pee. You did that, chugged a glass of water and went back into the bedroom. 

It was uncommonly dark, the new moon making it so there was almost no light coming in through your windows. You nudged Justin again as you tried to get under the covers. 

“Hey,” you shook him a little more firmly this time. “Baby, you’re dreaming something crazy…” 

He responded then, taking in a deep, raspy breath, his movements still sharp and jerky. 

“Justin?” You said quietly. “Hey, it’s me, it’s…” 

He shrieked, sounding like the girl at the bar and you shocked back from him, jumping away just as his fingers reached and groped for you. 

“This isn’t funny!” You yelled, stumbling over your guitar as you backed away from him. You squinted, barely able to make out his writhing in the bedsheets in the dark. “Justin, cut it the fuck out!” 

He just shrieked again before he fell to the floor with a thud, his breaths still coming in deep, rasping pants. 

“Justin?” You crept toward his side of the bed cautiously. He snarled and scrambled, on all fours, for you. 

It shocked you so much that he got ahold of your ankle, yanking you onto the ground so hard that it made your brain rattle in your skull, his fingers digging harshly into your flesh as he dragged you closer. 

You fought without really thinking about how or why or who, you just kicked as hard as you could with your free leg, catching the side of his head with your knee. He shrieked and released you and you scrambled back from him, pulling yourself up by your bed to run around to your nightstand. You yanked the middle drawer open - just below where you’d grabbed a condom just hours before to put on the man who was now bent on killing you - and pulled out your hand gun. 

“Justin!” You were crying. You almost never cried. You weren’t sure when you’d started. “Please! I don’t want to do this, please!” 

He snarled and lunged for you again and you pulled the trigger. He collapsed immediately and you screamed, fumbling to turn on the lamp on your side table. 

“Justin?” You got down on the ground next to him. You’d shot him in the chest, right by his heart. The rattling sound of his breaths were gone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please…” 

You sobbed, instinctively trying to put his blood back inside of him. If you could just fix it, put it back together, he’d be OK, he’d wake up and be Justin again and everything would be fine. That had to be the way it worked, it was the only thing that made sense…

You barely noticed it, out of the corner of your eye. He’d pulled the bandage off his neck at some point, the violent bite mark on display and a fibrous, vine-like tendril reaching out from his throat. Reaching for you. 

You yelped and scrambled back from him, your gun still in your hand. The thing was still moving, with a mind of its own. 

“What the fuck?” You were panting for breath. His body twitched and you did the only thing you could think to do. 

You ran. 

“Help me!” You ran out front of the bunk house, gun still in your bloody hands. “Please! Help me!” 

You heard it before you saw it, the rattling breath and the inhuman snarl. Like the girl at the bar. Like Justin. 

It was Keith, one of the older ranch hands. He worked with the cattle. You’d almost never seen him so much as jog and here he was, running for you, snarling, his hands in a claw-like shape. 

“Stop!” You held up the gun. “I ain’t jokin’, I will shoot you!” 

He kept coming, the snarling getting louder. You fired, shooting him in the head by the glow of the light on the barn. He collapsed where he stood as you heard something crash against the door of one of the other rooms at the bunkhouse. Like someone was hurling their body against it, trying to break free. 

You looked around, frantic. There was only one thing you were sure of: you’d get torn apart if you stayed here. You didn’t know why, you didn’t know what caused it, but you knew you were going to die if you didn’t get away. 

You ran to the paddock where you’d been working with a horse, a filly who was just past her yearling stage. You’d been breaking her in, now that she was old enough, barely to dumb broke, just starting to carry a rider and learn commands. She was there, asleep in the grass. You jumped the fence, not wanting to risk going in the barn where there were sometimes still people, even at this hour. 

“Hey Nike,” you whispered. She roused with a whinny. You’d named her for the goddess of victory and you hoped that meant she’d help you win whatever the fuck battle was apparently happening here today. “We gotta get goin’ sweet girl…” 

You coaxed her to her feet and she shook her head, her mane bouncing. You jumped on her back and realized that you hadn’t even put on shoes or pants, you’d been in too big a hurry to get the fuck out of your room. But it wasn’t safe to go back, not now. You’d have to make do. You tucked your gun into the waistband of your panties. Nike pranced, impatient below you. 

“We’re gonna get the fuck out of here,” you said. “You and me.” 

You leaned forward and took some of her mane in each hand, one on each side of her neck. You couldn’t afford to go and get reins, you hoped this would be enough. 

“Lets see if we can make you a jumper…” 

You nudged her forward and got her moving. There was more snarling from the bunkhouse, louder now. Something must have gotten through a door… you shuddered, thinking about it. 

Once she was up to a good clip, you pointed her at the fence line and drove her to it, adjusting your weight and pulling back on her, hoping that she’d figure it out. 

She did, you barely hanging on as she sailed over the fence posts. 

“Good girl!” You said, driving her toward the woods at the edge of the property. “It’s you and me, Nike. You and me. We’re going to get through this, we’re going to get help, we’re going to get through this.” 

You said it more for you than your horse as you rode into the dark of the forest, the ranch and the bodies of the first men you ever killed behind you. 

*** 

Sunday, November 2, 2025

“Been quiet today,” Tommy said from beside Joel, the gentle crunch of the snow under the feet of their horses the only other sound on the cold air. 

Joel groaned. 

“Jesus, Tommy, why don’t you just ask for us to get swarmed by infected,” he glared at his little brother. 

“Don’t tell me you’re superstitious now, brother,” Tommy smirked a little. “You and I both know that whatever I say don’t got shit to do with anything that happens later.” 

“It will if I deck you for sayin’ stupid shit,” Joel replied. “And I ain’t superstitious, I’m just smart enough to not say somethin’ that goddamn dumb in the middle of a patrol.” 

The men were, at this point, about a four hour’s ride from Jackson, Wyoming. But they’d been taking it at a slow pace because - as Tommy had rightly and stupidly pointed out - it had been a quiet day. A quiet day in a quiet month. 

Raiders seemed to have gone dark - either hunkering down for the coming winter or migrating elsewhere. So had infected, though they knew they could put that on their migratory patterns. Stupid fungus was smart enough to know that the humans it occupied couldn’t hold up in extreme cold and that their host bodies would freeze and die if they stayed too far north during the winter. Things thinned out this time of year. 

“We should turn around and head back soon,” Tommy said. “We cut over a few miles, we’ll be able to sweep up and check a different area…” 

“You know this shit better’n me,” Joel shrugged. “Just don’t be surprised if we come up on a pocket of raiders now…” 

Tommy rolled his eyes as they rode up on a stream. He nudged his horse to follow it, cutting back toward Jackson. 

They’d only been following the path of the stream for about 20 minutes when Joel first noticed it. The sign of footprints, then blood. 

“Tommy,” he said quietly, nodding his head at it. 

“Shit,” Tommy sighed, shaking his head. 

“You said it was quiet,” Joel said, trying not to smirk at him. 

“Fuck you,” Tommy replied, steering his horse to follow the footprints. 

They didn’t have to go far, the snow growing steadily redder the further they went, until there was a body face down on the ground. 

Joel slid off his horse and crouched next to the man, checking for signs of life even though it was pretty obvious that there weren’t any. He rolled the man over. There was a sizable knife buried in the man’s chest but that’s not the thing that caught Joel’s attention. 

“Jesus Christ,” he looked up at his brother, still on horseback. “Tommy, look at this.” 

Tommy frowned, dismounting and squatting down next to Joel. 

“Oh fuck,” he said. “Was that… infected?” 

The man’s face had been nearly torn apart, nail marks like some kind of feral animal had gotten to him but they were distinctly human, little half-moon shapes dragged through his flesh that had gushed blood. He’d been alive when something - someone - got to his face.

“Ain’t ever seen one go at someone quite like this,” Joel said. “And infected don’t use knives…” 

“Maybe suicide if he got bit?” Tommy shrugged. 

Joel looked over the body and found a gun with plenty of ammo and nodded to it. 

“Well then, never mind,” Tommy frowned. “Jesus, he pissed off someone…” 

“The fuck knows who,” Joel said, looking him over more to see if he could find any signs as to where the man had come from. There were a few thick zipties in the man’s back pocket. Joel sighed and held them up for Tommy to see. “Well, probably plenty. I’m bettin’ he’s a raider, probably tryin’ to bring in someone who fought back a little harder than expected…” 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy sighed, getting up again. “Grab the guns I guess, knife too. See if we can’t find who fucked him up.” 

The men mounted up again and rode on. They found another body, this one shot dead and not scratched to hell, though one look at the nails - free of blood and torn flesh - told Joel this was another raider and not who they were after. 

“Joel,” Tommy nodded at another set of tracks, starting with little drops of blood in the snow and coloring it more crimson as the path wore on. 

“Shit,” he sighed, steering his horse to follow the path. 

They didn’t need to go far. 

Ahead was a body in the snow, splayed out on the ground, splotches of red and pink around it. Joel dismounted and approached slowly. He could sense that this was different. This was who the raiders had been after. 

He moved cautiously, almost afraid to see what the raiders must have done to you if you’d done that kind of damage to them. You were bloody but he wasn’t sure the source of it from a quick glance. Your face was bruised and he could see signs of you being bound on your exposed wrist, the skin ringed in harsh and angry red. 

“Jesus,” Tommy breathed, coming up along side Joel. 

He noticed it then, the small, almost imperceptible movement of your chest. Joel tapped Tommy’s arm and nodded toward your torso. 

“Oh shit,” he said. 

Your eyes fluttered open and you took a sharp breath, struggling onto your elbows and hands, trying to drag your broken body back away from Joel and Tommy. 

“Woah!” Tommy held up his hands. “Not here to hurt you, you’re OK, we’re just gonna try to help…” 

“Fuck you,” you spat - literally, blood and spittle flying from your lips as you tried to get a full breath. “Don’t touch me!” 

“Hey,” Joel got down on your level, his hands up, and met your eyes. There was something in them that felt familiar. Something that he wanted to protect. “It’s OK. We’re not like them, those men back there. Guessin’ you killed ‘em?” 

You nodded once. Your eyes were so wide, you were so afraid. It reminded Joel of a baby deer, fragile and wild. 

“You did good, Bambi,” he said, keeping his hands where you could see them. “Fucked ‘em up real good. We’re from a settlement, few hours from here. It’s a good place, we’ve got a doctor who can help you…” 

“Can’t walk a few hours,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“I know,” Joel said, nodding to your torso. “Mind if I take a look? See where that blood’s comin’ from? I’m just gonna lift your shirt, not gonna touch you.” 

You looked at him for a moment before you gave him a stiff nod. He gingerly raised the bloody fabric - you weren’t wearing nearly enough layers to be out in this weather, just jeans, boots and a button down - and examined your stomach. There were two bullet holes there. He winced. He wasn’t a doctor but he knew getting shot in the stomach was bad. He noticed a raised scar on your hip, just below and to the left of your belly button, a branded letter M. His stomach turned. The fuck had happened to you? 

“It’s bad,” you managed. “Just shoot me, better… better than dyin’ with them.” 

“She’s right, Joel,” Tommy said, his voice low. “She’s lost a lot of blood, dragging her back to town’s just torture at this point…” 

You’d fallen back into the snow, struggling to breathe, your eyes closed. But he remembered your eyes, the warmth wrapped in something harsh and sharp. 

He realized then what they reminded him of, who you reminded him of. Tess. You were a survivor, like Tess. He hadn’t been able to save her, either. He’d failed her, too. 

“Bambi,” Joel said, just sticking with the name. He figured you’d offer your real one if you wanted to. You opened your eyes again. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you for this but I’m gonna be as gentle as I can…” 

“Fuck you,” you winced. “Just…” 

“Not going to just let you die out here in the cold,” Joel shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to Tommy. “Gonna get you on my horse - it’s OK if you pass out, I’ll hold onto ya - and we’re gonna get you back with us.” 

“I don’t…” you began but Joel slid his arm below your legs and the other behind your ribs and he gently, slowly, lifted you into his body. You cried out in pain but he held onto you, putting you on the horse as best he could. 

“Sorry, Bambi.” You instinctively wrapped your fingers around the saddle horn as your body slumped forward and you whimpered. He mounted up behind you and held his hand out to Tommy, who handed him his coat. He draped it over your shivering frame and tugged you against him. Your head lolled back against his chest and you groaned. Your eyes were closed. He wondered if you were conscious. 

“This is damn stupid, Joel,” Tommy said, mounting his horse again. 

“Couldn’t just leave her out here,” Joel said. “You know we couldn’t.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“Let’s get back,” he said. “Maybe, by some miracle, this won’t all have been for nothin’.” 

“And you said it was a quiet day,” Joel said, starting off at a faster clip this time. 

Tommy sighed.

“Fuck you.” 

A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Yearling! I hope you've enjoyed it so far and that you'll come to love Bambi and Joel as much as I have as I've been thinking about and planning this story for the last month or so.

You can expect updates a few times a week here as I have brain rot and really only want to write this stuff :)

I'll start a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added!

Thank you so so much for reading! I hope you stick around and go on this journey with me. Love you!

Next Chapter

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #slow burn

[swimmingismywholelife]

The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future ��. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fic #swimmingismywholelife

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - learning new feelings with you

Saw that you would start writing for Master Chief. I finished watching it like a week ago so this is a funny coincidence😂. Maybe a Master Chief (John-117) x reader with this prompt “Did you mean it?” “What?” “When you said you loved me did you mean it?” from your 2024 prompts. So many of the 2024 prompts would be great for him. You don't have to write this if you don't won't to as always of course.( •◡-)-♡ - Anon💜

Sitting at your desk, you flicked through some of the files on the tablet you were holding, taking a sip of your tea that was sat in front of you.

There was a knock on the door and you looked up.

“Come in.” You called.

The door was opened, and you smiled a little bit at the Spartan and your cell doctor who came through the door.

“Miranda, Master Chief, what brings you here?” You asked.

The Spartan took a seat in a chair on the other side of the room, and Miranda walked over to you.

“I’m sorry Doctor, I know you’re very busy but John has been injured, and he refuses medical assistance. I thought maybe you could convince him to get help.”

You nodded, standing up from your desk.

“I’ll see that the chief is safe. Thank you for bringing him here.”

She smiled, heading out of your office and you turned around to John, walking over you took a seat in front of him.

“Why are you refusing medical care Master Chief?”

“I don’t know who I can trust, who I can’t trust.”

You slowly nodded your head.

“You’ve been having an influx of emotions since you removed the pellet from your back, these are emotions you have never felt before so you don’t know how to process them, that’s okay.”

You leant over the table, tapping a finger against the helmet over his head.

“However, refusing medical assistance when it’s needed is not okay. It’s dangerous to put yourself in that situation.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, may you remove your helmet please? Show me where the injury is.”

John reached up, carefully pulling his helmet off, setting it on the floor next to his foot.

He looked up, his eyes connecting with yours, and you pulled a torch out from your pocket, flashing it over his eyes.

“Follow my finger.”

He did as you said, and you carefully turned his head from side to side to ensure that there was no pain or restriction with his movements.

“You’ll need a few stitches, but otherwise you’ll be fine. I can have somebody from the medical team come up and sort that out.”

“No.”

“No?”

You turned around to look at John, setting your tablet back down, showing him that you were listening to what he was saying.

“Do you not want the medical team to do it?”

“No.”

“Alright, I won’t call for them.”

Walking across your office, you grabbed a first aid box you kept in there and walked back over, taking what you would need out.

John didn’t say anything as you placed your hand on the side of his face, turning it just a little bit so you could work on stitching the wound on the side of his head.

“I hope you know that I’m no medical doctor Chief, so this will be a dodgy job at best.”

“I know.”

You hummed a little bit, remember what you had learnt a long time ago as you fixed up his injury for him.

When you were done, you bagged everything up, took your gloves off and set it all aside, sanitising your hands.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” John replied.

You turned around to look at him.

“Do you feel you can trust me?”

“Why?”

“Because I would like to know why you refuse medical attention, why Miranda brought you here to see me.”

John clasped his hands together, leaning his head down to run his hands over it, letting out a small breath.

You didn’t pressure him, you simply walked back over to sit in front of him once more.

“Chief?”

He looked up at you, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me of you don’t want to, okay? I’m not here to force you into anything you don’t want okay? Remember this is a safe place.”

“I need to go.”

“Alright, that’s okay. If you do want to talk though just come and see me, my door is always open for you.”

He nodded his head, picked up his helmet and left, and you walked back to your desk.

You had a good idea as to why he decided to come to you instead.

After touching the object they had found, he’d glad glimpses of what you believed were memories, he’d learned he was stolen away from his family.

He wasn’t very trusting after finding out it was the very same doctor whom been with him and the pet her Spartans this whole time.

The only constant thing he had right now was you and the other Spartans, he had demanded to see your file to make sure you weren’t in on it as well, and you showed him.

You never hid anything from him.

So, if you had to guess, he was a little more trusting of you than any of the other doctors, and he felt more comfortable with you than the people who were usually poking and prodding at him after missions if he was hurt.

You had a few sessions with some of the marines, spending some times with them, talking to them and listening to their concerns or fears.

As late afternoon came around, you were walking around your office to stretch your legs, and there was a knock on your door before it opened.

“Doctor?”

You hummed, turning around, smiling at John as he came back through.

“How can I help?”

He quietly closed the door, standing to attention, hands clasped behind his back as if he were reporting to a supervisor.

“You seem to make sense of things when nobody else can. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Let’s take a seat and have a talk, yeah?”

He sat down, and you sat down opposite him.

He began to explain everything to you, sometimes pausing to find the right words or think about what he was saying.

He didn’t say much, and he stopped speaking to look at you.

“Do you understand what it is?” He asked.

“I do, yes. When we’re young we are taught how to handle our emotions, process them. Our parents teach us first, how to appropriately react to emotions. Does that make sense?”

John shook his head.

“Well, when I was a kid when I was angry I used to break things or throw things. My mom gave me a cup of water, but I was angry because she wouldn’t give me my favourite snack, so I threw the cup and broke it.”

John furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Over a snack?”

You laughed a little bit.

“Kids will do anything for their favourite snacks.”

You smiled at him.

“My mom put me in time out while she cleaned it up, then she came over, explained to me when I was angry I should never throw things, or hit people. When you’re angry you shouldn’t speak to people, and you should never go to bed angry.”

He slowly nodded his head.

“Our teachers continue these teachings, the grown ups in our lives help us learn about this emotions, how to handle them and how to process them. You never had that option, you had your emotions taken away from you.”

“Kai seems to be adjusting…”

“Kai is deflecting, Kai is finding things to occupy herself, but there will come a time where she will be forced to face the emotions she doesn’t know about yet. Grief, loss, pain, you’ll experience them as well.”

John raised his gaze from his hands to look at you.

“It’s hard to point which emotion it is you’re feeling, but if I had to guess I would assume perhaps anger, and confusion mixed into one.”

“What do I do? How do I make it go away?”

You gave him a sad smile.

“You can’t make them go away, you can push them down, but one day you will need to process them. There are different ways to doing this, and I can guide you, but I can’t process them for you, this needs to be something you do yourself.”

“What do I do?”

Getting up, you walked over to your desk and picked up a bit of paper, walking back over to him and you sat down next to him.

You were much smaller than he was, even sitting next to him on the couch it was clear that you were smaller than him.

You held it out to him and he took it.

“I keep this list for anybody who needs help figure out how to process their emotions. It’s a list of things that may help you. From going to the gym, writing letters, then there’s taking a step back from your current situation, go for a walk, find somewhere quiet to sit and just be you.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, I wait until the weekends, then I leave reach, and I go for a hike nearby. Around this time of year there’s my favourite place where all the flowers are in bloom, and I just sit there, sometimes I read, other times I just listening to the birds. I enjoy the escape of nature.”

John nodded his head, setting the paper down on his table.

“I decided to come here because I trust you.” He said quietly.

You smiled softly.

“Well, I’m glad you can. But Chief?”

You turned his head down to look at you.

“Next time please go to medical, it could be something serious. If you don’t like going there, you can get somebody to call for me and I’ll come with you, alright?”

“Why?”

You smiled softly at him, placing a hand on his arm, patting it a few times.

“Because you trust me, if that means I have to come to medical with you to make sure they don’t run any unnecessary tests, and make sure you’re alright I’ll do that.”

He nodded, and you got up, making your way back to your desk to put the paper away.

“Spartans were conditioned to only bond with other Spartans.” John said.

You looked over at him.

“I… don’t understand how to interact with other people.”

“That’s alright, you can learn if you want to. I’ll be going to my hike tomorrow if you would like to come along, I think it may help you.”

Taking another slip of paper, you wrote down a time and a place and walked over, handing it to him.

“I’ll be here, I’ll wait around for you, but you can find me there every weekend.”

He nodded, taking it from you and he left without another word.

The following day, just like you said, you waited for John, and he turned up a few minutes later, dressed in his work out uniform.

He usually wore it under his suit, so it made sense as to why he was wearing it now, they were most likely the only clothes he owned aside from his armour.

“How long does it take to get there?”

“Not long, we’ll need to stop to buy some water first.”

He nodded his head, following you to the shop, and you grabbed a couple of bottles of water, along with some food for lunch, paid for them and put them in your bag.

You and John made your way there, and you began walking the trail you walked every weekend.

“Doctor?”

“You can call me (Y/N), we’re not at the office. We’re friends right?”

“Friends?”

You smiled brightly.

“Well, you come by my office enough to not be friends at this point. I’ve never had somebody willingly come to my office so many times.”

He stayed quietly for a few moments, just searching around the trial.

He was looking around for threats, you knew that.

“How do I know what emotions are what?”

“Well, it depends on the person I suppose. And the emotion, take love for example, there are different kinds. Parental love, the love between a person and their parental figure, or parent and child. Then there’s plutonic love, the bond between friends, then you have romantic love, the love, the connection between two people who want to spend the rest of their their lives together.”

“How do you know the difference?”

You stopped walking, crouching down to look at some blue flowers that were blooming from the grass.

John knelt next to you to look at what you were looking at.

“Well, you have a plutonic love for the other Spartans, you’ll protect them, but just because you have to, but because they’ve essentially become your family.”

You looked up at him.

“Parental love, I’m not to sure how you’ve experienced that if you have. As a child I know you would have, and in time perhaps that’ll come back to you.”

You stood up, carrying on your walk, shifting the bag on your back and little uncomfortably.

John placed a larger hand on your shoulder, and he held his other hand out to you.

Taking the bag from your back you passed it over to him, letting him swing it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, it was getting a little heavy.” You laughed.

“Do you always bring so much?”

“Not always, but there’s two of us this time.”

“I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you.”

“Hey, come on chief, don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience.”

John glanced at you.

“Why do you call me chief?”

“What would you prefer me to call you?”

He thought for a moment.

“I will call you (Y/N), only if you call me John.”

You smiled brightly up at him.

“Alright John.”

You carried on walking, every so often stopping to admire something and John would just stand there was stare at you.

He watched you carefully, not able to fully relax, put that sense that there was always a threat behind him.

As you reached a fork in the path, you took the one to the left, and soon enough you were surrounded by trees in full bloom, a sea of pink and white petals all over.

You walked to the middle and sit down, resting your hands behind you as you looked around.

“Why do you stop to look at everything?”

John sat in front of you, setting the bag between the pair of you.

“Well, it’s always important to take time to admire things you consider beautiful, for me, I find beauty in nature, the simple things that are all around us. I love it.”

John nodded a little.

“You never told me about romantic love. What is that like?”

“Well, again it’s different for everybody.”

“What is it for you?”

You were curious about his sudden curiosity about feelings, because the whole time since he removed his pellet he hadn’t shown much interest around them.

“John, can I ask why you’re suddenly curious?”

“Miranda says I love somebody. I don’t understand what that means.”

“Ah, I see. Well, for me it’s the little things that somebody does, what they like, the way they laugh, or the way they might make a small noise when they stretch. For me it’s about all the little things, not the big gestures. I don’t care about them, I’d take flowers over expressive dinner, walks instead of going to shows or things like that.”

John nodded his head.

He just sat there studying you, his eyes solely focused on you, watching your every move.

There was a reflection of the flowers in your eyes, and a warmth in your smile.

“How do I know if I love somebody?”

“Well, you could experience a need or want to be with this person, be next to them at all times. You’ll want to learn everything about them, it could be a tightness in your chest when you see them, a need to protect them. There’s a lot of different tells.”

“What do I do?”

You smiled.

“You could tell them, ask them on a date.”

John nodded his head, watching as you got up from where you were sat.

Walking over to one of the trees you stood under one of them, looking up through the blooming flowers.

John got up, walking after you and he stood behind you.

He watched your pointless attempt to try and reach them, there was no way you could teach them, but he could, so he reached up and took one of the flowers, giving it to you.

He enjoyed the close proximity to you, he didn’t know much about anything other than fighting, but he knew he liked having you nearby. He had an urge to keep you safe, and he liked seeing you smile.

“I love you.”

You snapped your eyes to him, head tilted back as you stared at him in pure shock.

John stared right back at you, his soft gaze focused solely on you, neither of you saying a work.

“Chief!”

He turned around, and you did the same thing, stepping from behind his larger frame.

“We have to go now.” Kai said.

John nodded his head, turning around to look at you.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Please let me know you have returned home safely.”

You slowly nodded, just watching d he jogged away but you couldn’t get the thought out of your head of what he said.

Technically there was nothing wrong with anything going on between the pair of you as he wasn’t a formal patient you were simply doing a friend a favour by helping him.

You had to admit you did like his presence there, and you had wondered about if Spartans dated, held relationships and such.

You didn’t see John for a good few weeks, but the moment he was back after his debrief he made his way to your office and knocked on the door before walking in.

“Master chief?”

He frowned a little.

“I prefer it when you say my name. It sounds different when you say it.”

“Sorry John, what brings you by? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I wanted to see you.”

This made you smile, and you set down some of the books you were holding in your hands.

John walked over, he seemed to reach out for your hand but he hesitated.

“I would like to go on a date with you, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“Can I ask you something first?”

He nodded his head, and you reached out, holding his larger hand between your smaller ones.

You had to look up in order to look at him, his head turned down a little bit so he could look at you.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

You took a small breath.

“When you said you loved me did you mean it?”

“Yes. What you described is how I feel when I am around you, I want to explore this feeling, experience it with you. You see me for me, as John, not as master chief, even though you refer to me as master chief.”

You laughed softly, he enjoyed that sound.

“I’ll call you John from now on then.”

John studied you.

“Can you lean down?”

He complied, curiosity in his eyes.

Leaning forward, you pressed a very careful kiss to his cheek.

“Lets start slowly, a coffee date, get to know each other. You’re still learning about yourself, we don’t want to overwhelm you.”

He nodded his head, looking at his hands surrounded in yours, and he realised he had never known such a gentle and careful touch.

He enjoyed the different feelings he had around you, and he wanted to learn more about them, more about you

#halo #halo x reader #halo x you #halo imagine #halo the series #master chief #master chief x reader #master chief x you #master chief imagine #John 117 #John 117 x reader #John 117 x you #John 117 imagine

[seresinhangmanjake]

Lazy Mornings and Whatnot

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Words: 1591

Based on this ask:

-----

“Jake,” you whispered as you brushed the few fallen strands of blond hair out of his face. “Baby, you need to let me up.”

His closed eyelids pinched, and with a small groan, he tightened his arm around your waist, rolled on his back and pulled your body on top of his. You tried to wiggle from his grasp, but his strength was overpowering, and your constant shifting had him releasing a sleepy whine.

“Jake, I have to go to work.”

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbled, voice drenched in exhaustion. “You’re sick today.”

“Is that so?”

Yawning, he blindly reached out his hand and pawed at your face until he could feel your forehead. “You’re warm. Probably a fever. Gotta stay in bed,” he said, his words slowly fading as he dropped his arm back down and let sleep begin to claim him once again.

You smiled at the sereness of his features, the tips of his eyelashes softly brushing against the tops of his cheeks, his lips slightly parted to take in and release gentle inhales, hair still practically in place despite everything you had done in your bed the night before.

Leaning your head down, you pressed delicate kisses over the span of his chest. “I’m warm because your ridiculously high body temperature is transferring over to mine,” you said, not knowing for sure if he could even hear you. And when you thought you heard the first of his little snores, you started to move again, carefully rearranging your limbs in attempt to escape.

Before you could make any progress, both of his arms were around you and he was turning back onto his side, trapping you within the muscled cage of his body. “You’re sick.” He nuzzled his face into the mess of your hair. “Leaving the bed could make it worse. Your boss agrees.”

“What?”

“She wants you to rest.”

“Jake…” You poked at his chest.

He hummed, eyebrows dipping down in the center at the abuse.

“You spoke to my boss?”

“Mhmm, like an hour ago.”

“You called her?” Your voice rose an octave as your torso lifted off the bed from the subconscious instinct to immediately find your phone.

His hand went to your hip and he held you to the mattress, eyes still closed when he said, “She called me.” He yawned again. “Asked how you were doing because apparently you are so desperately, achingly in love with me that you’ve been overworking yourself to cope with my absence; something about going in at seven in the morning and not leaving until nine at night. And she said she knew I was coming home yesterday, so...” He shrugged as best he could, hand sliding down your back to your ass, squeezing your flesh and pulling you to him, closing every inch between your bodies.

You chuckled, though slightly out of nervousness. “So you told her I was sick?”

“Subtlely implied. She took it and ran with it, and I just didn’t say otherwise. You know she doesn’t care if you need to take a day anyway.”

“Good god,” you whimpered, rubbing at your forehead.

“Lay your head back down, baby, otherwise you’re never going to get better.”

You rolled your eyes, but then you shoved at his shoulder until his back met the mattress again, and you laid your head on his chest, arm draping over his waist. One of his hands rubbed up and down your forearm while the other’s fingers sifted through the stands of your hair.

“I don’t want you overworking yourself,” he said.

You had hoped he would never have to know. He was always so concerned about how well you were taking care of yourself, and he hadn’t hidden his worry when he told you he would be leaving for two weeks for a mission. It gave you more anxiety than usual, which was an impressive accomplishment on its own. Jake leaving to risk his life at all terrified you, whether it was for fourteen days or fourteen minutes. But if he was going to be gone longer, then you had to be scared for longer, stressed for longer, sleep deprived for longer. Taking care of yourself, your needs, fell to the back burner.

You should have known your boss would call him. Her husband being one of Jake’s superiors, not unused to leaving his wife in fear of losing him, made your boss want to take you under her wing. It wasn’t a week into knowing one another that the older woman had exchanged phone numbers with Jake in case either of you ever needed something from her. But you didn’t like to take advantage of that kindness.

“I have to focus on something, or I just end up thinking of all the ways you could get hurt, or worse.”

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked down at you, tilting your face up to his with a knuckle crooked under your chin. “Y/N, when we got married—”

“I know,” you sighed.

“Well, you’re going to hear it again, because you sometimes seem to forget,” he began, “When we got married, we made a promise to trust one another. I asked you to trust me to come home to you, and if you could do that for me, then I would put my trust in you to take care of yourself while I’m gone,” he said.

“Jake—”

“See, now, I have held up my end of that agreement. You, however,” he tsked.

He wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, but he wasn’t wrong in what he said. You’d dated for a year before he asked you to marry him, and during that year and your brief engagement, he’d come home from missions to find you exhausted, passed out at your desk with a pen in your hand, and with no food in the fridge. He’d seen it enough times to catch on to what happens when he isn’t around. In the two years of your marriage, you managed to do better, for the most part, but with the last mission being so long…

He leaned down to kiss you. “I love you, baby, so damn much. This working yourself to death, the not sleeping, the forgetting to eat…it’s not ok. And I’m not going to have my wife mistreating herself.”

You nodded.

“Words, please.”

“I understand,” you sighed, and he connected your lips again.

“Not to mention,” He pulled back and nudged his nose against yours before kissing your forehead. “I want a baby,” he whispered against your skin.

“What?” Eyes widened in shock, your body jerked back, tearing you from his arms. But with a frown he grabbed your wrist and yanked you back to him.

“Stop doing that,” he grumbled.

“What did you just say?”

He rolled his eyes. “A baby.”

“Yea, I heard that. You want one?”

“Yep.”

You placed your hand on his scruffy, unshaven cheek, feeling the tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. “Jake…” you murmured.

“I want a little rugrat that is half of you and half of me. But in order to have a rugrat or five—”

“Five?”

“—I need you to take care of yourself.”

The look in his eyes, the adoration, the love, tightened the stiches he had once used to mend your heart. Years ago, you were different people. You, someone with a struggle to believe any words a man might throw at you, having dealt with your fair share of worthless men for the majority of your life. Jake, a man who had never had a steady relationship, never wanting anything or anyone to tie him down.

When you quite literally ran into each other at the Hard Deck, you had just sworn off men, but Jake, according to Phoenix, took one look at you and stopping seeing any other women. He looked right through them from that point on and focused his energy on convincing you to go out with him. “One date,” he had said, holding up his index finger, “you still find me annoying by the end of it, I’ll leave you alone forever. I can’t promise I won’t stare at you every chance I get, but I won’t bother you…deal?” You had nodded, replied “Deal,” and that was the beginning of the end of that battle. He won the moment you opened your front door as he was picking you up for the date, confidant in his stance, but nervous in his smile and the way he stretched his fingers at his side to keep them from jittering.

He later told you he hoped you hadn’t noticed that, but the truth was, seeing him nervous, real, human, not cocky for perhaps the first time in his life, was how you knew you would inevitably fall in love with him. You couldn’t say when it would happen, in a day or in a year, but you just knew you would.  

“I will,” you said. “I promise.”

“Good.” He grinned and pecked your lips. “You prepared for me to make you a momma?”

You giggled at the tickling of your face and neck from his kisses. “Right now?”

“No,” he said, pausing to meet your eyes. “Right now, we are going back to sleep. It’s eight a.m., I spent two weeks without my wife in my arms, and we are both exhausted. We will sleep for as long as we need to, then we are going to work on making our baby. Sound good?”

“Yea,” you smiled, “Sounds good.”

tags: @marvel-ousnesss​ @thespeeder​ @nobody7102​ @marrianena​ @moonknightscape​ @fangirlingoverfangirls​

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin fic #jake hangman seresin fanfic #hangman x reader #glen powell #jake top gun maverick #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #top gun jake seresin #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin oneshot #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction

[hindahoney]

I get a lot of questions about keeping kosher, and I've answered many questions about how to start, tips & tricks, etc, but I've never really discussed shabbat observance. So, if you're someone who is looking to introduce some more observances into your life and keeping some form of shabbat interests you, here's some advice from my own experiences of being a baal teshuva. If anyone wants to add things, feel free.

Obligatory I'm not a rabbi, this is just my experience and things I've picked up from trying to be more observant, and I highly advise speaking to a Rabbi before starting.

First, keeping Shabbat should ideally be a pleasant and relieving experience, not a chore or a burden. Shabbat is truly a gift, and I wish for every Jew that they are able to experience even a little bit of her beauty and serenity in their lives. Shabbat is a wonderful opportunity to elevate a day of the week, and spend it doing things you otherwise would feel you have little to no time for during the other busy days. It is a reminder of what's important: enjoying our lives where they are, being thankful for what we have, and spending it with those that we love. It's an opportunity to be reminded that we don't just exist to work, we are human beings who are here for a short time, and we deserve one day of peace and rest.

That being said, do not attempt every law all at once. You will inevitably get frustrated and quit. Many people who keep shabbat have done it their entire lives, so it's like second nature to them. Don't compare yourself to their level of observance if you're just starting out. I think you should also educate yourself on each of the laws of Shabbat, where they come from and why we observe them.

Start small by eliminating things one by one and lighting candles with the prayer. If you don't have it memorized, there is no shame in writing it down to have it in front of you (If you have a friend who is also interested in increasing their observance, you could go through these things together, or just invite people over for a meal!) You could start the first week by not checking emails, the next by not checking social media or texts, and slowly work your way up to not using your phone. Be sure to inform your friends, family, and if possible your work, that you will be unavailable for this day. Ditching a social media addiction is hard, it's hard to wean yourself off of constantly scrolling looking for a distraction, but it's also freeing to be able to take control again and set boundaries for yourself of when you'll be available to people and when you won't.

In addition to eliminating things, you should add activities that make you feel relaxed and happy. Focusing on your hobby or starting a new one, reading a book or the weekly parsha. Learn some shabbat songs or prayers. While I'm baking challah and preparing for the meal, I like to set the mood by having a playlist on the TV of shabbat songs. I also like to write in a journal before shabbat setting an intention for what I want to accomplish or get out of this week's observance, and once Shabbat is over I will write about what I managed to do, what I didn't manage to do, and ideas for how to make it better in the future.

Also, put tape on your light switches once you feel ready to not use electricity!! It is such a mindless thing that we do, you will turn them on and off unintentionally. Don't forget to do this on the inside of your fridge as well. It may be wise to invest in a shabbat lamp or shabbat counter-top food warmer, or timers for your light switches to avoid some problems in the future. Also, pre-tear toilet paper and paper towels or get a box of tissues, and prepare some food for the next day that doesn't need to be re-heated. It also isn't a bad idea to put a playlist on of shows or youtube videos you've been meaning to watch and keeping it running from before Shabbat, if you want that before you can eliminate it altogether.

I also advise doing something this day of the week that you don't do any other day of the week, to make it feel more special. It could be something small, like using a different tablecloth or your "special" cutlery/dishes, or giving tzedakah. Just something to make it unique from the other days.

Finally, I want to reiterate that you need to be patient with yourself. You will mess things up. You cannot "fail" at Shabbat. If you mess up, don't say "Well, I already did something wrong, I might as well not finish this week's and I'll just do it again next week." Stick with it, even if you mess up. Again, if anyone has tips for others looking to be more observant, feel free to leave them here!

#jumblr #judaism #frumblr #baal teshuva #shabbat #jews #jewish #jewblr #jew stuff #jew tag #jewish tag #jewish stuff

[dailyadventureprompts]

What’s fasinating about the d&d movie is that it is all the fun of d&d removed from the rigid restraints of the the clunky game system: Thrills and laughs and hairbrained schemes minus the minutia of needless rolls or waiting for your turn in initiative to circle around. Part of this is idealization, but as someone who’s obsessed with making my favorite game system the most fun possible I can’t help but draw some comparisons.

Combat: Holga’s fight scenes were a highlight of the film for me, displaying a huge amount of kinetic creativity as she pinballed between different combatants swapping out weapons, bouncing off the surrounding terrain . This is a far, far cry from how being a fighter plays out at the table, as most martial characters are focused into doing just one type of attack as good as they can because it’s their only reliable contribution to combat. Try to model Holga’s fights in game and you’d be caught in a boring slog of dealing 1d4+STR damage to a bunch of guards whittling away at their hitpoint pools, a far cry from the lighting quick flury of smashing, bashing, and flips that make her the film’s action setpiece.  

What d&d needs is a system for combat that exists alongside the traditional damage/HP paradigm: an additional layer of complexity for martial characters that encourages tactical thinking and lets those who do their damage up close feel just as cool and as clutch as casters. My mind’s already whirling thinking up something that revolves around stuns, suckerpunches, and positioning, so expect it later this week. 

Powercreep: This might be subjective but I find it fascinating that the official stats put out for the party has them hovering around level 16, a point in character progression  a)that  most characters never get to b) by which the game’s difficulty systems have begun to break down. I suspect this was done in order to keep their on-screen abilities in line with how they are in the base rules, but I can’t help but feel like its odd for the “idedalized” dnd experiance to be playing around with toys that most groups will never get their hands on. 

In my experience d&d is on a sliding scale of stakes V Shenanigans, with the exact ballance evolving over the course of a campaign:  Your group starts out as a bunch of dumbfucks and at some point while you’re making  making absolute fools out of yourselves you become a found family just in time for the consequences of your actions to circle back around and threaten the realm. First the characters start caring about eachother, then they care about the world, then they have to save that world. Level 16 is, for me, distinctly in “save the world” territory, despite the fact that the HaT crew are clearly still figuring out who they are and what they care about.  It makes me wish D&D was more free with its shenanigan enabling magic/items/class features at lower levels to help fuel these kinds of antics.  

Attunement: Perhaps the best “ oh I’m totally going to steal this” moment came from Simon’s attempt to attune to the helm of disjunction. Turning what was otherwise a rote game mechanic into an oppertunity for character growth was genius on behalf of the writers, though one I’d only really employ with items that were as necessary for my plots as the helm was for the heist. Just like Simon’s major flaw was self doubt, I could easily see delicious storytelling potential in throwing up other emotional hurdles depending on the situation: A hero’s sword refusing to attune to the haunted survivor until they’ve come to terms with what they’ve done, an otherwise altruistic character being forced to admit their sin and self interest by an evil-aligned artifact. 

Over all, I really enjoyed the movie, though paradoxically It didn’t hook me as much because for me one of the biggest charms of fantasy is the feeling of discoverying a new world, and I’ve been living the d&d world for the past 20 years so it didn’t come of as wild and magical as it could have been, having hewn so close to established d&d material. 

#dapper digresses #dnd meta #d&d hat #honor among thieves

[max--phillips]

The File Room

This is the fic I wrote because I started a run of the mill office job a little over a week ago and couldn't help myself. Partly inspired by the fact I did, in fact, spend a good part of my day one day filing contracts away. Enjoy! (oh, also, tagging @miraclesabound as requested!)

Pairing: Max Phillips x afab!reader (otherwise gender neutral, no references to reader's chest)

Warnings: office shenanigans, Max sneaks up on reader and gets punched for it, reader gets eaten out from behind, piv, creampie, a little bit of spit plus something extra (but I'm not gonna ruin the surprise), Max and reader have an ambiguous relationship (ie not explicitly romantic but could be read as such)

Word count: 2k

You had a stack of reports that needed to be filed away. A big stack. And of course, because nothing can be easy, it’s not like they could be all put in the back of the drawer and be considered in order. No, they all had to be put in order in their respective accounts based on which reports they were and what dates they covered and on and on and on… Normally you wouldn’t mind doing this, because you were pretty good at staying on top of putting them away as you got them, a few at a time at most. But unfortunately, one of your coworkers from the sales department was recently… relieved of his position, and he left the big stack of reports behind. Completely unorganized to boot. You were going to be among the filing cabinets and bankers boxes for quite a while.

Honestly, while you were at it, a few of these accounts could stand to get reorganized… Lord knows some of your coworkers barely even tried to put these reports in the right spot… So off you went to the large room filled with shelves and filing cabinets, earbuds already in and playing your favorite music to work to.

A couple hours into your project, the door to the storage room opened. You didn’t hear it, so you were still entirely focused on your current task. You were putting away a stray report, bent over at the waist to get to the back of a filing cabinet drawer. This gave Max Phillips a spectacular view of your ass. And to make it all that much better, you just so happened to be wearing his favorite bottoms on you. He closed his eyes for a moment and brought his fist up against his mouth in a quiet celebration of this treat.

Max was the sales manager in the office, and despite being in a different department, you somehow managed to spend quite a bit of time together. You’d caught on like a wildfire when he started--after you’d managed to see through his extremely irritating caricature-of-a-business-major facade, that is, and made it clear you weren’t going to put up with his bullshit. That was when he asked you out for drinks after work one Friday, let you in on his little supernatural secret, and very thoroughly disproved your assumption that he was not particularly good, and certainly not very generous, in bed.

Max continued to watch you from the door as you worked for a few more moments, quietly locking the door because of course he was going to get a taste of you in here, how could he not? You dropped a small stack of files you had set aside, and cursed as they fluttered onto the floor. You got on your knees to gather them up again, another sight Max would never tire of, before getting back up and resuming your sorting.

Max finally decided to actually make his presence known. Clearly you were in the zone, your earbuds blocking out the rest of the world. He came up behind you, shamelessly taking your ass in both his hands.

You shrieked as you felt hands on your ass, scaring the hell out of you as you hadn’t heard anyone come into the room. You then whirled around, and, without thinking or registering who actually was doing this… punched the perpetrator directly in the face.

Max recoiled, bringing his hands to his face, as you realized what you’d just done. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands, afraid for a moment you’d actually done damage or hurt him.

“Oh my god, Max, don’t do that! Are you okay?” you asked, reaching out a bit as you realized you’d definitely hurt yourself. You looked at the knuckles on your hand that had collided with his face, investigating for any visible injury as you clenched and unclenched your fist.

Max started laughing, standing back upright and taking his hands away from his face. “I’m fine, holy shit, if that was anyone else though, they’d have a very broken nose,” he said, taking your now aching hand in his, and looking at you with what someone might call adoration. “Are you okay?”

You sighed in relief, then took out your earbuds so you could actually participate in a conversation with him. “I think so. Don’t fucking scare me like that again, though.” You firmly poked him in the chest, glaring at him.

Max chuckled a little. “Message received, don’t worry,” he said. “Sorry I scared you. I saw how good your ass looked just a second ago and couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. Do you need something, or did you just come in here to grope me? I have a lot of reports to put away now that your shitty employee is gone,” you said, gesturing towards the still pretty substantial stack of reports. “And I think I’m going to reorganize some other accounts while I’m back here.”

“Actually…” Max started, taking a few steps forward, making you take a few steps back, towards a table between two sets of shelves that was just below hip height. He let go of your hand and turned you around, moving you to bend over. He once again put his hands on your ass, then dragged them to your hips, then the waistband of your bottoms, which he pulled down and out of the way along with your underwear, letting the fabric pool around your ankles. He got down on his knees, pulling your flesh apart where your ass met your thighs, exposing your cunt to him. “I think I’m gonna do a little more than grope you.”

You muffled a moan as he licked through your folds, then prodded at your hole with his tongue. “Max… I really need to get this done…” you said, but only half-heartedly. You’d definitely much rather be doing this than filing reports all day.

Max hummed, the tone questioning your statement as his tongue moved again, his mouth enveloping your clit and sucking gently. It was a teasing motion, and it made you groan in frustration. “You’ll have plenty of time, sweetheart,” he said, mischief thick in his tone.

He licked against your clit again, then switched to sucking on it, and back and forth for a while, driving you crazy. You were getting close, you just needed…

“Max, fuck, please,” you groaned, reaching behind you and grabbing his hair, pushing him further into you. He firmly sucked your clit into his mouth for a long moment, and groaned into your pussy, which did you in. You moaned as you finally tumbled over the edge, only barely muffling the tail end of the sound. Max worked you through it, lapping up your release feverishly, until you were pulling his hair the opposite direction, starting to edge on overstimulated.

He pulled away, his hands going from the back of your thighs to your hips again as he stood up. “Don’t tell me you’re done,” he said. You looked over your shoulder to see his downright devilish grin. His face was wet with your juices--a sight you were quite a fan of, honestly. “Because I’m not done.”

You smiled as you pushed your hips back, connecting with his. Max grunted as his cock, still confined behind his pants and boxers, made contact with your ass, grinding together briefly before he took half a step back to unbuckle his belt and shove his pants out of the way enough to fuck you. You both moaned as he swiped the tip of his cock through your slit, then began pushing into you at a pace you would describe as teasingly slow given how ready you were for him.

“Are you teasing me to keep me away from my job longer, Phillips?” you taunted, though you were unable to stop the groan leaving your throat as his cock rubbed up against something delicious inside you, just like it always does.

“As if you don’t love this,” he said, snapping his hips forward the rest of the way, ripping another sound from you. You could only imagine the grin on his face at this point, especially knowing there was no arguing with that.

Max began fucking you in earnest, setting a quick pace right away--no matter how much he’d like to, he couldn’t keep you both occupied all day. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to stand up against him, wrapping his other arm around you to rub your already sensitive clit as he did. You moaned out again, clenching down around his cock as he gave you more stimulation, which made him groan in your ear. He could smell your blood rushing in your vessels just millimeters below the skin of your neck right by his lips, but he would save that for when you were over at his place, not in the file room at work. He compromised by merely nibbling on your skin, then sucking a very visible mark to the same spot.

You moaned at all of the sensations he was bombarding you with, once again getting close to a climax, his expert fingers and cock slamming into that sensitive spot giving you no other choice. You should care about the hickey he just gave you, probably, but in this moment, it just added to the intoxicating cocktail he was serving you.

“I can feel you, baby, c’mon, give it to me,” Max mumbled in your ear. “Cum on my cock, I got you.”

You could never say no to that. You gave in immediately to his encouragement, crying out his name as you went over the edge a second time, your walls rhythmically bearing down on Max’s cock as you did. He moaned your name in your ear, hips stuttering as he closely followed you to his own peak, filling you to the brim. He slowed down as you both came back down to earth, dragging his hand from your clit to your hip, just holding you close to him for a moment.

Just as you thought you were out of the woods, Max bent you forward on the table again. You gasped in surprise--what else could he possibly have in store for you? You both made a noise as he pulled out, and you hummed as you felt his cum start to leak down your thigh. You gasped again as you felt Max’s tongue lick up the same path, gathering his own cum in his mouth.

Every time you think you’ve found everything he does that you find irresistibly hot, Max manages to surprise you.

Max stood again, and turned you around to face him finally. He grabbed your face, making you gasp in surprise again. He dug his index finger and thumb into your jaw at the joint firmly, and grunted, clearly trying to get you to open your mouth.

You obeyed immediately, and whimpered as he spit his own cum into your mouth. You swallowed, and he groaned, finally leaning forward to kiss you. You grinned into it, and let it go on for a while before you gently pulled away to pull your bottoms back up from the floor. Max followed suit, tucking his shirt back in as he quickly fixed his clothes.

“So… wanna come over tonight?” he asked, leaning against one of the shelves as you picked up a new stack of reports to put away.

You hummed exaggeratedly in thought. “Oh, I don’t know, Max, every time I do it’s so disappointing,” you responded sarcastically.

“Well, I bet I can make you ‘disappointed’ twice as many times as I just did if you do,” he snarked back.

You laughed quietly. “Alright, now, don’t make any promises you can’t keep,” you warned.

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” Max asked, a very confident smirk on his face.

You honestly thought about it for a second. “No, I suppose you haven’t,” you admitted. “But we both need to get back to work. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

Max grinned, that genuine grin that made you melt a little bit every time you saw it. He kissed you again, a deep, lingering thing that was full of affection. “I’ll see you tonight.”

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fic #max phillips smut #x reader #my fic #tori says things #max says things #pedro pascal

[estrellami-1]

Writer prompt: “When will I get people who care the way I care?” Steve + the party hurt/comfort

Lmaooooo not you turning my own words on me (thank you I probably needed to write this ngl)

Steve made a point to remember the kids’ birthdays. To know their favorite foods, their allergies, to have their favorite tapes in his car.

And it’s not like it’s serious. Steve wouldn’t die from it. Probably.

It’s just… well. He told them he was allergic to shellfish. He remembered the day, especially, because they’d all had a long discussion about what was actually classified as shellfish.

But now someone decided to bring a clambake up to Bumfuck, Indiana, right where Steve lived, and all the kids are so excited about it, and he’s excited for them, honest.

But they don’t understand when he declines the offer to go, their request to drive them. Slowly but surely, he realizes they forgot.

Maybe he should’ve expected that. Maybe he should’ve known the expectations are different on the babysitter versus the babysat. Maybe-

“Alright,” Eddie says suddenly, one loud clap getting everyone’s attention. “Everyone out! Something’s come up. Great to see you, same time next week, untold horrors, et cerera. Get the fuck outta here.”

Eddie turns to Steve once everyone’s gone. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

“You’re making a face like something’s wrong.”

“Oh.” Steve debates not telling him, except that’s never done him any favors before, and he doubts it’ll start now. “Um. Just. Y’know the clambake?”

Eddie chuckles. “It’s practically all the kids talk about.”

“Yeah. Um. They didn’t understand why I didn’t want to go. Or why I didn’t want to take them.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly. “I’m all for telling the little shits no once in a while, don’t get me wrong. But… why did you tell them no?”

“I’m allergic to shellfish.”

Eddie’s mouth opens in an o. “Do they know?”

“Yeah. Or they did, I dunno. I guess they forgot. And I just… I dunno. Got in my head about it, I guess, because I remember things that are important to them, y’know? I have their tapes in my car, I know their favorite foods, I know what they’re allergic to. I know what to do to help all of them through a nightmare or a panic attack. And I spend so much of my time giving, and being what they need me to be, and… I guess it gets tiring, sometimes.” He shrugs, looks down. “I’m just wondering when I’m gonna get people who care the way I care. Who remember the little things, maybe not even cause they’re important, but because they’re part of me, y’know?”

Eddie smiles sadly, sits next to him. Turns his body to face Steve’s. “You mean like the face you make when you’re cooking and your sauce needs more salt? Or the way you dance a little, wiggle your hips, when you’ve got music playing and you’re doing the dishes? Or the way you clench your fists when you think no one’s looking, when you’re trying not to fidget or reach out and touch?” He touches one of Steve’s hands, clenched in his lap. “You can.”

Steve sighs, releases his hands. Turns one over and capture’s Eddie’s. “And the important thing,” Eddie continues. “The way you keep the pool lights turned off when the kids aren’t over. The way you hate to cook for just yourself. You ever wonder why I invite myself over so much? ‘S because I know you wouldn’t eat otherwise. The kids are assholes, I’ll give you that. They’re also kids. Let them grow up some, keep showing them the love that you are, and trust that one day they’ll show it back. Until then, can I be enough for you?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, chokes. “You’re always enough. More than.”

Eddie moves in closer. “Let yourself take,” he whispers back, slotting an arm over Steve’s shoulders and pulling him in. “Trust that I’m giving. That I want you to have it.”

Steve leans in. Doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t kiss him. He doesn’t have to. He’s taking, accepting. And that says everything.

#I hope this was okay #most of this was written at 2am last night #and I finished the rest just now #so if anything doesn’t make sense that’s why #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #writing #asks #prompts #thank you friend! #starambles

[hyunsvngs]

content warning: masochist,gymrat(kinda),bf!hannie, sub!hanjisung, cockstepping, scratching (m. rec), hair pulling (m. rec), switch!reder, foot stuff (duh), dirty talk, degradation (m. rec), aftercare/ implied aftercare, safe word mentioned but not used

———————————————————————————

“Jisung, why do you wanna get so big? Are you a masochist?” You eyed him as you both walk to your shared apartment.

“A.. a masochist?” He stops dead in his tracks, which has you turning to face him two feet away. The tips of his ears are turning the prettiest shade of pink and his boba eyes are so wide, mouth slightly agape.

“You’ve put on quite the muscle since I first met you a few years ago,” you begin, images of Jisung walking into your college mathematics class looking considerably toned, but slightly thin. A small smile finds it’s way onto your face as you finish your sentence, “and every New Year’s Day I ask you what your resolution is, but the answer is always the same.. ‘I wanna get bigger’.”

He looks down at his physique and makes a unsatisfied face. “I just don’t think my physique looks that nice,” he begins walking and grabs your hand to lead you on the sidewalk. You almost think you didn’t hear him correctly when he whispered “and maybe being sore feels really good.”

And heard him correctly you did.

A week later, Jisung asks you a question you never thought you’d hear.

“Hypothetically? Are we sure this is a hypothetical question, Hannie?” One of your eyebrows is raised out of suspension while he plays with a loose sting hanging from the bottom of his grey sweatpants shorts. You walk over to his figure on the couch from your previous position in the kitchen and sit next to him. His body sinks towards your weight, his face vulnerable.

“I thought about what you said.. and it makes sense. 1000%. I enjoy feeling pain. I like how it feels when I’m done doing a set of exercises, and I especially love being sore the next day. I just- I wanna try it. Please.” Jisung shifts his body so that he’s facing you, almost frantically. Like he can sense you pulling away, even though he knows you wouldn’t leave him because of this..maybe you would find him weird. He doesn’t want that either though.

“Are we talking barefoot? Sneakers? Boots? High heels?” Your head tilts and you even look away a little to think about what he would want as the first step.

“H-huh?” There’s no longer a pit in the bottom on his stomach, just whispers of heat beginning to stir under his waistband. He’s beginning to fall apart at the seams and nothing has even happened yet.

You had already toe-d off your house shoes before he realized what’s going on. “You can’t seriously be hard already.. we just started talking about it!” You laugh and he covers his semi with both of his hands. “I-I’m sorry baby.. sorry.”

Without a word, you slapped his hands. He knew what you wanted.. his hands away and to not return until told otherwise. He’s gripping and unclenching the couch cushion with anticipation and desperation, head already a little numb. It’s always easy to spot when he gets floaty- his ears and neck (even upper chest) become splotchy with a dusty pink hue, and his hands are restless.

“Hannie, you look so pretty like this. Can you tell me the safe word?” You stroke his cheek and wait for his answer. The word is spoken softly, almost like he is too scared to speak any louder- terrified he may ruin the mood after he built the courage to ask you such a question. “Perfect baby, sit up a little for me.”

Jisung sits up slightly, allowing you to remove his loose black shirt. His heated, splotchy chest looks like a masterpiece paired with his tanned skin; it invites you to places kisses against the muscle. Your right hand flies to his waist and dig your fingertips into him. He jerks at the feeling of your lips and hand- he wants, NO.. needs more.

“Please hurt me, pleasepleasepl- AH!” His hips lift from the cushion as he feels your teeth nip harshly at the skin next to this left nipple, your hand following to scratch at his side.

“Jisungie.. shhhh. Let me play with your body.” You whisper against him. You place your right hand on top on his clothed cock, and the most sinful and beautiful moans are coming out of his mouth. As quickly as your hand appeared, it disappeared and he makes his disappointment known. You shoot him a glare to shut him up and he listens. He knows you mean business right now- you always do when it comes to his pleasure.

At his side, next cushion over, you lean back on both hands and lift your right leg. Bent at the knee, ankle loose and foot firm, you hover it over Jisung’s hips. He’s watching your every move with scrunched eyebrows and mouth unhinged. The ball of your foot begins to press down on his erection, not stopping even though gravity has done all its work. The force starts to push into his bladder but still no mind, he’s now staring at you like you put the damn stars in the sky and you’re drenched. You can feel your panties sticking and it won’t get better from here because you know he won’t want to stop any time soon.

“Hannie, does it feel good? Or do you not want it to feel good?” Even you’re breathless.. the view you have looks straight out of some cheap porno. His red and bitten-raw lips open, his cheeks flush and his eyes heavily lidded with lust, even his labored breathing.

“Need more. More pain. Please” Voice cracking on his last word, you get up as fast as you possibly can. This newfound confidence in yourself after seeing what you can do for your boyfriend has you reeling. Jisung lets out a yelp of surprise when you grab a fist full of his hair and begin to drag him off the couch and to the center of the living room.

“Take off your shorts and lay down. Now. And I didn’t tell you to touch yourself, did I?” He had grabbed his base over his shorts when you tugged on his hair. He feels so pathetic like this, he could totally get off on this but he doesn’t want it to end soon. He stripped himself of his shorts and laid down on the carpet floor, even the navy blue underwear making for a great view against his thick thighs- threads stretched taught against the muscle.

The second his whole body made contact with the floor, you raised your right leg again. Bent at the knee but with a firm ankle and firm foot, you dug your heel into his cock. Jisung took in a sharp breath and a few moments later, released a shaky one. “Oh fuuuuuuuck!” His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

You’re dripping, and you’re about to lose your mind seeing Jisung strung out on the carpet like this. You don’t even wanna blink because you’re afraid you might miss the sight like he could disappear.

“How about this, Hannie? You like this shit?” You scoff, “What a fucking painslut. Getting off to me stepping on your dick.” You moved your ankle back and forth to dig into his skin even more and you can hear the carpet being scratched at. He is trying his hardest to stay grounded so he can feel this bliss for as long as he can, but you go just deep enough and he’s done.

“I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum!” He’s breathing frantically.

“Just from this??? This is all it takes, Hannie? Just need me to step on you??” You put as much weight into your right foot as you can for a few seconds to help him reach his orgasm.

“Yes! Yesyesyesyes! I’m cumming! Gonna come so hard!” He’s babbling and you watch him break.

His fingertips are white from digging into the carpet and his body twitches as his underwear becomes soaked with fluid. His moans and gasps are so loud you don’t doubt there would be a complaint or two tomorrow. There’s so much cum, you question if that’s all it is and nothing else. His back is arched in the prettiest curve and his neck is on display as if saying ‘I still need more, please bite me’. He stopped breathing towards the back end of his orgasm as if to prolong it (asphyxiation is something you will bring up another time).

The aftershocks are still hitting him when you drop to your knees next to his head. He’s so dazed and spacey. You give him a quick kiss to his forehead and tell him you’ll be back in a second. You come back with a new pair of underwear and a towel to wipe him with. You help him change and sit him up.

“You doing okay baby? How’s your penis? Does it hurt too much?” You ask while giving him a scalp massage, trying to relieve what you caused earlier.

Jisung shakes his head and whispers “I feel so good right now. Can we lay down on the couch?” You both make it to the couch and you offer to make him some food and get beverages. Only after 10 minutes of cuddling, kissing, and ‘i love you’s ’,does he allow you to do that.

“I know the initial conversation we had about this was about a week ago, but if it wasn’t obvious… I really like your physique, Jisung.” You say as you place the plates of food on the coffee table. Your cheeks heat up at the confession, but all he can think about is your lips on his body. He shoots you a quick smirk and says “Yeah, totally wasn’t obvious.”

OMGoMG i know i said hard thot (or was it hot thot????idek) LMAOOO i got carried away sorry <3 also the end is rushed but i hope you enjoyed

-✖️

Jjesus what

THIS BROKE MY BRIAN. i meant my brain but also

MY FAVE PART WAS THIS

"The force starts to push into his bladder but still no mind, he’s now staring at you like you put the damn stars in the sky and you’re drenched." holllly HOOOOOOLY THIS WAS SO GOOD. I WAS CHEERING MAKE HIM PEE MAKE HIM PEE MAKE HIM PEE!!

NO THIS WAS SO GOOD!!!! AHJDGKDGNJK

#juno’s asks ♡ #✖️ anon 💌 #asks: jisung

[l30ra]

My fav domestic chainshipping headcanons :3

they decided to not move in together right away because they both needed to return to their regular daily routines for a bit to process the trauma before making such a massive change

(they're both autistic. this is important)

(extremely scheduled x extremely unscheduled bfs)

despite that, Lawrence would visit Adam almost everyday, as Adam struggled to get out of the house more and Lawrences divorce still needed to be finalized

After visiting Adam, Lawrence realizes he has... absolutely terrible habits in his home;

Barely any furniture, unstocked kitchen, not done laundry, etc.

And the worst offender of all: the paper plates

Adam absolutely HAAAATES doing the dishes, so for as long as he's been living independently, hes always eaten off paper plates, to throw them away afterwards

or.. to not? One night after a dinner Lawrence had made, with groceries Lawrence had brought over, Adam starts tearing up the plate and just starts. Eating it.

He was eating the paper plates. Because he thought they were food safe (they aren't)

"Hey, are you going to eat that?"

"Adam, my plate is empty. What do you mean?"

"The plate dumbass.. if you aren't, give it to me, I'll have it."

"Adam... Paper plates are very.. not edible."

"They say 'food safe on the box? That means they're edible. You sound dumb lol"

Lawrence immediately makes plans to take him shopping for actual dishware, all the while going on a ramble of the potential impacts of eating such things!

he decides then also to try and set Adam up on a good schedule, because he knows he'll be away for a few weeks as he finishes moving out of his old house, and he won't be able to see him

Adam says he'll only use plates if they're fun colored or with cool designs so.. thats what they get!

they also end up getting him one of those chore chart things

lawrence insists its not because Adams a baby, its just because he will literally forget to do certain things otherwise

lawrence has a great memory and a strict routine he always follows but adam (probably due to years of smoking the good lord green) has a shit memory and struggles to follow a routine but desperately needs one

Lawrence promises if Adam gets all his stuff done while hes gone they'll go out an do something

Lawrence LOVES plants, and Adam loves taking photos of him, so he chooses a botanical garden

Lawrence loves it, obviously, and Adam takes loads of photos of him to put in the scrapbook he refuses to show Lawrence

Speaking of, he loves scrapbooking, and still takes stalker-y candid photos of Lawrence (old habits die hard, I guess), so he scrapbooks loads about Lawrence

but he keeps it shut TIGHT. he refuses to tell Lawrence, and hides the scrapbooks at the back of his closet in the spare room he converted into a photo development room

Lawrence has some idea about Adam taking photos of him, but not to that extent

Once they finally move in together, they end up getting a three bedroom apartment. One room for them to share, and then a room for Lawrences plants, and a room for Adams photography

Lawrences room is filled with shelves and shelves on shelves of propagating plants and herbs

Adam begs him to grow weed, but Lawrence always says no

Despite having a room dedicated to it, the entire house is filled with plants, including Adams photography room because some of his plants grow better in little to no light

Despite that, he absolutely NEVER goes in there without explicit permission from Adam. He respects his privacy IMMENSELY

Even then, He probably won't even go in unless Adam is there to supervise

Whenever he goes in there, he always chastises Adam about all the chemicals, telling him he really should be using a mask, be careful with that one and that one, and you really should be airing this room out

despite the divorce, Alison and Lawrence are still on good terms

They talked things over after Lawrence escaped the trap, and ended up at "Even though we still care for each other we don't love each other and thats alright because we can just carry things on platonically"

he still sees Diana as often as possible, and Diana loves Adam

"Heres my mom and my dad and my dads boyfriend!"

Adam LOVES showing up to her school events (sports, talent shows, etc) with Alison and Lawrence and bringing his super fancy cameras so he can take action shots of her because she thinks its SO COOL

Her and Adam make Lawrence take them to laser tag and amusement parks n shit

Lawrence loves that they get along, and it means so much to him that Adam gets involved so much in Dianas life

He feels bad sometimes though, because he worries Diana blames them both (Adam and Lawrence) for the divorce, no matter how healthy it was

Adam calls Lawrence dude and bro, with the occasional babe

Lawrence calls Adam dear and love

Adam always wears his heart on his sleeve around Lawrence, and although sometimes he struggles with it, Lawrence tries to do the same

Lawrences odd work hours actually work better in the couples favor, because of Adams insomnia and other sleep issues, he also keeps extremely irregular hours

Despite that, sometimes there are still days on end where they just go without seeing each other, whether it be because Lawrence was out while Adam was awake or Adam was awake in between Lawrences shift

In the meantime, they leave little post it notes for each other

yellow is Lawrences color and blue is Adams color (blue and yellow by the used... starts tearing out clumps of my hair. thats a them song.)

Adam will wait up on the couch for Lawrence to get home but sometimes he just... passes out there... so Lawrence carries him to their bed

They share a wardrobe for the most part. They do have different tastes when it comes to style but theres still some overlap in some areas

Lawrence doesn't actually have a drivers license, and he hates driving

Adam knows how to drive but doesn't have his license and thinks its too much of a hassle to get one so him and Lawrence just transit together

back to the botanical idea... Adam loves buying Lawrence flowers. But not bouquets, Lawrence hates Bouquets because they die so fast, so Adam buys him little potted flowers for him

Lawrence has an entire shelf in his green room just for the things Adam brings him

Thats all I have for now but... maybe part two if I think of anything more :3

#saw 2004 #adam faulkner stanheight #chainshipping #adam stanheight #saw franchise #lawrence gordon #headcanon #saw #dr gordon #adam x lawrence