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#three years ago she boarded a train
cloudstutter · 2 years
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Happy anniversary to her <3
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cumikering · 3 months
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Ex bf John Price x reader
1.6k | angst Price was back in Liverpool (part 2)
“John?”
That voice was definite. It couldn't be, but there you stood when he turned.
A soft smile spread across your lips. “I recognised the beanie.”
It was your gift from all those years ago, dark grey with his initials, JMFP, embroidered on the bottom.
He chuckled, the kind that made his eyes crinkle.
“How long has it been? 5 years?”
He shifted his weight. “Thereabouts.” Has it really been that long?
The last time you saw each other was when he dropped you off the train station, three years’ worth of your relationship dragged behind in your luggage. It was much heavier than it looked.
You stood in front of the train, your back to him, unmoving. His heart had been in his throat since the night before, ever since you started packing, when ‘our apartment’ became simply ‘John’s’. His nails dug into his palms, wishing you’d turn around. There were still a few seconds for you to change your mind. You boarded - your one-way trip back to Liverpool.
“I didn’t expect you to still have it.”
He felt exposed. He wished he didn't wear the beanie, but it was always his favourite.
“You alright?
“Never better.” His cheeks ached, or was it his chest? “You?”
He didn’t need to ask. It was easy to see. Your eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the weather. You looked as good as the day he met you.
In his worn fleece button down, he was suddenly self-conscious of how he was still the same at best, but who was he kidding - the years hadn’t been kind to him. Nowadays his scruff was an excuse to not have to shave so often.
You weren’t supposed to meet again, and not there of all places, but it was funny really. It was the same place you first met. The memories flooded in.
It was no secret that people could only pick one: military or family. Well, most of them anyway, some lucky bastards got to have both. John didn’t care about having to choose when he walked down this path in life. He never had plans for relationships, and the disinterest served him well, allowing him to excel over his peers. Until you came along.
Still a lieutenant then, he was back home in Liverpool browsing the beer aisle at the nearest supermarket. Next to him, your first summer after uni, you were in charge of the drinks for your brother’s birthday BBQ. You asked if he could help you with the overwhelming selection. When he carried the purchase back to your car, you invited him to the party instead.
You were inseparable the rest of summer. Each touch seared his skin and he felt 10 years younger. Despite the circumstances, the both of you were unwilling to leave the fire behind. Between deployments, you always made time to visit each other, connection unwavering.
Seeing you now felt surreal. He stood there with knees that didn’t work like they used to, his head constantly thumping. He’d taken a beating and the years between you suddenly felt further. You were unforgettable, but the air around you made you feel foreign. You didn’t look at him like you used to. Maybe that’s what happened if he wasn’t your muse anymore.
You would have followed him to the end of the world. He knew it – you did it. After a year, you dropped all you knew. Your family, life-long friends, the job you were after the whole of uni. You started all over for him.
With you, he was on top of the world, the luckiest man defying the odds. Life fell into a comfortable rhythm. You made do; got yourself a decent job, far from perfect but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make.
On track to becoming a captain, he always felt a sliver of guilt when he left you for weeks on end, but the kisses grew sweeter the longer he went, and your grateful smile at the door told him it was alright. He could have both you and the SAS.
“I got my dream job a few months ago.”
Of course you did. It was you.
“I heard you got shot in the leg this year. Hope you’re doing better.”
John chuckled. “Who told you?”
“Your mum. She calls sometimes.”
He let out a small sigh. “She always loved you.”
“The 141 doing alright?”
He hung his head and gave a weak nod. He preferred you to not ask.
Death was the soulmate of war. It was the harsh reality how countless comrades of his fell, some you knew personally - their wives and kids and how the horrors haunted even years after.
Distant worry swirled into a dark cloud. Suddenly, someone else was in the relationship. The reaper loomed as she went down her list and it couldn’t help but feel like John was willingly waiting for his turn.
At first, he was optimistic. When the thoughts consumed, he calmed you down with a few days at home, never leaving your side.  Over time, it was evident he couldn’t – you couldn’t. Him working overtime didn’t make you miss him more, coming home after weeks apart no longer felt sweet.
Each day ate at you, knowing it could very well be one of his last. This was going nowhere but straight into a singular outcome. With each name scratched out, you were haunted by progressively worse nightmares. It was unhealthy - he could see it on you.
You loved rings. He got you one for each anniversary. When he gave you his family heirloom, thinking the commitment would quiet your consuming thoughts, you gave it back to him. No ring could unearth the dread in your chest. Nothing would change how this was going to play out.
The rest of the evening was tense, and when you jerked awake later that night, the lump in your throat only swelled. Your whole body begged you to run. He could taste it in your hasty kisses, your touches fleeting.
The fear in your eyes had morphed into guilt. That’s when he knew it was over.
When he came back from his next mission, you told him you were leaving, tears down your cheeks. He knew it was coming, but it hurt all the same.
How could he hate you, even if you left? Even after you dropped everything to be with him. It was always too good to be true. He always felt it in the chill of the night, in the beautiful dawn sky of empty deserts, in the howl of the wind. He’d done more than enough terrible things to be denied of the niceties of the world. You were the best thing in his, but it was much too late.
You always said you were both too young, that when you decided to be together, you didn’t fully understand what a relationship with him entailed. You said you didn’t want to make him choose, that he didn’t deserve to be forced to choose. You said he was excellent at what he did, and you weren’t going to take that away.
That night before you left, you kissed for the last time. You forced a smile through the tears as he looked at you with gut-wrenching longing. He wanted to remember forever the way your skin felt, the gasps you let out when he touched you, the way your eyes shut, his name tumbling out of your lips as your back arched.
John wasn’t a crier, but the unshed tears stung. He chanted ‘I love you’ against every inch of you. Maybe if he said it enough you’d change your mind. He wasn’t in his body when he started sobbing. You held each other until sleep took over, and he thought he wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t wake again.
Perhaps you were right. How far he’d come could only be credited to the undying drive in him. It was a blessing and a curse as it cost him you. So he devoted the rest of him into work. It was the only thing he had, the only thing left to do to make losing you worth it, but nothing softened the blow.
When you left, it felt like his world capsized, drained. It took him over a year to put the pieces back together, but he could have sworn you’d taken some with you. You’d awoken a desire in him that never got satiated again. You left him high and dry with a bleeding chest.
You were more than just someone, more than just a partner. You were the one he was going to settle down for, even if he never could figure out how to reconcile the idea.
John closed his eyes. Was this a sick joke the world was playing on him? In the midst of uncertainty, in his unending sorrow where the fantasy of giving it all up had budded, why now?
With you in front of him, he could almost hear you say ‘we should have tried harder’. He knew he would. I just need you to ask. Ask and I’m yours in a heartbeat.
“Nice seeing you, John. Merry Christmas. Take care, okay?”
He let out an unsteady sigh. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how many what ifs and the parallel universes he'd ventured out to, he knew this was for the best.
At least you looked happier. That's the most he could get, as a man with sins too heavy to carry.  Maybe he’d get another chance when the world ran out of bad guys. Maybe in another life.
He smiled and you turned.
He pretended not to notice the glint of gold on your left hand.
@glitterypirateduck @sofasoap @shadofireshinobi @tiredmetalenthusiast @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot @caramlizedtomatoes @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats
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psuedofolio · 5 months
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Last week on my character a day thread was more "Magical Girl SCP" characters and I'm realizing I didn't share the pictures from the last time I brought out the psudo scp universe characters so here they are. I'll make the whole story someday. Lore/flavor text is as follows: 1: Fairbanks would often have to insist Isabelle stop skipping her small arms training. She rarely said it, but she was very fond of the junior researcher. And she knew just how unsafe the SAFE Research Department could be.
2: Fairbanks' Notes on the Vampire, "Drymouth."
After 21 days without feeding, she will enter a state of altered consciousness and will speak true prophecies. The Board believes it is worth the ethical costs of starving her. I believe she uses her prophecies to guide us to our destruction.
3: Partial Transcript: Tattoo Parlor, 3:25 PM
Subject X66: "I'm still kinda nervous about the pain, ya know. I'm sure you get that a lot."
Witness: "I... what is... Is that a body mod?"
Subject X66: "What are you talking about?"
Witness: "Holy fuck it moved!"
4: Codename Sunshine is the first entity to take a role in DIR Fairbank's "Special Taskforce." Though the Director believes she is wholly reliable and a potential asset for our field agents, many are skeptical. Her ability to "transmute light into burning liquid" is quote: "Scary AF."
5: Agent Nathan Collier returned to work with REDACTED three months after the incident with Valeria's escape. His personal heroism in subduing the entity aside, it was decided he was unfit for field work. Instead he was reassigned to the SAFE Department on so called "babysitting duty."
6: Ben died a few years ago in an unrelated accident, but ever since then what appears to be his "ghost" continues to check the halls for anomalous readings. Once we calibrated his scanner to account for his own emanations, he returned to being a valued member of *redacted*
7: What limited things we do know is REDACTED's body is made of particles which "absorb" em waves of all kinds, from light to radio. Though REDACTED manages to bypass nearly every security measure we have, they have no connections or intentions that qualify as a threat.
8: Contrary to popular belief, Franklin is NOT an anomalous entity. He is merely a holdover from REDACTED before it became REDACTED. His "good humor and fatherly advice" has often made agents question his true nature. And security monitors him as agents often confide secrets with him.
(ooc note, it was about an hour after drawing this that I realized I basically just drew Clint McElroy)
9: Frm: Dir Fairbanks The girl in our care is not to be referred to as "anomaly" or "spider thing" or by her case number. She has come to us willingly. Her name is Penelope, and but for her anomalous mutations is a normal child. We will provide her normalcy. That is an order.
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stllmnstr · 2 months
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easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble
pairing: lee heeseung x f reader
genre: brother’s best friend au
word count: 2.5k
warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way. 
It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly. 
Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems. 
It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules. 
Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat. 
But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours. 
He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder. 
And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter. 
Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–
“Are you gonna do something about that?”
On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?” 
Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder. 
Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why. 
He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public. 
Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”
Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way. 
He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”
And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…
“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”
“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”
Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law. 
Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public. 
Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”
Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside. 
But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort. 
Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are. 
In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back. 
The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight. 
Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth. 
And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor. 
But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later. 
And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers. 
There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway. 
But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance. 
Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down. 
Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon. 
Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him. 
Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you. 
The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening. 
Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears. 
Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions. 
Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways. 
Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it. 
Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”
“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”
Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent. 
Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”
And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars. 
Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will. 
“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”
Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”
Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”
If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”
“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”
You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”
Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”
Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”
You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”
“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”
Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”
“Only the ones I really like.”
But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”
You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”
A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”
“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead. 
After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”
Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3
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beary-rambles · 3 days
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Sneaking around
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r.q: Hii I was wondering if you could do a Jacerys x twin!reader. Where they have been betrothed since they were young, and as the grow up they start slightly falling for each other. And one night she sneaks into his room and they explore themselves 👀can it be smut aswell. 💕🙏
w.c: 3.2k
c.w: porn with plot, misunderstandings, oral (f), p in v, very inaccurate first time, loss of virginity, jacaerys is an idiot, not proofread, supportive daemon, happy ending, avoids use of y/n, talks of baela/jacaerys
requests are open
part two coming soon
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You and jacaerys were inseparable ever since you were born. You two did practically everything together. You ate together, you sat and watched him train while he would sit with you and watch you stich. It was hard to separate the two of you. Your mother even told you when you were very young you would cry if you even lost sight of him and they had to bring him to you to comfort you. 
You had thought nothing of it, not until you had reached the age of three and ten when your mother announced you were to marry him. You could not even process this news as seemingly right after came the news of lady laena’s death and funeral then very soon after the marriage between your mother and daemon. 
When you could finally have a moment to breathe back at dragonstone you tried to turn to jacaerys but he seems to be avoiding you at all costs. More interested in spending his day with baela and lucerys. You couldn't even get along with him let alone speak a word to him without him dodging you and mumbling something about being busy before walking away and most of the time he would be spotted talking with baela and it broke you. 
You began spending more time with Rhaena and Joffrey instead. Joffrey was far too young to even understand why you were upset but rhaena did and did her best to try and cheer you up.
It was hard to move past it but It got easier as the years went on and he still refused to even glance at you. 
“Do you think she will call off the betrothal if I ask her too?” you were now eight and one after your recent name day and dread filled you as you realized you were getting closer and closer to marrying jacaerys. You two still did not talk, you had given up trying to speak to him a long time ago. 
Daemon who was casualing sitting next to you takes a sip out of his goblet, “why ever would you ask her to?” 
You do not lift your head to look at him with his curious stare and continued to stare at the game board in front of you, picking up one of the pieces before answering,
“He does not like me, it would be better for both of us if he married someone else,” you place the piece down before answering him, “like baela.”
He laughs, he laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach, “it is not funny.”
He wipes a tear from his face as he manages to calm down. “You're right it is hilarious.”
You scoff and cross your arms, “i knew i shouldn't have brought it up-”
“No no, please continue why do you think he likes baela?” He seemingly picks up a random piece from the board and moves it before leaning back on his chair and looking at you expectantly. “Why should I not? When we had been betrothed the first thing he did was decide he wanted nothing to do with me since. Even on our shared name day he says nothing to me except simply wishing me well. He spends every waking moment with her, and when he is not with her he is with my brothers and simply acts like i do not exist he does not even extend me a good morning or a good night for gods sake!” one of your hands slam down on the table in front of you, the board pieces moving but not falling over and you only grow more and more annoyed at the amused look on his face. 
“You are in love with him.” “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You do not deny it.” you angrily move another piece of yours on the board and lean back on your chair as he does.
“It doesn't matter he does not like me. I shall bring it up to mother anyway since you are of no help.” 
He chuckles to himself as a servant enters the room to inform him rhaenyra requests his presence. He shakes his head as he stands moving one of his pieces before turning back to you. “Give it time Issa dōna.”
It is the last thing he says before he is led out the room. You glance down at the board and throw your head back with a sigh.
He had won.
“She plans to ask your mother to cancel the betrothal.”
Jacaerys freezes his head whipping around to look at daemon who was standing closely behind him. 
“Whatever do you mean?”
Daemon laughs, “you sister. She plans to have your betrothal called off.” 
“Why?” 
“Gods you really are foolish boy.”
Jacaerys always believed you to be his better half. While he was more temperamental and hot headed you always seemed to be so rational and so kind. When he heard of your betrothal the first thing he felt was excitement, but it soon turned into fear as he began to worry he would not be a well suited husband to you. He began to spend more time with baela and his mother who taught him how to be a kind and honorable young man and in turn he had begun to ignore you out of fear of ruining your relationship. He had never thought you would turn around and ask for the engagement to be dissolved. 
“You should act quick, she seems rather determined to be rid of you.”
Daemon could barely finish his sentence as he watches jacaerys march out of the room and a smile falls on his face. 
– 
You almost jump out of your seat as the doors of the room you resided in busted open. You moved to a balcony and had been reading. You clutch your book to your chest as you lock eyes with a seemingly out of breath jacaerys who lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing you.
“Jacaerys?”
“Sister, good day.”
You have no clue what to say. This is the first to who knows how long he had come up and approached you himself. All you could do is nod your head as you went back to reading your book.
“Could I sit with you?”
You hum and he takes that as a que to take a seat right next to you. You attempt to focus on the words in the book in front of you but you feel his stare burning into the side of your face you can't help but to feel flustered and the words are nothing but a blur. 
“Would you not rather be hanging out with others?”
After a few moments of silence you cut through it like a knife without looking up at him you continue to feel him stare at you. 
“Who ever could you mean?”
You scoff, aggressively turning the page despite the fact you had not read a single word on the previous one. 
“Oh I don't know, baela perhaps.”
“Baela? I believe she's busy today. But what does she have to do with-” “Oh so you are finally spending time with me because your precious baela is busy?”
“Where is this coming from?”
You stand and take the book under your arm as he stands up as well looking at you alarmed, “y/n..”
Gods, you missed him. You missed the way he said your name.
“I must go i have a meeting with mother i must attend to,”
He looks alarmed and grabs your arm before you can rush past him, “you must not speak with her.”
He grabs your other arm and pulls you close to him so you are forced to lock eyes with him as you feel your breath leave you. He has a desperate look about him, a wash of guilt and sadness over his eyes. 
“I do not deserve it such as i do not deserve you but i must beg for your forgiveness for my transgressions. I have been a bad brother and in part a bad partner but I must beg you to give me another chance. I know I shall never deserve you and I should not have stayed away from you for so long but I was worried you would begin to resent me so I sought out to become a man you would grow to l- grow to enjoy spending your life with. I am sorry. I shall work everyday to earn back your favor and to earn back your trust but I must beg you to not dissolve what has been written in stone between us.”
A tear must have found its way out of your eye as he brings one of his hands to wipe it away, his eyes never straying from yours. “Jace..”
He smiles and leans his forehead against your and takes a deep breath. “I beg of you. Allow me to fall and grovel at your feet for your forgiveness.”
“You're not just going to ask me for it?”
“I do not deserve such an easy fate. You must do me the honor of earning it.”
You laugh and your smile grows as he also begins to smile.
– 
A switch from never seeing jacaerys to practically seeing him all waking hours of your day was a dramatic change. When you awoke he would be waiting for you by the door to walk you to breakfast where he would sit next to you and he would request you come and watch him practice with lucerys and you would try and not laugh as he practically threw the younger boy around like a rag. 
The more and more time you spent with jacaerys the more brave he would become. When the two of you would walk he would place his hand on your back and slide it down almost low enough to be scandalous oh he would pull you into a empty corridor of the keep before dinner and just run his hands up and down your sides as he nudges his head into your neck, seeming content with simply just touching you as such. 
Despite the fact he seemed content, you grew more restless. You wanted him. No, you needed him at this point. Finally having him in your grasp after many years you could barely keep control of yourself when you were around him, wanting nothing more than to jump in his lap and let him have you.
One night you're restless in your bed, turning side to side unable to ignore the ache that resided between your legs and groan as you run your hands along your face. 
You decided to fuck it and just go visit him. Throwing on a cloak and don't even bother to tie it, keeping a firm grip on his with one hand as you walk out of your room and as quietly as you can begin to make your way down the hall down the very familiar path to jacaerys room. 
You begin to rethink your choice as you stare down his door, your bare feet cold on the harsh flooring of the keep. You could see light peeking out from under his door telling you he was still up despite the later hour and against your better judgment you raise your hand and lightly knock on his door. 
You hear a chair scrap and feet paddling towards the door until the door opens and you're met with his shocked face.
“y/n? What are you doing here?” He quickly peeks his head out and looks around the hallway before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the room.
“I just wanted to see you.”
“In the middle of the night?!? Where you could have been seen, what would mother think?” 
“I'm sorry..”
You hang your head and jacaerys sighs and rubs his hand over his face, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get angry. I am just worried about your reputation.” 
He walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him. You finally notice something, he’s shirtless. You should have noticed that sooner, of course he would be shirtless. You know most men sleep shirtless. Why would he be any different? 
He takes notice of your gaze and flushes, you take notice of the red beginning to shine on his ears and on his cheeks. 
“I am so sorry allow me to go cover myself-”
You grab his cheeks and he freezes. In your rush for him not to leave your side you forget about your cloak and it falls to the ground.
You gasp and move closer to him as a chill washes over you.
“y/n…”
His hands grip your waist and pull you right up against him and he drops his head into your neck and leaves a kiss there.
“Tell me to stop at once.” he continues to kiss your neck over and over as he runs his hands up and down your sides and you shudder.
“I demand you ask me to stop.”
His lips trail their way up your jaw and his hands rest against your cheek, “why must i?” “For your honor you must push me away for I fear I desire you far too much, it is improper.” 
“Jace.”
He groans and stops himself from kissing your lips, leaning his forehead against yours and breathing heavily.
“You must push me away.”
You decide to be bold and push your lips against his and he grips your face with his hands, kissing you frivolously.
Your hands find their way onto his chest and slide down under the band of his pants and he groans, his lips sliding off of yours, a trail of saliva falls between you as his head falls into your neck.
“Please, my love please.” he whines as his hips thrust against your hands. You had snuck away and read many a book about what a man and woman do in bed, especially after reconciling with jacaerys, and you wrap your hands around his dick and take your rub to rub around to the tip of it. He groans into your ear and suckles your neck. You use the seemingly constant flowing precum to pump up and down, taking pleasure in the way he whines and moans in your ear.
“You are too kind to me.” he slurs in your ear as you smile and work faster, “i only wish to please you, would you rather me get on my knees?”
You squeal as he rips your hands off him and lifts you up and carries you over the bed, “as thrilling as that view would be, I would much rather be pleasing you my love.”
He lays you down on the bed and gets on his knees pulling you closer to the edge, once he gets closer he lays his head against your thigh and admires you. “You did not come wearing anything under your gown?”
You cover your face with embarrassment, “do you think me desperate?” 
He shakes his head as he moves closer, “no, i am much worse.”
He licks a long strip up your core and grips your hips down with his hands as he eats as if he had never eaten anything before.
Your hands grip his long curly hair and you can barely contain your moans as you try to push him even closer to you.
“How are you so good at this?”
He hums against you sending chills down your spine, “I imagined this more than I would like to admit.” His words are muffled as he continues to assault on your clit but you can understand him clearly and moan even louder. He does not care, if anything he seems to encourage you by not faltering even for a second, if you could have any coherent thoughts you would wonder how he could breathe.
Your grip grows tighter in his hair and your hips fight against his hands as you grow closer and you feel him smile against you. “Come for me, I wish to taste it.”
And you do and he takes his time licking up each and every single drop before kissing his way up and climbs on top of you and smiles at you. His hands fondle your breasts on top of your nightgown, “could you take it off me?” 
Once the two of you are sat up he bunches up the bottom of your gown, “lift your hips for me.” he easily slides the gown up and off of you. His eyes glow as they rack over your body, “you are the most beautiful women in the whole world. I shall never deserve you.” 
He kisses you before standing up and sliding his bottoms off, you do not get any time to admire his form before he is already climbing over you once more and kissing you again.
“Please jace do not tease me.”
“I should prep you more-”
“I dont care”
“It will hurt-”
“All I want is you, please.” He looks worried but gives in as you feel his dick slap against you and you moan as you grip his shoulders.
“Please tell me if it hurts too much.”
It does hurt. It hurts like hell. A part of you almost tells him to stop pushing into you but you power through until you feel him bottom out. You two sit there for a while, the only sounds being your gasping breaths and his strained groans as he seems to be holding himself back. 
Once the pain seems to subside you test with a move of your hips causing him to moan out. “Do not do that.” “You can move.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please do.”
He is slow at first, so slow you can feel every vein up against your walls and you tighten around him and he hisses. As he continues to move your moans seemingly motivate him to begin to move faster and faster until he is rutting into you like he cannot control himself any longer. 
You sloppily leave kisses on his neck as your hands grip his back, you are so overwhelmed, all the feelings you hold towards your twin rushing towards you at full force.
“I love you.”
He stops, out of breath he grips your face with his hands, “what?”
Tears flood your face as you stare at him, you thought he never looked so beautiful. “I love you.”
He leans down and kisses away your tears as he begins to move once again, “I love you so much so so so much my sweet.”
In your rush of emotions you came yet he continues to kiss all over your face and your neck until as he did earlier his head slumps into your neck. “Where do you want me to-”
“In me please I beg of you. I need to feel it.”
And so he does. The two of you stay like that for a while, completely out of breath and covered in sweat. One of his hands comes to your cheek once more and caresses it as he lays a gentle kiss on your lips.
“I love you so much.”
“And i love you.”
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frenchoravocadotoast · 5 months
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Basim Ibn Ishaq headcanons
Basim Ibn Ishaq x GN!reader
Word count: 1003
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Basim is an “actions speak louder than words” man. He’s kind of reserved by nature and has spent many years mastering the art of controlling his emotions during his time in Alamut.
That being said, his love language is definitely acts of service.
It starts off small – you both have a passion for literature, a common ground he has yet to realize. He’s talking to Fuladh about a recent poem he’s just read, reciting his favorite lines, when he hesitates at the end. He’s trying to remember the final verse when you jump in and quote it for him, and Basim shoots you an amused look.
“Since when do you enjoy poetry? ”
He tries to surprise you sometimes – he likes to lend you his favorite books, and if you indulge the man, he’ll even rant about his favorite poets/poetesses and their works. It becomes a bonding mechanism between the two of you, and it might look corny to an outsider; but you see how excited Basim gets when you say you liked the book he gave you, and suddenly, it’s like their opinion doesn’t even matter.
When the life of a Hidden One keeps you up at night –whether that be because of a nightmare or a stress-induced fever– Basim keeps you company. He knows the feeling all too well and refuses to leave you alone, unless that’s something you want. He will sneak into your room with a bowl of fruit and a book in hand.
“May I offer you a poem in these trying times”
Boom you’re sold
It’s a secret of his, but he likes writing poetry, too. He’ll die before admitting it though – and anyone who dares read his work will have to pry it from his cold, dead hands.
That being said, he might let you read something here and there (only the poems he’s revised a hundred times), but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone.
You don’t mind. It’s like your little secret anyway.
Despite his preference for acts of service, he’s going to try to compliment you every now and then. You can always tell he’s being genuine, and when you thank him, he grants you a warm smile and a courteous nod.
He’s a very good listener. You could be talking about anything and he’d be listening intently, nodding along and asking questions. And nothing escapes him, really – he’s got an amazing memory and will remember your birthday, your favorite food, the friendly camel you met two weeks ago, or even the day you first saw fireworks. 
He remembers that day well. The bright lights were sizzling and popping in the sky as you watched them, transfixed. You’d turned to face him with a big grin on your face, and in your excitement, asked him an obvious question: “Did you see that?”
He smiled and nodded, because of course he did.
He didn’t. He was looking at you.
But besides that, nothing escapes him!
He has a habit of shielding you from the elements. When it’s scorching hot, he hovers his hand over your face to keep the sun from your eyes. When it’s windy, he likes to use his stature to shelter you from the breeze. And on rainy days, he cocoons you in scarves and cloaks to keep you from getting wet.
Basim starts laughing more around you, and you both become incredibly closer. You have so many inside jokes that it’s hard to keep track of them, and perhaps it’s starting to get to the other Hidden Ones too. Roshan just sighs as she watches the two of you because you’re both oblivious fools.
He definitely starts coming out of his shell with time, even dropping a pick up line here and there. The first time it happened it caught you so off guard he panicked and lost all sense of his training in three seconds.
“Well, – Nehal is calling me. I’ll see you around.” and he tailed it out of there, tripping over a vase before regaining his footing and scrambling away.
He wouldn’t approach the subject again, and if you were in his proximity he would be as stiff as a board – until you made a move too. You flirted with him out of the blue and he just widened his eyes and pointed at you.
😳🫵🏽
Things change from there and he tries to flirt more (and he’s so dorky he makes everyone within audible distance groan and leave). You’re organizing the books at the bureau, the one place you probably frequent more than your own home, when he comes in.
“You come around here often?”
You give him a deadpan expression, because he can obviously do better than that, and he grimaces.
“Yeah. No more of that.”
Biggest supporter ever. If you speak another language other than Arabic, he wants to know all about it. He’s a smart man, he can learn a couple of expressions quickly, and pretty soon you’re having simple conversations in your tongue. 
That being said, if you cuss someone out in said language he’ll probably try to remove you from the situation. He’s not keen on confrontation, especially with civilians, but if they wronged you in any way, he’d be all like “Yeah, what they said!” “And you better remember it!”
An absolute sucker for forehead kisses. He’s not very fond of PDA but he always kisses your temple when he has to leave or walk past you. It’s a ghostly touch, you almost don’t notice it, but it makes your cheeks flush every time.
Likes to hold your face in his hands and just look at you. It can end with him either smiling and kissing the corner of your mouth (on a good day) or pulling your hood down to blind you and ruin the moment (when he’s feeling a little silly). You call out his name and he just barks out a laugh as he climbs onto the rooftops.
He’s actually a little shit (affectionate) (derogatory)
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magicfootballstuff · 10 months
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Derby Day - ona batlle x reader
You don’t talk to each other before the game on derby day. That’s the rule you put in place two seasons ago after a Manchester derby that ended up with a pre-match argument, a reckless challenge mid-game that earned you a yellow card, and a week of making Ona breakfast in bed to apologise for taking out your frustration on her on the pitch.
Since then, the no talking rule has been effective. No more arguments, no more stupid tackles, no more letting the Manchester rivalry cross the threshold into the apartment you share with your girlfriend.
Another unspoken rule of the derby day is that the player on the away side stays with a friend the night before the match, mostly to aid the 'no talking before the game' rule, so you crash in Leila’s spare bedroom the night before this one and catch a lift with her and Laia to meet the team bus that’ll take you to Leigh Sports Village. You’re strangely blissful as you board the coach with a coffee in a paper cup, and though thoughts of Ona cross your mind, you’re mostly focused on the game ahead. It’s a must-win for both teams in the fight for trophies and Champions League places, but you don’t allow yourself to stress about the what ifs and the knowledge that either you or Ona will end the day bitterly disappointed with the outcome.
Before the game, when both teams are out on the pitch inside a still empty stadium, you pretend that you don’t know Ona. There’s a bit of mingling between the two teams, some of the Lionesses chat with each other and Lucia says a quick hi to you. But when Leila and Laia approach Ona, you hang back and talk to some of your other teammates instead.
The no-talking rule, no matter how tempting it is to break when Ona looks so good in United’s brand new white training kit, is in place for a reason.
You don’t make eye contact with her during the warm ups, nor in the tunnel before the game. Especially not when you go down the line to fist bump each member of the United team. She’s not your girlfriend for the next two hours, just another red opponent on the pitch.
After three years of playing against Ona instead of by her side, as you did at Levante and Barcelona before that, you’ve reached the point where you can compartmentalise your relationship fairly easily. It helps that the match is so intense - an early goal, a late goal, a red card, and plenty of drama between all that - that you completely forget you’re competing against your girlfriend for large parts of the game. There are only a couple of moments where you get caught off guard, accidentally making eye contact with Ona after forgetting she’s there, and getting distracted for the briefest moment by how fucking good she looks with her hair tied back in a braid and her shirt hanging open at the collar.
When the final whistle blows, you’re gutted about the result. You left everything out on the pitch and to lose it right at the end after going down to ten players and equalising from behind. But the overwhelming feeling is one of relief. You no longer have to pretend that Ona is just another opponent, no longer have to pretend that you’re not head over heels in love with her after ninety minutes of fighting against her.
After the team huddles are over and Ona finishes giving an interview for the television cameras, you find your way to each other, desperate to return to the normality of talking, of even being able to acknowledge each other. She’s clutching a Player of the Match trophy in her hand, and despite the on-pitch rivalry and your disappointment with the result, you can’t stop the pride that swells within you and you have to admit that she’s earned it.
“I hate derby day,” you say, as Ona’s arms wrap around you and you nuzzle your face into her neck.
“Last one,” she replies, referencing your imminent transfers.
Manchester has been your home with Ona for three years, and the Manchester derby, as much as you don’t like having to play against your girlfriend, has been a part of your relationship for those three years. You don’t know if you’ll be sad to see the back of this particular fixture when you return to Spain with Ona to play on the same team next season, but you’ll definitely be sad to say goodbye to this team and this city.
“Never again,” you tell her, as you pull out of the embrace. “Same team for life now. I might even let you put this up in our new apartment.”
You gesture at the trophy in her hand, and she grins back at you as she asks, “So that you never forget that Manchester is red?”
“Okay, you’re sleeping at Lucia’s tonight.”
“No,” Ona protests, her free hand snaking around your back and squeezing your waist. “One night apart was already too much.”
She blinks at you with pleading brown eyes, a dirty yet entirely successful tactic to win you over, though you can’t deny the absolute truth to her words.
“Derby day always makes you clingy,” you tease her.
“I hate playing against you. I hate beating you.”
“Shut up,” you wriggle free from the arm around your waist and give her a playful shove. “This is the first time you’ve beaten us in the league. And the last time you’ll beat me.”
“Can’t beat you again when we play for the same team,” Ona points out. “Maybe I should sign for Madrid…”
“No,” you’re quick to protest, forgetting your faux annoyance as it’s now your turn to pull Ona closer. “Same team from now on, we agreed.”
Ona presses her lips to your temple, then murmurs in a low voice, “And you said I was clingy.”
“Stop it!”
You’re certain that even though you won’t be playing on opposite teams from next season, you and Ona will continue to find other things than the colour of Manchester to bicker and tease each other about when you move to Barcelona.
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dollysilena · 1 year
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TRAINING WHEELS
CHAPTER THREE | BABY ON BOARD
ao3 | series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
five years ago, you stupidly had a fling with inarizaki athlete, miya atsumu– now, present day– he had a son he knew nothing about. you made sure it was going to stay that way, but as fate would have it, he unexpectedly stumbled back into your lives, now as volleyball’s biggest star.
wc & notes: 3.5k — this chapter was originally going to be 7k+ words, but for my own sanity during editing i decided to split it in two different chapters instead! i also thought it would be easier to read in separate chapters instead of just one really condensed one so pls forgive me 🗿
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The past twelve hours had been a whirlwind for Miya Atsumu.
His day started late, but not out of his own fault! He swore it. It was just because his alarm clock didn’t go off. At least that’s what he told Coach Foster when he walked into practice late with a Starbucks frappuccino. But hey, at least he got one for everyone right? The team nutritionist yelled at him later for it because sugar wasn’t on the regiment, especially with the V-League season so soon. Hinata gladly slurped down the drink though, which consequently sent him into a sugar rush later. And once that happened, their coach chewed out Atsumu for the ginger’s erratic playing. It seemed like the scolding was neverending, but he shook it off as practice continued. He thought that the rest of the day was going to go on without any more hitches, up until he got a call from his brother. 
“She’s here right now with a kid. He’s four years old, and I don’t think the fact he looks like ya is a coincidence.”
The air stilled, and despite the clamor and ruckus of the gym around him, all Atsumu heard was the ringing in his ears and the silence on Osamu’s end. A kid?
There was no way. Osamu was just messing with him, right? It was just a prank, Suna or one of their friends probably put him up to it. There’s no way that… that he actually… He thought of you, something his mind hadn’t crossed paths with in awhile. You were just a girl who left him high and dry five years ago… without a word. He wanted to tell himself he wasn’t convinced, but something lurching in his stomach told him otherwise.
The denial didn’t stop Atsumu from abruptly running out of practice. He would deal with what the coaches had to say later.
FIVE YEARS AGO — INARIZAKI HIGH SCHOOL
“What’s up with ya?” Atsumu questioned, slumping down on the seat infront of your desk as he faced yours. “Yer acting funny, ya sick or something?”
Atsumu couldn’t care less about the fact he was bothering you in the middle of class, all he could think about is how weird you’ve been acting with him. He thought things were going good with you over the past few weeks, maybe a little too good considering you both… He shook it off. You’ve been acting odd all week, suddenly barely sparing him a glance. Despite the fact you both weren’t dating, he had to admit it was bugging him more than it should’ve.
“What makes you say that?” You responded, almost defensively. You didn’t look up from your math worksheet, and to anyone else, it would just look like you were focused on your work, but Atsumu knew you were distracted, you hadn’t moved from the same problem for over ten minutes. 
“Well, ya barely have been talking to me this week first of all,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And not to mention one of your friends told me you went home early yesterday because of food poisoning.” He didn’t mean to reveal that he had been asking around about you, but you didn’t seem to linger on it.
You fiddled with the pencil on your desk, clearly avoiding his eyes. “Why does it matter to you? It’s none of your business, Miya.”
Miya? Harsh.
“And here I thought ya liked me!” Atsumu replied, melodramatically clutching his chest as if he were wounded, albeit, his ego was admittedly a little bruised. “Of course what my girl does matters to me.”
You couldn’t help yourself from cracking a smile, and Atsumu considered it a victory. 
“We’re not even dating, we met a couple weeks ago,” you replied, shaking your head. 
Atsumu rolled his eyes. Though, you were right, you had never made anything official. It was all just harmless fun, right? 
“That didn’t seem to matter when we–”
“Be quiet!” you hissed in embarrassment. Atsumu smirked when he noticed how flustered you got. When you realized Atsumu wasn’t going to let up, you gave him another sigh. 
“I think I’m just not feeling well, probably a stomach bug or something.”
“Blegh!” Atsumu replied, sticking out his tongue. “Well don’t give it to me!”
You bore a small grin at him. Atsumu smiled back, happy that he was at least able to make you feel a little better that day.
He didn’t think that would be the last time he ever saw you.
He was going to walk you home that day and he even considered finally formally asking you out. Granted, he probably should have done that before the… bathroom incident, but he digressed. He went to your classroom later only to find your desk empty. Your classmates already said you left and he shrugged it off. He would just wait until the next day.
Then you were absent the next day, and the day after.
 It wasn’t until a whole week had passed where he felt himself starting to get worried.
You weren’t answering his texts, and after awhile, they didn’t even deliver anymore. He thought things were going well, at least to him they were… Whatever, he wasn’t going to let it get to him. If you didn’t want to talk to him anymore, so be it, it wasn’t his problem. People walked out on him all the time. He repeated it like a mantra, whatever, whatever, whatever.
But it doesn’t stop him from thinking.
As the days progressed, he felt himself plunging deeper into his doubtful thoughts.  You weren’t avoiding him on purpose were you? He didn’t realize how much it was getting to him until he missed practically every set during practice because he was too busy thinking of your smile at him instead of where Osamu’s hand was. He was tired of it, he finally decided he wasn’t going to wait for you to show up. He would get the answers himself.
Afterschool, he followed the trek to your house and stirred silently. Why was he even bothered this much about some girl he barely knew? You weren’t the first girl he was with, and he didn’t plan for you to be the last. So why was it bothering him so much? He wasn’t sure why, but it crept up his spine like a chill. 
Miya Atsumu isn’t someone you can leave, he’s always made sure of it. He’s never the one left behind. He doesn’t want to be. 
He stood on your doorstep, deliberating with himself if it was even worth it. But he didn’t come all this way for nothing. Even if you told him to get lost, atleast it would put an end to his endless lamenting. It would be better than having you plague him like a damn fever. He knocked.
He doesn’t expect your mother to answer.
“What do ya mean she moved?” Atsumu asked in disbelief.
“She’s gone to live with her grandmother in Kagawa,” your mother stated firmly. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing her anytime soon.”
Before Atsumu could pry for any other details, your mother spoke again.
“Don’t ever come back to this house.”
Then the door was slammed in his face.
PRESENT DAY
Despite his best attempts at staying in denial, he realized that all the signs were there. You were getting sick, avoiding him, your sudden disappearance. He should have known something was wrong when your mother forbade him from coming back without a reason. His mind was a flurry as he rushed through the streets of Osaka. The little voice in the back of his head that was saying it was impossible was getting flooded out, it was entirely too possible. 
In his rush inside Onigiri Miya, he was met with a body crashing into him. He looked down to see a horrified face infront of him, it’s yours. And in your arms, an unassuming boy that looked indisputably like him. A moment passed, as if the world stopped spinning on its axis. The panic seemed to be flooding out of your body and into the room. His mouth felt dry and whatever was spinning through his mind was suddenly a standstill. His gaze followed back to the boy, and his heart lurched.
There was no doubt about it, he had a son.
Even if you hadn’t told him, Atsumu could instinctively already tell, something in his gut just knew. He shared his smile, his brown eyes, and even his naturally dark hair that swept in the same way Atsumu’s did when he was that age. There was a piece of him out there, and he didn’t know all these years.
He barely choked out, “could we talk?”
While you both spoke at the table together, and as he gazed at Haru playing with Osamu and your friend not far away, he found himself wondering so many questions. What had Haru looked like when he was a baby? What was he like? Was he more energetic and lively like him? Or more quiet and reserved like his brother was? Was anyone there to help you through the pregnancy? What were his first words? Did he ever ask about him once he was old enough to understand what a father was?
“Atsumu, you realize what you’re asking right? You’re agreeing to be a father, which you just found out right now of all things. It’s a commitment, no take backsies.”
He knew he should’ve weighed the circumstances more, you were right after all, it was a commitment, a life-long one. Not to mention he barely found out an hour ago. Did he even know how to be a father? Infact, Atsumu hadn’t even considered kids in his life yet. He thought he had a long time before he thought he ever had to make that decision.
He thought about Haru, and how for years, he didn’t grow up with a father. His jaw hardened. Four years was too long for him to be absent. He couldn’t just… walk out. When he looked at Haru, he couldn’t possibly think of going on with living his life while knowing his son was out there. 
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
After your talk and once the situation was settled, atleast as much as it could be, Atsumu had offered to walk you home for the night. You decided to opt out of the company party you were attending for obvious reasons, and Naomi made sure to pass the news on to your boss about a “family emergency”.
 Now there he was, walking down the streets with his ex highschool fling, and his child. Whoever said life worked in unexpected ways, he wasn’t quite imagining this.
You both walked in silence, with Haru in your arms as he slept soundly. Atsumu wasn’t sure what to say, or if he even wanted to break the silence, so he kept quiet. Throughout the walk, he found himself stealing glances at you, and it felt as if he were meeting you all over again. You obviously weren’t the same girl he knew all those years ago. You held yourself up with a maturity he felt like he couldn’t match. Unlike him, sometimes he still felt like the clumsy kid he was in highschool. Maturity was something he always seemed to lack. His friends and brother always made sure to remind him of that whenever he behaved so. 
He looked down at Haru, still fast asleep. He imagined it was well past his bedtime now. You stifled a yawn as you carried the small boy, the tiredness seemed to be contagious. He saw your shoulders beginning to sag, and Atsumu realized you had been carrying him for the better portion of the walk.
“Here, let me take him,” he offered. “You’re tired.”
You looked up at him, with a raised eyebrow. “Have you held a kid before?”
He felt himself pause. Had he held a kid before? There were a few times at family reunions where he held the children of distant family members but that had all been for mere seconds before another family member scooped them up. He remembered how his mom was able to hold him and his brother at once for hours on end, how hard could it be?
“No, but I want to try seeing as I have one now.”
You laughed and extended Haru out to Atsumu, who gently took the boy as if he were made of porcelain. Haru shifted in his sleep, but comfortably adjusted into the setter’s arms.
He heard your laugh beside him and he immediately stiffened up. Had he done something wrong?
“He’s not a volleyball,” you chuckled, “hold him up from here.” You went to adjust Atsumu’s position and pushed up his arm so Haru’s weight could rest on it. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, apparently it was harder than he thought.
“Good,” you replied, patting his arm, and he had to stop himself from blushing when he felt your fingers brushing his arm. “Now just keep him there.”
Atsumu nodded as you continued your walk. It’s then that the thought hit him—when he was finally holding Haru in his arms—that he's his. 
His arms instinctively held Haru tighter. No, he couldn’t be doubtful now. There was too much on the line and too much time lost. Unlike the past four years, he swore that he would be there from now on, no matter what.
You both rounded the corner before you got to your apartment complex, a smaller building in the quieter part of the city. You both had lived here all this time, and he didn’t know. Had he ever walked down this street unknowingly?
“This is us,” you stated, gesturing to the building. He felt himself trying to come up with something to say, but nothing came out. He just knew he didn’t want the night to end, there was still so much he had to know.
“Would you like to come in for a bit? I have some pictures of Haru I could show you.” You asked, and it was like you read his mind.
“I would like that.”
He followed you inside and into the elevator where you led him to your apartment. You flicked on the lights and Atsumu glanced around. He looked around and saw Haru’s toys laying about, pictures of the two of you framed around the home, he even spotted Haru’s homework still strewn out on the coffee table. You both crept inside, careful to be quiet as to not wake Haru. You led him down a hallway and opened a door to what he presumed was Haru’s room, and ushered him inside. 
Atsumu carried the boy inside his room, and looked around. He saw his drawings framed along the walls, toys, stuffed animals, and noticed a volleyball near his toy trunk. He made a mental note to ask Haru about that later. He padded over to the bed, and set him down so he was laying. You came up beside him, and tucked the covers over him before kissing his forehead. 
He realized this was the first time he was putting his son to sleep. Was this what having a family was like?
You both quietly exited the room, making sure to close Haru’s door so he wasn’t disturbed by you both outside.
“I can make us some tea,” you said, as he nodded. He didn’t even really like tea, he was just glad he could stay. He followed you to the kitchen, where he took a seat at the kitchen island while you put the kettle on the stove.
“Is it just ya two here?” He asked, looking around. You had some pictures framed up, as well as some photographs hung on the fridge which he could see. But from what he could tell, it was only you, Haru, and sometimes Naomi in the photos.
“Yup,” you responded, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above you. “Since Haru was born, really.”
Atsumu felt his heart in his stomach. “Even when ya were pregnant?”
Atsumu saw you still, and he hoped he didn’t open an old wound. He scolded himself for not being more sensitive, and letting his own curiosity get the better of him. 
“When I told my parents, they kicked me out,” you stated bluntly, putting the tea bags in the cups. “They sent me to live with my grandmother, who was amazingly supportive, but she died before Haru was born, so since then it was just us.”
Atsumu was silent, he wasn't sure what to say. I’m sorry? I’m sorry that I wasn’t there? But that wasn’t enough, it didn’t change what you had to go through. The thought of you being in that delivery room by yourself only added onto the guilt on his shoulders, and his heart sank even further when he realized you had to do everything else alone too.
“Atleast Haru’s birth was quick!” You joked, a smile beaming on your face. Despite all that, you were still… positive? Atsumu was in disbelief, he probably couldn’t go through a fraction of what you had and still manage to put on a brave front. He always got into a mood, as Osamu called it, even at the smallest of inconveniences. You pushed a cup of tea towards him which he took graciously.
“Yer amazing,” he said in awe.
“It’s just tea,” you laughed, blowing on your cup. Atsumu shook his head.
“No,” he responded. “For everything. For what ya had to go through, and what you’ve done for Haru. And at eighteen? Osamu was still packing my lunches when I was that age.”
You laughed in response and it made his cheeks warm. He liked the sound, he thought.
“Let me get those photo albums I was talking about,” you said before walking into another room. You came back a few minutes later holding a few photo books.
 “Do you wanna start with the first one?” You asked, holding one out.
Atsumu eagerly nodded as he took the dusty blue album, decorated with ribbons and stickers. He could tell you had decorated it yourself. It showcased a picture of you holding a newborn Haru in the hospital. The picture almost made Atsumu frown, knowing you were by yourself that day, but he ended up smiling seeing how proudly you beamed holding the baby. He opened the book and inspected inside.
There was a sonogram of each phase Haru was in during your pregnancy, and eventually a few photos of Haru being born in the hospital. He saw the tiny notes you wrote besides the pictures, and his mouth grew agape when he saw 3.68kg written next one of Haru’s pictures.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, noticing his expression. “He was a big baby, I guess since his dad’s a pro athlete and everything.”
His face grew more horrified and he almost wanted to apologize. He apologize to his mom too considering she had twins. Then another picture caught his attention.
 “Hey, what’s this one?” He asked, pointing to another photo.
He pointed towards a picture that looked somewhat recent, he could tell since Haru seemed to be almost the same age in the picture as he was now. It was of you in a graduation cap and gown holding up Haru proudly who looked like he was cheering. It definitely wasn’t your high school graduation since Haru was in it.
“Oh, that’s when I graduated from university last year.”
“Ya completed university?” Atsumu asked in astonishment.
“Yeah,” you grinned. “Pretty proud of myself. I was working two jobs and had to take night classes for a couple years but I ended up getting my degree finally a few months ago, then I got a great job at the firm I’m at now.”
No, you’re not just amazing, you’re phenomenal.
The rest of the night was filled with you and Atsumu looking over Haru’s pictures, some of his favorites being Haru’s second birthday where he had cake painted across his face from where he tried to eat his birthday cake face-first, his first day of preschool (which he found out he started this year), and one of you and Haru at a festival with matching daifuku in hand. He made a mental note to take you both when he saw how brightly you both smiled. Whenever he wasn’t looking at the photos, he was paying attention to you. He was getting to know you again.
“It’s getting late,” you yawned. “I have work tomorrow, and I probably have to explain why I missed the party tonight.”
Atsumu groaned. “That reminds me, I have to explain to my coaches tomorrow why I ran out of practice, they probably won’t believe me though.”
You giggled, before sliding out the picture of Haru’s second birthday from the book. “Maybe you can use this as proof.”
Atsumu took the photo and smiled warmly in the picture in his hands. The picture would find a well-loved home in his wallet, but would later be replaced with a picture of the three of you adorning matching jerseys on Haru’s eighth birthday at one of Atsumu’s games.
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hier--soir · 1 year
Text
under the night | three
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summary: what's dinner between two friends? + joel makes great parsnips pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, smut, oral [f recieving], protected sex, age gap [20ish years], disappearance, angst word count: 8k part two | series masterlist | main masterlist
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Fungus.
“That’s not fucking funny, man,” Ellie stared at you, as you tried, and failed, to contain the grin spreading across your face.
You held your hands in the air in faux sheepishness, smirking. “Well,” you said triumphantly. “It’s worth 10 points, and it’s on a double word score square, so 20! Fungus is a winner, I say.” You grabbed the pencil and scribbled your score down, staring victoriously at the scrabble board on the platform between you.
Joel’s front porch was cramped as it was, just enough space for two chairs facing outward; but Ellie had determinedly wedged a small stool between the chairs for you to play on. Scrabble had been her idea, after she came across the old box at a friend’s house a few days prior. It had taken a few trial runs for her to fully get the hang of the rules, and on game four, she was really beginning to enjoy herself. Sitting out in the cool afternoon air three quarters of the way through winter, you were relieved you’d worn a thick beanie. It was crisp out, and after 2-hours of playing, the board had an icy layer of condensation settled on it.
“Sorry, kid,” you winked. “Gotta find a way to use that shit to my advantage somehow.” You took a long sip of your steaming coffee, leaning back in your chair to watch Ellie begin her turn. The girl was taking a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out the correct spelling of her next word, when she grew distracted from noticing Tommy wandering down the street with the newbie by his side. He gave the two of you a wave and sidled up to the bottom step of the porch.
“Kiddos,” he grinned fondly. You huffed lightly at the moniker, considering you were in your thirties yet being grouped in with a teenager. “Y’all met Lincoln yet?”
The man behind Tommy was short and slim, with a shaved head and an easy-going smile that never seemed to leave his face.
“I’m Ellie,” she said, eyes trained on her letters.
You introduced yourself with a polite nod, giving him your undivided attention to make up for Ellie’s lack-there-of.
“Mighty fine to meet you both." His voice was low and hoarse, in a way that sounded like he used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and now it surely hurt him to speak.
Tommy butted in quickly. “He came all the way here from Canada, so I thought I’d be hasty with introducing him to some friendly faces.”
“Ooh Canada,” Ellie gave a poor attempt at enthusiasm, and you tried not to laugh at how clearly the girl wanted to end the conversation and play her next word.
Tommy gave her an ungrateful eyeroll, and asked, “Joel in?”
As if by clockwork, the front door of the house opened and the man in question peered out curiously. When he spotted Tommy, he emerged fully, pulling the door closed behind him.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Tommy grinned, reaching out to grip his brother’s hand quickly. Joel made eye contact with you ever so briefly and offered a small smile, before looking back to his brother.
“Doing a newbie tour?” he queried.
“Y’met Lincoln yet?” Ellie asked, to which he gave a quick nod.
“Please, call me Linc,” the man told them all, his gaze resting on your face for a second longer than the others’. “All my friends do.” You couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it, but you swore you heard a low scoff come from Joel.
“So you came all this way by yourself?” Ellie asked him, finally putting down her letters and giving the group her full attention. Her voice seemed to shine with a sort of curious respect.
Lincoln nodded, his face drooping somewhat. “Been alone for a long time now. My girls, they died a long time ago, in those first few months. By myself ever since.” You noticed Ellie shot a quick wary glance in Joel’s direction, who had turned his face away from the conversation to stare out into his neighbour’s front yard. Weird. “I try not to dwell on things though!” Lincoln said, that cheery smile returning.
You didn't offer up any kind of response, as you mulled over his words. His story wasn't so different from most of the people you knew, but you allowed a short moment of empathy for the stranger. You couldn't imagine the loss that would come from losing a child.
“Well,” Tommy broke the silence. “Let’s continue this tour.”
“I’ll head out with you, I gotta stop by and see Maria,” Joel started down the porch steps, and you tried not to stare at his back as he walked away from the house.
It had been almost two weeks since the night you and Joel had almost kissed, and since then the pair of you had never been alone. It wasn’t purposeful, at least on your part. But you were acutely aware that he would only appear in your presence when he knew there was going to be other people present.
When you thought back on that night, your heart would swell remembering the soft way he spoke to you; the care in his eyes. But it was directly followed by the memory of how you rejected his kiss. Your chest ached with longing at the thought of getting a do over.
The cycle of avoidance ended at last when he noticed you walking the streets by yourself one afternoon.
“Hey there,” he murmured, falling into step beside you. “Where you headed?”
“Just wandering around,” you replied slowly, staring at him in something akin to shock.
“Care for some company?”
“Well, who’d you have in mind?” you teased in an attempt to act casual, ignoring the quick thrum of your heart.
“This grumpy old Texan,” he chuckled. “He doesn’t get out much, but he’s great once you get to know him, I swear.”
You turned your head to grin at him. “Sounds like a riot, I’ll take him.”
The pair of you roamed aimlessly around town for an hour, talking and catching up. Your stomach filled with warmth; you had missed speaking to him. Missed the way your name sounded coming from his mouth.   
“Y’know,” Joel began after a batch of silence. You had almost reached your house, and it seemed the walk was coming to a natural end. “I was wondering if you’d come to the house for dinner tonight.”
“Oh,” you said in surprise, stopping and staring at him. He ground to a halt a few steps ahead of you, and turned awkwardly. "You're asking me to dinner?"
"I am."
"Was this Ellie's idea?"
Joel rubbed his hands together in front of him. “No, uh,” he paused thoughtfully, not quite meeting your eye. “The kid's out tonight. It would… it would just be you and I.”
“I see,” you said, trying to read his expression.
“I understand if-“
"You've been avoiding me." His eyebrows twitched into a frown, and he licked the corner of his lip.
"Not on purpose," he said.
"You've been accidentally avoiding me?" you asked, knowing the wrinkle between your eyebrows was no doubt identical to his.
"I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he finally admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I felt like a fuckin' ass the other night. I overstepped-"
"Joel," you tried to interrupt but he shook his head, continuing.
"No, you needed support, and it wasn't the time or place for that shit, I shouldn't have.... I shouldn't have."
Your heart beat wildly as he spoke. Arms wrapping around yourself to protect from the cool wind, you nodded slowly.
"I appreciate that."
The pair of you were silent for a beat, just watching each other. Joel's eyes seemed to roam over your entire face, and then downward. He stared fondly at your frame wrapped up in his old black jacket, and then said, "Let me cook us dinner."
“That sounds lovely. I’ll be there, Joel.”
His eyes lit up softly, and sweet crow’s feet appeared beside them as he smiled at you.
“It’s just dinner,” you mumbled to yourself in frustration, willing your feet to move. Your legs were locked as you stood on the road, staring at Joel’s front door. “It’s dinner, you love dinner.”
Taking a deep breath, you propelled yourself forward and rapped your knuckles sharply against the door. Your skin was hot underneath the layers of clothes you wore.
When it swung open, relief washed over you like cold water, and you were delighted to see Joel standing there. Damp hair slicked back, with a clean bottle green shirt hugging his body. Most times you saw him he'd be dressed in the same old clothes, with dirt and grime smeared across his skin from long days of work. The difference was stark, and it made your throat feel tight. So fucking handsome.
He said your name simply, staring you down.
“Joel,” you imitated his tone, holding back a laugh at the odd greeting. “Hope you remembered inviting me over.”
He rolled his eyes, and you swore you saw a faint flush rise in his cheeks. Clearly, he’d been expecting you; that much could be told by his appearance, and by how clean the house was when you stepped inside.
The cushions on the couch were fluffed and placed neatly, rather than haphazardly like normal. It even looked like he’d dusted the bookshelves. 
“Something smells delicious,” you inhaled deeply, turning to see him wringing his hands nervously. He nodded his head towards the kitchen, encouraging you to follow him.
“It’s almost done, just needs some finishing touches.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Rabbit.”
You enjoyed the smells of roasting meat as he worked in the kitchen. He piled the food onto two plates with careful precision, before picking them up and leading you to the table. With a swell in your chest, you saw that he’d already set two places with cutlery and glassware. Seeing this side of him, this domesticity, was almost unnerving. It was like a trapdoor had been opened, and he’d ushered you inside quickly, exposing a secret, soft, part of his personality. You felt privileged to have it bared to you.
“This looks lovely, Joel, thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he replied brusquely.
“Well, I will anyway,” you retorted. “This looks better than anything I could ever cook.” You dug in eagerly, and an involuntary moan slipped past your lips as the flavour of the rabbit hit your tastebuds for the first time.
While you ate, you took the time to notice more details of his home. It wasn’t very cluttered, but small sentimental items were placed around. It felt so intimate to be there. You’d been in the house before, but it had always been brief. A pause in the kitchen while Ellie grabbed her bag from the bungalow, or a quick rifle through the pantry for a tea bag before you returned to the porch. Being able to sit, and take it all in, felt so good.
You discussed his patrols, your work at the stables. He asked if you'd made anymore friends, and smiled when you told him Ellie was your favourite person in Jackson. The conversation was light, and non-committal. Where you both avoided chit chat with everyone else in town, it seemed to be all you could do for that first hour in each other’s company.
And amidst it all, the silent tension between you seemed to have spiked again. All your shy, private interactions around Jackson for the past few months. All the smiles, and hushed laughs, and eyerolls. All the times you’d shamefully admired his looks, his strong hands. The almost kiss and the conversation from earlier danced around your mind while he spoke to you. Was tonight the night it all came to a head?
“So,” he said. “How was the rest of your day? After your walk, I mean.”
“Well,” you shrugged. “To be honest, I was just waiting around the house before I could come over here.”
“You could’ve come earlier,” he said.
“And crash your spring-cleaning session?” you scoffed teasingly. “I couldn’t possibly.”
That flush returned to his cheeks, and he took a quick sip from his glass of water. “No shame in keeping a clean house.”
“No shame at all,” you murmured with a smirk, knowing damn well you and Cal’s house looked like a pair of wild animals lived in it. Clothes strewn haphazardly around; dirty mugs littered across the kitchen counter.
You ate in silence for a while after that. The food was incredible. A medley of herbs and spices speckled the tender meat, and he'd glazed parsnips in honey and thyme. They were sweet and sticky and reminded you of something your mom made when you were a kid. You savoured every single bite.
Unable to help it, your eyes fell closed and you hummed happily, sinking back into the chair. Cutlery clinking against a plate made you look up, and you found Joel with an empty plate, watching you with a fond expression.
“What?” you reddened, placing your knife and fork carefully onto your now sparkling clean plate.
“Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s nice to… to see you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like,” Joel seemed to struggle for the words, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “… happy. It’s nice to see you smilin’.” His eyes flicked ever-so-slightly down, and you knew he was looking at the scar on your cheek.
“Oh,” you whispered, mouth slightly ajar with surprise. You went to say something, anything, but he interrupted quickly, chair scraping against the hardwood floors as he stood up.
“Are you finished?” He took your plate before you could answer, and stalked into the kitchen.
As you rose to follow him you flinched at the sound of metal clattering against the ground. Joel was crouched in the kitchen, picking up a knife from the floor. He grunted with the effort, knees cracking sharply as he straightened up.
“I feel like such an old man sometimes,” he grumbled, tossing the cutlery into the sink.
You sidled up beside him and rested your palms against the counter, gazing at the side of his expressionless face. 
“Well, how about I wash, and you dry. Sound good old man?” you winked, using his own words against him. He cracked a half smile and looked over to you.
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “Sounds good.”
You worked in a comfortable quiet, cleaning the dishes and tidying up his kitchen. For a minute, you began to worry that maybe the two of you had finally run out of mindless topics to entertain yourselves with. Your stomach twisted faintly at the thought of the night coming to an end so quickly.
But in the instant that the kitchen was restored to its natural order, Joel squashed down that feeling.
“Stay for a whiskey?” he offered, and you revelled in what you thought was hope in his tone. Your mind flashed back to that night weeks before, when you’d been desperate for him not to leave your home. You could stay a bit longer if you want to.
“How about a wine?” you smiled bashfully.
“Let’s see what I got.”
He disappeared up the stairs and returned a few minutes later holding a dusty bottle of red wine up in the air. You let out a low whistle, nodding in approval. Joel removed the cork with ease, and soon enough you were reclining beside each other on his couch, enjoying the deep fermented berry flavours of the wine. He’d started a small fire in the hearth, and it crackled quietly, offsetting the awkward tension permeating between you. You could feel sweat dampening your palms, but you pushed down the feelings of nervousness, hoping he wasn’t noticing the effect this prolonged alone time with him was having on you.
“I can’t remember the last time I drank good wine,” you sighed wistfully, licking your lips greedily. You heard him clear his throat, and caught him staring at your mouth with dark eyes.
“Been a while for me too,” he admitted, eyes lifting to meet your gaze. “Stick with liquor most of the time. But this… this is definitely nice.”
You hummed happily into your glass.
“You know,” he started. “What you were saying earlier, about just waiting around before coming over here… you could have, you know?”
“Could have what?”
“You could’ve come over,” he cleared his throat. “This place is… you’re always… you’re welcome here.”
“Well, that’s sweet and all, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you or Ellie.”
“Ellie adores you,” he stated firmly.
Your mouth moved without your permission, forming the words too quickly for your brain to register. “And you?”
He frowned slightly, “And me?”
“I’m welcome here because Ellie adores me…” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the gap. Half a glass of wine, and it seemed you were more forward than you’d ever been with him. But the game of cat and mouse was getting old, and you figured maybe this was your chance to gain some clarity on the situation.
Dinner and wine between…two friends? What was this?
“I think you…” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, before turning to face you front on. “I think you’re lovely.”
His big brown eyes shined with earnest, gazing endlessly into your own.
“What does that mean?” you pushed further, grip on your wine glass tightening. You couldn’t read his face. Those eyes seemed to darken, and he took a deep breath.
“It means you’re always welcome here.” He was talking in circles, and he seemed to realise it too, shutting his eyes and grimacing. “I’m no good at this,” he admitted with a humourless chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that I like it... when you’re around. I like being near you.”
You could tell from how tight he gripped his glass, that it wasn’t an easy admission for him to make. Yet his voice was laced with sincerity.
He continued softly, “I don’t… talk to people, the way I talk to you. I didn’t think it was something I could do anymore. But it feels so… easy, with you. Easy to just be around you. It don’t make sense to me.”
You could see the weight of Joel’s honesty; how it manifested in his hunched shoulders. He was scared to say these things.
“I like being near you too,” you reciprocated, body instinctively shifting toward him. You were perched precariously, with your chest tilted forward, all your weight balancing on your right hand that gripped the sofa cushion in between you. “I was worried I made you think otherwise.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes darting wildly across your face before his gaze settled solidly on your mouth. Intuitively, your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. “I like being near you,” he repeated slowly. “And… I gotta say, I’m nervous as hell to try my luck at kissin’ you again.”
Heat flared inside your stomach, and that was all you needed to push forward and press your lips against his.
Joel’s lips always looked chapped, but they were soft, and pushed eagerly against your own. For a moment, that was all it was. Your lips pressed gently against each other's, soft breaths rushing from your nose. He pulled back, and stared at you with a contemplative expression. Smiling shyly, your hand landed on his knee and squeezed it gently.
And then he placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side, and kissed you again.
You sighed as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, before eagerly pushing into your mouth. The taste of red wine and parsnips invaded your mouth, and you reached up to place a hand on the side of his neck. His thumb stroked your cheekbone softly, fingers drifting into the hair behind your ear, cradling your face. You could feel his pulse racing under the skin, and gasped wetly into the kiss as his free hand landed on your waist. Devastated to break the moment, you pulled back for a breath of air, scraping your teeth across his bottom lip, and nipping it gently.
Joel grunted, gripping your waist and pulling you across the couch so you were above him, hovering over his lap. While you took deep breaths, he pressed sweet kisses along your cheek, down your chin, and to the skin of your neck. He was insatiable, not taking his mouth off you for a second.
You trailed your hands through his dark hair, smiling at the soft groan that he let out in response to the sensation. You did it once, twice more, wanting to hear the noise again, but suddenly he pulled off from your skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he ran his fingers lightly along your clothed hips while staring up at you. His eyes were heavy with longing, lips wet from your kisses, and you were certain it was the most attractive he'd ever looked.
“What are we doing here?” Joel asked quietly, licking his lower lip. A laugh sprinkled from your mouth, and he joined in, the sounds mixing beautifully in the air. He was chuckling, but his eyes shone with uncertainty, searching yours for clarity. 
“What do you mean, Joel?”
“I mean, what are we doing?” he echoed. It clicked. The last time you'd been this close you had trusted Joel, told him about your past. And here he was, giving you an out. He was saying, you’re the boss, you tell me what happens next. You could feel your pulse thrum between your thighs.
“What you say goes,” he said softly, reaching up to trace his fingers over the scar on your cheekbone.
“I want you,” your voice cracked on the third word, and if your cheeks weren’t already red from the excitement of the kiss, you would’ve blushed at how needy it sounded. But your tone was sure, and Joel nodded once, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.
He pulled you closer so your chests were flush against one another, and you rested your forehead against his. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you saying those words.”
You shook your head at him in mock exasperation, but really, you just didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead of speaking, you kissed him again. You looped your arms lazily around his neck and pushed your tongue into his mouth, stealing the breath from his lungs. He made you feel desperate.
Joel’s hands drifted from your waist down your back, resting carefully just above the waist band of your pants. You reached back and took his hand, pushing it down to rest lower. Quickly, he slid both of his hands into your back pockets, gripping your ass through your pants.
You whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily. He removed the space between your lower halves, pulling you down so you rubbed against him. The feeling of him, firm beneath the zipper of his jeans, sent a jolt through your system. He ground up against you, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes open and watching your reactions. For a moment you felt a wave of shyness rush through your system. For years, no one had seen this side of you. The vulnerability was intense, and you tucked your face against his neck. Joel gripped your chin and pushed your face back into his line of sight, shaking his head.
“Let me see you,” he breathed. “I don’t wanna miss a single thing.”
Holding eye contact, he dragged his fingers across your belt, and started undoing the leather strap. Your hand stopped over his.
“Not here,” you said. “Upstairs.” He gripped the back of your thighs and stood up from the couch in a swift movement, walking you up the stairs. You peppered kisses along his neck, swiping your tongue along the pulsing artery under his tanned skin.
Once he reached the landing, he used his back to nudge the bedroom door open, and you couldn’t help but pull back to look at your surroundings. You tapped his shoulder absentmindedly, and he lowered you gently to your feet. As if Joel no longer existed, you let youe eyes roam across the room, hungrily taking in all the details of his most private space.
Passing by a walk-in closet, you trailed your fingertips overtop his bedside table, landing on a pair of glasses folded up beside a book. You lifted it carefully.
“An Idiot’s Guide to Space,” you read aloud, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the type.”
He was leaning against the wall, one hand propped on his hip, with a leg jutted out in front of him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Irresistible, but not as irresistible as going through his things.
Sheepishly, he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Ellie loves space,” Joel told you. “Helps if I can understand a little of what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.” 
“You really love that kid, huh?”
He didn’t respond, but his eyes were soft, staring at the book when you placed it back down.
A large window covered the wall opposite his bed, with a chest of drawers beneath it. You spotted two picture frames sitting on it and wandered towards them. But before you got too close, Joel’s arms had wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.
His lips tickled your earlobe, his hot breath making goosebumps raise along your neck. “I want you,” he repeated your words from earlier.
You spun in his grip and pushed him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. With the skin of his torso revealed to you, you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. Joel’s lips were on your chest, kissing along your collarbones, along the tops of your breasts, as his hands fiddled with your bra strap.
After a few seconds of struggling he sighed in frustration and looked up at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” You grinned, and undid the strap yourself, throwing the bra somewhere behind you.
A heavy exhale fell from him, and he trailed his fingers over your pebbled nipples. The cold air in the room did you no favours, but Joel seemed exhilarated, pinching one between his fingers, and leaning in to flick his tongue over the other. You squeezed his shoulder and gasped at the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your bud. As he licked and sucked, his hands drifted down to finish undoing your belt. He tugged and pushed your trousers down your legs, and your underwear went with them. Within a second, you were completely naked in front of him. Joel pulled back and let his dark eyes run over your body.
“I want you on the bed.”
You settled yourself in the middle of it, head tucked into his soft pillows and stared up at him in anticipation.
Under his intense gaze, your skin felt hot. Like whispers of a flame were tickling along your body; heat rising everywhere his eyes roamed. Joel kneeled on the mattress in front of you, and his large hands gripped your knees, pulling them apart. The urge to lean down and cover yourself was strong. But then he reached out and traced his fingers along your torso, from your collarbone, past your belly button, to the dark hair above where you wanted him most.
“My god,” he whispered in what seemed like disbelief. “You’re a dream.”
He pressed teasing kisses down your stomach, along the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue tantalisingly, making goosebumps ripple out across your flesh. Puffed breaths were whispering along your skin everywhere except where you needed his mouth to be, and you were aching. You clenched around nothing, and let out a pitiful whimper when he finally exhaled over your wet heat.
Suddenly, his tongue licked a solid stripe all the way along your throbbing core, and you cried out. Finally.
“Fuck,” he groaned, inhaling deeply. His tongue was strong, shifting between swiping back and forth across your pulsing clit, and gently prodding into your entrance. Joel pulled one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, and held his palm against the other one, pinning it to the bed. His fingers dug into your skin, and the pressure only added to the sensation of his mouth on you.
“Joel,” you breathed heavily. He moaned into you in response, rubbing small circles over your clit with his tongue.
“Oh fuck,” you whispered, eyes rolling back as you rocked your hips up against his face.  “Fuck.” His hand moved from your thigh up to your chest, pinching and playing with your nipples as he fucked you with his mouth. Joel was ravenous and unrelenting, and after living so long without being touched by another person, you felt yourself close to orgasm within minutes.
“Give it to me,” he begged. “Cum for me, baby.”
After a few more seconds of his tongue dragging gloriously over you, you let out a deep moan and shuddered into the sheets, thighs tightening impossibly around his head. Your fingers raked through his hair, holding his face into you as you rode out your high. Somewhere through the pounding in your ears, you could hear Joel moaning with you, and feel the vibrations running through your core. When you finally came down, your thighs relaxed over his shoulders, but he wasn’t done. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit, cleaning you up. He pulled your aching bud between his lips, and gave it a soft suck. The sight of his face pressed into your dark curls made you feel like you were going to cum all over again.
“Joel,” you gasped, grabbing his hair to tug his face away from you. He looked up, slack jawed, with a deep frown across his forehead. His mouth and beard were shining with your slick, and your stomach tightened at what a vision he was.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I need to feel you,” you implored, and the frown disappeared. He leaned in and pressed one final sloppy kiss against your clit, before sitting back on his heels. You sat up hastily, helping him undo his belt, and then watched with heavy eyes as he stood up and removed his final articles of clothing.
His cock slapped up against his stomach, and you couldn’t help the way you hungrily stared at it. It didn’t surprise you that he was big. Something about the way he carried himself; so confident, so sure of himself. He was thick, and long, and your mouth salivated when you noticed precum leaking from the ruddy tip. You watched as he got back onto the bed, trailing his fingers down the length of it before gripping it at the base, and sighing in relief.
You flicked your eyes back up to his, exhilarated to see how intensely he was staring back at you. “I want to taste you,” you breathed, but he shook his head, bicep tensing as he lazily stroked his cock. “Please.”
“Trust me,” he grunted, eyebrows furrowed. “I hate myself for saying no, but you’ve got me so on edge already, darlin’. Had to stop myself from finishin’ with your thighs wrapped around my head.”
Your core throbbed painfully and you pushed forward, kissing him firmly. The taste of your own cum on your tongue made you moan softly; licking the tang off his lips, and swallowing it down.
You pulled away and slowly lowered down until your head hit the pillows. Joel stared down at you with parted lips and shook his head slowly.
“What?”
“Nothin',” he murmured, still shaking his head. “So beautiful.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your face into the pillows. He hovered over you and pressed wet kisses along your exposed neck, his teeth nipping harshly at the juncture where it met your shoulder. You hissed at the pain, but sighed softly in forgiveness when he lapped his tongue soothingly over the spot. You watched Joel pull a condom from his bedside table, leaning back to rip open the packet, and slide the latex down onto himself.
With his cock in his fist, he pushed his tip between your folds, and you exhaled in unison at the feeling. After dragging his head along you a few times, he finally nudged his tip against your entrance. Your head was pressed back into the pillows, eyes shut and mouth wet from his kisses. You were blissed out already, but fluttered your eyes open slowly at the feeling of his fingers running over your left eyebrow.
“You with me?” he murmured, the soft look in his eyes almost too much for you to handle.
You hummed, turning your head slightly to press a kiss against his palm.
“Gotta relax for me,” he urged softly, tracing his fingers down gently over your collarbones, wanting to feel every bit skin that had been revealed to him.
You eased your tense muscles as much as you could, taking a deep breath before letting it rush out of you slowly. And with your exhale, he slipped inside you with one smooth motion. You gasped at the feeling, mouth hanging open in an 'O' shape at the sharp sting.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” you groaned, relaxing your furrowed eyebrows. “It’s just been so long.”
The pain was already shifting into a faint, dull ache, melding beautifully with the pleasure of being so full. He readjusted his legs, and the movement caused his tip to prod gently into the deepest part of you, and you cried out.
“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to pull back, but you gripped his shoulders tightly to keep him in place.
“Feels good,” you gasped, licking her lips. “You’re so big, filling me up so well.” He swallowed back a pitiful moan.
Joel was thick and heavy inside you, and he knew better than to move too quickly. He let you adjust to him for a few more moments, enjoying watching the way your nose scrunched up and your chest heaved with harsh breaths. You were wet and hot around him, and he felt like a teenager losing his virginity again after his few years of celibacy. But he was determined to give you his all.
“God, please move,” you finally groaned, reaching up to play with your nipples out of desperation.
Without any more encouragement, he pulled back slowly, until just the tip remained inside, before pushing himself forward into your heat. You moaned in unison, your hands travelling down to his biceps. He started a steady rhythm, his eyes floating down to stare hungrily at the way your chest bounced with the force of his movements. Joel leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and groaning as you pulsed around him. Your fingers pulled his hair painfully tight, and the feeling made the muscles in his stomach tingle. 
He was so deep inside, and yet you ground your hips up towards him, wanting to feel him even further. It had his hips stuttering against yours, and he let out a low vibrating groan. Joel’s hands gripped against your hip bones and pressed you down into the bed, seemingly holding you away from him.
“Baby,” he ground out, and it was more of a warning than anything else.
“You can’t do that,” he panted. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.”
You smirked lazily up at him and pushed your hips up against his weight again, meeting him stroke for stroke. There was no pain anymore, just a heavenly feeling of fullness, and you were desperate for him to let lose. “Maybe I don’t want you to last.”
“God, woman,” he scowled. “You’ll be the death of me, I know it.”
He pulled out and then thrust back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of you, and you bit your lip to hold in the high-pitched moan trying to escape.
“Let me hear you,” he ordered. “I want to hear you cum for me again, just give me one more, and then I’m yours.”
You let go of your bottom lip, letting whines and sighs fall easily from your mouth. The fire in Joel’s chest roared, loving the way you allowed the tables to turn, and obeyed him so quickly. It was so out of your character to be submissive to anyone. The thought that he had as much of an effect on you as you had on him made his cock throb painfully.
The feeling was so overwhelming you could barely keep your eyes open. He was fast, and strong, but you weren’t afraid, you were activated. Your abdomen was tight with the pleasure, and he pounded into you relentlessly. Suddenly, his cock was pressing into that spot again, and you let out an urgent exhale of his name.
“There?” he growled, angling his hips to hit it again, and again, and again. You moaned desperately, spreading your thighs wider to give him more access.
You’d forgotten every word except for Joel’s name, and you said it over and over. He had reconnected you to something so deep, so animalistic inside of you. Desire was something that hadn’t properly crossed your mind in years, only for brief moments when you rubbed one out quickly in rare moments alone. Not for a long time had you felt wanted – nor had you wanted someone the way you did with him. 
Without warning, his fingers met your clit and began rubbing messy circles on it while he snapped his hips. It was all too much, and you cried out harshly as the tightening in your abdomen grew. 
Your mouth was on his neck, and all you could taste was Joel’s salty skin when you finally came. Your body wracked with convulsions, the muscles in your stomach spasming intensely as he fucked you through your high.
His thrusts grew sloppy, and his face looked pained, sweat rolling down his biceps. He shifted so his elbows were in the pillows beside your head, and his forehead knocked against yours with every shift of his hips. One of his hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you in position while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your open mouth. Your orgasm was prolonged as he pounded against the spongy spot inside of you, and you were twitching, close to becoming over sensitive.
“God,” he moaned into your mouth. “You’re squeezing me so tight.” 
You mewled weakly at his words, purposefully clenching around him in response. 
It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you off the edge, mouth ajar as deep groans spilled from his lips. His face dropped into your shoulder, and you sighed at the feeling of him spilling inside you. He said your name softly, delicately, into your ear, his voice more gravelly than normal from exertion. For a moment, with sticky skin pressed together, and eyes closed in exhaustion, your heavy breaths were the only audible thing in the room.
Slowly, you cracked your eyes open to look around, and admired the way the moonlight shone through the window and hit his bare back. You trailed your fingers down his spine, enjoying the way goosebumps rippled across his flesh and he shivered.
“You ticklin’ me?”
You laughed into his hair. “Just enjoying all this skin.”
He hummed thoughtfully, lifting an arm to trail his hand along your side in reciprocation. “I’m enjoyin’ it too.”
He pushed up onto his elbows and slowly pulled himself out of you. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pain from earlier returning ever so slightly now that the heat of the moment had dissipated. 
“You good?” he asked softly, falling back onto his heels.
“I’m great,” you smiled, watching him pull the condom off carefully and duck into the bathroom to dispose of it.
He padded softly back into the room a few moments later with a cloth in his hands, and used it to gently wipe down your skin. You flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth between your thighs, and he apologised in a hushed tone, working quickly.
“Thank you,” you whispered, staring at him fondly. In that quiet moment, you took the opportunity to admire him properly. His body was thick and strong, all muscles underneath scarred, tanned skin. He had large strong thighs and biceps, but his stomach was soft, and you liked that.
“What’re you lookin’ at stud?” he raised an eyebrow and you smirked cheekily.
“Admiring you is all.”
He shook his head, disappearing off to the bathroom again. You tugged the covers up over yourself and laid there alone for a moment, head clear of thoughts, and sleep so close on the horizon.
“You’re staying?” you heard him, and looked over to see him standing in the doorway.
Your eyebrow jutted up questioningly. “Joel Miller, if you think I’m walking home after all that, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”
He let out a quick laugh, and pushed himself under the covers beside you. His hand slid from your thigh up your body before resting gently over your ribcage, thumb stroking along the underside of your breast.
“Good,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Don’t want you to go.”
You woke with a sharp inhale, eyes flicking around the room slowly. Still in the chokehold of a deep sleep, you yawned into your elbow and sat up slowly. The night before came rushing back to you, and you turned to see Joel sleeping soundly beside you. He slept on his front, with one arm tucked underneath his head, and face squished up into the pillow. Lips puffed out, deep breaths inhaling and exhaling through them. You stared at him for a few moments, admiring how peaceful he looked in his slumber.
He let out a sudden harsh breath, and an incoherent murmur escaped his mouth.
“What are you dreaming about?” you whispered. Reaching out, you let your fingertips whisper along the skin of his back, down his spine as far as you were allowed, to where the blanket covered him. You traced a line over a particularly bad scar on his back, and cringed to picture how he’d gotten it.
“Was dreamin’ bout you,” he said suddenly. “Until you woke me up.”
You gasped, sitting up straighter.
“Christ, I thought you were asleep.”
Joel smiled, eyes still closed.
“And what was I doing in this dream of yours, Miller?”
His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, before settling back into a lazy grin. Slowly, Joel’s bleary eyes opened to look up at you. “Was a continuous replay of last night. I wish you hadn’t woken me up, actually. Was quite enjoyin’ myself.” His voice was husky from sleep, and it sent a jolt of heat through your stomach.
“Oh, is that so?” you jokingly huffed, pushing the blankets off your body. “In that case, I’ll get out of your hair and let you sleep.” But before you could get off the mattress, his arms snaked around you, slamming you back into his chest.
“Not so fast, soldier,” Joel mumbled sleepily, pressing gentle kisses onto the skin behind your ear and tugging the duvet up over your heads.
The stairs creaked loudly as you walked down them, an hour later. Your clothes felt stale on your body; stiff after being discarded on the cool hardwood floors overnight. Your skin was cold, begging you to climb back into the bed where Joel still laid naked, tucked up under the covers.
You were halfway to the front door when Ellie’s voice stopped you in your tracks.
“Fucking finally.”
You turned quickly, trying hard to display an expression of stoic nonchalance. She was splayed across the couch with her legs kicked up onto the arm rest, grinning over a copy of Savage Starlight.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”
“Sure, sure,” she chuckled, lifting the comic up to hide her face behind it. “I may be a kid, but I know what it means to sneak out of someone’s house at 8 in the morn-“
“I’m not sneaking out,” you interrupted coolly, your face flaming at the insinuation. Ellie lowered the comic just enough for her eyes to be visible, and raised one eyebrow at you.
“I see.”
“Shut up,” is all you could get out, and threw yourself out the front door, Ellie’s loud laughter following you onto the street. 
It was a particularly chilly morning, and you gripped your black jacket around yourself tightly. You’d promised Maria the day before to stop by for a tea, and although you longed to be at home for a moment before work, you headed quickly to Tommy and Maria’s.
Knocking once on the front door, you let yourself in, calling out a quick “hello!” so as not to alarm anyone.
“In the kitchen!” Maria’s voice shouted back, and you rubbed your red hands together for warmth, traipsing through the house. When you reached the kitchen, you were surprised to see Maria wasn’t alone. A young woman sat at the dining table, gripping a steaming mug and staring at the table. Her face was red and blotchy. You lingered awkwardly in the doorway, glancing at Maria for direction.
“It’s okay, have you met Rose?” Maria ushered you in.
“No,” you replied slowly.
“You work at the stables,” Rose perked up suddenly, her stare firmly stuck on you.
“Yes,” you replied dumbly. Your mind was blank as you stared at the stranger, wondering who she was and how she knew anything about you.
“Have you seen Milena?” you asked desperately.
Your hackles lowered slowly, and you glanced at Maria curiously before shaking your head no. Milena worked at the stables with you. She was one of the women who taught you the ropes, and helped you get familiar with grooming the horses.
The tension in the room was thick, and you looked away quickly when Rose sniffled, and reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. I shouldn’t be here.
“She’s m-missing,” Rose stuttered out wetly. Maria walked up behind her and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Rose found a note that Milena left for her,” Maria explained softly. “She’s been gone for a day now.”
“She didn’t write that note,” Rose raised her voice. Your heart raced in your chest. You stared at Maria’s face, and tried to gage how you should be reacting to the information. Sweat slicked your palms when you noticed the warily anxious expression the woman wore.  “I swear she didn’t, she wouldn’t write that shit. She wouldn’t leave me here alone. Not after,” she paused as a sob wracked through her body. “Not after everything we went through to g-get here.”
“She left Jackson?” you asked. “Did she say where she was going?” Milena hadn’t mentioned anything around the stables about planning to leave the settlement. And Milena was chatty. You had often shied away from her when you shared a shift, because of how much Milena tried to pry into your personal life.
Rose didn’t respond, dropping her face into her hands, shoulders wracking with sobs. The display of emotion set you on edge. You felt like an intruder on such an intense moment for Rose and took a step backward into the doorway.
“I’m going to go,” you murmured when Maria made eye contact with you. She nodded in understanding, leaning down to whisper in Rose’s ear. You spun on your heel and walked quickly toward the front door.
“Please believe me, Maria,” you could hear Rose saying. “To just leave without saying goodbye? Milena would never do that.”
You let the door fall shut behind you. 
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part four | series masterlist
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jo-harrington · 4 months
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Sunsets.
They were always better when you watched them with someone else.
You glanced down at the hands in your lap: yours and Sam's, twined together like your lives have been for the past 5 years. The best of friends from the moment her family moved into town. You couldn't remember a time when you existed without her.
She's chatting now, telling some story about her boyfriend's dunce behavior to cheer you up after Mark broke your heart. Douchebag. You don't really know how you got here of all places; how things seemed to go so right with him and then so terribly wrong.
Sam made a joke at both Patrick and Mark's expense. You laughed and the sound of it was unfamiliar and almost roared in your ear, like a hundred people were laughing.
Everyone always laughed at Sam's jokes. Everyone loved Sam. Everything always worked out for her, even in the most unlikely situations. She was just lucky like that.
You told her once, after she won the talent show at school, that it almost seemed like she was the star of The Samantha Show or something. She found it hilarious, apparently, but you had an inkling that her feelings were still hurt. This was real life, not TV. She didn't just win because she was some main character, she worked really hard on her dance routine.
You felt a little bad after that, never brought it up again. The dark little voice deep down inside you smothered for now.
Because yeah, she did work hard. You knew that. She was smart and talented and funny and caring and a great friend and neighbor and that's just how it was because...
Because...
Because she strived to be all of those thing.
Things you…really didn’t bother with.
Because you were…
You.
Average, squeaking by a three-point-something GPA, wannabe artist who could barely draw, never left town before even when there was that field trip to DC because you got the mumps. A little nervous, a little clumsy, a little romantic with your head in the clouds. You always had a crush but nothing ever really came of those crushes until Mark.
The only boy to ever like you back and then he broke your heart.
“I just want to disappear,” you muttered pathetically and let go of Sam’s hand to cover your eyes again.
"So do it!" Sam finally hopped to her feet in the way that only she could, raring for another passioned, motivational speech that she was known for. You really needed one of those and also loathed that she was about to give you one. "Disappear! Leave!”
This was not the speech you expected.
"Uh, what?" you let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh, tears forgotten for now. "What do you mean leave? Hello, graduation in a few months. Prom? Then college. What happened to your big plan last week? One last summer in Port Geneva?"
"Forget one last summer," she waved her arms wildly. "This is your life! You're my best friend, I want you happy. Tell me the truth. Do you really even want to go to college? Wouldn't you rather pack up big blue and go on that adventure like you talked about in 8th grade?"
At your blank stare, Sam grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you.
"That's the whole reason we're friends in the first place don't you remember? The ice breaker?! Are you kidding?"
"I don't have a clue," you giggled as she jostled you around.
"Our entire friendship built on a lie. UGH. Ok. Mrs. Mills what-do-you-wanna-do-in-10-years activity? And everyone's was stupid. Tina wanted to be on the cover of Tiger Beat for the Girl Superstar issue. Patrick...gotta love him...but he wanted to be the starting quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. Mine was so dumb I don't even want to say it, great first impressions I made as the new kid.
"But you wanted to see the world! Pack your bags and board a train around the US. Paint the sunset at the Grand Canyon. See glaciers in Alaska! Hell, you even said you'd travel to Middle Earth if you could. And I thought you meant the equator!"
You both laughed and as she went on and on about things you apparently said 4 years ago and as the memory came back to you, your heart ached.
Yeah, you did say that stuff didn't you? You’d been such a silly, idealistic kid before you grew up and reality hit you time and time again.
"That was just kids stuff Sammie," you laughed dismissively. "I'm...I'm gonna take classes at State, and I'm gonna work at the furniture store and I'm gonna..."
"You're gonna pine over Mark Greckman over the rest of your life?" The hands were on her hips again. "No, ma'am, you...you're gonna go on your adventure and...oh my...you're gonna find a prince of some European kingdom or...or a handsome stranger in an Italian villa. Or both. Hoards of men fighting for your affection."
"Please stop," you stood up and grabbed her as she started waving her arms around and pantomiming kissing a tall stranger. "Stop it."
"Ok I'm done, I'm done," she promised. "I just don't want you to be crying over that idiot anymore. And we might be close to graduation but...I don't know...you can still change your mind."
"Hmm," you shrugged. "I dunno. If just sounds so…”
“Unlike you?”
“Yeah.”
"Just think about it," she urged you. "You and your Volkswagen Beetle…and the world...the whole universe if you want it! The possibilities are endless. I just feel like...1985...it's gonna be your year."
There was a spark of inspiration that grew inside of you, and in your heart, you knew she was right.
You pulled her into your arms, grateful to have your best friend.
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"Port Geneva was filmed in front of a live studio audience."
Eddie hit the rewind button on the remote and watched the scene speed in reverse until it hit Sam’s big speech. He hit play and watched for a minute then paused, the blurry image of your giggling face frozen on his screen for the foreseeable future.
He sighed and leaned back on the couch to enjoy your company for a minute.
The living room was dark, only illuminated by the glow of the TV and the street lights outside shining through the windows. There was a stack of tapes on the coffee table, along with his abandoned homework. The pizza he ordered would be here soon but for now…it was just you and him.
“M’sorry Mark was an asshole,” he said aloud into the still room. “To be honest…I kind of warned you about him way back.”
You don’t say anything. You never do.
“I know, the heart wants what it wants.” He picked a piece of lint off of his jeans. “I just want to look out for you honey.”
You stay smiling on the screen, and he can imagine it got the slightest bit bigger when he said that.
“I know you try to look after me too. Guess that doesn’t stop either of us getting hurt right?” He chuckled and pat his hands on his lap.
This was pathetic, talking to a fictional character like they were really in the room with him.
You were just…you were everything. And you’d been there for him, a balm to his woes. You had been since he started watching Port Geneva way back when, but especially since everything went down last year.
With his dad and the house and…
There was a knock at the door and Eddie hit the eject button so he could put in the next tape in watch with dinner. It was gonna be a good episode, you tell Mark off and even punch him; he remembered it fondly.
Defending yourself. He was proud of his girl.
Eddie ate his dinner and watched his episodes, taped from when they originally aired. Wednesday nights at 9pm, right before the news. He did his homework and occasionally repeated the rewind-pause-play act that he had perfected over the years so he could make another joke or, just once, complain about his chemistry homework.
Life was hard. For everyone. But especially if your name was Eddie Munson. Still, he endured. He’d never been a stranger to fantasy and escapism, he had his books and his game and his movies but there was something so…comforting in the realism that was your show.
A small suburban town full of normals. All sorts of mundane activities that mostly everyone made feel were…life altering events. And a handful of misunderstood outcasts—like you and Scott and Bonnie—who played supporting characters to the stars. Stars that were, quite frankly, unrealistic and annoying.
Eddie felt that way sometimes though, like he was just some background character waiting for his chance at the spotlight. Who had been the main character in his story, huh? Ronnie? Yeah…he could see that, now that she was on her great college adventure.
But with her gone, what would come of his storyline? Did he just fade into the background again?
Eddie ejected the tape before the current episode finished and propped his feet on the coffee table as he flipped the channels to something else. He needed to focus on something else. He would come back to his tapes, to you, another night and he would wish that you were real once again. Knocking on his door, taking him on a grand adventure with you.
But for now he just needed to stew in his…sad secondary character thoughts.
You got your time in the spotlight, a 2-episode arc at the end of the season, and as much as he hoped that it would be his turn soon…to be the character everyone loved…the person everyone loved…he knew it might never happen for him.
Eddie the Freak. Eddie the outcast. Eddie the idiot.
He would even take a single scene dedicated to him at this point.
Was that too much to ask?
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Coming in 2024.
Find the Masterlist here. And the original blurb here.
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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love
Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor
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Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV
Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,
Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!
Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics
Masterlist
Chapter 1
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1934 Philadelphia
The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.
It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.
Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.
You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.
The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.
The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.
If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.
It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.
Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff,  choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.
Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.
You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.
Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.
"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.
Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.
A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.
Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.
And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.
You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.
Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.
 It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.
Which he was.
You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"
"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.
"What about school?"
"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.
"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.
"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"
You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.
"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.
Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.
"No."
"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"
"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"
"Let me guess, pink?"
"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."
"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.
"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"
"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"
"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.
The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."
You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.
It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?
"You're incorrigible."
"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."
You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.
"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.
"What happened to you being the present?"
"I am a gift, but I did get you something."
You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.
"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Not this time."
You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."
"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"
"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"
 "Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.
"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."
"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.
"Ben!" You snort.
“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”
“Ben!” You flush bright red.
“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.
An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.
"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.
"You're welcome."
Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.
And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.
"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”
He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.
“Are you hungry?”
Ben shakes his head.
“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.
“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.
“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”
“Another diet?” Ben frowns.
“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating  since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.
"You shouldn't listen to her."
You shrug.
"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.
"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.
"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.
"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.
My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.
"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."
"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."
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Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)
Taglist: @roseblue373
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dbnightingale24 · 27 days
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Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart
A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story
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Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!
Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)
Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?
Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You
Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.
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I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.
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For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.
“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.
“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.
“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.
“When isn’t he?”
“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”
“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.
Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.
Everyone except Curtis.
You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.
She never did.
You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.
It never has and it never will. 
That was the first time you saw him.
You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you. 
It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.
They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself. 
At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference. 
“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.
“Clearly I do!”
“It’s not that bad!”
“Edgar-”
“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”
“Edgar-”
“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”
“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.
“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.
After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.
“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.
“Having one what?”
“Child?”
“Fuck no!”
“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”
“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”
“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”
“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed
Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.
“Why don’t you believe in him?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.
“Y/N-”
“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”
Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time. 
Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together. 
“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”
“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”
“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”
“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”
“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”
“I’m not having another argument about this-”
“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”
“Y/N-”
“You’re gonna be late. Go.”
You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.
“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”
“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.
“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”
“Edgar-”
“We’ll have a future, children, space-”
“I just want you! Please-”
“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”
That was the last time you saw him alive.
When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something. 
Everyone except you.
“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar. 
Sansa, who’s his regular girl. 
“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time. 
You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.
This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.
He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train. 
“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.
In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.
“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.
He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.
“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”
“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”
“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.
“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”
“Edgar made his choice-”
“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”
“That’s not true!”
You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”
“I’ve never done anything-”
“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.
No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you. 
He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.
With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.
However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.
Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.
A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”
“Could be you.”
“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”
Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.
“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”
Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.
“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”
“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”
“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”
You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.
“Never!”
“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”
“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”
Of all the fucking times to be turned on.
“Curtis-”
“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”
You push him off of you and glare at him.
“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”
“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”
“He trusted you!”
“That was his fault!”
There it is.
“So you admit it!”
“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”
“You’re monster!”
“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”
His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.
“Bitch!”
You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.
“Get out!”
“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”
“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.
“HELP!”
“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.
Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.
“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”
“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”
“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”
You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.
Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.
“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.
“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”
“Curtis-”
“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.
“O-oh! Curtis!”
It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.
“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”
Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.
“You’re fucking soaked!”
“Stop-”
“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”
You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.
“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.
“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.
“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”
“Oh fuck!”
You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.
“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.
“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”
“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace. 
He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way. 
You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.
“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”
The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.
“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”
The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.
Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.
“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.
“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.
The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.
“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.
“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”
“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.
You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.
“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.
Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.
Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”
“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.
That’s new.
“Jesus fuck,” he growls.
He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.
How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.
The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now. 
“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.
You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.
“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”
He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.
“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.
“Shit!”
He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”
He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck. 
“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”
You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck. 
“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.
You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.
It feels so fucking good.
“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.
“Fuck, there it is!”
“Too much!”
“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic. 
The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.
“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.
Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.
You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”
Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.
You’ll want him again and again.
A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.
“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.
Well, you’ve fucking done it now. 
He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.
Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.
You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”
He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.
“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”
You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.
“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”
“Ngh!”
“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”
The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.
“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”
You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.
“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.
“DADDY!”
“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”
You lazily shake your head ‘no’.
“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.
That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.
“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.
You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.
You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.
“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.
Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.
You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.  
The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”
~~
“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.
You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.
“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”
Curtis.
All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?
“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”
“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.
“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.
You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.
“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.
It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.
You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?
‘I love you.’
There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?
“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.
You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.
  When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”
You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.
“What?”
“Please...just go away.”
“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”
“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”
“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are. 
Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.
“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.
It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.
Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”
You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?
Curtis’ P.O.V.
What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.
You wanted me all along.
It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him. 
You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much. 
Two fucking years.
Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.
I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.
“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.
Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.
“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”
I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted? 
Because you’re not a monster at all.
Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.
How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.
You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.
How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too. 
“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.
“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”
“Did you explain?”
“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”
He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”
“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”
“What now?”
“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”
“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”
He’s not wrong.
“Did you hurt her?”
“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”
“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.
I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”
“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.
“Will you stop with that shit?!”
“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.
“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.
I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.
He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”
“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”
I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.
“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.
I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know. 
“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.
“Yes sir.”
Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.
In time, you’ll understand.
~~
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.
You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.
You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”
“You’re hungry-”
“What will you eat?”
“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.
You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”
“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”
He had a point there.
“Go on, take it,” he offered again.
“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”
“Y/N-”
You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”
He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”
You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.
God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone. 
Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.
The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.
As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.
All of this was your fault.
“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.
“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”
He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”
“Curtis-”
“Why have you been crying all day?”
You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.
“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”
“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”
“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”
“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”
“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”
“You can literally have whoever else you want-”
You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.
“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.
His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.
“You don’t-”
“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”
“Curtis...stop.”
“I love you.”
“That’s not love-”
“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”
For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.
He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”
“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”
“Curtis...”
“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”
Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him. 
“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”
You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that. 
“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”
You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.
He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”
You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.
Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.
“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”
You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him. 
He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.
“AH SHIT!”
He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”
You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”
“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.
Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.
“Please....please!”
His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”
He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.
You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”
Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.
Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.
“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”
Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.
“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”
He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.
“Aht!”
“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.
You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.
“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”
“Y-yes!”
“Yes who?”
“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”
“Always gonna be mine?”
“A-an-anything you w-want!”
He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”
Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.
His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”
You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”
The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”
“Mhm, yes.”
“Do you love me?”
The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”
He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.
You’re too tired to fight it.
“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.
~~
Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.
The very front of the train.
That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.
“I’m here,” he calls softly.
You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.
“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”
You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”
He’s not wrong about you being sore. 
“Nothing-”
Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.
“It doesn’t matter right now-”
“Curtis, what’s wrong?”
There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.
“I love you.”
You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.
“That’s the problem right there.”
“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”
“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”
“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”
“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”
“It’s a simple yes or no question-”
“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”
“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”
“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”
“Curtis-”
“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”
“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”
You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”
“Just tell me!’
“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.
He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad. 
When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”
You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.
“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”
“Curtis-”
“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.
You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.
“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”
Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”
Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together. 
You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”
“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.
“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”
He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”
Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”
“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”
“I promise.”
“I love you, honey.”
“I love you, Curtis.” 
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hockeyshmockey · 7 months
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Jack Hughes Imagine
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summary: a day on the lake with the hughes'. Jack hughes x fem!oc
warnings: fluff.... overwhelming fluff
"Baby wake up," Jack whispered in her ear as the morning light came in through the open blinds in their room. Lexi and Jack had flown in for one last summer lake day after spending Jack's off season in Toronto for training. The couple had arrived just in time for dinner the night before, catching up with Jim, Ellen, Quinn and Luke.
The first day of the long labor day weekend was today, and all the Hughes' friends had arrived first thing in the morning. The boys had decided to take the boat out as soon as the group was gathered to kick off the weekend.
"Jack it's still dark out," Lexi whined as she buried her head in her pillow. Jack straddled her back with a smile, letting his fingers caress her ribs and dig in to tickle her. The red head immediately tried bucking her boyfriend off with no luck. After getting a laugh in, Jack climbed off of her as Lexi finally sat up in bed.
"C'mon, get ready," he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "We want to get out on the water."
Lexi groaned but got out of bed, heading in to the bathroom to get ready. She threw on a bikini and some sun screen before grabbing one of Jack's shirts as a cover up and heading downstairs. Ellen was in the kitchen making snacks and lunch, while the boys were getting the boats ready and packing coolers.
"Good morning sweetie," Ellen beamed at the red head as she came into the kitchen, offering the blonde a hug from behind.
"Morning mama Hughes," Lexi smiled. "What can I help with?" The two women were quickly able to finish up their lunches and snacks by the time the boys came in telling them everything was ready.
The boys grabbed the remaining cooler bags, while Ellen and Lexi grabbed the bags with towels and sunscreen before heading out back. Lexi immediately hopped in the boat with Quinn and Jack, the three joined by Ellen and Jim. Luke and his buddies were on the second boat the family kept at the house, and Lexi felt glad she missed that call as the boys began blaring music and starting to shot gun beers.
"Oh to be young again," Jim said with a laugh as Quinn rolled his eyes and got the boat into gear, heading out onto the lake. With it being labor day, there were plenty of neighbors on the water. The group all waved as they passed other boaters, before stopping at an anchor spot they had found at the beginning of the summer.
Quinn held the boat steady as Luke and the boys began to get ready to wake board. Lexi went to grab her float out of the storage chest under one of the seats, handing it off to Quinn to inflate as she grabbed Ellen's as well.
This was Lexi's heaven, the girl thought as she weaved her hand through the water. Her and Ellen were sat in little floats attached to the boat, drinks in hand as the boys wake boarded a 100 yards away. Jim and Quinn were chilling with them, listening to music as they watched Luke whip the boys around the Lake.
Jack was up, and Lexi cheered dutifully as the boy shot gunned a beer while skiing, before being flung off by a cackling Luke. The middle Hughes brother waved Luke off as he went to turn the boat around, swimming over to where his mom and Lexi were likely gossiping.
"How are my girls?" Jack called out as he paddled towards the women, ending up leaning his head on Lexi's float as the two of them smiled at the boy.
"Living the life babe," Lexi ran her fingers through his hair with a smile. "Just telling your mom to go ahead and let us know her plans to come out to games this season."
"You know you're welcome to them all mom," Jack and Lexi nodded. "And now that we're in a new apartment, you can have your own space in Luke's apartment or ours."
"You guys are so sweet," Ellen stared at the couple with a soft smile. She never could have imagined two years ago that her wild middle boy would be this settled down, but Lexi had been so good for him. And knowing the words her son had spoken to her on the deck the night before, she knew he planned to keep her around forever.
"We love having you in town," Lexi said with a grin. "It's helpful to have another set of hands keeping two of the three Hughes boys out of trouble."
"You're stuck with that job forever baby," Jack laughed. "With your luck, we'll have all boys and you'll be just like mom."
"That would be terrifying," Lexi exaggerated a shiver, sharing a laugh with Ellen. "Not a bad way to be though, look how you guys turned out."
"Sap," Jack murmured as he leaned in to kiss her leg, before pushing off and paddling back to the boat. The group spent another two hours on the water before heading back to the house as the water started going down.
Lexi offered to shower first and then start dinner, Jack joining her in the prep duty. As the others all got cleaned up, the couple began to prep meat and vegetables for the grill. Lexi had turned on some music, swaying her body back and forth as Taylor Swift came over the speakers.
"C'mere," Jack grabbed her hand as Enchanted began to play, wrapping the girl in his arms and beginning to sway her back and forth. Lexi smiled softly, resting her forehead on his neck as Jack softly sang the chorus to her.
Neither noticed when Jim and Ellen came to the kitchen door, Ellen stopping her husband with a smile as she saw the two slow dancing. "She's going to be our daughter one day huh?" Jim asked with a little smile as he put his arm around Ellen's shoulder.
"She already is," Ellen beamed as she pushed Jim back towards the deck door, deciding to let the couple have a few more minutes.
summer 2024
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lexibowen with jack hughes
my favorite person asking me to spend forever with him in our favorite place of course with our favorite people
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elblue06 we love you both so much!
user im crying
lhughes love you sis
quinnhughes ill just say this- good luck!
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elblue06 I knew Lexi was special, and it didn't take long for us to realize she was Jack's perfect match. I took this photo last summer, here at the lake, and Jim and I both knew Lexi would be our daughter one day. We're so excited for this new chapter, and can't wait to have another Hughes soon!
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lexibowen Ellen, I'm crying! Thank you for being so welcoming to me every day. You are already my family, and I can't wait to make it official and get to take on the ruckus with one of the strongest women I've ever met
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stesierra · 8 months
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Writeblr ReIntro!
I'm posting a new intro because now that I've been on Writeblr a little while, I realize how much information I left out! Hi, I'm Stephanie, I live in the desert with my husband and baby and three cats, and I'm an ace, bipolar fantasy writer! When I was a kid, they said I had ADHD but then I got my Masters degree in biology, so they claim I can't have it. Online tests say I'm probably autistic.
I used to write sci fi twelve years ago but only low tech sci fi about weird aliens, which nobody likes. Now I write fantasy novels! Lots of fantasy novels! I am beginning to post them on my website so if you want to read them, please keep an eye on this post.
My books often but not always have some romance (either m/f or f/f because I prefer female protagonists.) Since I'm ace (and demiromantic), my interpretation of romance and attraction is not exactly what you'd expect from, say, a romance novel.
I am not going to tell you about all my books! I've written eighteen! Four of them are shelved forever! Here's some recent ones (written or revised since 2018) that I haven't given up on. Please ask me questions about them! I LOVE talking about my books! Also, if you want to be added to my taglist for writing samples let me know! Please also tell me if you're interested in alpha or beta reading and for which book! Mutuals only, please!
My books are beneath the cut! As I add WIP intros, I'll update this list with links.
Cast Out
YA fantasy! On her sixteenth birthday, Zisha is cast out of the Plenary Cities for the crime of being born deaf, like her grandmother before her. In the wastelands, she meets Thesil, a depressed and bitter young woman. Zisha wants nothing to do with her — until she sees Thesil's face in a vision. But before she can find out what the visions mean or reach her grandmother's holdings in the wastes, the plague returns to the Plenary Cities. If the disabled really caused the plague thirty years ago, and were cast out to stop the spread, how can it be back when all of them are outcast?
Status: Finished. Being serialized.
WIP intro here.
Now being serialized here. First five chapters up, one posted weekly.
The Bone Queen
This is my NA fantasy about the aftermath of freeing an undead queen and her skeleton army. They take over the kingdom, of course! The main character, Elise, is trapped in Bandrum palace by Aubrey, the ghost who tricked her into falling in love and freeing him (plus everyone else.) He's an animated skeleton now with plans to marry Elise and force her to carry his children. The bone queen has promised him she'll make it happen. Too bad no one cares what Elise wants. If only she had magic of her own...
Status: undergoing a rewrite after developmental edit. Was 109k before revisions. Not available for beta reading.
Draft number? Hahahaha. It has two complete sequels (The Spellbound King (106k) and The Matriarch's Daughter (96k)) I must also rewrite. This series is going to kill me but I love it. My mom, who loves everything I write, complained that it was weird. I'm very proud.
WIP intro here.
First chapter here.
School of Souls
This is my YA contemporary fantasy about a boarding school in the Bighorn Mountains! It's supposed to be a place parents can send "bad" teens to have their problems sorted out, but secretly the founder is using it to train the kids as sorcerers. Even more secretly, the school devours the souls of the students sent there, and the teenagers who graduate aren't the same as the ones who arrived... Warning: does include teenage addiction to sleeping pills and ghosts and and parental death. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet.
Status: Complete first draft. 83k. Available for alpha reading.
WIP intro here.
First chapter here.
The Many-faced Princess
This is YA fantasy with a historical vibe but set in a made up world. Vaguely inspired by ancient Phoenicia. It's about Princess Ameryi, who was blessed by the genderless trickster god, Akihel, to be able to change her face. If her father the king ever found out, he'd have to execute her, of course. Akihel is just plain evil. All the other gods say so. A daughter who's their champion? Impossible. An abomination. So Ameryi will just have to make sure her father never finds out. That was easier to do before the Asirtinsa Empire threatened to invade and her father sent her to secure an alliance with a neighboring king. She's supposed to marry him. Not steal his face and frame him for murder. But sometimes plans just don't work out.
This book was supposed to be about two lesbian princesses who frame the king for murder so they can elope, but both princesses decided to be ace and there was nothing I could do.
Status: Complete first draft. 83k. It's going to have sequels but I haven't written them yet. Available for alpha reading.
First chapter here.
Map here.
Court Phoenix
This is my NA fantasy! Kerra is a blacksmith's apprentice. Not because she wants the job, but because her mother sold her future to him when she was still a toddler who crawled into live fires and giggled as the flames consumed her clothes. Now she's a woman, trapped by the expectations of her family and her village. Until one day, a phoenix crash-lands and dies in her arms. When it's reborn, it chooses Kerra as its keeper. Soon, her dreary future is swept away. A princess from Skyfire, the moving city, offers her a job in the royal court. How could Kerra refuse? Her family's claims that she'll die if she ever leaves the village are just manipulative lies. Aren't they?
Status: Complete third draft. 104k. Available for beta reading.
First chapter here.
The Revenant Trilogy
Adult fantasy. Solving a murder should bring good fortune, but all it brings Mindral Thideet is disaster. Her fame and peaceful life as head researcher at the city of knowledge end abruptly. In retaliation for her investigation into his crimes, Payar Cheref, the head of the powerful Cheref family, burns her beloved cousins alive and scars her face. The scar marks her as a revenant, a body possessed by a godkin, one of the gods' evil children. Her life as a researcher is over. All that's left is revenge.
No one believes her when she denies that godkins have any power over her. But godkins, real ones, are far closer than she realizes. Tearing down Payar Cheref could destroy Mindral, her family, and the nation itself.
-The Halfway Revenant (rewriting draft 4) 120k. Not available for beta reading.
-The Soul-Seer (draft 2) - 130k
-The Godkin's Gambit (draft 2) 121k
First chapter here.
As Immortality Fades
Adult fantasy. Five hundred years ago, one of the immortal and unpredictable Valteifur visited the kingdom of Kathild and granted the young queen Nelone immortality. But there was a catch. She'd live forever, youthful and strong, just so long as her subjects were happy. For centuries, she's met her part of the deal. But when the Valteifur returns to check on her progress, he grants her a new gift: the resurrection of every single person in Kathild who's died in the last two hundred years. Then he disappears.
There aren't enough houses for them all. There's not enough food. And winter is here.
Status: Complete first draft. 98k. Available for alpha reading.
Bi MC, enemies to lovers.
First chapter here.
Stitches and Memories
This one's adult fantasy. Antea's father ripped her mind apart, left her for dead, and vanished twelve years ago, and she's going to find out why. But when constables try to kill her and strange truth magic grows inside of her, hunting her father starts to look like suicide. Too bad going home isn't an option.
Status: I exchanged this with a critique partner and now it embarrasses me. Fourth draft. 122k. Available for beta reading.
Trigger warning: magic seizures
First chapter here.
WIP intro here.
Triangle Park
Contemporary Fantasy. I have no idea who it's for. An elf exiled to the middle of nowhere ends up stuck with an unexpected child. It's about reluctant parenting and protecting the needy. And elves and faeries slumming it in a mobile home.
Status: Complete first draft. 86k. Available for alpha reading.
First chapter here.
Mud-Child
Adult fantasy. Rebeka has always heard that a woman who goes through menopause loses her spark (the magic that lets her create children). If she's had children, it just makes the neighbors a little more fertile. But Rebeka never wanted a man, and she never wanted to raise a child. Not since her twin sister died and her beloved Suza left her for a man. The problem is, the spark leaves a childless woman differently, everyone says. A bitter hag? She'll curse her neighbors. A sweet dim biddie? She'll give her spark to inanimate objects and create a monster. Rebeka doesn't know which she is, but she believes it's a myth.
That was before the clay in her clay pit woke up and called her mother.
Status: Third draft. 109k. Needs a rewrite! Not available for beta reading.
First chapter here.
WIP intro here.
I GUESS I'M WRITING A NEW BOOK
The Giant's Gamble
First chapter here.
I started writing this on Friday the 13th, 2023. LET'S SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES TO WRITE WITH A BABY.
Short stories
The Unfamous Dead
VERY OLD CRAP
The Scribe and the Sphinx
Adult historical fantasy
Status: second draft. Shelved for good. 85k.
The Adrift series
The River's Drift. 100k.
The Waking Mountain. 106k.
Low-tech alien sci fi. Shelved for good.
My first book whose name I forget. About 50k. Exists only as a hard copy in my parents' house.
Taglist so far (tell me if you want to be added or removed)
Tag list for everything
@harleyacoincidence
@anonymousfoz
@moremysteriesthantragedies
@elizababie
@sm-writes-chaos
@bellascarousel
@the-dragon-chronicler
@teacupsandstarlight
@vorskra
@wrenofthewords
@amostdelectablescribbler
@mysticstarlightduck
@phantommill
@gracewritesbooks
@aziz-reads
@owlsandwich
@symbioticsimplicity
@squarebracket-trick
@koala2all
@rmgrey-author
@atomatowriter
@cheerfulmelancholies
@delusionisaplace
@janec23
@writing-is-a-martial-art
@authortango
Just chapters and snippets
@da-na-hae
For The Many-faced Princess
@deadlyessencewhispers
@serenanymph
The Halfway Revenant
@acertainmoshke
For Stitches and Memories
@space-writes
@acertainmoshke
The Bone Queen
@janec23
@holdmyteaplease
@digital-chance
@thecrookedwriterspath
@tea-and-mercury
@coven-archives
I love you all!
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daisynik7 · 3 months
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Reap What You Sew
Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Original Female Character
Rating: Mature
Word Count: ~5.5k
cw: explicit language, switching POVs (2nd and 3rd person), established relationship, kissing, suggestive, angst, fluff
Summary: A dinner with you, Mitsuya, and your parents quickly goes south. Mitsuya makes a decision that could lead to dire consequences. 
Author's Note: Hello everyone, thank you for your patience with this! Heads up, this story is going to reach a pretty dramatic turning point in the next chapter, so be prepared! And with that ominous warning, enjoy lol. Thank you for reading!
Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter
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Mitsuya spends the remainder of their date giving his girlfriend a crash-course in the history of the Tokyo Manji Gang, skipping through the boring, less significant details and emphasizing what she absolutely must know. The most important takeaway is that Tetta Kisaki and Shuji Hanma are not to be trusted at all costs.
Since the encounter, the two left the arcade promptly, Mitsuya glaring at the sketchy captains on the way out, who matched his expression with equal vigor. He made sure they weren’t followed to the station and boarded the train, returning to the park where they had previously spent the most amazing day together. He regrets forcing them to the arcade in the first place, wishing they had stayed laying in the grass, blissful in their own little world, away from any potential danger. How could he be so arrogant to think he could keep these two major parts of his life separate? How could he be so careless to let Hana become involved in this?
Sitting on a park bench, she listens, barely interrupting, nodding along to indicate her understanding. She’s now aware of all the players involved, of who she should avoid and who she can trust, including all of Mitsuya’s closest friends. At one point, she asks, “What about Mikey?”
If this was three years ago, at the height of Toman’s regime, Mitsuya would have a confident answer. However, the founder’s current favoritism towards the new captains leaves many open-ended questions for those who’s been loyal to him from the start. Deep down in his heart, however, Mitsuya still believes in Mikey. He chooses his words carefully. “They’re trying to manipulate him, but we’re going to bring him back. We have to get him back.”
Eventually, he suggests befriending Emma Sano and Hinata Tachibana to learn the ins-and-outs of being a girlfriend of a Toman boyfriend. They’ve both managed to succeed in it without harm, for the most part. Maybe the reason for that is because their boyfriends have both put the gang on the backburner to focus on their personal lives, Draken preparing to be a father and Takemitchy preparing for university. Mitsuya even has his own plans for after high school, but he always figured he would be able to balance his responsibilities all at once. Now that he’s a proper boyfriend, can he add that into his already teetering workload without sacrificing what he already has? Or without one collapsing on top of the other?
Mentally drained from explaining as much as he can, there’s a prolonged silence between them as she lets all the information sink in. After what seems like an eternity, she speaks, a slight waver in her voice, though resilient. “Takashi, it’s going to be okay.”
His brows are tight with worry, holding her hand with a firm grip. “How are you so sure? What if they try to hurt you?” 
She smiles at him. “Because I’m with you. I’ll always be safe when I’m with you.”
He’s scared, absolutely terrified. But her confidence in him moves him to tears. He blinks them away, grinning at her with as much confidence as he can muster. “I’ll keep you safe, Hana. I promise you.”
This is one promise he swears to himself he won’t break. 
~~~
A week after your date, your parents put the pieces together and ask you straight up. “Are you and Mitsuya dating?” It’s your mother who poses the question, your father still as uncomfortable with the subject as he was the morning you announced that you were hanging out with a boy.
The three of you are eating dinner, about finished with the meal on your plate. You almost choke on the last bite, surprised by her very correct accusation. Clearing your throat, you answer honestly. “Yes.”
Your dad makes a strangled nose in his throat, clearly shocked. Maybe he was hoping with all his might that the answer would be no, or that you’d lie about it. Ignorance is bliss, after all. Your mother isn’t quite as keen on playing dumb. She’s noticed the change in your demeanor, the pep in your step, the sound of your hushed voice through the thin walls, speaking to Takashi well into the night on the phone. She doesn’t miss these things. A mother’s intuition never fails. She studies you carefully, almost challenging. “We should invite him over for dinner.”
You know better than to argue with her, so you agree. The next time his mom isn’t working a night shift, that’s when he’ll come for dinner. It’s been decided. 
It’s a Wednesday night when he arrives to your house, dressed in a lavender buttoned-up shirt and black slacks, a colorful bouquet of spring flowers in his hands, smiling wide when you open the door to greet him. His hair is swept back more than usual, gelled and parted to the side, his effort to make a good impression evident. You want to give him a kiss, giddy at his appearance, though you decide against any form of physical affection throughout the night, assuming it wouldn’t be a good look in front of your parents.
He removes his shoes, laying them next to yours on the rack, giving you a sly wink before walking with you into the kitchen, where your parents are putting the finishing touches on their homemade dinner. “Mitsuya, good evening. Thank you for coming,” you mother says, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. She nudges your father, who’s surly near the stove, arms crossed over his chest. He sniffs, avoiding his gaze while he mutters, “Yes, hello.”
Takashi bows, holding out the bouquet when he stands up straight. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Shimizu. Mr. Shimizu. It’s an honor to be here with you tonight to share this wonderful meal. I brought these flowers for you.”
Your mom accepts them, smiling politely. “These are lovely. Thank you. I’ve got the perfect place for them. Honey, go ahead and show your boyfriend to the table. Dinner will be ready soon.”
Your father makes a noise, somewhere between a disgruntled huff and an incredulous laugh. You’re unsure how he feels about this whole situation and you pray that he doesn’t grill Takashi too hard tonight. You’re confident in your boyfriend that he will be his authentic, good-natured self and that your parents will learn to like him just as much as you do. You take your seat at the table, Takashi right beside you. Under the surface, hidden from view, he reaches for your hand, squeezing you gently until your parents join you. Your mother sets the flowers in a vase at the center, adding a splash of color to the setting. 
Tonight’s dinner is glazed miso salmon with white rice and steamed vegetables. Takashi admires the meal with sparkling eyes. “This is incredible, Mrs. Shimizu!”
She waves him off. “Oh, this is nothing, dear.”
“It’s definitely something,” he beams, picking up his chopsticks to dig in. “My mom can’t even make rice without burning it.”
She giggles. “So who does the cooking at home, then?”
“Me. I only know how to make the basics for me and my sisters. Hana here has significantly improved our instant ramen by adding fresh ingredients, which is genius. My sisters love her recipe,” he brags, glancing at you. 
“That’s nice to hear. Anyways, help yourself.”
Altogether, you clap your hands. “Thank you for the food!”
There’s a moment of silence while the four of you begin eating, only the tap of utensils on ceramic plates to occupy the silence. Takashi takes a of bite, commenting, “It’s delicious, Mrs. Shimizu.”
“Oh good. If you’d like, I can give you the recipe. Something new for you and your sisters to try at your house,” she offers. 
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
Your father suddenly speaks, startling the rest of you. “So, Mitsuya. That bike of yours. Do you have a license to drive that thing?”
You clench your jaw, nervous about the interrogation that’s about to occur between your father and your boyfriend. Takashi wipes his mouth with a napkin, clearing his throat, giving him his full attention. “Yes, sir. I’ve had my license since I was sixteen.”
Your father raises a brow at him, elbows propped on the surface, hands in prayer, tapping his fingertips to his chin. “Do you enjoy riding it? Seems dangerous if you ask me.”
You almost mutter, Nobody asked you, but you resist the temptation, stuffing your mouth with fish to prevent yourself from blurting anything out. Takashi seems to be handling well, explaining, “I only go the speed limit, sir. And I wear a helmet every time I ride, so it’s pretty safe.”
“And you’ve driven Hana on your motorbike several times already, haven’t you?” His brows are tight, scrutinizing and intimidating. 
“Yes, I have. She has her own helmet and I’m very cautious when she’s with me. Her safety is my top priority. It always will be.”
Your father hums, and you hope you’ve gotten past the worst of it, not expecting him to bring out the big guns. However, you soon find out that it’s far from over. “Are you in one of those biker gangs?”
“Dad!” you cry out, cheeks hot.
Even your mom interjects. “Honey!”
He doesn’t waver, waiting for Takashi’s answer. “Well?”
The smile on your boyfriend’s face drops, his expression more serious when he replies, “Yes, sir. I’m in the Tokyo Manji Gang.” He stutters a bit while adding, “I was one of the founding members.”
As if he cracked the code, your father nods, smirking in a wicked manner. “I’ve heard about them. I noticed your jacket a few times whenever you dropped my daughter off. Don’t think I didn’t do my research on you. I’m aware of your little gang, all the havoc you’ve caused throughout the years.” Your mom calls him by his first name, urging him to stop. He doesn’t relent. 
“I understand your concerns, sir. I won’t deny that I’ve been involved with violence in the past. But I’ve changed a lot since then. I don’t like fighting, I never have. I want a life outside of the gang, and I think I’m on my way there.”
“Oh? How so?” 
“Well, I want to be a fashion designer. I’m quite handy when it comes to sewing.”
“Are you planning on going to a university?”
“Vocational school. After graduation, I’ll be taking a year off to work at a local tailor to save some money for tuition. I’m applying to a school nearby, so that I can be here for my family. And for Hana.” He glances at you, smiling. You reach for him, holding his hand. 
Your father leans forward on the table, intrigued. “So, you’re aware that Hana is attending a university here in Tokyo.”
“Yes, I am, sir. And I know she’s going to study to be a teacher.”
“Yes, that’s right. That means she cannot afford any distractions from her studies.” 
Takashi places his palm over his chest. “I’ll make sure nothing gets in her way of that.” 
“You misunderstand. Boyfriends are a distraction.”
This time, you do interrupt. “Dad, Takashi hasn’t been a distraction for me so far, and he will never be a distraction. He helps me, he supports me. I’m happier because of him.” 
His voice is stern as he bangs a fist on a table, frustrated. “This boy is trouble. It doesn’t matter what he does in his spare time. Sewing, babysitting, I don’t care. At the end of the day, he’s a gang member. A delinquent. A punk.”
Tears well in your eyes, skin prickling with anger. Takashi gazes at his lap, at a loss for words. “How can you be so prejudiced?” you argue. “You don’t even know Takashi, yet you’re judging him. He’s been nothing but kind and sweet to me. It doesn’t matter to me that he’s in a gang, he’s important to me, and I won’t let you belittle him like this!” 
He stands up, throwing his napkin on the table, pointing his finger at you. “You are naïve, Hana! Disillusioned by this silly little fantasy of yours. I won’t let you ruin your life for someone like him. I just won’t!”
You’re on your feet, matching his expression. “I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions. You can’t tell me what to do!”
“Hana.” Takashi’s voice is quiet, the slightest tremble in it. He tugs on your wrist, urging you to calm down. “It’s okay.”
“No it’s not!” you whine, cheeks wet with your tears. 
Takashi stands with you, taking a deep breath, directing his words towards your father. “You’re right. I am a gang member, a delinquent, a punk. It’s all true. There was a time that I would risk life and limb for the gang. I almost did after getting my skull fractured by a metal pipe in a fight. My mother and sisters were terrified, thinking they lost me.”
He swallows hard, looking at you with a small smile on his face. “And now with Hana in my life, I’m surer than ever what I need to do. I’m going to leave Toman. For good.”
~~~
It’s Friday night and Mitsuya sits in Draken’s kitchen, a devoured bowl of his friend’s homemade curry in front of him. Emma and Hana are inside the guest bedroom, which is slowly transforming into a nursery. He can hear his girlfriend’s sweet laughter at Emma’s weekly work drama while they assemble a crib that the expecting couple recently purchased. They had met no more than two hours ago, though it seems like they’ve already become fast friends. 
Mitsuya finishes recounting the drama from over a week ago. Draken stands up on the other side of the table, collecting the dirty dishes and carrying them to the sink. “So, what did the old man say after that?”
“Nothing. He ate the rest of the meal in silence. Her mom started rambling about some other stuff to lighten the mood and that was it.” He checks behind him on the two ladies, making sure they can’t hear him. In a hushed voice, he adds, “Hana hasn’t really spoken to him much since then. She said it’ll fizzle out eventually.” 
“Ah, I see.” Draken lets the water run, soaking the bowls. “Do you really mean it?”
“What?”
“Leaving Toman.”
There’s a heavy pause while he thoroughly contemplates his response. “Yeah, I do.”
At the time he announced it, his entire body was buzzing with emotion. It slipped out of his mouth before he realized what he was actually saying. As the days passed, the more confidence he has gained about his decision. All the dreams he has for his future no longer revolve around Toman. And while he wants to remain loyal to his friends, his brothers, he figures he can do that without being involved in the gang anymore. He’s long grown tired of the unnecessary violence and drama.
“Wow,” Draken responds, whistling through his teeth. “Good for you, Taka.”
“How about you?” Mitsuya gets up, leaning against the counter, watching his friend. “Do you ever think about leaving?”
Draken focuses on scrubbing the dishes with a sponge. “Of course I do. But I can’t do that to Mikey.”
“Am I a bad friend?”
Draken stops the faucet, wiping his hands dry on a dish towel, turning to face him. He places a hand on his shoulder. “Not one bit. You should be happy. If this is something you have to do, then do it. You’ll always have our support. Me, Emma, and little Ken Junior.”
It takes a beat to realize his last words. “Wait, Ken Junior?”
Draken beams at him. “Yeah. We’re having a boy.”
They hug, Mitsuya patting Draken’s back extra hard, so excited that his cheeks hurt from smiling, tears welling in his eyes. “Fucking Ken Junior, holy shit.”
Draken sniffles, squeezing him in a tight embrace. “KJ, for short. Emma thinks it’s cute.”
They break apart, laughing. “It is. Does Mikey know?”
“Not yet. Emma finally managed to convince him to come over for dinner next Friday before the Toman meeting. Maybe you should come to, so you can leverage your bad news with our good news,” he jokes. 
“That’s not a bad idea.” A lightbulb shines in his mind, remembering what he overhead a couple of weeks ago at the arcade. “I almost forgot, I have something else to tell you.” 
After recapping the incident with Kisaki and Hanma, Draken stares at him, uneasy. “Are you sure they said that?”
“Positive. They’re trying to take out Mikey.” Admitting it out loud has Mitsuya’s throat dry, the seriousness of it all creating a sense of dread in his chest. This feeling hasn’t left since that day. Voice trembling, he adds, “They also threatened Hana.” 
Draken huffs. “Sons of bitches. I always knew they were scheming. I don’t know why Mikey even trusted them to begin with. We have to tell him. Who knows when they’re gonna go through with it? Could be today, could be tomorrow.”
“I don’t think it’d be random. Kisaki is trying to work his way up, get as close to Mikey as possible. Maybe even take over your spot.” 
“Mikey’s too smart to fall for that,” Draken states, dismissing the very idea of it. 
“I don’t know,” Mitsuya ponders, biting his lip. “Kisaki is in his good graces right now after all that shit with the Leviathans.”
With more conviction, Draken says, “It takes a lot more than that for Mikey to truly trust people. He probably already suspects Kisaki’s true intentions. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. He’s always been a big believer in that.”
Having known Mikey for years, ever since they all first founded Toman together, Mitsuya reconsiders the current situation. Could Mikey’s icy behavior towards his real friends be part of a more elaborate plan to foil Kisaki and Hanma? Is it all an act to test the gang’s loyalties to him and to Toman? After all, their fearless leader has always been one for dramatics. “So should we tell him?”
“We’ll wait until Friday,” Draken suggests. “He’ll want to make a big show out of it, in front of everyone. Have dinner with us and tell Mikey everything, even the stuff about you wanting to quit. Yeah, he might be a little pissed, but once we tell him about Kisaki, he’ll have his fun and feel better.” He smiles at him reassuringly. “Mikey cares for you. We all do. Not because you’re in Toman. Because you’re you.”
Mitsuya’s been contemplating all week long about what he truly wants to do when it comes to his future. It’s terrifying to take that leap outside of what he grew up with and into the unknown. Sure, it’s easy to think that leaving the gang life is easy. For him, Toman has been his comfort. Brothers who protected him, supported him, even when his own family couldn’t. It was exciting, an escape from his less-than-glamorous life.
He doesn’t need that anymore. He has Hana and being in love with her is just as thrilling. The surge of adrenaline that rushes through him each time he touches her, kisses her, hears her voice. He has someone who loves him for all that he is, someone who will continue to love him no matter what. His fellow twin dragon reassuring him is exactly what he needs to solidify his decision. It’s time to move on.
~~~
There’s a palpable tension in the air as you walk into Takashi’s home, fully aware that you’re alone with one another the rest of the night. It’s the first time in a while that your boyfriend’s mother doesn’t have to work on the weekend, so she took this opportunity to bring the girls to their grandparents. Takashi was extended an invitation of course; he declined, wanting to spend some much-needed alone time with you. You’re nervous about staying the night with him though you can’t deny it any longer that you’ve been thinking about this next step in your relationship.
The same genuine smile is on his face when he welcomes you in with a big hug. “Hi,” he greets, kissing you. You drop your bag to wrap your arms around him, melting into his lips. The jitters you had on the way here soon fade as you relax into his embrace. You could stay like this forever, given the chance. He pulls away, cupping your cheek lovingly. “The pizza should be coming soon. Do you want to put your stuff in my room?”
You nod in response, watching him grab your bag, heart racing once more while he leads you by the hand into his bedroom. You’ve been in here before, but never like this. Never with the preface of something more intimate happening, and soon. You still haven’t spoken a single word to him and he senses your trepidation. “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned. 
Unconvincing, you reply, “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” He plops down at the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside him. 
You sit, hands on your lap, twiddling your thumbs. “I’m a little nervous.”
He holds you, lacing his fingers with yours. “About what?”
You face him. “This.”
Understanding, he leans closer, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I’m nervous too. But you know what? You and I have all the time in the world. We can go at whatever pace we’re both comfortable with. If that means tonight, great. If that means years from now, that’s great too. I just want to be with you, like this.” He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing along your knuckles. 
Your heart swells in your chest, not from nerves this time. “I want to be with you too.”
There’s a slight hitch in his voice before he whispers, “I love you, Hana.” He swallows thickly, repeating himself more surely, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.”
It slips from your mouth easily, naturally. “I love you too, Takashi.” It’s a sentiment that’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue for a while now, and you’re relieved to finally let it out. Ecstatic that he feels the same way as you. 
You and Takashi eat pizza on the couch, laughing over silly stories until there are tears in your eyes and your stomachs hurt in the best way possible. After dinner, you get ready for bed, Takashi gushing about how adorable you are in your pajamas, scooting to one side of the bed to make room for you, instantly cuddling you once you’re in. Moonlight streams dimly through his window, enough for you to see the soothing lavender in his eyes as the two of you stay up a few more hours talking about anything and everything. 
It gets close, almost too close. Chaste kisses that leave the both of you breathless and clearly aroused. Lingering touches, grazes of bare skin, I love you chanted over and over again. But you don’t consummate your relationship tonight. Instead, you fall asleep snuggled together, completely committed to one another for the rest of your lives. And somehow, this seems more intimate than anything else. 
~~~
Another week passes and Mitsuya finds himself once again at Draken’s for dinner on a Friday night. However, the setting is a bit different than usual: the notoriously absent and distant Mikey Sano has joined them. 
The obviously tension is quickly dismissed when Emma makes her important announcement to her brother, who reacts accordingly. After being cold and lifeless to those around him, Mikey sheds his frigid demeanor and cracks the first genuine smile they’ve all seen from him in months. “A baby?” he repeats, almost in disbelief, studying his sister’s tummy, which is starting to show signs of pregnancy. 
“A baby boy, Mikey. You’re going to have a nephew!” she says, tearing up. She holds out the sonogram to him. 
Mikey laughs softly, shaking his head, inspecting the picture. “I can’t believe my little sister is going to have a baby. And with this guy of all people,” he jokes, pointing at the man beside him.
“Hey!” Draken yelps, shoving his arm playfully. “I’ve been doing a damn good job so far providing for your pregnant sister while you’ve been off gallivanting with the Leviathans.”
Mikey’s expression sullens, realizing how accurate that is. “You’re right. I should have been here for you, Emma. I’m sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
“Busy with what?” Draken prods, focusing his attention on him. “Come on, Mikey. We’re your friends. Your family. You can talk to us.”
He runs his fingers through his hair, taking his time to ultimately ignore him and deflect the attention to someone else. “What’s Mitsuya doing here anyways? Don’t tell me he’s gotten someone pregnant too.”
Mitsuya’s alarmed at the sudden spotlight. Chuckling nervously, he replies, “No one else is pregnant, don’t worry.”
“Though he did snag himself a sweetheart, didn’t you, Takashi?” Emma nudges him, grinning. 
“Oh?” Mikey raises a brow, curious.
He waves them off, embarrassed. “Yeah, that’s true, but that’s not why I’m here.” He clears his throat, ready to explain. “Mikey, there’s something you should know about Kisaki and Hanma.”
Mikey listens intently as he recalls the incident from a couple of weeks ago, fresh in his memory. He doesn’t interrupt and his expression remains neutral. When he’s done, Mikey sits in silence, processing this new information carefully. Eventually, he utters a single word. “Interesting.”
Draken’s face contorts into a grimace, unsatisfied with his friend’s reaction, or lack thereof. “That’s all you have to say?”
Mikey shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “What else should I say?”
“Kisaki is trying to get rid of you. Aren’t you upset?” Mitsuya asks, bothered by his cavalier attitude.
He smirks. “Did you really think I wouldn’t catch on to that motherfucker’s plan?” 
Draken barks a laugh, slapping Mikey’s back jovially. “I knew it! I fucking knew it! Didn’t I tell you, Mitsuya?!”
Mitsuya relaxes, smiling at the two of them. “So you knew about Kisaki this whole time?”
“The Leviathans aren’t as loyal to him as he thinks they are,” Mikey explains. 
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I wasn’t sure who to trust. At first,” he answers. 
Draken raises his voice. “You doubted us? After everything we’ve been through –”
“I know. I know, Draken.” His gaze lingers on the sonogram of his soon-to-be-nephew. “It took a while to come back to my senses, but I did. I’m sorry.”
“What about Emma? Why have you been ignoring her?”
Mikey gulps loudly, staring directly at his sister. “I wanted to protect you, so I distanced myself. I didn’t want Kisaki or Hanma thinking I was close to you.” He reaches out to hold her hand. “I’m sorry.”
Emma sniffs, wiping tears away from her eyes with her free hand. “It’s okay, Mikey. I’m just happy to have you back.”
“I promise I’ll be around more, for you and the baby,” he says, smiling at her. 
Mitsuya’s chest is heavy with emotion, happy to see his friend has returned to his normal self, anxious about the news that’s been weighing on his mind lately. He doesn’t want to put a damper on this joyous moment, but Draken doesn’t give him much of a choice when he announces, “Mitsuya has something else he wants to tell you.”
Mikey focuses his attention once more on him. “What is it, Takashi?”
He takes a deep breath, trying not to let his nerves prevent him from doing this. “I’m leaving Toman.”
Mikey blinks at him several times, processing, then his expression softens. “Is this because of this new sweetheart of yours?”
“It’s not just her,” Mitsuya explains. “It’s time for me to move on. Pursue my dreams of becoming a fashion designer. I can’t do that if I’m active in the gang.” He looks down at his lap, avoiding whatever reaction is on Mikey’s face. “I’m sorry.”
It’s silent for a few moments and Mitsuya is convinced that his friend is ready to shun him for the rest of his life. When he hears his soft voice, he looks up, relieved that he isn’t yelling or glaring daggers into his soul. “You don’t have to apologize, Takashi. It’s alright.”
“It is?” 
“Of course it is. We’re brothers. I’ll support you no matter what you decide. And if that means leaving Toman, so be it. It’s tough losing another founding member, but if this is what’s best for you, I have no choice but to be okay with it.” He grins at the picture in front of him. “Besides, there will be a new little one coming soon. Who knows? He could be my successor.”
Emma giggles nervously, not fond of the idea. “Let’s hold off on that for a while longer, shall we?”
It’s almost too good to be true, the way the stars have aligned just right for Mitsuya. His dreams are this much closer to becoming a reality. He’s got everyone in his corner with his entire future ahead of him, brighter and more tangible than it’s ever been before. 
With everything finally out in the open, they’re able to enjoy a relaxing meal, courtesy of Draken, who cooks a delicious dinner for them. Mikey catches up with Emma and Draken on their journey to become parents and Mitsuya shares in small detail about his serious relationship with Hana. 
When they’re done, the three men ride out together towards the shrine, nostalgia hitting Mitsuya hard and directly in his heart. This very well may be the last time he rides with them like this. It’s almost enough to change his mind about leaving. Almost. They’re no longer kids anymore, and he’s learned to be okay with that. 
They have a vague idea of how Mikey’s going to proceed with Kisaki and Hanma, but of course, there’s always something unexpected when it comes to Mikey. After the usual announcements, he calls out for the two to join him front and center. They’re surprised by the unexpected attention, unsure what Mikey could possibly be recognizing them for. 
Mikey’s voice is calm at first. “I want to take this moment to recognize these two, Shuji Hanma and Tetta Kisaki. I trusted them to infiltrate the Leviathans and they did so successfully.” There’s a hesitant round of applause from the confused crowd. 
Mitsuya notices the obvious buzz coming from the Leviathans gathered near the back but resists the urge to turn around to inspect. Takemitchy nudges him, whispering, “What’s going on?”
“You’ll see,” Mitsuya responds.
Mikey continues. “Most of you may not know this, but I’ve grown a bit closer to the Leviathans myself. I wanted to gain their trust, since we were previously rivals. You see, trust is very important to me and very important to Toman. It’s one of the foundations that keeps a brotherhood together, don’t you agree, Kisaki?”
Kisaki’s shoves his glasses up his nose, suspicious of what’s happening. He nods, silently agreeing with him.
Mikey’s voice gets louder. “That’s why when someone breaks my trust, it’s hard for me to look pass that.” He directs his attention to Kisaki, eyes narrowing. “Isn’t that right, Kisaki?”
Hanma interjects, rolling his eyes, impatient with all the banter. “What the hell is this about, Mikey?”
“I’m expelling you both from the gang. Your Toman memberships are revoked immediately.”
There’s a collection of gasps and chatter, mostly everyone surprised by the sudden expulsion of the two captains who were previously praised just weeks before. Draken remains calm next to Mikey, occasionally glancing at Hanma, who flashes a creepy smile on his face, unfazed.
Kisaki yells, “What?! You can’t be serious!”
“Does this sound like a joke to you?” Mikey replies, stone-cold. 
Kisaki throws his hands up in the air, outraged. “What did I do?” 
Mikey walks up to him, nearly nose-to-nose. “You know what you did. Did you really think you could plot to take me out without anyone warning me about it first? Who do you think you are? Have you forgotten who I am?”
“I never did anything like that!” he argues, desperation laced in his tone. “You’re going to trust these nobodies instead of me?! I joined Toman to help you, Mikey. Everything I do is for your sake. Together, we can make Toman the most powerful gang in all of Tokyo. You need me!”
Mikey grabs him by the collar roughly. “I don’t need any part of you. I never have. Now get out of my sight.” He let’s go of him, waiting for them to leave. People from the crowd shout their support of Mikey’s decision, subsequently adding in their malice towards the two ex-Toman members. Hanma has yet to react properly to the situation, seemingly finding this entire altercation amusing, an eerie smirk on his face with his hands stuffed inside his pockets. When they refuse to leave, four burly brothers escort them out. Kisaki is in hysterics, continuing to blab on and on about how much Toman is going to suffer without him. 
Hanma finally speaks when he passes by Mitsuya. “You’re going to regret this,” he threatens loudly to no one in particular, yet Mitsuya has this awful sense that it may be towards him. He bursts into a maniacal cackle as he’s shoved towards the exit, his wicked laughter still ringing in Mitsuya’s ear even when they’re completely gone. 
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najaemism · 3 months
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heart can't lose [71]
PAIRING. lee haechan x fem!oc
WARNINGS. very light angst, hurt/comfort
WORD COUNT. 0.8k words
SUMMARY. fourth year pre-med student and neo university student council president, haechan lee does not have the time for relationships. instead, he focuses his attention on his studies and extracurriculars, so as not to disappoint his parents. that is until hera seo came along—and everyone starts to wonder if the university’s golden boy would finally let his heart lose.
IT HAD BEEN about fifteen minutes since Donghyuck had arrived at Hera’s apartment, and since then, the girl had not spoken one full sentence to her boyfriend. They were both in her room, since she deemed their conversation to be something only the two of them should hear, and Nari was in the living room finishing up some work that she had to take home.
Donghyuck was sitting on her swivel chair near her study desk, while Hera was sitting on her bed, brows furrowed as she looked down at her hands, still not sure how to tell her boyfriend about her plans after graduation.
“Juno, you’re making me nervous here,” Donghyuck broke the silence, letting out a nervous chuckle as he looked at her. “What is it that you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve talked to my family about what my plans are after graduation,” she finally spoke, her voice low as she still looked at her hands, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. 
“Are you still going through with grad school? You told me about that a few months ago.”
“No,” she replied, “not yet, at least.” She finally looked up to meet his eyes. “Remember when I said I’d prefer working first before taking my masters?” she asked, and he nodded, urging for her to continue. “I’m taking the board exams in July,” she said, and she took note of how his eyebrows were raised in surprise. 
“Oh—that’s amazing, Juno. You would have better working opportunities when you have your license,” he commented, smiling at her, “You’ve been reviewing for it, then? While doing your teaching internship?”
She nodded, then swallowed the lump in her throat. “After taking the boards, I’m set to work at this private school while I wait for the results. Dad says it usually takes a few months, and we… we have this family friend who owns a private school, so I’ll be there,” she then explained.
Donghyuck looked genuinely happy for her after-graduation plans that it made her heart ache. “That sounds really good, Juno, I don’t see why you’re—”
“It’s in San Francisco.”
He blinked—once, twice, then let out a soundless “Oh.”
“That’s…” he cleared his throat, “That’s what you want to do?” he asked, eyes still trained on her.
“Yes.”
His lips gently upturned into a smile, the look in his eyes wistful as he said: “Then I fully support you with that, Juno.”
She looked at him in confusion. “You’re… you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad about that?”
“For starters, I’d be miles away from you,” she pointed out, “I chased after you for weeks only to leave in a few months, and... and I had these after-grad plans decided already without even telling you about it, and—”
“Juno.”
She looked at him, her shoulders dropping as she felt her tears start to form. “I’m sorry, Donghyuck.”
“Hey,” he called, before standing up from his seat and making his way towards her, kneeling on the floor in front of her while she still sat on the bed. He cupped her cheek before he continued, “You don’t have to apologize about that, I know that that’s what you want to do. I know how much you love teaching, you’re doing what you want to do, and that’s fine,” he told her. “I may not be part of your plans, but I will always support you, baby, you know that.”
She closed her eyes as her tears fell, while Donghyuck pulled her in and leaned her forehead against his, his eyes closing as well. “I love you, you know that, right?”
“I know,” she muttered, “I love you, too.”
He smiled again as he leaned back to look at her, caressing her cheek as her eyes fluttered open. “We still have three months before you leave. It’s fine—we’ll be fine,” he assured her as he wiped her tears with his thumb.
“You’re not—you’re not breaking up with me?”
He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at her question. “Unless you want to break up with me? No, I’m not, breaking up with you,” he replied, “You waited weeks for me to come around and get my shit together just so we could be together—I’m sure I can wait for you, too.”
“This is different—what if I decide not to come back?”
“Then, I’ll go to you,” he answered quickly, as if he’d thought it through before—as if there was no other place he’d rather be than with her. “Of course, I’d have to finish med school first, then I’d be with you—does that sound alright with you?”
She blinked down at him, surprised with how well he was taking it all. “Yeah—yes, that sounds… that sounds alright with me?” she replied a bit hesitantly.
He smiled at her before leaning up to kiss her.
“I love you, Juno. My feelings for you won’t change just because of a little distance. Take your time, and I’ll take mine, and when the time’s right, I know we’ll be together,” he said, “But that doesn’t mean we’ll break up—we’ll just be apart from each other for a while, okay?”
She nodded, smiling through her tears. “Okay. I love you.”
“Okay,” he breathed out before he finally wrapped his arms around her, hugging her while she buried her face on his chest.
There’s no turning back for me, I’ll be I’ll wait ‘til the mountains cross the seas ‘Til all the secrets are set free Meeting you there on bended knee.
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SEVENTY ONE. | prev / masterlist / next
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NOTE. this was supposed to be a fluffy chapter actually........ yeah...... we're near the end though :p
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