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talaok · 11 months

Text

Just this once

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.

Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie

Everyone hated you in this town.

Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.

People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.

Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.

In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.

Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.

Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.

Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,

And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.

Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.

I love you

If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.

And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.

They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.

But Mr. Miller was different.

He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.

He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".

And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.

And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.

So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.

And it was only a week later when you told him everything.

He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.

Babysitting his kid.

And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.

taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.

And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.

"dad, what are you talking about?"

Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.

"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"

"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.

"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"

There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.

You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.

No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.

"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes

"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"

And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.

And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.

You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.

You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.

You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,

The only exception was when-

The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.

Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.

You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.

"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"

"mh-mh, yes" you nodded

"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.

"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"

He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"

But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.

"What happened?"

They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.

His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.

"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"

You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.

"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"

"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."

"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"

you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.

"t-thank you" you sniffled

"of course, darlin'"

And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.

And god he felt so good

"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"

"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,

"sweetheart this ain't right I-"

"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"

"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.

"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time"

"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"

"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"

You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him

"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"

"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.

You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.

A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.

"f-fuck" he groaned

You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.

You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.

"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.

You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked

"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"

The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.

series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.

You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.

But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.

You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.

He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.

you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.

"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.

His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too

"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.

"Sweetheart..."

"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster

"Joel- please call me Joel"

"Please Joel, touch my tits"

And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?

One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.

You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.

The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.

"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"

He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.

You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.

"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"

His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.

your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.

Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect

"Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"

You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.

"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"

You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.

"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"

"inside" you whispered without missing a beat

"I c-can't honey-"

"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"

And with that simple sentence, he was done for.

"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.

You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.

And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.

you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.

As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.

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eddiesghxst · 1 year

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summer vacation

me writing a full eddie fic? who would've thunk fr

lmaoo here's a little something I randomly typed up, yes it is older neighbor!eddie and no, this trope will never get old (TO ME! TO. ME.)

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: older neighbor!eddie x college fem!reader

summary: You're back from college for the summer and your parent's new neighbor, Mr. Munson is hot

contains: age-difference (reader is 23, Eddie is like late 30's or sum idk...older), slight forbidden-relationship trope, car sex, making out, tiny mention of oral, fingering, slight praise kink, p in v (unprotected - don't be stupid), creampie, and eddie being a slutty flirt <3

word count: 4.6k

-masterlist-

okay, I think that's everything so...enjoy!

Coming home for summer was, for the most part, decent. You don’t have to worry about buying food and toiletries; you can spend your days doing nothing without feeling like shit about it, and apart from seeing a few familiar faces you aren’t quite fond of, you also get to see childhood friends you’d missed over the semester.

Your parents moved into a bigger house after your mom finally persuaded your dad to buy her the home of her dreams. White picket fence, green grass to match with a wrap-around porch, and a lovely pool in the backyard. It was beautiful, no doubt. And the neighborhood was nice, apart from the obnoxious kids that play rounds of ding dong ditch every now and then, along with your neighbor that blares his heavy metal music all day. You’re forced to listen to mixes of Dio, Megadeath, and Ozzy on a day-to-day basis, but you can’t find it in yourself to be mad, considering the man blaring said music is a sight for sore eyes. You’ve only seen him in passing, in the morning when he’s moving the trash for pick-up day or when he’s just getting home from work.

His name is Mr. Munson; your mother told you one day. “He’s quite friendly, actually. He hasn’t said much since we moved in, but he’s nice for the most part."

And you can admit when someone is attractive, and Mr. Munson is attractive. But he’s your parent's neighbor, so there’s not much you can do in that realm except admire from afar whenever you get the chance.

You end up booking yourself a babysitting gig for a family friend halfway into the summer: two kids, Lily and David, a set of six-year-old twins. For the most part, they’re easy to manage, David is quieter and more reserved than Lily’s extroverted nature, but they balance each other out enough for you to tolerate them.

It’s Friday night, and you have them until the morning because their parents are having a date night. Your parents have been on a cruise the past week, so apart from Lily and David, you’ve got the house to yourself. You let the twins choose what they wanted for dinner, and they picked pizza hut, something about them wanting to try cheese stuffed crust. You allow them to have one can of soda each as long as they promised not to tell their parents, and they swore on Lily’s stuffed animal, Oreo, that they wouldn’t share your secret.

It’s nearly ten o’clock when you settle into the couch to watch a movie. You’re under the impression that the twins are asleep until you hear the soft patter of little feet behind you. You turn around to see a sleepy Lily rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Hey, bud, what’s up?” You question, watching as she rounds the corner to stand before you. “I can’t sleep. The music is too loud.” Lilly complains. You frown, “There’s no music playing, buddy.”

Lily shakes her head and points towards the living room window, and you immediately know what he’s talking about. You can see the garage light from Mr. Munson’s house, indicating that he’s most likely working on something in there. You nod and get up, “Okay. I’ll take care of it; just wait here.”

Lily watches as you put on some shoes before slipping out the front door. You can see her watching through the window as you walk across the lawn toward Mr. Munson’s garage, and you laugh to yourself.

You’re slightly nervous to ask him to turn the music down, but you’re sure Lily isn’t the only annoyed person in the neighborhood, so you take it that you’re doing everyone a favor.

He’s leaned over the open hood of his car, elbow-deep in grease, as he tugs at a few parts. You don’t want to startle him, so you clear your throat, but it’s drowned out by King Diamond singing ‘Curse of the Pharaohs.’ You’re not entirely familiar with the band Mercyful Fate, but you’ve heard Mr. Munson play them quite a few times, enough to be able to name a few of their songs.

His garage is nice, mostly clean apart from cluttered shelves and cabinets. Three electric guitars hang on the wall, equally spaced from each other to form a pristine presentation. Around the instruments, the wall is filled with posters of different metal bands, a few of them you recognize but for the most part, you just think they add a nice touch.

You step further into the garage and lightly tap his bare shoulder. The man glances over at you, and you catch a glimpse of a cigarette hanging from his lip before he returns to his task. “Can I help you?” He mutters over the music.

Your mother’s words toss around in your head; He’s quite friendly, actually... he’s nice for the most part. Some friendly introduction that was.

You clear your throat before you speak, “Yeah, I…I live next door, um, I’m babysitting tonight, and so I was just wondering if you could turn down the music.”

He doesn’t respond, and for a moment, you think he didn’t hear you, but then he’s taking in a breath and standing up straight as he steps away from the car, grabbing the towel in his back pocket to wipe his greased hands as he turns around and eyes you for a moment.

You take in the full sight of him, dressed in ripped jeans and a shitty loose white tank top. His hair is tied back into a bun, messy bangs dusting the tops of his eyelashes as he blinks at you. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he speaks, “How can I help you?”

So, he didn’t hear you. You take in a breath as you rock on the heels of your feet; you speak louder this time, practically yelling over the music, “I’m babysitting right now, and uh, your music is a little loud.” He studies you, slightly narrowing his eyes before he speaks again.

“Don’t like my music, princess?”

Your lips part in surprise before quickly shaking your head, “No! No, I don’t mind, really. I’m not exactly the one with the request.” You gesture towards your house, and he glances over at where you had pointed to catch a glimpse of the little kid watching from the window. Mr. Munson lets out a small laugh, and you smile as he turns back to you, placing a hand against his chest and bowing his head, “My apologies.”

You watch as he turns around and walks over to the shelf where his stereo sits, reaching up for the volume and turning it down to an acceptable level. You take the time to admire the stretch of his arms and the few tattoos on display beneath the garage light.

He’s taking another drag of his cigarette when he turns around and walks over to you. “Better?” It’s a lighthearted tone he uses, straying away from what many would think to be condescending. You nod and breathe, muttering a small thank you before turning on your heel to walk back home. But for some reason, something compels you to turn around. You have to force yourself to ignore that he has still been watching you from where he stands, leaning against the side of his car.

“I really like your car, by the way.” You sound breathless, like you’d been holding the compliment in, and it suddenly burst from your lips. Mr. Munson glances down at the car and smiles. It’s a vintage 1968 Ford Mustang fastback, one you’ve seen many times on those car-themed calendars they sell at the gas station register. It’s black with nicely tinted windows and a top coat so shiny that you believe it’s freshly painted. It fits him perfectly; they complement each other in a seamless way that you admire.

“Why thank you, princess.” He’s walking up to you, and you hold your breath. He stands next to you and turns to join you as you admire the car from afar. He takes one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it beneath his shoe. “You like vintage cars?” White clouds escape his lips as he talks, and you like how the smoke burns your lungs.

You glance towards him and nod with a smile, “Yeah. I’m a big fan of Mustangs. I wanted one in high school, but my dad said no— too fast for a 16-year-old, I guess.” You softly laugh, and he smiles, gazing over at you. “Remind me one of these days, and I’ll let you take her for a spin.”

Your head snaps towards him, and you glance up at him with a look of surprise. “I—... Seriously? I don’t know if I trust myself not to crash it.” You nervously laugh. He laughs with you and pats your shoulder, softly squeezing as he responds, “I’ve got faith in you,” You shiver when he leans forward a bit, “Don’t tell your dad; it’ll be our secret.” Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest when he sneaks in a quick wink, squeezing your shoulder once before walking back towards the garage.

“Um… Okay, Goodnight, Mr. Munson.” You internally cringe from your high-pitched voice, and you swear you can hear a smile when he responds, facing you as he gets back to work beneath the hood, “Night, sweetheart.”

You’re halfway down his driveway when he adds, “Oh, and uh… Just call me Eddie…” You turn around to see him sifting through his toolbox, glancing your way, and flashing a small smile. “No need for formalities. I’m not eighty years old.” He waves a dismissive hand, and you nod. “Okay… Eddie.” You tell him your name, and he smiles before returning to his task.

You practically sprint back to your house, slamming the door behind you with a deep exhale as you replay the entire conversation.

You spend the rest of your night thinking about your neighbor, Eddie Munson.

————

Over the next few weeks, you conclude that Eddie Munson was not flirting with you.

There’s no possible way he could’ve been flirting with you. For starters, he’s a grown man; he most likely wants nothing to do with a 23-year-old woman struggling to make her way through college. Secondly, you probably had just mistaken him being nice for whatever flirtatious fantasy you’d made up. And lastly, what puts the final nail in the coffin, is when you catch a glimpse of him walking into his home at two in the morning with a woman, one you’d never seen, but someone of his fancy considering the way she’d dragged him inside to do…god knows what.

So, no. Eddie Munson was not flirting with you, and he does not want you. As much as it crushed your ridiculous Lana Del Rey-inspired fantasies, you accepted that the older man had only seen you as a neighbor— a possible friend at most.

The two of you speak here and there whenever you cross paths when he’s leaving for work, taking the trash out, or when he’s working on his car, and you’re watering your mother’s flower bed—a friendly wave with a soft smile. You force yourself to ignore the little things he says that can be mistaken for advances because, in reality, he’s just being nice, and you have a crush.

It’s a hot Saturday afternoon when you see him again, three weeks after your first late-night conversation. You’re standing on the lawn, one hand holding a water hose to spray the flowers and the other hand busy holding a popsicle. Eddie is busy replacing a part in his car, something about a failed transmission he mentioned to you some days ago.

You’re busy listening to your summer playlist as you devour the sweet treat and water the plants, so focused that you don’t even hear Eddie call your name. Through the blaring volume of your headphones, you can catch the sound of a car horn, pulling you from your task-induced trance. You look over to Eddie’s driveway to see he’s pulled the car out of the garage and is now standing outside, leaning against the open car door.

You remove a single earbud and turn off the water hose. You can’t see Eddie's eyes behind the dark-tinted sunglasses he’s wearing, but you can tell he’s looking at you. “You still up for that drive I promised you?”

You think how quickly your heart begins to race inside your chest is stupid. “Uh— now?”

He shrugs, and you take a silent sharp breath, “I mean, unless if you’re doing something better—” “No!” You feel embarrassed at your evident enthusiasm, “No, I mean… yeah, okay, just…let me get my shoes.”

You don’t stay long enough to see Eddie smile, but you hear him chuckle to himself as you drop the hose and jog into your house. You curse as you rummage through your closet for the shoes you had in mind, hastily slipping them on once you find them and throwing away the rest of your popsicle. On your way out, your mother asks where you're headed, and you spin a quick lie about going to the gas station for a drink.

Eddie is patiently waiting outside his car when you walk up to him, a nervous smile plastered across your face. “Um… So, where are we going?”

He’s casually chewing a piece of gum as he lazily smiles; you can see the reflection of yourself in his glasses, and your heart races in anticipation. “You ever been to the drop-off?”

You shake your head no, and you’re becoming a little concerned with the rate your heart is beating as you watch the smirk on Eddie’s lips spread into a full smile. “Well, you’re in for a treat, princess.”

————

The ‘drop-off’ is a cliff.

A beautiful one, full of wildlife and trees, with a tiny stream at the bottom. You’d question Eddie's motives for bringing you here if you didn't know better. For all you know, Eddie could be a killer that’s coaxed you into his car, driven you out to this cliff, and intends to toss you over the edge to face your inevitable doom.

However, you don’t think that’s his intention, especially not with how he’s licking into your mouth with a lustful hunger, moaning against your lips when you climb over the console to straddle him and grind against the obvious tent in his jeans.

You’re not 100% sure how you ended up here, making out with your much-much older neighbor, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop and think about it because he’s kissing you in a way that makes you want to do unspeakable things.

“For a second there, I thought you wanted to kill me,” Stupid, such a stupid thing to say in the middle of making out, but you say it anyway. To your delight, Eddie breathlessly laughs as he looks up at you, licking his lips whilst his hands slip beneath your skirt to squeeze at your hips.

There’s music softly playing in the back, Mercyful Fate again; Eddie had told you he stumbled across a few of their old CDs while cleaning out his storage and has since been going through one of those phases where he can’t seem to listen to anything else.

You want to kiss Eddie again, but suddenly he’s clearing his throat and giving your thighs a soft pat in indication to move back to your seat. “I should get you home now; it’s late.”

The frown on your face isn’t hard to miss, but Eddie doesn’t see it either way, too preoccupied with avoiding your gaze. “What?” “It’s late.”

You gaze down at him silently for a few seconds before returning to the passenger seat. You don't understand. You don’t understand Eddie Munson. All this time you spent convincing yourself that he wasn’t into you has gone to waste now that he’s just stuck his tongue down your throat, but now he can’t even look you in the eye.

He takes a slow breath, twisting one of the many rings wrapped around his fingers. “Look…I know how this seems, and you probably think I’m an asshole, but… we can’t.” Eddie can feel you glaring at the side of his head, and he braves through it to glance at you. You look confused and upset, much like he’s feeling right now, unbeknownst to you. “Why not?” “Because I—” He looks at you again and pauses before shaking his head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

You let it sit for a few moments before you speak up and say his name, waiting until he looks at you to speak, “I wanted to come here… and I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here and… I want you to fuck me.”

You’re not exactly sure where the sudden boldness came from, but you feel so fucking good having it off your chest. You want Eddie to fuck you. You’ve been wanting Eddie to fuck you; hell, it’s practically all you’ve been thinking about since you came home for summer and saw him. So many fantasies of Eddie fucking you in various places; your house, his house, on the hood of his car, in your backyard near the pool. You want it all, and you’re bored of using just your hands and imagination.

“I don’t think you understand what you’re really asking for here, sweetheart.” There’s a warning glint in his eyes, an offer to back out and forget this ever happened, but you don’t want that— you want him.

“But I’m not asking. I want you to fuck me, Eddie. And I know you want it too; otherwise, we wouldn’t still be here.”

Eddie looks at you with a gaze good enough to have you clenching your thighs beneath your skirt. He looks away with a breathless laugh, “You don’t give up, do you?”

You try to hide the smile tugging at your lips but fail as you shake your head. “Shit… Okay… Okay, fine, uh— get in the back.”

You try to be as coy as possible and not show your excitement as you climb into the backseat of Eddie’s car. You watch him sift through his glove box, cursing to himself when he can’t find what he’s looking for. “I’m on the pill,” You suddenly say, growing shy when Eddie looks back at you. “...Just thought I’d let you know.”

Eddie nods and shuts the glovebox, “I guess that solves that problem, then.”

Eddie’s then climbing to the backseat to join you, groaning in protest at the cramped space and his tight back. His lips meet yours in a hasty kiss when you advance, hungry to feel him in any way you can. He curses under his breath as he finally settles in, pulling you closer to sit on his lap. “You sure your parents aren’t gonna be wondering where you went?” He mutters against your lips, moaning when you reach down to palm him over his jeans. You nod, breathless, as you respond with a mischievous smile, “Told them I was going to get a drink.”

You’re back to kissing, rutting against one another like you’re getting paid to do it, and Eddie makes a comment about feeling like he’s back in high school fucking in some empty parking lot, and you laugh. Your laugh falls into a moan when Eddie sneaks a hand beneath your skirt to pet over your clothed center, humming at the obvious evidence of your arousal. You try your best to keep kissing Eddie, but you lose focus when he pushes your panties aside and drags a finger through your wet heat. Your hips twitch against his hold, and you mewl, dropping your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Need it, Eddie, please.” You beg, and Eddie hums, rubbing your clit and causing your thighs to twitch, “What, princess? What do you need, hm?” “Need you to fuck me.”

He chuckles, and you whine in annoyance at his teasing when he rubs your clit, “Gotta get you ready for me first, pretty girl. That okay?” He can feel you hastily nodding against his neck, hips squirming for more when he finally gives it to you, slowly sinking a single digit into you. Eddie’s sporting a short scuff these days, too lazy to shave, and the sensation of the coarse hair scratching against you sends shivers down your spine as you nuzzle against his neck, begging for more, more, more.

His other hand smooths up the expanse of your thigh and around your hips to squeeze the fat of your ass, groaning lowly when you whimper and push against his hand. “M-more, Eddie.“

Eddie could come just from hearing your broken voice beg for his fingers, “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, princess.” He sinks in another finger, slowly fucking them in and out of your wet cunt until you’re a whiney mess atop of him, begging for more.

You reach a hand out to hold onto the seat behind him, nails digging into the vintage leather as you rock against his fingers. The wet sound of Eddie’s fingers thrusting into you fills out the space, falling into a filthy harmony with his radio. Eddie will, without a doubt, be thinking about this moment for the coming weeks. He’s sure of it.

Eddie makes you come twice before laying you across his leather seats, once with just his fingers and again with his fingers, pulling down your tiny tank top to suck and lick at your tits, leaving little red and purple blotches across your soft skin.

The space is tight in the back of his car, but neither of you cares enough to mention it. You’re starry-eyed and blissed out as you watch Eddie sit up to unbuckle his jeans and push them to rest below his ass. Your mouth waters at the sight of him; he’s long and thick, not the thickest you’ve had but definitely the longest. As you watch Eddie languidly stroke himself, you want to wrap your lips around him and taste the small amounts of precum he smears across his tip. Eddie glances at you and smirks when he sees your hungry gaze; he knows what you want and wants to give it to you.

He leans over you and smears his sticky thumb across your bottom lip, begging for entrance which you gladly grant him. You wrap your lips around his thumb and suck as if it was his cock, swirling your tongue around the pad of his finger and humming at the burst of flavor against your tongue, the taste of Eddie Munson. You love it, and you want more, but Eddie has different plans.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and brings it down to slicken the slide of his cock as he strokes himself a few more times. He runs the tip of his cock from your entrance to your clit, slapping it against you a few times to pull pathetic moans from deep within your chest. He smiles, kissing you as he does it again, “Fuck, you’re so wet, Jesus Christ.” He moans against your lips, and you softly laugh, squirming to feel more of him. The sounds you’re making are obscene, both your moans and the wet sloshing between your legs each time Eddie taps himself against you.

“Eddie, please. Please fuck me, I want it so bad—” He cuts you off with another kiss before he pulls away to adjust your position. He lifts one of your legs to drape over his shoulder as he pins the other leg to the seat. “There we go, keep them open, baby. Just like that,” He hums in approval, and your chest flutters at the notion. The initial push of Eddie’s cock within your walls is what you’d imagine heaven to feel like in the form of a sensation.

He was big, that much you could tell from looking, but actually feeling it is almost otherworldly. You can feel every vein rubbing against your walls with each inch he sinks further into you. By the time he bottoms out, balls pressed against the thick of your ass and pelvis deliciously kissing your clit, you’re at a loss for words.

You can hear Eddie praising you for how well you’re taking him, but through your lust-clouded mind, you don’t comprehend much, too absorbed in the feeling of Eddie slamming into you repeatedly.

Eddie’s hand is pressed into the seat right next to your head, holding him up as he fucks you for all your worth, and you find yourself wrapping a hand around his wrist, nails digging into the tattooed skin. He hisses in pleasure, moaning when you clench around him. “You feel so fucking good, princess. Taking me so well, fuck.”

You let your head fall to the side, lips pressing against Eddie's wrist in a gentle kiss, and it seems to flip something in Eddie’s brain because he gives you a particularly rough thrust, humming when you let out a high-pitched moan. “Oh my god—- shit, you’re so fucking wet. This is all for me, hm?”

You’re pathetically nodding and moaning in response, grinding your hips to meet his hasty thrusts.

With your two previous orgasms, you find yourself teetering on the edge of overstimulation, thighs twitching to close around Eddie’s frame, but he’s quick to deny you the right. “Keep them open, princess. Need to see the way this pretty pussy swallows my dick.”

Eddie’s now sitting back on his knees, head tilted down to avoid hitting the roof of the car, allowing him to gaze down at the sight of your wet cunt taking every inch of him. He’s got tunnel vision as he coasts his hands from your hips to your cunt, slowing down his thrusts to spread your sticky lips apart slowly. You pulse beneath his gaze, and you feel him twitch within you. “Look at this pretty flower,” he hums, leaning down to let a dribble of spit drip onto your awaiting sex. You moan his name, and he smiles, dragging a thumb through the spit to spread it against your clit.

He begins thrusting again, caught between the sight of his cock drilling in and out of your pussy, the bounce of your tits with each thrust, and the way your face twists with pleasure whenever he hits that one spot.

It’s unexpected when you come; you’re practically speechless as Eddie fucks every thought out of your head. He groans at the feeling of you clenched around him, the view of you squirming beneath him and clawing at his seat. If it were anyone else, he would’ve bitched about that, but you look so fucking good.

“Holy fuck, I’m gonna come,” Eddie pants, and you moan in eagerness when he says it, eyes fluttering open to watch as he starts to succumb to the feeling. ”Fuck, where do you want it, princess?” “Inside, please. Want it inside, Ed’s.”

Ed’s, that’s what does it for him. He’s immediately tipping over the edge, pressing his entire length into you and filling you to the fucking brim. You can feel some of it leak out of you, dripping down your ass and onto the seats below you. You watch in awe as his jaw drops, eyes fluttering shut, and head tipping back in ecstasy. You want to take a picture and have this view for the rest of your life.

When Eddie pulls out, you’re sensitive and cry out in protest, but he kisses your jaw gently and tells you how good you did. He can’t help it when he leans back and looks at the sight below him, ringed fingers gently massaging your sore inner thighs, “You look so fucking pretty filled with me, sweetheart… I’m going to be addicted to you.”

You laugh, and he smiles before proceeding to help you get appropriately dressed again. Once you’re both dressed and cleaned to the best of your ability, with the help of a few leftover fast food napkins in Eddie’s glove box, you make your way to the front seats again.

Eddie glances over at you and smiles when you shy away. He reaches for his box of Marlboro's on the dashboard, and you watch as he lights up. He takes a slow breath, letting the smoke properly settle into his lungs before turning to you with a smirk.

“Let’s go get you that drink.”

1K notes · View notes

suniloli · 4 months

Text

JUST FOR KICKS

29 May 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: approximately 3 swear words, sexual innuendo, fluff

Setting: Prison (between s3-4)

Summary: Today’s weather was perfect for an impromptu prison soccer match. Prison goers — children, adults and spectators alike — become involved, including an enthusiastic you and uncharacteristically playful Daryl.

Author Note: Finally back from my 3000 year hiatus!!!! Here’s a little piece I wanted to get out before I lost it. This is more of an innocent one that I wanted to write (although it’s SUPER predictable ….) I hope the POV jumps are easily followable. Am working on another Daryl fic atm. Enjoy! - Sól

The gorgeous spring sun in the sky and the soft warm breeze were the perfect conditions to be outside and enjoying life. Well, what ‘life’ you could experience within the prison’s metal fences in the middle of an apocalypse anyways.

This sort of weather was your favourite. It reminded you of your sporting days before walkers came to be, especially the excitement you felt before your games where you’d soak up the sun and let it fuel your competitiveness. Like a videogame character harnessing the sun’s power to unleash their most powerful combat moves.

It boosted your spirit, and reminded you that even in this world, beauty could still be found. You just had to be open to it.

And open to it you were. When a couple of the teenagers came excitedly kicking around a soccer ball they’d found, you couldn’t help yourself. Many others felt the same way, which is probably how you all ended up in a massive soccer game across the courtyard, children mixed with adults, the majority of prison goers spectating on the sidelines.

You managed to get enough to have a 6 v 6, exactly three teens and three adults on each team. Your side included some of your closest friends, Glenn and Sasha. On the other side were Carl and Michonne, and some other Woodbury residents you’d seen around and shared a laugh or two with. Today felt the closest to the life you had before, which was one of sport-filled weekends. So, naturally, it brought out your zealous streak. You were going to win.

“Guys. We need to fucking smash em’.” you asserted.

“Y/N! There's kids here…” Glenn jokingly admonished.

“We’re 15 man…” one of the teenagers pointed out.

“Anyways…they’re gonna lose whether they like it or not. I’ll play up front. Glenn…you’re quick, so you’ll be with me…uh…” you drifted off, attempting to come up with a game plan. You were so focused that you hadn’t realised the run crew had arrived back and were driving towards the gates. Glenn and Sasha were watching you with amusement. The kids were waiting for your word. You were the professional after all.

“She’s super into this,” Sasha smirked.

“Hell yeah!” Glenn smiled. “She’s really good at soccer. We’ve had many conversations about it. Mad skills.”

Sasha patted his shoulder. “Guess we’re gonna have to step up our game then.”

After deliberating with the kids for a bit, you and your team were ready.

It was time.

The whistle — an actual whistle someone had found — was blown by Carol, and the game was on.

Oh, was the high shrill music to your ears.

Kick-off commenced, the other team passing it amongst themselves for the first couple of minutes. Of course, since there were no real referees, and since Michonne happened to be right there, you gave her a little shove as you passed, giving her a teasing wink.

“You bitch!” she laughed as she began running hard for the ball.

You dashed forward, intercepting a pass meant for her, and crossed it over to Glenn on the left wing.

Ever the quick pizza delivery boy, he sprinted up the sideline, onlookers getting excited. Making a few minor mistakes, he still managed to manoeuvre the ball around Carl, who you noted was surprisingly fast on his feet, and kicked it back to you sprinting up the centre field. You caught it with your left foot and continued on. Two defenders were gaining on you.

You juked the defender on the left, rolling the ball under your right foot. Chipping the ball over the remaining defender’s head, you booked it straight to the goal.

The goalkeeper’s face was full of determination. His hands were out in front of him, feet moving from side to side. In the second that you spent looking at him you could tell he was a bit unsure, but his confidence was unwavering. You admired it.

However, you used his inexperience to your advantage.

You faked to the right, watching his eyes follow your movement, then swiftly cut to the left. His stance faltered, giving you just the right amount of time to hit the ball with your left foot. You could vaguely hear kids yelling in the background, Glenn’s shrill laughter, and Sasha’s cheers filling the air.

As you kicked the ball, its trajectory started outside the line of the makeshift goalpost, and about halfway it began to curve inwards. You held your breath as you saw the ball curving towards the very top left corner, waiting with bated breath as the goalie took a gigantic leap towards it.

The ball sailed and sailed and sailed.

Until you witnessed it pass just inside the post, and the satisfying *thud* of the ball hitting the ground behind it caused your teammates to erupt in cheers.

Pumping your fists in excitement, you saw Glenn sprinting up to you with his arms outstretched.

“HOLY SHIT!”

“Oof!” you breathed, getting thrown to the ground in a giant bear hug. Before you knew it, all of the kids, including those of the opposition — a definite product of over-excitement — began stacking on top of the both of you, until all anyone could see was a massive pile of bodies in the middle of the courtyard.

Laughter and screams and fun filled the air. You didn’t even care about the goal anymore. The innocence and presence of the moment were enough to bring happy tears to your eyes.

Rick wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he closed the gate behind the car. Looking towards the courtyard, he mumbled to himself in disbelief. “Are they playin’ soccer?”

As Daryl hopped out of the passenger side, he responded a bit incredulously. “Looks like it.”

Opening the boot to retrieve the supplies they brought back, Maggie started giggling, seeing her husband with the ball. “Look! Go Glenn!”

Glenn had the ball and was sprinting up the sideline. At that moment, the three of them observed his and your play.

“Damn girl…” Daryl breathed upon seeing your goal. Rick let out a low chuckle. Seeing his son playing was like being transported back to a time he thought he’d never get to experience again as a father.

When Glenn tackled you to the ground, Maggie let off a grunt of amused disapproval and began jogging towards the fun.

"She’s gonna’ suffocate!" Maggie shouted playfully, her voice full of warmth as she made her way onto the field. Slowly, everyone removed themselves from the stack, allowing you to get up and have a laugh. From where Daryl was, it looked as if you and Glenn were trying to coerce Maggie to join in rather animatedly. Cute.

As the game continued, Rick grabbed Daryl’s shoulder breaking him out of his little trance. “You comin’ or what?” he grinned.

Daryl looked to Rick, and after a couple of seconds gave him an upwards nod and made his way down to the sideline with him.

“Ya’ refereein’ or somethin’?” Daryl asked Carol with an amused smirk.

“Something like that…your girlfriend is kicking some major ass.”

“She ain’t…whatever,” Daryl grunted. Looking away and at the field, he saw Michonne pass it off to another player, resulting in a tying of the score and a multitude of cheers. Eyes drifting away from the scoring team and Carl’s silly victory dance, Daryl caught sight of you again.

What you were wearing closely resembled tiny soccer shorts which showed off your long, toned legs. You almost always wore cargo pants, so that was certainly a sight for sore eyes. He stared as the muscles in your quads and glutes expanded and retracted as you ran with an elegance he’d never seen before.

“You might wanna close your mouth before you start drooling big guy.”

A faint blush crept up his neck. Turning to shoot Carol a glare, he growled a low shuddup before being interrupted by the ball landing at his feet. A bit perplexed, he looked down at it, and up again to see a bunch of teens running at him and obnoxiously calling for it.

Daryl couldn’t help but smirk after being encouraged by Carol to pass the ball back. The enthusiasm of youth was so infectious, that even his reserved self couldn’t hide from it.

“Come on, Daryl!” you suddenly exclaimed, causing him to glance towards you. Hearing your voice made a rush of warmth spread through his chest.

As Daryl looked over towards you, you were caught off guard by the handsome smirk he donned, his eyes glistening with something that made your heart skip a beat. Your cheeks flushed slightly, but not from the sun or exertion.

“Gonna kick it or what?” You called out, a bit of a challenge in your tone. Daryl’s smirk widened, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. Without missing a beat, he booted the ball toward the centre of the field. Before either of you could say anything else, Carl beat you to it.

“Come play Daryl! We need another person!”

Carol nudged him in the side. “You should go…”

Daryl looked between Carol, Carl, and finally towards you. You bit your bottom lip and gave a single shrug of your shoulders. The vivaciousness you exuded was alluring. Looking towards the plumpness of your lips and back up, Daryl’s eyes locked with yours and stayed there. It was like you were inviting him to join. Carol hid a knowing smile as he continued to stare.

Daryl couldn’t leave you hanging, nor could he not indulge you (or so he told himself). Squinting his eyes slightly, he took a deep breath to steel his resolve. Your eyes were like magnets drawing him in. You were beautiful.

“Alrigh’...”

As Daryl started jogging onto the makeshift field, a couple of people started cheering and chanting his name. You giggled as he approached you. “Ma’am.”

“Sir.” you mimicked, hands on hips. You subtly lowered your eyes and gazed at him through your lashes. “Ready to get pounded?”

“W-what?” Daryl stuttered, suddenly pretending he was interested in the play being made across the courtyard.

“Are you ready to lose?” You laughed, pinching his side while watching his ears go red. He swatted your hand away.

“Ain't I playin’ wit’ ya?”

“Nuh-uh. Didn’t you hear Carl say they were short one?” You waited for a beat, before suddenly shoving Daryl backwards and running to chase the ball. “So better get into position, Dixie!”

Stumbling back a step or two from your playful shove, it was like a switch was flipped. Hearing his name being called and encouragement being thrown his way from the sidelines, Daryl was nearly completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t used to so much positive attention in this manner…especially your…blatant flirting? He almost didn’t know how to deal with it.

Almost.

Seeing you turn back to give him a wink made a certain desire erupt in his midsection. It ignited a type of fervour in him.

It’s on girl.

Daryl’s heart raced every time the two of you made eye contact. Not having really played a proper game of soccer before, it was difficult for him to try and manufacture some sort of on-field play with you. Although he’d touched the ball and passed it off to others a few times already, he was slightly trepidatious. The timing just wasn’t right for you to engage with him.

So, he just decided to ‘go with the flow’.

Daryl had to admit, this was some of the most enjoyment he’s had in a long time. Especially with other people. But mostly, he enjoyed watching you enjoy yourself.

You were everywhere, laughing, shouting instructions, encouraging your teammates. You were truly in your element. It was like watching a different person, a side of you he hadn’t seen before. And damn if it wasn’t attractive.

Before Daryl knew it, one of the kids passed the soccer ball back to him, and he glanced up to see you were headed straight for him. He started towards you, eyes narrowing in determination.

You saw your chance. Daryl finally had the ball and was within proper distance. You started sprinting towards him, admittedly a bit distracted by the glistening sweat on his arms accentuating every muscle fibre there. Focus Y/N.

As you two closed the gap between each other, Daryl stuck his other leg out and pushed you for good measure, tripping you.

Your momentum carried you forward, causing you to nearly fall head-first into the ground. At the last second you caught yourself, letting out a huff. A series of concerned ‘Oooos’ could be heard from onlookers. “What the hell Daryl!” you yelled at his retreating form.

Admittedly, the action pissed you off a bit. Two can play at that game, chiselled arms be damned.

You quickly pushed yourself from the ground and sprinted at full speed to catch up. You were there in no time. Getting ready to shove Daryl back from behind, you squared up your shoulder and collided with him. It was enough to mess up his footing, and the ball skidded off to the side.

There was an element of shock across Daryl’s face as he turned around to find you behind him, causing your annoyance to completely fizzle out and turn into something more akin to lust-fueled amusement. The two of you locked eyes, and Daryl’s expression turned roguish.

The next few seconds felt as if they were in slow motion. The ball sat stationary fifteen metres away, watching, waiting.

The air cracked with unspoken tension. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest in anticipation of what was to come. Everyone in the vicinity had vanished from your awareness. Now, it was just you, Daryl, and the ball — although really, you were both more focused on the presence of each other than the game now.

Without wasting another second, you lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Daryl’s sleeveless shirt. You heard him release a grunt of objection, but it was enough for you to pull him backwards and allow you to lead the chase.

You heard Daryl yell smart ass as his footfalls sounded behind. You were so incredibly giddy that you felt like a little girl being chased by her little boy crush in the playground.

You were about three metres from the ball before you felt his calloused hand grip your shoulder, half shoving you in another direction. Catching a glimpse of the rarely-ever captured excitement in Daryl’s face, you began giggling as you tried to retain your balance.

“Hey!” you puffed out.

“Better watch ya’self” Daryl panted, trying to battle for possession of the ball which now had both of you fighting for it.

“Better watch your —” you grunted, holding him back with your forearm “— self!”

Just as you were getting the upper hand, Daryl used his arms to grab you and hastily shove you to the side. His touch set you ablaze.

As he began running again, you managed to hook your ankle around his own, effectively tripping him over.

As Daryl stumbled, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, laughing harder when Daryl’s hand caught you behind your knee and he pulled you down with him. You felt an intense surge of electricity travel up your leg and remain at your lower navel.

Realising you were now trying to escape his grasp and army crawl towards the direction of the ball, Daryl swung himself from his side onto his stomach, scrambling to get a better hold of your slowly retreating legs.

Surprisingly, you managed to drag yourself another metre or so before Daryl got a proper grip on your thighs, his fingers heavily dimpling into the skin there. Laughter never dissipating, Daryl smiled to himself, having trapped you on the grass.

Twisting to lie on your back, you continued to squirm in Daryl’s solid grasp. You were able to sense every bend and every shape of every finger taking hold of your thighs. Daryl pushed himself up on his knees, now leaning over your squirming form.

“Ya shouldn’ta never told me ya’ were ticklish…” Daryl said quietly before he released your legs and started attacking your sides with his hands.

“NO!” you squealed, thrashing your body in an attempt to get away from Daryl’s large hands.

Daryl couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the way your eyes sparked with joy. Your tousled hair strewn all over the grass with the sun beating down on your tanned skin made you look otherworldly. Like an angel even his own imagination couldn’t conceptualise the beauty of, but was still here in front of him, seemingly reciprocating his affections.

You were laughing so much that you were gasping for air. Not wanting you to suffocate, Daryl slowly stopped his hands from moving and held them on your waist for a few seconds to allow you to get your bearings.

Staring into your eyes, he revelled at the softness beneath his fingertips. He focused on the small movements of your abdominal muscles beneath them, and watched your lips part as you pulled in heavy breath after heavy breath. His eyes were drawn to your lips once again as you wetted them with your tongue.

Moving your hands from above your head to softly grasp Daryl’s at your waist, you huffed a small laugh and gazed at him with wide eyes. You admired his boyish handsomeness.

“You. Are a prick.”

Daryl let escape a small snort of his own and shyly chewed his lip. “Only fer ya’ pretty girl…”

A small breeze picked up, slightly swaying the section of hair hanging from Daryl’s forehead. The way he was softly watching you made you want to pull him down to you and close the distance —

“Either play or get a room!”

“Yeah! Jesus Christ…”

The heat of the moment was ruined by a herd of teens resuming the play which you’d seemingly both forgotten all about.

Both realising the…compromising…position you both were in, the two of you abruptly pulled away from each other, both going equally red from embarrassment. The sounds of people hollering and some mildly inappropriate noises filled your ears, adding to the awkwardness.

“Oh my god…” you managed, sitting up and covering your face with your hands.

Daryl stood and offered you his hand which you sheepishly took. He waited until you looked at him before he gave you his half-smile, reserved only for you. You’d never admit it, but it always managed to make you melt.

“Ya’ actually ain’t that bad at soccer.”

You shook your head in jest. “Shut up.”

*I DO NOT give permission for my work to be used/adapted/copied in any way.*

132 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 10 months

Text

Love and Dryer Sheets V

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

The good news if you're still liking this story: we're gonna squeeze one more part out of this series. Hope you're still enjoying. Thank you for reading.

~7.5k words (she's a bit longer. Got a lot going on and I think she gets kinda messy like all the relationships here.)

Warnings: angst, toxic relationships, maybe a little fluff.

“Here,” she offered appearing at his side as he started to fish his stuff back out of the washer. He turned to her and she thought she might melt. Harry was so beautiful. His eyes, his mouth, his skin. He was tall and she knew he was warm and strong. She knew what his lips tasted like. It was so unfair and yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

She didn’t tell Niall about the kiss. She thought it wouldn’t do any good at all. Especially because Niall would threaten to kill Harry and she wasn’t fully sure he even knew how to make a fist. Plus, with his impending year-long move, it seemed like too much to put on his plate at the time.

But when he eventually found out, she imagined he would be pretty mad at her. So, it took her a really long time to decide not to tell him. Especially while they were spending practically every waking moment together. Fortunately, that allowed her to refrain from think about Harry for seven days straight.

Or...more so... not think about him that much. With eyes the color of muted emeralds it was like her mind was on a yellow brick road right back to him whenever she had a moment of time to think about something other than her unending heartbreak.

She was careful to rearrange her laundry schedule so as not to run into him. She took the stairs instead of the elevator. Once she saw him coming in from the rainy wind and she darted into the mail room just to avoid him. It was childish and stupid, running from him like that. But she couldn’t help it. Seeing him would make her cave.

But you want to be friends with him. Her heart reminded her.

I don’t care, she responded internally.

Even I know that’s a lie, her brain grumbled in response.

Work provided her great distraction as well. Sad, of course— because what else was supposed to happen in her life these days? —but it was a distraction, nonetheless. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead looking over her schedule for the next day, thinking about what needed to be accomplished, what activities she needed to print in the morning, and priorities she needed to complete.

She really needed to go grocery shopping.

She had spent most of her last nights with Niall eating out or getting takeaway while they packed his stuff. He was subletting to a friend for the year. Mostly to hold his place. The Missus would be traveling overseas to be with Niall by the end of next month, which was extremely exciting for their relationship. “Looks like I’ll be all by myself at thirty-five,” she joked in with him labeling cardboard boxes as kitchen.

Niall smirked. “M’sure I can convince her that we can be a throuple,” he winked at her.

“Sorry Ni, I hate sharing,” she smirked knowing the idea was truer than he would know for a while. She planned on telling him within the first couple of months—once he was a little settled and she was surely over it.

Plus, she wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t come flying back before he unpacked.

But Niall was officially in flight. She was watching her phone making sure his flight didn’t suddenly fall off the radar or that it didn’t indicate it was exploding mid-flight. He was going to call her as soon as he landed. She was third on the list after his girlfriend and mother and was not to panic unless it approached an hour of waiting for his call. Those were her instructions.

Timing her grocery shopping was exactly what she needed at that moment.

If she had gotten the parking spot she wanted, it might not have happened. If Niall had called two seconds earlier, she would have been answering her phone outside instead of in the lobby. She would have been in the elevator. Or she would have stopped for the mail and wouldn’t have been juggling the bags and her phone.

But instead, everything happened at once. She wanted to ensure Niall was there safely, so she struggled to answer her phone with the groceries attached to her arms.

“Hey, Ni! How was your—”

Before she could finish her question, the phone was knocked from her hands almost violently along with the bags of groceries she was carrying. Naturally it contained her eggs. She stumbled a bit nearly sliding ungraciously in the cracked egg mixture on the floor. Her phone skittered across the floor near the entry way to the mail cubby’s.

“Jesus, watch where you’re going,” it was the beautiful woman who felt she was in the way in the mail space back when she first moved in. She was just as beautiful as the last time she ran into her. Her hair was long and flowing, her eyelashes would make an angel jealous, if she smiled—and she realized it seemed like it would take an act of God to get her to smile—she imagined she had perfect teeth that were hidden behind her pretty full lips.

She scrambled to get to her feet, her leggings getting egg yolk on them. Thank God she bought paper towels as well.

“Ava! What the fuck?”

It was pathetic that she knew Harry’s voice without looking. She was struggling to get the paper towels out of the plastic. She could hear Niall calling from her phone a few feet away from the mess as she struggled to get her items that weren’t broken back into the bags. She desperately wanted to answer Niall, but she was practically mute. “She was in the way!”

“Ava!” Harry hissed.

“For God’s sake Harry. You’re always worried about everyone else around us but me.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Harry turned from Ava to glare at her. She swallowed the lump in her throat feeling like she had done something bad. It was the first time she had seen Harry in a week, and he looked...

Exhausted.

She wished she could ask him a thousand questions because even though she felt terrible about what she had done, she missed Harry more than she could ever describe. Niall was no longer yelling. She wondered if he hung up. At least she knew he was alive. Hopefully he wasn’t boarding a plane right back.

“I’ll be right out,” Harry snapped as Ava rolled her eyes and headed out the door. It could only have been a total of two minutes, but it felt like hours between the moment Ava bumped into her and the present. It felt like a front of cold air left the room the moment Ava exited. She nearly breathed a sigh of relief—almost the same one that Harry released as she left.

The room was silent. She heard Niall calling from her phone again and she finally grabbed it, trying not to get more egg yolk on her hands and none in her hair if she could help it.

“Hello?”

“Are you okay?” Niall asked, his voice hitching nervously.

“Niall, I’m so sorry. I’ll call you back in like...half an hour,” she whispered.

“Are you telling me that the Wicked Witch of the West is Harry’s girlfriend? I cannot believe you apologize to her,” he spoke without answering her statement. “No wonder he spends all his time doing laun—”

She hung up before he could say anymore just in case Harry could hear. She hadn’t mentioned the break they had embarked upon to Niall. If he said anything, she could easily say that his move had monopolized the entire week and it worked because she found out he had a girlfriend. She just wouldn’t say how she found out he had a girlfriend.

Of course, someone as beautiful as Ava would be with someone like Harry. Someone equally beautiful. They would make gorgeous children. Take the most perfect pictures. It made sense that the pair of them would be in a relationship.

Except Harry is nice and she is wicked. The voice in her head and her heart agreed.

“Christ, love. M’sorry,” he whispered softly.

It was the first time they had spoken since she told him they couldn’t see each other for a while. That they couldn’t be friends. His voice was so gentle and warm. She couldn’t believe that in just over a week she craved hearing it. It felt like she was basking in the sun. But she shouldn’t have been thinking like that. It was also...jarring...to hear the difference in his tone between how he had spoken to Ava compared to how he was speaking to her.

“It’s okay,” she murmured finally getting a swath of paper towels to clean up the mess. “I was in the way.”

Harry knelt beside her pulling the roll of paper towels from her hands with an exasperated sigh, leaving his lips again as he started to help clean up. “Y’weren’t, though,” he mumbled.

She shrugged trying to ignore the crazy beat of her heart being so close to him again. It was just a week, but it felt like years since she had seen him, but also like no time had passed at all. As if they hadn’t stopped speaking and this was nearly normal.

“You don’t have to help,” she said. “I’m sure she’s waiting.”

“She can wait,” he grumbled.

“Harry.”

“I’ll get y’some eggs while we’re out,” he promised.

“That’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her cheeks warming.

“Yes, it is, I would buy y’some new leggings too if—”

“I’ll just wash them, seriously.”

They were quiet. Harry grabbed the trash can that was over by the elevator and dumped the paper towels in. They cleaned up the rest of the mess in silence. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. But she could tell from the tone in his voice that he wasn’t apologizing for just the spill.

“It’s alright. It’s not your fault.” He sighed the frustration evident on his face, in his body language, and in the way he was breathing. “Harry,” she whispered quietly pressing a hand to his arm. “It’s alright,” she promised. It was ridiculous she was comforting him. She doesn’t even know how Ava bumped into her. She knew it wasn’t her fault, but she didn’t like how guilty Harry felt. He looked at her hand on his arm for a moment and she pulled it away after a gentle, comforting squeeze. “You should go,” she smiled gently at him. A slight wrinkle of her cute nose.

“M’really sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s just eggs,” she shrugged. “It’s okay.”

He nodded. They both knew it was more than eggs. It was kissing in the laundry room behind Ava’s back. No matter how wicked she seemed, it wasn’t okay.

Even if she’s the worst? Her heart asked internally.

I’m on your side this time. Her brain answered.

She ignored them both. “M’sorry,” he repeated. “See you around...I guess,” he murmured. Just like before.

Her heart felt a pang of sadness course through her and she watched him exit, glancing back just once to give her a tired wave. She felt tired, too. Tired of hiding her emotions and tired of missing Harry.

But that would have to wait because she really wanted to get out of her clothes covered in egg yolks.

“I can’t believe you apologized.”

Niall’s face was backlit by the dark evening of his surroundings. His new place was sparse since none of his stuff had arrived yet. But somehow his move was overshadowed by the insanity that took place that afternoon.

“I don’t know, Ni...” she sighed.

“I...I don’t think you should count Harry out yet... Obviously, he’s doing laundry because he’s miserable.”

“That’s not an excuse for flirting,” she grumbled. Maybe Niall wouldn’t be upset with Harry when she told him.

“No of course not, princess. But like...” he sighed. “That girl is a witch. I wasn’t kidding...I can see why he would want to flirt with someone pretty and nice like you.”

She felt her face warm at Niall’s assessment when there was a knock on her door. “Hang on.”

“The theme for today.”

She went to the door just in time to see the elevator closing. On the floor mat was a paper bag. A frowny face was drawn in black marker. She felt her heart flutter already knowing what was inside the bag. She opened it anyway. There she found a dozen eggs beneath a pair of folded leggings with the tag intact and a receipt. She sighed looking at the elevator already long gone.

She returned to her phone call. “S’that Harry?” Niall asked.

“Probably,” she muttered.

“Probably?”

“He left a bag of eggs. And a new pair of leggings.”

“Wow, he guessed your clothing size. He must be in love with you.”

She shook her head wishing what he said was true. “Niall, stop.”

He sighed. “I miss you already, darling.”

She smiled weakly. “I miss you too.”

“You should come visit before the year’s out. Show you around my old neighborhood.”

She nodded, wishing she could hug her best friend right then, through the phone screen. “I’d like that.”

“Have a good rest of your day, princess.”

It was a public space. Unavoidable. They were definitely going to run into each other. It was a matter of when not if. When Harry arrived, a full basket on his hip, he turned at the sight of her. The hammering of her heart didn’t stop her from sighing deeply.

“Wait...It’s a free country,” she mumbled and shrugged her assent. No use in monopolizing communal space. She was an adult and could handle the pair of them doing laundry at the same time. As long as she didn’t think about his mouth and how it tasted like mint gum and heaven.

Hesitantly, he picked a different washer than he normally did, a few spaces down from her rather than across from her. They didn’t speak. They didn’t even look at each other. Her heart rate felt like it was a hummingbird’s wing. It felt so warm in the laundry room.

Talk to him! Her heart was whispering.

Do not talk to him. Her brain protested.

She was fortunate the laundry covered her awkward huff of laughter listening to the battle she was feeling internally. Harry didn’t seem to register it. Maybe they would just never speak again.

It seemed like that would be the case as far as she could tell. She had lost count how many times they had sat silently reading and waiting for their laundry loads to finish.

Harry was once more in the laundry room at the same time as her. She essentially ignored his presence for the sake of her heart and mind. Although, she felt her heart would be grateful if she started talking to him again. It had been two weeks since the eggs incident. Three weeks since they agreed to not see each other anymore.

The only chattering interaction they had was a few days ago when Harry obviously forgot laundry detergent after he had thrown all his stuff into the washer. Naturally, the little dispensary was empty, again. Unlike the last time he checked it, he didn’t punch the side of the machine. Instead, he just sighed heavily, grumbling to himself.

Good. Her heart was practically giggling with delight.

“Oh...thanks, love.”

She wondered if Harry felt the spark of electricity that pierced her skin when Harry’s hand touched hers grabbing the jug from her.

He did.

“You probably think m’an idiot.”

She was literally trying to reach into the dryer to grab the sock that had clung with static to the back of the machine when she heard his voice. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she heard him. There was no denying how excited she was to hear his voice. She pulled herself out of the machine and turned to him. “What?” She asked her eyebrows pinching together. It was a weird way to enter a room, let alone start a conversation. Especially after what she would have to call a breakup for lack of a better term.

“For being with someone like Ava,” he started to pace along the length of the machines. He ran his hands through his hair making a mess of the curls. She thought her heart might break. She had experienced this kind of frustration firsthand. “Everyone says it. That they think m’stupid. That she’s awful and I should ‘ve broken up with her ages ago...” he mumbled. She frowned. “But...we’ve been together for s’long and—"

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” she interrupted quickly. Her voice was even, and he nearly bumped into the back wall as he spun to look at her. She was holding a pair of sweatpants in her hands, but she was making specific, intense eye contact with Harry. Even if she shouldn’t be talking to him. She didn’t want him to think that she thought poorly of him.

“Y’don’t?” He asked quietly.

She shook her head. “It’s no one’s business but yours and Ava’s,” her name tasted bad in her mouth, but she knew it was because it was coated with jealousy. She didn’t have to like Ava, but that didn’t mean that Harry couldn’t. Harry also liked her. It seemed pretty obvious. She can’t imagine him not liking her and nearly ruining his relationship with Ava. She knew she was different than Ava. Maybe she was willing to believe that Harry saw good in people. She did the same thing. It would be hypocritical of her to not understand Harry’s plight when she suffered from the very same thing for nearly three years as well.

He stopped pacing and moved to his regular washer. He perched on top and watched her fold her laundry for a few moments. It was like before he ruined everything with a kiss. He wished he had listened to the little voice in his head all those months leading up to the kiss. Of course, it was right. Of course. She didn’t pay mind to Harry sitting there.

“Can we be friends?” He asked quietly. “Please?”

Niall had left for a year. Her family didn’t really live all that close. Her coworkers, while great people, were work friends. Everyone she worked with dealt with very sensitive cases and that had a lot of emotion. If they saw each other outside of work, she worried it would carry over too heavily, all that weighty emotion.

She could really use a friend.

But she wasn’t sure Harry wasn’t the right friend. She messed up, even though Harry had owned up to the mistake. She was part of it, and she worried that if she was friends with Harry, it would be a slippery slope to fall for someone she shouldn’t.

“I promise I won’t kiss y’again,” he murmured. As if he had read her mind. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Mistakes happen,” she shrugged. “I just don’t—”

“Sunshine,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. But it wasn’t a mistake. I shouldn’t have called it that. Kissing you was like...breathing fresh air for the first time in...years.”

She closed her eyes, wishing she could do something about it. “You can’t stay stuff like that.”

There was an antagonizing pause while he thought this over. “I won’t bring it up again,” he promised.

There’s no harm in being friends. Her heart was whispering to her. You’re a great friend.

She looked at him for the first time, head on. He was already looking at her. His pretty green eyes. She knew his pretty pink lips were soft and warm. She knew his skin was warm too. Her heart skipped a beat. “We can be friends,” she said softly.

He sighed with relief and hurried over to wrap his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly. “Missed y’so much,” he mumbled into her hair.

Oh, this was a mistake. The voice in her head tutted.

Let it happen. I miss Niall. Her heart reminded the voice in response.

She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent and dropped the pair of socks she had in her hands on the floor so she could hug him back. Please don’t let this be a mistake.

They resumed their reading and chatting relationship as if the few weeks spent not talking hadn’t happened. Harry watched her fold laundry as if it were the most amazing thing in the world. It didn’t help that he thought she was the most amazing thing in the world.

You need to relax.His conscience was back, analyzing his every movement and every word he spoke to the pretty girl.

I have a handle on it. He thought back to the little voice. It was just the laundry room. At most it was an hour of a day that they spent chatting together. Or even not chatting when they had books.

“How’s work been?” He asked, trying to fill the silence for a moment.

He also wanted to fill the silence so he wouldn’t hug her again. He refrained from touching her after that because it felt so right and good. It made him feel whole. So maybe, Harry refrained from it. She seemed to have no problem compartmentalizing the moment that nearly ruined their friendship.

Which would have been a travesty because she was a really good friend. “It’s good. One of my patients got some good news so we’ve been navigating that, and it’s been really exciting because they’ve been dealing with struggles for a super long time,” she explained.

“That’s great,” he smiled. It felt nice to talk to her again. He was glad she was doing okay.

Harry was doing alright too. Work was normal and good. But he and Ava seemed to be fighting less and less. Which was great for his anger and his psyche. It allowed him to think about how he shouldn’t have kissed this lovely girl too. Even if he couldn’t tell her that.

Harry wasn’t intentionally mean-spirited. So, he didn’t bring up Ava unless she inquired.

“Can I ask a question that’s been bugging me?” She asked. He nodded. He was an open book with her. He had to be now. “Did you tell her?”

It was no use lying, but Harry kind of wanted to lie to her. He shook his head. “No.”

She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that Harry didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to be a thing. “Are you...going to?”

He shook his head silently. He knew that was wrong. Of course, he should have told Ava. But what good would come from it? Telling her that she made him miserable. Especially when they had been getting along better than they had in months...maybe even years.

“Harry,” she said softly.

“I know, love. I know...s’jus’—”

“I’m not judging you, I’m sure you have a reason. I don’t have to know it, but...I think it will eat at you,” she reminded him. “I didn’t tell my ex-boyfriend I wanted out of our relationship for over a year, and it made me...a mess,” she explained. “I know it’s hard, I just don’t want you to...be a mess.”

“Little late for that,” he muttered.

She giggled lightly. Harry thought it sounded like angels singing. “I won’t bring it up again,” she shrugged. “Your secret is safe with me, that’s for sure.”

“I imagine Niall wants t’kill me.” The silence was deafening as she ignored the insinuation that she told Niall about it. “Oh?” He smirked in surprise. “Y’don’t gossip over who y’kiss?”

She shook her head. “No... Niall...Niall moved for the year—maybe longer, for work. Overseas. I didn’t want to add more to his plate... and no: I didn’t want him to kill you. Not sure he would know how.”

“Oh, Sunshine. M’sorry,” he frowned. Losing her best friend for a while must have been really hard. He hadn’t spoke to her in three weeks and it felt like death. He had only known her a short while and she had known Niall almost half her life. “When did that happen?”

She smirked. “Uh...the day we stopped talking.” Harry took a moment to process that, and his frown deepened. He knew how sad that day was for him. But he would never forget the tears she shed and the way she looked so upset. Add losing her best friend? The poor thing. Harry’s heart broke all over again. “I do want to tell him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Don’t blame you.”

It was surreal to talk about it as if it had happened but also didn’t happen at the same time. He thought her brain was much too kind. Letting Harry keep secrets. “How...how is Ava?”

He snorted. “Sunshine, y’don’t have t’do that. M’sure s’hard...I mean I feel—”

“No,” she shook her head tamping down the jealousy that felt like hot air rising from her chest and out of her mouth. “No, this is what friends do. They ask about their friends’ significant others.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah...um...s’good. We’ve been arguing less.”

“That’s great!” But her heart felt like it was severing in half.

“I don’t know what causes the arguments sometimes. Contrary t’some of m’actions...m’a pretty smart guy,” he shrugged. She smiled sweetly at his insult toward himself thinking it was adorable. At least he knew he was an idiot. “S’weird though. I feel like she doesn’t like me the way she used to. But s’like we’re...stuck.”

She nodded. “Well...in my last relationship, I felt like I was stuck for over a year and I just...I couldn’t pull myself out of it. I hit rock bottom, though. Niall had to get me out.”

There was a huge pause. She went back to reading her book. This wasn’t unusual for their conversations. Harry needed time to process, think about what he wanted to say. But he was thinking about this past relationship of hers. In the three or so times she had spoken about it... it didn’t sound like something the embodiment of sunshine should have had to endure. Someone that liked a children’s fairy tale as much as she did, didn’t deserve a crummy relationship. Or a crummy guy like Harry kissing her out of nowhere. “S’horrible of me t’talk ‘bout this t’you,” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I did a whole round of clinical counseling on relationships. I’m actually probably the best person to talk about this to,” she smiled behind her book. Her eyes glinted with excitement, like she knew it was torturing Harry a bit.

Good for her. His little voice muttered.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Friends talk about their relationships,” she nodded. “It’s okay,” she promised. “I would tell you if I was uncomfortable.”

Harry wanted to tell her he was uncomfortable not kissing her and not holding her right this very second. He knew it was wrong and he was glad that she couldn’t read his thoughts. He knew it wasn’t fair to Ava either. Ava was making serious efforts to be nicer. It was...bizarre.

Explore that. Harry’s heart suggested.

“Listen,” she sighed. “Do you want to break up with her?”

Harry frowned and looked at his lap. He couldn’t look at her when talked about this. No matter how okay she said it was. He shook his head.

He didn’t. He didn’t want people to say I told you so. He didn’t want to think about all the time that he had wasted. But it wasn’t a waste, right? It was good for a while. Even still had good in it, sometimes. Sparingly. Was that a reason to stay? To prove to people it was okay? That he was okay? For the few good times they had together anymore, it didn’t seem like a good idea. But he couldn’t bring himself to think differently.

“Then you’ll make it work,” she shrugged. “If and when you want to break up, that’s when you’ll know.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t speak again for a while. They enjoyed their books. “Y’said your parents don’t love each other,” he murmured randomly.

She nodded sullenly. “I feel that way. I would imagine they do... but it’s hard to see as an outsider.”

Harry thought he knew exactly what that looked like. “Do you want them t’get divorced?” He asked.

She put her book in her lap and looked at the ceiling in thought. She tilted her head to the left and right contemplating such a loaded question. It seemed obvious. Of course, she did. They were miserable together.

“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I do...or...I do but... I think I would be really sad if they did. It’s kind of selfish of me. But you know... they have a complicated relationship. They’ve been together for a lot longer than I’ve been alive... I don’t know everything about them. Who knows,” she shrugged. “I think their love language is fighting. That’s all.”

More silence.

When her washer went off and she was switching over to the dryer, Harry thought about kissing her again. Just to make the hurt in her life go away. Even for a minute. She deserved that. “Do you have a fried cauliflower recipe?” She asked.

He looked up and smirked. “Y’gonna be a big girl and try something new?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah. M’trying something new all the time these days.”

Being friends was a dream. Even if their friendship didn’t leave the laundry room. She gave great advice. Even better recipes. Fantastic book recommendations. She even had good recommendations to things in town that Harry hadn’t tried yet. He had no idea there was a mom-and-pop bookstore just two streets over. The late night café had delicious coffee and peppermint hot chocolate.

It was easy to be friends. There was no arguing. Not real arguing. They still argued about her ten-year-old taste buds and his failure to see why Andrew Garfield was better. Their debates while meaningless (she had joked that she was coming up with weird debates for her patients to relieve the seriousness of their situations—so now she had to live with the knowledge that Harry thought cereal was a soup), were fun. It was fun hanging out with her. Not arguing over socks or keys. Or whether they were arguing too much.

She tossed her last pair of socks in her basket with a giggling sigh. They had just finished a fit of laughter after impersonating one of the jokes she heard on a late night talk show. “Okay, well, see you soon. Let me know how you like the bakery.”

He nodded. Biting the inside of his lip. “Hey Sunshine,” he called softly just as she hit the threshold of the room.

“Yeah?” She turned back. She didn’t like the way her stomach flipped over his nicknames but it seemed that her protests wouldn’t stop him. She just had to hope Harry called everyone nicknames. Maybe he called everyone Sunshine and kitten.

But she kind of hoped he didn’t either.

“Thanks for being my friend,” his voice was almost apologetic, like he knew it was hard for her. It was. But she liked to believe she was good at hiding it. But after spending so much time with Harry, it was hard to let him go. He was a really good friend.

“Yeah, of course, Harry,” she smiled softly.

“I miss when y’called me munchkin, kitten,” he frowned looking down at his lap.

She released a long sigh, wishing she could get those days back. “Yeah...” she sighed. “I miss it too.”

Harry and Ava fought less, that much was obvious. But granted, if they had one less fight in one day per week, that would have been less than what they had before. However, this was a little more substantial. Ava was snuggling up to Harry again at night and sharing the remote. They watched shows together and laughed. It felt like before...before they fought all the time.

But it was...weird. It wasn’t something Harry could put his finger on. It was just something he felt. Like something wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind—the conscience that was so adamantly against the sweet girl in the laundry room was silent about the weird feeling Harry had in the pit of his stomach.

It was while Ava slept that he thought about it most. It wasn’t good but the privacy of his own thoughts had to be better than the physical alternative. He thought of that kiss and how perfect it felt. He imagined it a thousand times over. Harry never even thought about how it was nice—it was so intertwined with how wrong it was he didn’t get a chance to think of it as...perfect.

Why do you want to be in this relationship? His heart asked.

Tell. Ava. His conscience begged.

Harry didn’t see the point. They just got back to a good place. He was friends with the sweet girl. Things were going well.

Too well.

Again, they were fighting less. They still had arguments that devolved into a thousand other little arguments frequently enough that they should have called it quits anyway—or at least their neighbors should have said something. He guessed that the carpeting and soundproofing must have been much better than he gave it credit for.

But there were some things they would always fight over.

Harry never put the kitchen towel back on the oven handle, Ava was the first one to say something needed to be vacuumed but never did, and that Ava was still keeping Harry away from her friends, coworkers, and even her family.

Right now, Ava was headed out to a night with friends. But she let it slip that one of the other’s significant others would be there. “Y’want me to come along?” He asked. Her hesitation was all the answer that Harry needed. He chuckled dryly. “Great, y’don’t want me there. Fine.”

“It’s not that deep, Harry,” she rolled her eyes, she slid her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.

Harry stood in front of the door. “Why don’t y’want me there?” He asked shaking his head in exasperation.

“Because I don’t want to fight in public, Harry. It’s embarrassing.”

“We don’t have to fight.”

“I don’t trust us not to. Look we’re fighting now.”

“Because you’re embarrassed by me!”

“I am not! I’m embarrassed by us!”

“Y’don’t want t’be seen with me Ava,” he said listing off the offenses by counting on his fingers. “Ever. Y’don’t take me t’your work parties, y’don’t want t’go out, y’don’t even take me t’your family anymore. Y’don’t want t’go anywhere with me,” he shook his head. “I don’t get it, what happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Her voice was practically hysterical. “I just want to do things by myself!”

“We never do anything together anymore!”

“Yes, we do!”

“No, we stay at home. You don’t want to go out you don’t want anyone t’see us!”

“I don’t trust us not to argue—”

But it devolved rapidly. It turned into the same tired fights about cleaning. The backhanded comments she made when Harry wore a shirt she didn’t like anymore. You’re wearing that? Or the way that they just never agreed on home décor or even where the toothpaste belonged (on the left or the right of the sink).

“I can’t find my phone,” she grumbled amidst the argument.

“For the love of God,” Harry sighed. “How do y’consistently lose these things?”

“I don’t mean to!” She frowned. He pulled his phone out to call it. “It’s on silent,” she murmured.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Harry sighed and tossed his phone on the sofa. “Did y’check your coat pockets?” He asked as he started searching under the furniture. “Or your purse?”

“Of course I checked there!”

“Well last time you didn’t check your coat and that’s where y’keys were—”

“Go ahead, call me stupid Harry. I know that’s what you’re trying to say,” she rolled her eyes, glaring at him. Again, Harry was searching through their whole place while she stood there antagonizing him.

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Ava. I think you’re forgetful and y’need t’put these things in a specific place so you don’t lose them.”

“No, you think I’m stupid.”

“Ava. Do not. Put words in my mouth,” his voice was low and slow as he continued his search. “S’not like y’don’t say backhanded things t’me all the time.”

“Like what?” She snapped.

“Like the whole laundry room makes m’clothes smell bad.”

“You can’t possibly be still on about this! For God’s sake Harry this is exactly why I don’t want to go places together! You hold these grudges and bring them up when it’s convenient for you to—”

If Harry was asked for his thought process, he never would be able to explain it. He was flinging the covers back to their bed. Still searching for her phone. She followed him in the room to continue yelling at him. Then he saw her pull her phone from her purse. The one she assured him was not in her bag. It was simply too much.

“I did something bad,” he blurted. Where did that come from? His conscience must have been excited. The yelling stopped. There was a hum in the air like after an old TV turned off and the picture sizzled off screen.

She grinned wickedly. Harry felt his blood ice over. It was like he already knew what she was going to say. “How pathetic. You fucked someone. Good for you Harry. Honestly.”

“What is the matter with you?” He spat back shaking his head. “I—”

“Well, now I don’t have to feel guilty.”

The ear-piercing silence was as if his ear drums exploded. It was painful to process those words.

Harry stared at her, unblinking. Surely, he misheard her. There was no way she was justifying what Harry said to make herself feel better. He heard her wrong. She wouldn’t do that, there had to be a limit. Their relationship, no matter how difficult it was...it had to be the limit, right?

“I didn’t fuck anybody, Ava.” Whether he wanted to sleep with the pretty girl or not, he didn’t. At the end of the day, he didn’t do it. Thinking about it was wrong. Part of him hoped that if it came down to it, he wouldn’t have. He would never know. There was no telling. But right now, that didn’t matter. He hadn’t done something worse. Divine intervention, clarity, the fucking washing machine timer saved him from having sex. “Did you... fuck somebody else?” The question felt like someone had shoved a handful of rocks into his mouth. It was hard to say out loud.

Ava was no longer beautiful. The scowl on her face made her look nasty. Her nose crooked, her lips curled in a snarl. She was a witch. Plain and simple. The silence was telling. Her lack of a response told him everything he needed to know.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he pressed his hands to his eyes. Exasperated, hurt, heartbroken. Everything. Harry felt everything at that moment.

Holy shit. His conscience agreed with his heart.

“Why would you say you did something bad?!” She practically shrieked. “Who gives a shit about a kiss?!”

“Ava, are y’serious!?” He shouted back. His voice felt raw. The tears pricked behind his eyes. This was bad. So, so, so bad. “It ate me alive!”

“It was a kiss!”

“How. How is this my fault, Ava?!” He shouted. She was silent. Harry rarely reached his full yelling potential. Ever. He knew he was loud—maybe even scary in the right light. So he didn’t like to yell that loud if he could help it. It was rude and he didn’t like the person he was when he yelled like that. But right now...he couldn’t help it. “Y’mad at me because I didn’t sleep with someone else? That I only kissed someone? So that y’can justify fucking someone else behind m’back?” More silence. She simply glared at him. But he watched, her eyes welled with tears. Like she had any reason to take the moral high ground. Not that Harry had much higher ground to stand on, but he hadn’t slept with someone else, at the end of it all. “We’re done,” he shook his head.

Her body deflated. “Harry,” she whimpered. Voice breaking on his name like she had been so faithful and loving for their entire life all and all of sudden it was done; broken in seconds. She reached for Harry and he stepped back shaking his head.

“No, Ava. Done. S’been way longer than it should ‘ve been. We don’t like each other anymore. S’obvious t’anyone but us. This is jus’ proof. We’re done.”

She shook her head quickly, her body looked like it was going to crumple under the weight of ending a long relationship. “But...I love you.”

“No... no, you don’t,” he shook his head, his heart pounding. His throat felt like there were knives dragging along the length of his esophagus. “You don’t fuck someone else when you’re in love.”

Is that why you haven’t slept with Ava in months? His heart wondered in the silence of the room save for the sounds of Ava’s pathetic sniffles.

I’m sorry. The little voice in his head was soft-spoken. Shy and apologetic.

“We’re done, Ava. It’s over.”

It took more screaming of course. Harry had rubbed his eyes raw and red. It was nearly one in the morning when Ava finally left the apartment. She would get the rest of her stuff another day. She didn’t apologize once.

Harry, alone with his horrible thoughts and his sadness, was feeling terrible and broken. Maybe he deserved this just for hurting that sweet sunshiny girl. If that was the case, he thought maybe Ava should have been pregnant with someone else to get the right amount of heartache he deserved for hurting that sweet girl.

He didn’t want to ask how long she slept with someone else. He would get himself tested just in case the following morning. But he hoped Ava had enough sense to use protection. He was shaking with anger and heartache.

There was only one thing he knew that would cure him. One person that could fix it.

The knock jolted her awake on her sofa. She glanced at the clock. Who would come here at one in the morning? She checked her phone for messages and there were none—maybe Niall came back to visit? No, he would have said something. He was a terrible secret keeper. Pausing the movie she was watching, she wrapped her blanket around her as she hurried to the door. Peering through the peephole, she frowned, then opened the door.

Harry looked utterly upset. Worse than she had ever seen him. His skin was pale. Even his pretty brown curls lacked life. He looked so...broken.

“Harry,” she whispered softly. She put a hand to her chest. It seemed...sinful for him to look this sad. It wasn’t fair. Even if she wasn’t supposed to love him, she wanted to comfort him. Despite his mishap, he really was quite lovely. “What’s wron—”

“I know... I know I messed up... kissing y’when I shouldn’t ‘ve. I know that... I... I don’t know if I would’ve stopped us...but...she...” he sighed heavily. His voice was scratchy sounding. Like he had a bad cough. She wondered how long they yelled for, the poor thing. She could feel her face fall. She already knew what Harry was going to say. She could see it in his rubbed-red eyes and sullen expression. “She slept with someone else... and I know m’not much better... but... we didn’t... we didn’t do that.”

Her heart broke for him. He was right. She doesn’t know if they would have stopped had Harry not stopped to ask about her picture frame. But they didn’t go further, at the end of it all. They didn’t. Maybe what they did wasn’t right, but it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

How could she break his heart?

Harry thought she looked so cozy, wrapped in a soft blanket and her hair a little messy from how she was sleeping. Her eyes seemed wider somehow, fresh from her slumber. She was adorable and as sad as Harry was, just seeing her nearly made him smile.

“Oh, munchkin,” she whispered.

There was a little flutter in Harry’s tired, broken heart at the sound of the name “munchkin.”

Finally. His heart and conscience were once more in agreement.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Love and Dryer Sheets: @love-letters-to-uranus

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

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tokyo-chainsaw-dragon · 10 months

Text

Chainsaw Man Denji Headcanon - Thanksgiving Edition (18+ MDNI)

A/N: ᵀ��ᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᵐʸ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ'ᵛᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʷʳᶦᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰᵃᶦⁿˢᵃʷ ᴹᵃⁿ ˢᵒ ᴵ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴵ ᵈᵒ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᶦˢ [ᵗʰˣ ᵗᵒ @callm3senpaii ᶠᵒʳ ᶦⁿˢᵖᶦʳᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ] ᴵ ʷᶦˡˡ ʷʳᶦᵗᵉ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵐᵒⁿᵗʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳᶦˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ˢᵒ ᶦᵗ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵇᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟔𝟐𝟎

⚠️warnings: NSFW, Denji x fem!reader, gentle fucking, after-arguement fucking, mentions of pussy eating, oral (p in v), unprotected, etc.

When it comes to Thanksgiving for Denji, he wants to go all out for it. Of course, you'll be the only one cooking since Denji only knows how to make instant ramen in the microwave (That's fucking bad with no experience). But this year was different, since you didn't want to do it and end up having more leftovers fill your refrigerator to the brim, let alone the freezer.

When you told Denji the news on Monday that you weren't going to do anything for Thanksgiving, he fucking nearly went out of his balls.

"Y/N! You know that I fucking love Thanksgiving, but why are you deciding that it's cancelled?!", Denji pleaded, not knowing the reasoning behind it.

"It's because I end up doing all the cooking and the damn refrigerator's too small for a fat-ass turkey! Duh!", you argue, not wanting to do anything about Thanksgiving or even talk anymore about it.

After yelling at him for the past 20 minutes, you storm off into your bedroom and shut the door on Denji since he was following you.

"Y/N?", Denji sounded desperate after the argument you two had, "Are you in there?"

You wanted to answer him, but you were still fucking mad at him, causing you to stay quiet as you lay on your shared bed while you stared at the ceiling in the dark. Shit.

Denji knew something was up with you after just five minutes. He slowly opens the door, not wanting to make you anymore pissed than you already were at him. After he comes in, Denji approaches you like a wolf stalking its prey, very slowly.

"I know that you're still pissed at me about this whole thing of not wanting to do Thanksgiving", Denji's voice was a little quiet, "but there must be something that I can do to make it up to you".

You sigh before sitting up and moving over on the bed so Denji can sit with you. "Fine, c'mere."

Denji follows your order, sitting next to you and waiting silently. You decide to whisper in his ear, telling him that you want to fuck him, and Denji looks at you almost like he's begging for you to put him inside you already and wants to feel your warm pussy.

Denji hurries to get his clothes off, releasing the monster that's been in his pants for the whole day, dying just have it feel your gummy walls and fill you with his cum.

After you get naked, you line up your entrance and get his tip in, letting it sit there for a minute in your pussy before sucking the rest of Denji's dick in, inch by inch.

Denji notices his dick disappearing into your pussy, letting out that same desperate whimper that you make whenever he eats your pussy out and you feel his tongue licking your gummy walls, trying to get every last drop like he's pussy deprived or something.

You manage to get all of his dick into you and Denji starts kissing you, to nearly prevent himself from cumming and wanting to feel your soft lips against his.

After just 10 minutes, you get your legs around Denji and instinctively get his hips closer to yours, feeling like your about to have an orgasm.

"I-I'm gonna... Fuuuuck!", Denji stammers out, also feeling his own orgasm and immediately cumming into you, enjoying the feeling of your warm pussy as his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

You both cum at the same time with you enjoying the feeling of Denji's dick throbbing inside your pussy. He pulls out, with his warm cum dripping out of him and leaking a little from your pussy.

Credit to @callm3senpaii for the inspiration.

#tokyo chainsaw dragon #chainsaw man #denji #csm x reader #csm x y/n #csm x fem reader #chainsaw man headcanons #thanksgiving #second time writing a headcanon #csm #denji x fem reader #denji x reader #csm smut #tokyo dragon smut #chainsaw man smut

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creative-heart · 5 months

Note

I've heard you want requests? 😏

You know how to make me happy 🥹

I still l o v e the newest pictures... could be something you can work with? Quiet and peaceful vacation with Enzo, away from all the trouble of life🙏🏻

I definitely could need it... ❤️

Lucia's notes: Thank you my lovely @lastflowrr for this request, it was so cute to write this little Drabble/One Shot based on these pictures, I really hope I make justice to what you had in mind 🤗🤗🥰🥰.

"Hidden haven"| Enzo Vogrincic

Content Warning: Just a little slight reference to sex, but in general, just a fluffy little piece.

Word Count: 1k

You know Enzo has been so stressed and tired with all the press tour and award season for his last movie, in almost two months you’ve rarely seen each other all three consecutive days, being a last year neurosurgery resident you can’t go away for long. Luckily enough, the universe, the gods or whatever you want to blame it on have aligned for once to your favor and your yearly holidays are coming up just as your raven haired boyfriend finishes with all this madness; so to celebrate and without telling him, you’ve organized a little roadtrip to a cabin in the mountains, just a week or so just for the two of you and you couldn’t wait to surprise him with it.

As soon as the tan skinned man walked inside your shared home you run to hug him as if it is the last thing you’ll do in your life and you need it to stay alive “I missed you so much Zo” you mumble in the crook of his neck holding yourself up to try and match his height. He holds you up as he peppers your face with featherlike kisses “I missed you too chiquitita mía” he spaces each word with a kiss ending up on your lips with a soft, loving kiss.

“I’ve got a surprise for you…I know you’ve been traveling so much, but…I’ve planned a roadtrip getaway for us, we’re going to Bariloche for a week, just us two, no phones answered, nothing” you smile looking at him “We’re leaving tomorrow, I’m driving so you’re relaxing and in charge of the aux chord”

Early the next morning you two set your course out for the sweet and long awaited retreat from the world. You glance over in your boyfriend’s direction to see him laid back on the passenger seat, coffee mug in hand, sunglasses on. Enzo sighs relaxed and glances at you “I love you so much for this, I really needed this, thank you so much bebé”. You smile and the drive goes by smoothly while singing oldschool songs in the most out of tune way possible, snacking on your favourite chocolates and fries and just enjoying the time being just you two with no one from the outside world to derange you.

You arrive at the little cabin in the woods just before the sun starts setting behind the beautiful mountains, and you know it’s been snowing not long ago, the white carpet fresh on the ground. While you go and set your things down in the master bedroom upstairs, Enzo starts trying to work the fireplace and get it started, it’s an old school one with actual logs. After everything is settled, you longue on the couch in your pj’s cuddled up to your boyfriend’s chest playing with his fingers absentmindedly as he hummed eyes closed enjoying being this close to you “You know, I love the fact that getting more well known allows me to work and keep making a living out of this, but….getting recognized everywhere and people staring or asking for pictures is something I definitely do not love” you smile softly keeping your eyes closed as you hear Enzo’s deep soothing voice behind you and you give his forearm a soft squeeze, you knew he didn’t like people looking at him, and you definitely didn’t enjoy not being able to do as many things as you once did together because of that, but on the other hand, you also knew how much he loves acting and that this is what helped him keep doing it.

“I know darling, but I just think you are so good at what you do, that people just get too taken with you and your characters, take Numa for example, you touched so many people with him it was unbelievable”. You feel him humming against the skin on your neck as he trails soft kisses up and down, and you know exactly what he’s doing, it’s his tactic every time he wants to shift the conversation from himself, and in all honesty, it always works. “Zo…” you whisper in what wants to be a warning tone but ends up being more a pleading tone and the little sucker smriks against your warm skin “you can’t blame now, can you princess?” and all you can do is hum when you hear him call you that, he knows just what to say and what to do to make all your stress melt away and your brains turn into mush.

The next few days go by in a haze of late lazy mornings in bed looking out the window, limbs all tangled up together after having some coffee, once you both can master up the will to get out from under the bed covers, usually after some lazy love making as well, you sit down to work on a puzzle Enzo insisted on bringing over, it has like a thousand pieces and you most definitely do not have the patience to do it, but if that’s what the love of your life wants to spend his hours doing, then you’ll sit next to him mostly pretending to help before getting bored and taking his camera walking around snapping silly candid pictures of him working on his project the surrounding mountains, you even go out on little walks around the place to capture some nature through the lens.

Time definitely goes by differently here because when you’re feeling at home and Enzo and you have fallen into a sweet rhythm of slowed down life, you need to go back into the real world and as you pack up your clothes back into the suitcase you sigh, you have definitely enjoyed this time you’ve had here being just the two of you, no prying eyes and screaming girls asking for pictures with your boyfriend feeling left aside. You try to push those intrusive thoughts away as Enzo has made it his life work to reassure you that there’s no one more important in his life than you, well…maybe Ada, but you’re a close second to the cat you share custody of and you know that’s absolutely true, for wherever you may be, his eyes always find your own, and you feel as if you were right here, in a secluded spot just the two of you know.

P.S: This hasn't been proofread, so if you see any mistakes, please do let me know, I appreacite it. Also, my girlies, keep the reqs coming, don't be shy, fluff, smut, angst whatever you have for me, for Enzo, Kuku, Simón and Santi 💖💖💖💖

Taglist:

@madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

#enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic drabble #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic fluff #lsdln cast x reader #lsdln cast fluff #lsdln cast fanfic #lsdln cast fic #enzo #enzo vogrincic #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #oneshot

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taegularities · 3 months

Note

rid, my lovie !! my sweets !!

🚨 : ( rant incoming )

some of these recent asks have been making me want to start throwing gang signs or sum 💀 i know there are always gonna be some of these asks given the vast audience you have, and that they are just drowning in anticipation.

however, the undertone? 😭 do these people realize that you are a prolific writer, churning out quality contents faster than locusts can reproduce and infest? 🤨 RELATIVELY SPOKEN !!

good contents take time to plan, produce and publish !!

REMEMBER THE TRIPLE P. for an author who doesn't even ask you to pay, and responds with kindness only.

so, let's learn and practice more kindness and respectfulness here. thank you. ( sorry, if i sound like a teacher's pet, but rid is just too good to us )

anyway, we are nonetheless excited for your next releases, and 'entertainer' even after all this time.

( rant end )

꒰ ❛ ❜ personal lil message ꒱ ‎

rid, am so sorry for not getting back to your last 'ruined' response. i thought you hadn't answered it yet !! and are you kidding me? a!oc is my babiest baby !! of course, i adore her a lot. i remember somebody saying she is like a 'sunny weekend after a wet weather' or something, but bit more condescending— made me wanna throw some gang signs again, tafaq 😫 had to overcompensate with my repeated 'ruin you' asks, but i promise i equally read and enjoy your other stories. even sent asks about them before ( just not in my 🎀🖇🩵 style, haha ) and i'm thankful for each of the sweet responses from you : every. single. time!!

oh, by the way, i came across this pin today : https://pin.it/2rY2xnZtj

kinda ruined!tae on wedding night coded? 'i missed this' x 'it's only been two days' x 'and? i miss you all the damn time' ❤️‍🔥 can i please just ask what's the duo's moodboard like? ik they are a v monetesque, pastoral, serene and the whole artists garden at giverny + the water lily pond + beach at saint adresse!based couple.

but if possible i still wanna see them more from your artistic mind, my love. thank you. xo.

last but not least, must i mention how proud i am of you bc of the whole gaza take and activism on this platform? 🍉 it might be a bare minimum for a reality so cruel, but it matters. thank you for using your resources, and for saying how you listen to certain artists less bc of their lack of voice on this issue. every act matters. let's stay strong and

—take care. 🎀🖇🩵

gang signs omg lol 😭 honestly, i'm so thankful for the audience and the excitement everybody brings! the tone was a little off, but as i said, i'm pretty sure they didn't mean it that way, so i'm like, not mad or anything hehe. i hope they enjoyed entertainer!! it's true, though, that i've been a bit slow this year, but we try our best in this corner of our world. but thank you so much for saying that 😭 i'm flattered you appreciate my existence here and are so kind <3

it's okay, love, no reason to apologise. a!oc was everyone's baby, like she's still one of my favourite ocs i've written!! it's beyond crazy that people still remember her and this story overall. lmao yeah someone said she feels like a wet weekend after a sunny vacation or something idk it was way out of line, but what can we do.. i laughed 🤣 THANK YOUUUU for dropping by, whether with your signed asks or in any other way ily ily!!!

plsss on their wedding night?

more like always 😂 but so true. their mood boarddd hmmm, wait i'll go and make one rq brb *5 minutes later* i'd say that's them 🥺 def some monet, rain and autumn vibes

and ofc!! i think i could do even more and share even more. every thought counts. i can't even remember saying i listen to artists less, but it's 100% true, and i also try to avoid big chains such as starbucks, which i think we all should. take care as well, love 🤍

#much love to you #notes for rid 🌹#🎀 anon #fic: ruined

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fox-moblin · 11 months

Text

Announcement

Because I changed it so that only registered users can view my works on Ao3 (due to AI scraping), I've decided to upload chapters of ATWEA to Tumblr as well for people w/o Ao3 accounts.

Chapters will be uploaded a day after their upload to Ao3 (other than the first three, which are already uploaded to Ao3 and will be uploaded today instead.) I'll have links to each chapter in my pinned post on my blog.

...So, anyways, here's Chapter 1. Rest of chapter under cut.

Comments and reblogs appreciated as always :V

***

And The World Ends Again

A Linked Universe AU set in a post-apocalyptic Mad Max-inspired world.

Chapter 1

Next Chapter, Read on Ao3

The day their mother dies, Time finds Twilight down by the old river bed, hiding beneath the fallen tree that’s been dead too long to remember what it once was.

He’s curled up in the shadow of its corpse, all gangly limbs and stifled sobs, clutching their mother’s handkerchief to his chest; when Time peaks around the mess of dry branches and meets his eyes, his younger brother buries his face into the worn yellow fabric and cries even harder.

The funeral procession is still going, carrying their mother’s body from their shabby little house to the top of the hill where she used to sit and sing, waiting on a husband that wouldn’t return and hoping for a day when the rain would come and stick around for more than just a few days a year. Except nobody’s singing now; Time thinks it’s a shame, because Mama always said that she’d want lots of singing at her funeral - singing and dancing and celebrating, because she’d finally be moving on from this dead world and onto the next, where there would be clean water and green grasses and nobody looking to raid their meager little village for all it was worth.

But the people of the village don’t sing when they carry her up the hill - there isn’t even all that much crying. Instead, their footsteps fall heavy on the dusty earth, a steady beat that doesn’t seem to match the racing of Time’s heart, and the village leader’s voice is the only other sound that cuts through the dry air, droning on about how this world takes everything from the living, so it’s good practice to cling to whatever you can.

Time crawls beneath the dead branches of the dead tree and curls around his little brother, closing his eyes against the feeling of tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt and straining to hear the fading footsteps of the funeral march. Nobody’ll come looking for them; not after they saw Twilight tear off under the midday sun, hollering like a mad dog and cursing the spoiled land beneath them.

Time can’t blame them; people have enough problems to worry about without two motherless boys weighing on their resources.

Still, it’ll be a hard few months; maybe not physically, because, as much as Time loathes to admit it, now there’s one less person taking up whatever meager funds he manages to collect working in the mines. Less people means more food to split between them, more blankets to share during the cold nights, more water to pass over cracked lips and dry tongues.

It’ll be hard, though, because their mother was just about the only good thing about this place and Time has a hard time imagining he can offer even half of the hope she managed to provide.

In his arms, Twilight has begun to quiet, heaving sobs turned to little hiccups and soft sniffles. Time presses a kiss to his hair, tasting the salt of his own tears, and attempts to remember the songs their mother used to sing when the dust storms blew in from the surrounding wastelands. His mind comes up empty, though, so instead he just hums nonsense tunes and rocks his little brother in the shade of the dead tree, staring out across the dried up river bed and trying to imagine the water that used to dwell in its cradle.

The world had already ended long before he was born, but Time can’t help but think that, today, it’s been destroyed all over again.

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

3,613 days after their mother dies (because that’s how Twilight has kept track of time since the worst day of his life), the second worst day of his life hits him like a wagon.

Literally.

There’s a shout behind him, the scream of a horse gone haywire, and then he’s lying on the ground, bleeding dark red all over the pale soil. He thinks he can hear someone calling for help - calling for Time, because his big brother’s still working down in the underground, where there’s barely any light and he comes home smelling like salt and shadows.

There’s hands on his chest and his face and his head, lifting and pulling at him until he cries out from the pain, and then the world tilts as he heaved onto someone’s back, his arms dangling limply; he squeezes his eyes shut, forcing back the bile that rises in his throat as he’s jostled, and tries to keep breathing - it��s getting hard, because his chest feels like someone’s pressing their whole weight down on him and every movement of the body beneath him makes his rib bones creak and groan.

Someone’s talking to him, telling him to stay awake. Twilight thinks they need to be quiet.

And then suddenly he’s lying on something soft. There’s still yelling all around him, a chorus of meaningless panic, but it’s muffled now, as if all the sound in the world has been smothered by a big blanket. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he can feel the darkness trying to creep in again. He tilts towards its welcoming numbness with a weak sigh.

“-light? Baby, open your eyes for me…”

A woman’s voice, warm and familiar, cuts through the din. Twilight lets out a low moan as something is pressed against his side, sending spikes of pain shooting through his abdomen and down his legs. He jolts, trying to get away, but soft hands hold him down with surprising strength.

“Baby, you gotta hold still for me, now… that’s it, that’s it. Now open your eyes, Twilight.”

“M’ma…” He murmurs, turning his face into the palm that cups his cheek. There’s a stuttered breath somewhere above him, before the voice comes again.

“No, baby. Open your eyes for me now, c’mon.”

The pressure in his side increases and he opens his mouth in a silent cry, jerking away from the pain as best he can. His eyes fly open of their own accord, unfocused, and through the haze of tears and what might be the beginnings of a fever, a face swims into view above him; red hair halos soft green eyes and Twilight feels a mixed rush of relief and disappointment wash over him.

“...M…lon…?”

The face breaks into a worried grin.

“Hi baby. You’re gonna be okay, okay? You just gotta keep breathin’ for me, yeah?”

“Hurts…”

“I know, baby,” Malon murmurs and swipes her thumb across his cheek. “Time’s gonna be here soon. They already sent someone to go get him.”

“Nnn…” Twilight tries to shake his head. “...e’s w’rkin’...”

“Honey, you’re more important.”

Twilight tries to object - they need supplies, dammit, and goddess knows he ain’t gonna be able to work for a while after this - but his brother’s wife just shushes him gently and presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she tells him and Twilight closes his eyes with a groan.

No, it’s not , he wants to say, but his chest is starting to hurt so bad his breath isn’t coming as easily and he can hear Malon starting to panic above him, calling his name and shaking him. Somewhere nearby, a door slams open and there’s more yelling, before two large hands are on either side of his face, palms worn and warm as they tilt his head up.

“Twilight! Twilight, you open your eyes right now !”

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t , but he knows that it’s Time holding him now, body blocking out the lantern light and bringing with him the smell of the underground. His face must be a picture, Twilight thinks, now covered in the soot of his brother’s hands, mixing with all his blood and sweat.

“Pup, you gotta open your eyes for me, y’hear - you gotta breathe- ”

It’s getting real dark now - darker than before, even though his eyes have been closed for a while. The kind of dark that comes when you’re on the verge of falling asleep. The kind of dark that only happens in the middle of a starless night, when the clouds are so heavy they block out all the light and leave only an endless void.

“-ake up-!”

Twilight thinks he might be drifting towards that void as more voices join in.

“...pressure buildin’... -is lungs…”

“...be able to breathe…”

“...we… to release it… gonna hurt…”

That’s the last thing he hears before something sharp is jabbed into his side, in between his ribs and into whatever soft stuff lies beneath, and his breath comes back to him in a rush of painful air; Twilight writhes, a howl bursting from the back of his throat as his chest finally finally expands the way it’s supposed to.

There’s more words, Time and Malon’s voices mixing together with someone else’s - the village healer, maybe - and then Twilight, for all that he can now breathe without feeling like their whole house is sitting on his chest, thinks that he’s still hurting pretty bad and his head feels like it’s stuffed with cloth and he doesn’t really want to be awake anymore.

So, when the voices start to fade and that darkness comes back, creeping in from the boundaries of his mind like the shadows that dance at the edge of firelight, Twilight takes one last big breath in and lets the pain wash over him. Time calls his name again, frantic, but he’s too far gone to even care.

The darkness beckons and Twilight goes willingly.

When he finally wakes, some hours later if the fading light from the window is anything to go by, he’s lying in his own bed and covered in the blanket their mother made when he was just a baby; it’s near threadbare at this point, but neither he nor Time had ever had the heart to get rid of it.

Time, who is currently sat at his bedside and bent at the waist, his head buried in Twilight’s stomach and face turned to reveal soot stains on his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s asleep, brow forever furrowed by the weight of the world, and he grimaces when Twilight lifts a shaky hand to brush away the messy bangs that Time refuses to let Malon clip.

It’s a testament to the chaos of the day that Time doesn’t wake.

Instead, Malon eventually enters the room, another blanket in her arms and her hair done up in a messy bun; she lays the blanket across Time’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as she does.

Twilight watches the moment with lidded eyes, feeling like an intruder in his own sickbed, until Malon looks up and meets his tired gaze with her own; surprise overtakes her features when she sees he’s awake, before she gathers herself and places a gentle hand on his chest - her other palm she presses to his cheek, pursing her lips as she does.

“Hi baby,” she murmurs and Twilight feels his cheeks color, though he’s not sure if it’s from the endearment or the fever. He mouths ‘hi’ back, wincing when a jab of pain lances through his chest. Time’s head rocks with the movement, but his brother only mumbles something in his sleep before burrowing deeper into the blanket over Twilight’s body. Twilight lets his lip twitch upwards at the feeling.

Malon is watching them with a fond smile, though it’s tinged with worry. After a moment, she reaches for a bowl of water sat on a nearby table and brings it slowly to Twilight’s lips, tilting his head with her free hand and helping him to take careful sips.

The water is lukewarm from the heat of the day, metallic and bitter, but it feels like an oasis in the desert of his mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispers when she steps away and she gives him a look of such kindness that he can’t help but thank the goddess that Time finally got his shit together a few years back and actually asked for her hand.

She’d brought back a little bit of the light the two of them had been missing for a long while and Twilight doesn’t think either of them would have survived much longer without her in their lives.

He thinks today is probably a pretty good example of that.

It’s as Twilight is pondering the wonders of Malon and all her ‘magic,’ that his brother finally wakes - it is, unfortunately, not at all graceful. Time jerks in his sleep, sending a jab of pain through Twilight’s chest that travels down the length of his limbs and leaves him biting out a low whine. Malon is quick to pull her husband away, supporting him as he jolts awake with a yelp.

Were Twilight in any other situation, he might’ve laughed at the look of confusion on Time’s face. Instead, he’s too busy riding out the wave of agony that’s decided to take up residence in his body. He can vaguely feel Time’s hands on his shoulders, grounding him as he grips the blanket hard enough that his knuckles begin to turn white. By the time he’s able to regain control, he’s soaked in sweat and his chest is heaving - it aches something fierce, but at least it’s more manageable than the red hot burn that’s now slowly receding.

When the world finally comes back into focus, Time is staring at him with a look of horror, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pup,” he stammers, hands hovering uselessly over Twilight’s body. “Oh goddess, okay, okay, uh…”

He looks to Malon for help, but she’s too focused on dabbing Twilight’s forehead with an old rag to notice.

Twilight reaches an uncoordinated hand in Time’s direction; it ends up falling limply back onto the bed, but it’s enough to grab his brother’s attention. Time takes it in his own, holding it to his chest as he sits back down beside Twilight’s bed.

“S’fine,” Twilight mumbles. Above him, Malon rolls her eyes, but she steps back, allowing Time to lean in closer and press a shaky hand to Twilight’s forehead.

She looks at Twilight over Time’s shoulder, arching her eyebrow in a way that Twilight has yet to master for himself, and mouths the words ‘I’ll be back soon,’ before gathering up her rag and the water bowl and leaving the room.

In the quiet of her absence, Twilight closes his eyes and tries to center himself; Time is running his fingers through Twilight’s sweat-soaked hair, murmuring soft apologies. Outside, the wind is rustling the dry branches of whatever weeds manage to stake a claim in the dry soil.

“M’sorry,” he finally says, looking at Time. His brother shakes his head, moving his hand to cradle Twilight’s head and hold it steady as he brings them forehead to forehead.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout,” he murmurs. Twilight sighs and does his best to press back. Time huffs out a quiet laugh, pulling away just enough to meet Twilight’s gaze. “Accidents happen, Pup.”

“Y’should be w’rkin’...”

“An’ you should be restin’, but here you are sayin’ things like ‘sorry,’ instead.”

Twilight does his best to roll his eyes, but it only makes the world spin, so he settles for looking up at the ceiling instead. It’s been patched over so many times it’s beginning to look like the quilt Malon brought with her when she first came to live with them.

“Papa traded our last cow for it,” she’d explained to Twilight once, holding it up to show him each of the patches - scraps of all different fabrics, from handkerchiefs to blankets to old shirts. “Got it off a scavenger from somewhere West of here.”

“Why’d he trade your cow for it?” Twilight had asked, still too young to catch the way Malon’s eyes had grown sad at the memory.

“He was a bit senile, by the end,” she’d finally said, and that had been the last they’d spoken about it.

“You still with me, Pup?”

Time’s voice draws him away from the memory, concern poorly concealed by a veil of calm. Twilight nods and takes a deep breath, ignoring the way his chest smarts at the action. Time gives him a sympathetic look, placing a hand on his sternum; Twilight smiles weakly.

Time rewards him with a smile of his own, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before sitting back with a sigh and looking out the window to where the sun is beginning to set. Twilight watches him for a moment, before shifting in bed in an attempt to get comfortable.

“Y’should… rest,” he says once he manages to get somewhat settled. “Gotta… be ready for work t’morrow…”

Time doesn’t look at him.

“I ain’t goin’ to the mines tomorrow.”

“Time,” Twilight says and tries to lift himself on shaking arms. Time pushes him back with a gentle sound of admonishment; Twilight goes willingly, but he fixes his brother with a glare nonetheless. “Y’need to go… I’ll be fine…”

“I said I ain’t goin’ to the mines tomorrow,” Time repeats and then looks away towards the door. “I ain’t goin’ at all… anymore.”

It takes a moment for Twilight to understand what his brother is saying, but once it sinks in, it’s only the pain and exhaustion that keeps him from leaping out of bed and shaking Time by the shoulders.

“...y’lost it… l’st the job…”

“More like I shoved it right back up the Overseer’s ass,” Time says out the side of his mouth, but Twilight is too preoccupied with the consequences his brother’s actions admire his sass.

“Nnoo, no nnoo,” he moans and throws an arm over his face; the movement pulls at the wound in his side, but he pays it little mind. “Why-”

“He wanted me to stay.” Time cuts him off sharply. “Wanted me to stick around an’ keep diggin’ while you were here, bleedin’ out.” He crosses his arms with a huff.

Twilight curls his lips in a snarl.

“Y’shoulda stayed…”

“Like Hell,” Time hisses. “You were dyin’-”

“Wasn’t dyin’,” Twilight bites out and then startles when Time stands so abruptly that his chair tips over and falls to the ground with a thud. Twilight stares up to where his brother is looking down at him with an anger that Twilight hasn’t seen in nearly a decade.

“You,” Time nearly spits. “Weren’t breathin’ when I finally made my way here. You were paler than a ghost and lyin’ so still I thought… I thought…” His voice breaks and he turns away suddenly, bringing a trembling hand to his mouth. Twilight watches, shocked.

Finally, Time seems to collect himself enough to speak again.

“I thought I was too late… you weren’t movin’ and Malon couldn’t get you to wake up and I… I thought I’d lost you…”

He doesn’t look at Twilight as he all but collapses onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he curls over himself.

“I cannot lose you,” Time whispers and finally looks at Twilight through the gaps in his fingers.

Twilight doesn’t speak - doesn’t know what to even say . He lays there, staring at Time and unable to come up with a proper response. Time just looks at him, tired eyes boring holes into Twilight’s very being.

The silence is broken by the bedroom door creaking open and both of them turn to see Malon peeking her head into the room.

“Just… checkin’ in…” she says, eyeing the fallen chair. Neither Time nor Twilight offer her a response and, after a moment, she hesitantly nods and then leaves, closing the door behind her.

This seems to break Time out of whatever stupor he’d been caught in, because he finally takes pity on Twilight and stands, knees cracking as he does. He’s looking at Twilight again, but all the anger is gone, replaced by a deep weariness that seems to pervade his entire being. He leans over to place a hand on Twilight’s head, leaving it there for a moment, before stepping away.

“I’ll figure somethin’ out,” he says as he picks the chair up off the floor, righting it with a grunt. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout it.”

“I worry,” Twilight responds quietly. He’s so tired.

Time graces him with a small smile.

“That’s my job,” he says. He makes his way to the door, before turning back one more time. “Rest, Pup. It’ll be okay.”

Then he’s blowing out the lantern as he leaves, casting Twilight into darkness once more.

Except this time, Twilight doesn’t fall into its embrace. Instead, he lays awake for a long while, exhausted beyond compare but unable to sleep; his mind races, trying to piece together some sort of survival plan. Without the rations from Time’s work in the mines, all they’ll be going off is whatever Malon is able to trade with passing scavengers. Despite her best efforts, the crops she manages to produce in her garden are small; the soil in this place was tainted long ago and, though Malon might have enough talent to pull some sort of goodness from the land here and her cuccos can provide some eggs (and meat, if things get truly desperate), it just isn’t enough for the three of them to get by.

Especially now that Twilight definitely won’t be out making trade runs or hauling supplies anytime soon.

He groans, pressing his palms into his eyes until they begin to hurt.

Goddess be damned , he thinks sullenly.

Sleep does not come easy.

Time leaves early the next morning; Twilight listens to him rush out the front door and down the dusty road towards the village, not even stopping to wish his old mare, Epona, a proper goodbye from where she watches at her post.

For a few hours, Twilight contents himself with believing that Time has come to his senses and is going to go and beg to work in the mines once more. The Overseer might be an ass at the best of the times, but Twilight has to believe that the man has some sort of kindness tucked away.

His hopes are dashed, though, when Time returns before midday, a small bag in hand.

“Bounty work,” he explains when he finally shows Twilight the handful of rations he’d received that morning. “This here’s the down payment. I go, finish the job, and I get triple what they’ve given me here when I return.”

Twilight objects at first, and so does Malon, but, to Twilight’s surprise and horror, she’s quick to give in. She frowns as Time explains his plan to return after each bounty, get his promised payment, and then head out again after some time at home, but finally nods.

“I still don’t like it,” she admits, biting her lip. “I don’t like the thought of you out there alone, huntin’ after dangerous people.”

“It ain’t all dangerous people,” Time says, taking her hands in his. “Love, one bounty alone’ll be worth more than what we could trade for in two months… you and Twilight’ll have more than enough to get by while I’m gone, and whatever is left over you can trade for… for anything you need! Anything you want!”

“Time,” Twilight calls from the bed, but the look in his brother’s eyes when Time turns to him kills whatever argument he’s got building.

“Pup, I promise I’ll be fine! I’ll be safe… and you two will be okay without me for a little while.”

I can’t lose you , Twilight wants to scream. Wants to throw his brother’s words right back in his face. But Time is looking at him with so much hope, so much determination, that Twilight simply closes his eyes and sighs, relenting.

“You better come back,” he says instead and nearly cries when Time nods with a small smile.

“Of course.”

“And you better come back in one piece,” Malon adds on. Time laughs, deep and rich, and Twilight tries to memorize the shape of the sound; the way his brother’s voice fills up the tiny bedroom and makes the whole house feel warm.

He clings to that memory the way he clings to Time the next day, digging his fingers into his brother’s tunic and burying his face into Time’s neck.

“Please,” he begs and feels Time press a kiss into his hair. “Please, come back.”

“I promise, Pup,” Time says and then he steps back, helping Twilight to lay back down into bed. “As long as you promise me that you’ll actually rest while I’m gone.”

“If that’s what it takes for you to come back,” Twilight responds and hates that way Time’s smile falls just a little. He’s dressed for travel, a bag slung across his shoulders and a hood fitted at his neck for when the wasteland sun becomes too much. He looks like one of the heroes from the stories their mother used to tell them; like one of the travelers from far away that appeared suddenly from the swirling sands, only to disappear like some sort of spirit or mirage.

Twilight desperately prays that Time won’t just disappear.

“I’ll come back,” Time reassures him again, his smile turned to something softer. And then he’s leaving - he says his goodbyes to Malon outside, their words too quiet for Twilight to make out, before he’s truly gone, his form fading slowly as he walks further and further off into the distance towards the village and whatever lies beyond.

Twilight watches him go from his bedroom window, staring out at the horizon long after he can no longer see his brother and long after the sun has climbed high into the sky. Malon comes and sits with him eventually, though she doesn’t speak.

The two share the silence together, waiting for something that definitely won’t come within the next few hours, before finally Malon leaves to finish her work for the day and Twilight lies back down and tries to keep his promise to Time.

That’s how the next year plays out; Time comes and goes, always returning with his promised rewards - sometimes it’s rations, sometimes it’s supplies - and a handful of new stories and scars, before heading off again on the next job. Twilight recovers, slowly but surely, and eventually he’s back to working where he can, picking up random jobs here and there and helping with trade runs when scavengers set up camp in the valley a few miles beyond the village. Malon gives him herbs and vegetables and eggs to trade for water and cloth and feed for Epona. When Time returns, they use his payments to trade for things like leather and dried meat.

That’s how it goes, for one year, until one day it all stops. One day, Twilight and Malon wait and wait and wait, and then the day turns into two. And then three. And then five and ten and twenty.

Twilight spends his evenings sitting on the sturdier parts of the roof of their house, eyes trained on the horizon, while Malon sets a third place at the table in their tiny kitchen. Still the days drag on.

One day, 34 days after Time last left, Malon finally trades the last of his rations for a jug of gray water.

182 days after Time last left, Twilight finds her sitting in her garden, tears carving tracks through the dust on her cheeks as she digs through the dry soil. She’s singing to herself.

370 days after Time last left, Twilight finally loses hope.

He finishes feeding the cuccos that morning and then goes out to the field, only to find Epona lying on her side, stiff and cold despite the heat of the day. The sound that tears itself from his throat reminds him distantly of the howling creatures he sometimes hears at night.

The world ends for a third time.

Twilight falls to his knees beside her, throwing himself over her body and cursing the goddess the way he used to when he was much younger. He feels like a child, helpless and lost, except this time, there’s no older brother to wrap him up and save him.

In the field here, he is alone with a dead horse.

It’s how Malon finds him hours later, only by then his sobs have subsided and he’s simply sitting beside what’s left of Time’s beloved steed, running his hands over her still flank and trying to commit the exact color of her mane to memory.

“She was all we had left of him,” he says when Malon sits beside him, a hand on his shoulder. They sit in silence for a long while.

“I still have you,” Malon finally whispers and Twilight feels his heart break just a little more.

Eventually they manage to bury Epona; they don’t drag her up to the hill where Twilight’s mother is buried, though he wants to. Instead, they lay her to rest a little ways away from the house, in the cradle of the dry riverbed, where Time used to ride her up and down its winding length. Twilight marks the spot with a large stone, doing his damndest to pound it into the ground as far as it can go, lest a dust storm come to tear it away.

He stays there, long after Malon leaves to go back to the house, staring at the stone and the mound of freshly moved dirt it sits upon.

There’s something building in his chest; it isn’t more tears - he thinks he’s spent all that he has of those - but some sort of terrible, wonderful feeling that reminds him of when that wagon first collided with him and crushed one of his ribs so horribly that it turned itself against him and pierced right through the thing it was meant to protect.

It reminds him of the hope that he saw in Time’s eyes over a year ago; of the determination that sent his brother off beyond the boundary of everything they had ever known.

It isn’t either of those things; Twilight thinks it must be some sort of desperation, strong and wild enough to burn brighter than any hope or determination that could ever exist.

It makes him dream of something so monumentally impossible that he forgets, for a moment, that the world has ended three times now.

He stands there, staring at the stone, until the sun sets.

When he finally returns to the house, Malon is sat alone at the table, her hands folded in front of her. She looks lost in thought and Twilight makes to simply pass her by and go to his room, but her voice stops him in his tracks.

“You ain’t goin’ to go lookin’ for him.”

Twilight doesn’t look at her, still staring at the door to his bedroom. Malon doesn’t seem to care. He can hear her stand from the table, slow and deliberate.

“Didja hear me?”

Something in her voice sends a shiver racing all the way down his spine and he finally turns, eyes trained on the ground.

“...yes.”

There’s footsteps and then a hand comes and tilts his chin up, so that he’s forced to meet Malon’s gaze.

“He’s dead, Twilight,” she says and there’s so much venom in the words that Twilight flinches. “He’s dead. I’ve lost him. I ain’t about to lose you, too.”

“Malon-”

“No!” This time, the force of her words has him stepping back, eyes wide. Malon’s face is hard as stone and she turns on her heel to make her way over the table, planting both her hands on its wooden surface. “No, Twilight. Just. No.”

She doesn’t turn back around and Twilight, still reeling, takes his leave, retreating to his room and collapsing into his bed, burying himself under his mother’s old blanket. It smells of dust and dirt and the many years it’s lived through; Twilight draws its tattered form around himself and tries to imagine his mother’s arms instead.

But it’s been a long time since she left this world and the last person to hold him so tightly was Time.

Somewhere outside, in the far off distance, something is baying and wailing into the night, its call echoing out over the barren wasteland and slipping through the window of Twilight’s room.

He thinks it sounds eternally desperate.

Beneath the tattered remains of his mother’s handiwork, wrapped in the ghost of a promise, Twilight makes up his mind.

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

Hark, hear the call Of the desperate creature The wailing and the howling Of the wonderful teacher Demonstrator of killing Of baying and bounding Whose beauty and grace Is not what’s astounding But instead it’s the writhing Of its prey in its claws And the gift it provides By snapping its jaws Down upon throats Of contemptuous beasts Who scour all the lands And use them as feasts Stripping all they could offer And devouring them whole But the desperate creature Returns what they stole Eating the bodies Of the greedy and proud And ridding the land Of their terrible cloud. - 'Desperate Creature' by Lem, Wasteland Traveler

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snowsandstones · 2 years

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GRRM uses Sansa’s POV to foreshadow at least two major twists in Jon’s story.

Secret parentage:

"Varys has informers everywhere. If Sansa Stark should be seen in the Vale, the eunuch will know within a moon's turn, and that would create unfortunate . . . complications. It is not safe to be a Stark just now. So we shall tell Lysa's people that you are my natural daughter.""Natural?" Sansa was aghast. "You mean, a bastard?" [….] "Catelyn? A bit too obvious . . . but after my mother, that would serve. Alayne. Do you like it?" "Alayne is pretty." Sansa hoped she would remember. "But couldn't I be the trueborn daughter of some knight in your service? Perhaps he died gallantly in the battle, and . . ." "I have no gallant knights in my service, Alayne. Such a tale would draw unwanted questions as a corpse draws crows. It is rude to pry into the origins of a man's natural children, however." He cocked his head. "So, who are you?" "Alayne . . . Stone, would it be?" -ASOS, Sansa VI

Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. -AFFC, Alayne II

The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him "son" for all the north to see. -AGOT, Catelyn II

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert's hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar's wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, "I see no babes. Only dragonspawn." Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna's death, and the grief they had shared over her passing. -AGOT, Eddard II

"I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead." His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth, Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him. -AGOT, Catelyn I

and his death:

"Tell me, Alayne—which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?" "The hidden dagger." "There's a clever girl." He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. -ASOS, Sansa VI

There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains. -AFFC, Alayne II

Dolorous Edd sometimes called Marsh "the Old Pomegranate," which fit him just as well as "the Old Bear" fit Mormont. "He's the man you want in front when the foes are in the field," -ASOS, Jon V

"It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold."-ADWD, Jon I

"Pomegranates. All those seeds. A man could choke to death. -ADWD, Jon V

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it. Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … -ADWD, Jon XIII

and GRRM loves threes. What could be the third?

#jonsa #jon x sansa #that’s why the dragon foreshadowing is about jon not aegon #why would he use her to foreshadow his plot so much if their narratives weren’t intertwined #Petyr’s mouth being red from the seeds and the choke to death could also be foreshadowing his death #if it’s similar to the show w a dagger to the throat

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hepaidattention · 1 year

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Linear String

I wrote this little love confession for some of my own oc's in my own original story, and I realized how much it felt like Pacey and Joey, so changed the names and changed some of the dialogue about their past and thought I'd share. I imagine it was Joey's final love confession to Pacey, the one that finally brought them together for the finale.

"What're you doing here, Jo?" He yawned and looked at her with his furrowed brow and sleepy set gaze. His hair was standing up in weird ways on his scalp and there was an indent on his forehead that she assumed came from whatever he had fallen asleep on. She smiled, seeing his disheveled appearance. It made her think back to when they were young, the old high school days. Pacey was notorious for falling asleep just about anywhere, and by the looks of his fully clothed but sleepy exterior, that hadn't changed a bit.

"Well, I … I needed to talk to you."

"Okay," his hands moved from his hips up to cross over his chest. It was the body's way of telling her he was defensive, he was protecting himself from more harm. "And this couldn't have waited till, I don't know, maybe daylight?"

His words without emotion sounded harsh, but the deep sarcasm he coated them with, and the slightest curve of a smirk on the corner of his mouth, told her otherwise. She let out a shaky breath and said, "No, it couldn't. Because I realized something tonight, and if I don't say it now, well… honestly I might never say it. And I really, really want to say it. I don't want to run anymore."

"Okay," he said slowly, "then say it," and that was all he said. He seemed weary, like he almost didn't want to know what she had to say, in case what she had to say might hurt him even more.

"Okay." She glanced inside the restaurant, hoping he would invite her in and she could spill her guts to him in the centralized heated building, but he didn't budge. He just stood there, waiting. So, here went nothing. "I realized today that fate is a real bitch."

Pacey’s brow furrowed into an even deeper V shape than before, “Who? Are we talkin' Fate Blanchard? 'Cause Jo, I’m pretty sure this could’ve-”

“No, not Fate Blanchard - god I haven't thought of her since high school, but she was a real bitch - but no. No, I mean like fate and destiny, like the universe and the cosmic powers that have a say in who we are, and where we are, and who … who we end up with.”

Pacey didn’t seem phased, but his lack of expression said everything. “Go on,” he nodded.

“The thing is, no matter how many years went by of me I trying to move on and you apparently yearning over me in silence,”

“I did not yearn -”

“Ah ah,” she pressed her finger to his lips, “I’m talkin’ right now, Witter.” He nodded, wordlessly, and she lowered her hand and continued, “I realized that even though all those years in high school went by where I may not have loved you, or at least didn't know it yet, and all those years of us broken up and trying to find someone else to replace what we had, I think there was always a part of me that always knew - and not in a conscious way, but in a ‘fate has this all mapped out if I like it or not’ way. Because I realized tonight, as I was lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling for answers, that in every relationship I have ever been in - no matter how much I loved them, there was always something missing, you know? I mean I even had this great epic love with Dawson, and no matter how much I wanted to say that he was my soulmate or my other half - I always had this piece in me that didn’t feel complete. It was like this missing puzzle piece, and no matter how hard I tried forcing all these other pieces to fit, the puzzle wasn’t complete until I found the right one. That made me so incredibly mad too, because I mean, he's my soulmate, you know? We understood each other in ways I have never known anyone to understand me. He was the person I had been looking my whole life for - and the moment I got it, I wanted to punch someone because it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. That piece was still missing and it made me want to scream. And then…” she hesitated, letting out an irate huff of air before continuing. “And then you come strolling into my peripheral again, and you stand there and you call me names and tease me and ... and you take care of me despite your idiot ways, and I suddenly remembered what we felt like. No matter how much I despised you in high school, no matter how much of my heart you shattered when you broke up with me, and no matter how much I convinced myself I had moved on, you walked back into my life with that stupid smirk on your face, and you called me Jo, and suddenly … that missing piece of the puzzle just … fit. I realized it always had.” Joey had tears stinging her eyes now, her words getting choked on by the sobs she was holding back in her throat.

“Jo,” Pacey started, his arms unfolding, his body language speaking much louder than his words.

“No, don’t, not yet.” She put out a hand and took in a deep breath, letting it out with much stronger endurance. “I’m not done, okay? So, I realized tonight that fate is a bitch, because it was fate herself that did this to me. Because it was fate who never allowed me to quite love anyone the way that I … that I stupidly and hopelessly love you. And that’s not me saying that I’ve always loved you because, hell - despite my middle school crush on you, and my relapse of feelings junior and senior year, I never hated anyone more than I hated you in our freshman year of high school. But all that’s to say that ... that before I even knew what destiny and fate and the cosmos and whatever other chaos it had in store for me, the fates knew, and they knew that one day I’d be standing here, in your doorway, confessing my embarrassingly pathetic love for you, and fate knew that no matter how hard I might try to love someone more or the same as I love you, it wouldn’t let me, it wouldn’t let me even before I ever loved you. Because fate knew that you were my forever - and in a weird loopy, twisty, all jumbled-up way that fate works, before I even knew it, my heart knew it, too. I could devote my life to many people, but there was only one person who was supposed to be my always and forever and it’s … it’s you, Pacey. And the bitch that fate is, thinking she never let me be happy until I saw it, because she had already checked my heart out for a guy I never imagined I’d ever love. And I just, I realized, staring at my ceiling tonight, grappling at what I was going to say to you, I realized that fate was actually on my side - because if I could see my fate in some kind of linear line that only us mere mortals can comprehend, like following a string that got detangled and finally was straight shot to my end, I realized that at the end of the line, it would be you, always. A straight shot to my forever, and that means rather than fate not allowing me to feel love the way I wanted to - she instead was saving my whole heart for the most amazing love of my life.” She was crying again, but it was silent tears. She let out a shaky laugh and brushed a stray tear from her cheek, suddenly feeling embarrassed under the gaze of Pacey's serious eyes. “So, that’s it. I love you, and I don’t appreciate you setting me free or whatever crap you were trying to pull today because I don't want to be set free, okay? You're my forever, Pace.”

“Can I speak now?” he said with a glint of tears in his eyes, a warm smile beginning to cover his lips.

“Depends,” she wiped at her eyes and laughed at herself, “what are you going to say?”

Pacey took a step forward, cupping her face in his hands in one brisk movement. He used his thumb to brush away another stray tear from her eyes and looked down at her, grinning. “Nothing.”

Pacey didn’t take any more time to waste the space between them. He kissed her, hard and passionately, but also sweet and tenderly. Joey’s hands tangled in his hair, and Pacey dipped her a little, breaking their kiss from the giggling that was replaced between them. He lifted her back up and pushed some hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek and his eyes searching her endlessly.

“You’ve gotta say something,” she whispered to him, merely because they were that close, a whisper was all she needed to be heard.

“You’re right,” he smiled, kissed her again, and then pulled back to say, “I can’t believe you had a crush on me in middle school,”

Joey’s eyes rolled back in her head, “You know what? I take it all back,”

“No, no, no, but c’mon Jo, middle school? That’s… that’s pretty embarrassing.”

“You’re a dick,” she said, despite the beaming grin she couldn’t seem to wipe off her face, no matter how hard she tried.

“Yeah, but you love me, so…” he bragged. She scoffed and pushed him away a little in a teasing shove. He pulled her back in within seconds and said, “And you're it. I never doubted for a second you were the love of my life. You're it for me, darlin'.”

“Yeah?” she sounded a little more pathetic than she would have liked.

“Please, you already know I love you, Potter. I’ve been in love with you since freshman year of high school.”

“Oh my god, freshman year?” she said with great sarcasm and an even greater smile, “Wow, now that’s embarrassing, Pace.”

“Yeah, well,” he wrapped his arms securely around her, settling himself where it finally felt whole. That missing piece Joey talked about, was finally back in place, where it belonged. “Can’t really fight destiny, now can you?”

“No,” she ran a hand through his hair, her other arm securely wrapped around him. “You really can’t. But I wouldn’t want to, even if I could.”

Pacey intertwined their fingers together, tugging her inside the restaurant as he said, “Couldn’t say it better myself.”

And the rest is history.

9 notes · View notes

yttsimp · 2 years

Note

Heeello =} good morning to you!! I hope your day has been going alright so far ahah. I not all too sure if making requests now is the best outcome for you, but do definitely make sure to take your time with everything or perhaps even a small break if you're busy<33

Thoo, is perhaps a Ranger x motherly reader who ends up getting sick during the garbo game okay? Like, they are normally the one who genuinely want to care for him instead and make sure he's being treated well, them getting sick would be kind of a how the tables have turned moment. Buuut, because of the sickness they're having (maybe just a seizure in a high stage?) they're in a state of confusion most of the time and often end up sharing information that definitely WASN'T supposed to just come out of them out of the blue (Basically 🧠👉🏻🗑️)

Them still being in the state where they have zero clue what they're even saying just end up confirming that they like him as a romantic interest😭 despite him 100% teasing them for getting sick beforehand, I can't help but be really curious about his response to that confession in particular.

Genuinely adore your mannerisms for your writing, wish you good days hon💞

I am so sorry for the wait!! This one is really crappy I'm sorry ;-;

Rio Ranger x Motherly!Sick!Reader

Flavor: Rio Ranger x gn reader

Headcanons under the cut v

Ranger is certain he hates you

He's certain he hates how doting you are on him, like he's some sort of kid

He's certain he wants to deck you so bad, and that if it weren't for the rules of the game he'd do it

He's definitely sure he hates how you look out for him

You're supposed to be afraid of him! Even just being intimidated would be better than you caring for him like you do!

He's not on your side, he's completely against you! He wants all of you to die!

So why are you being so nice to him?

He doesn't understand at all. He's so put off by your caring nature towards him.

Then you mysteriously fall ill one day.

At first he's a huge tease.

"How the hell did you even get sick in here?? You must have the immune system of a hundred year old."

He teases you like that for a while, but it isn't long before he begins to notice how...confused you seem to be.

Why are your words suddenly so sweet? I mean, you've always been sweet to him but you seem to be getting a lot more direct with your words.

He figures your illness is just making you more sickeningly sweet than usual.

Still...something irks him. He isn't sure what he's feeling.

Why is he wondering when you'll get better?

No, it's definitely because he's already sick of your saccharine crap.

As he enters the medical room you're resting in while Safalin treats your illness, you look at him with a dazed expression.

"What are you looking at?"

"You're pretty."

He straight up bluescreens for a moment, trying to process what you just said to him.

Him? Pretty?? What is wrong with you today?

"Wow, I already thought you were stupid before, but you seem to be even more braindead today."

"I like you a lot."

He's gone again for a few seconds. When he comes back to earth he's certain he's pissed off. Why else would he feel like he's about to explode?

He wants to yell at you so bad, but he doesn't seem to know what he wants to say.

Why won't his words come out?

Finally, he speaks.

"You really are even more of an idiot today."

That's all he can really say before he forces a laugh and leaves the room, tired of looking at your stupid red face.

But for some reason, he can't seem to get your confession out of his head.

Why is he so bothered by it?? It's just some stupid words coming out of a stupid person's mouth.

He doesn't know it yet, but he isn't as angry about your confession as he thinks he is. In fact, he's somehow...relieved.

Maybe he'll admit that to himself one day, but for now, he'll just keep thinking he's mad at you.

#your turn to die x reader #yttd x reader #rio ranger x reader #yttd rio ranger x reader

24 notes · View notes

authorautumnbanks · 8 months

Text

A Thousand Days With You (7)

Series Master List

"Good morning, Kagome! Your tits look awesome today," Satoru chimes, lifting one hand in greeting. His other hand cradles the other cup of coffee he picked up on his way to work. He may or may not have gotten Kagome's favorite latte out of Tsumiki.

"What?" Kagome's brows furrow. She blinks at him. Her long dark hair curls at the end. One strand teases the skin he so desperately wants to run his tongue between. That green dress has him green with envy. He'd love to be on her so snug that she wouldn't be able to tell where their bodies end. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Shit.

He didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Your armpits! Spectacular. Never seen such fine looking armpits in my life." He forces out a laugh.

Kagome lifts her arm. "Uh.. thanks? I tried waxing instead of shaving."

"What else is shaved?"

"Huh?"

"What else needs saving?"

"I'm not sure. Yaga is letting me ease into the role while they figure out where they want me and I went ahead and gave the school a month's notice so they can find a replacement." She looks past him. "How are you doing, Shoko?"

"Me? Oh, I'm doing great on this amazing, entertaining Saturday."

Satoru rolls his eyes, thankful for the indestructible blindfold Kagome gave him. She practically proposed to him. "I got this for you," he says, taking a step forward, blocking Kagome's view of Shoko.

Kagome smiles, and his heart punches him in the throat.

He knew it. This blindfold was an indirect way of confessing her feelings for him. Her fingertips brush against his and the electric current sends shockwaves throughout his body from his head to his toes. The touch is brief.

Too brief.

And he can't think of any reason for her to keep touching him.

"Where's my coffee?" Shoko asks.

Satoru looks over his shoulder. "I only have two hands, Shoko."

Seriously, since when does Shoko want him to bring her coffee? The woman survives off of cigs and the pot of coffee she keeps in her office.

"That's crazy. It's like there is this neat invention that allows you to carry multiple drinks." Shoko sighs. "Kagome, if you aren't doing much, I wouldn't mind help in the lab."

"Of course," Kagome says, moving around him. She smells like vanilla. He inhales. His lungs expand and he can't get enough of her scent.

"Wait!" His outbursts startles him, but he carries on. "You can't help in the lab dressed like that."

"What's wrong with my outfit?" Kagome clutches the drink to her chest. The v-cut is far too generous. Helping in the lab means helping wounded sorcerers who will look up at her breasts and... Satoru grits his teeth, willing the imagery away.

"Your dress is far too nice to be getting blood on it. And the lab is cold. So cold. As a fellow teacher, you should join me today. I've got lots to show you."

Shoko snorts.

What a traitor.

Kagome presses her lips together. "There should be lab coats."

"Please go with this man before he combusts."

Kagome's eyes widen. "Combust? Satoru, why didn't you say it was that bad? Come on, we can go to my office. I think Yaga said it was close to yours."

Satoru's throat is dry. Her office? "Not enough privacy," he says weakly. Is he developing an addiction? "I can make it until tonight. Where did you want to get dinner?"

He swallows. He has a mission tonight, but he could do it afterward. Satoru would do it before, but he can't afford to be late to their date.

Shoko coughs out a laugh. She wipes at her eyes. "I think those massages affect Satoru differently. I'm still doing great."

"I'm glad you are doing okay," Kagome says. "I'm not sure why they aren't as effective on Satoru. But I can't do dinner tonight. We can do it before."

Do it before?

He shakes his head. "Another date?" She said she had no more dates this week. What is this betrayal? After everything they've shared? And she's going to go on a date with a normie? "I thought we had plans."

Kagome raises the coffee to her soft pink lips.

Damn. He can't stay mad at her.

"I'm going out with the girls after." Kagome wets her lips. Her eyes seem to sparkle when she looks at the coffee in her hand. Based on her reaction, Tsumiki told him the truth. "Shoko, did you want to come out with me?"

WHAT?

She's inviting Shoko and not him?

"Really? Why, Kagome, I would love to. No one invites me out to have fun." Shoko smiles, but it's all wrong.

Shoko is fucking with him.

"If you're going to be drinking, then you'll need a chaperone or a driver."

"Chaperone? We aren't teenagers."

Satoru ignores that comment. Clearly, Shoko has gone to the dark side. So much for friends sticking together. She gets one energy massage, and she changes up on him in the blink of an eye.

"I appreciate it, but you'd probably scare the guys away," Kagome quips.

His mind screeches to a halt. Scare the guys away? So, she's planning on meeting someone?

"Oh, are you going to take someone home?" Shoko asks conversationally, but her eyes slide over to him, and he can see the joy radiating off her in waves.

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.

Kagome shrugs. "Maybe. The girls are always getting on my case. But you'll like them. Eri and Yuka are a bit outspoken, but Ayumi is like the mother of the group."

Satoru gnashes his teeth. She plans to give him an energy massage, get him riled up, and then send him on his way so she can go out and dance on some other guy? And she plans to take one home? Does she not see him standing right here, ready, and more than willing?

"My mission!" He yells, startling Shoko and Kagome. "Uh...it's a doozy. I might need help. You know it's a special grade one and there aren't any other special grade sorcerers nearby."

Shoko rolls her eyes.

Kagome's brows furrow together as her lips press together. "I guess I could help you before and then go."

"He doesn't need any help."

"Yes, I do. Everyone needs help."

"Since when do you need help?"

"It's okay, Shoko. The massages may have loosened something in him. I'm not sure why they aren't as effective on him." Kagome frowns. "Or you just need more of them compared to everyone else. But I'd hate for something to go wrong because he's all twisted up." She takes another sip of her coffee and hums.

His cock twitches at the sound.

She loosened something all right. All his damn self-control.

A phone rings and Shoko's entire demeanor changes.

Shit. Did someone die?

"It's Nanami and Ino," Shoko says, sliding her phone back in her pocket. They're both injured and need help.

"I'll come too," Kagome says, already trailing behind Shoko.

Satoru clucks his tongue and slides a hand down his face. Why does she have to go? Shoko has been healing everyone just fine. Shoko doesn't need help. And it's not like they are life-threatening injuries.

A headache blooms between his brows.

There better be an oversized lab coat in there.

"Satoru, you don't have to come," Kagome says.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. It would be a shame if something happened to my fellow sorcerers," he says with a sigh, while dragging his feet. "What are you wearing out? Some baggy pants?"

"The theme is red," she replies, but she directs her response to Shoko.

"So red baggy pants?"

"I don't own baggy pants. Probably a dress."

He swallows. A red dress. "Where are you guys going? Do you own any pants?"

"You sure ask a lot of unrelated questions for someone so worried about his coworkers," Shoko interjects, right as they reach her wing of Jujutsu High.

"I was trying to ease my mind, Shoko. No one likes to think about their comrades being injured."

Shoko snorts as she hands Kagome a lab coat that is nowhere near as big as it should be.

"You two sure took a hit, huh?" Shoko gestures to Kagome. "This is Higurashi Kagome. Kagome, this is Ino Takuma and this Nanami Kento."

"Ohhh, you're the new teacher," Ino gushes, fucking gushes, while holding his stomach. "Thank you for the charms. Think they're the reason we made it out." He winces, but looks at Kagome as though she hangs the stars in the sky.

Disgusting.

Nanami dips his head. "Thank you, Higurashi-san." He closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath.

Honestly, both of them were on the mission together. Why are they hurt? Satoru rolls his eyes. He expected better from Nanami.

Kagome wriggles her nose. "Just Kagome is fine." She sets her coffee down and moves over to Ino.

"Uh, Shoko can heal them," Satoru says, gripping his own drink tighter. Kagome hasn't even officially started yet. Why is Shoko making her do all the work?

"I'm fine with supervising," Shoko quips, crossing her arms as she watches Kagome. "Are you going to do an energy massage, too?"

"I can," Kagome says. Her hand rests on Ino's abdomen, as a pink glow emits from her hand. Satoru narrows his eyes behind his blindfold. Does she have to touch him? Can't she make a healing charm or something, so she doesn't have to place her hands on Ino?

Is that too much to ask for?

Ino wiggles his fingers and then rotates his arm. He pats his stomach and smiles.

"Better?"

"Oh yeah, I feel like I could take that curse on all over again, no problem." Ino shifts his weight to the side and then back again as though he has so much energy pent up, he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Thanks! I don't know what that was, but..."

"An energy massage is what she calls them," Shoko answers.

Kagome moves over to Nanami, who admittedly is in worse shape than Ino was.

Still, Shoko could lift a finger to heal him instead of having Kagome do all the work. This is Shoko's job, after all. He recommended for Kagome to be a teacher like him, not a healer.

Nanami peels off his jacket and leans back against the exam table. Satoru scowls. Ino didn't need to take his clothes off. Why is Nanami?

"She can heal ya through your clothes," he says, with a bit of a bite to his words, but either Nanami is used to his snark or he doesn't care, because Nanami focuses solely on Kagome.

"Let me know if it hurts," Kagome murmurs, placing her hand on Nanami's chest. She closes her eyes.

Satoru grips the cup tighter. The liquid spills from the cracks, but he doesn't feel it. Can't feel anything other than this raging headache that keeps pounding on his temple.

Nanami's face flushes pink. His breaths are haggard. "Kagome-san—"

"Just Kagome," she says, but it sounds breathless and someone should put a stop to this.

Why isn't Shoko stepping in? This is indecent.

Satoru tosses his drink in the trash, ignoring Shoko's look of annoyance at the now mess on the floor. "I think it's too much for him, Kagome." He stands behind her and looks over her shoulder at Nanami, who turns his head away.

Oh, hell no.

Satoru lifts his blindfold. Is he seeing this shit right? Is Nanami getting off on this?

"Thank you... Kagome," Nanami breathes out. He grabs his shirt and bunches it up and places it over his lap. The blonde sorcerer refuses to look Satoru in the eye, or Kagome, for that matter. There's a light sheen on his forehead as though he just ran 100 laps up and down the school steps.

"No problem, but what are you doing?"

Nanami opens his mouth, but his words come out choked. "I'm... fine."

"You don't look fine."

"He always looks like that." Satoru taps Kagome's shoulder. "C'mon on, let's leave Nanami alone. He said he's fine, and he's a man of his word." Besides, Nanami looks like he wants to be anywhere but in the lab with all of them.

"I dunno know... Nanami, are you sure you are okay?" Ino asks.

Unfortunately, it is frowned upon to knock one's coworker out, so Satoru lets out a huff of frustration instead.

"I'm fine," Nanami stresses. He swallows, and every action appears to take more and more of Nanami's control. He sucks in a breath and looks up at the ceiling.

Satoru grits his teeth. Is he really the only one seeing this shit right now?

"Did the massage hurt you?" Kagome asks, reaching out a hand, but Nanami sidesteps her and rushes out of the room. His foot slides forward and Nanami topples back. The scene would be funny on any other day, but as Nanami struggles to get up, coffee stained on the back of his pants, Satoru can't conjure up a morsel of humor about this situation.

There is nothing funny about this. No, this is bullshit.

"Ummm Nanami?" Ino calls out, but the blonde sorcerer stands up and rushes out of the room as though the fall never happened.

"... Did I offend him?"

"He's fine," Satoru says. Nah, he knows that walk and he knows how close Nanami was to blowing in front of them. "Come on, Kagome, I need more coffee since mine spilled."

"Stop hogging her," Shoko says. "And you need to clean up your mess so no one else walks in it and trips."

"Hogging? Kagome is a teacher here. We have curriculums to go over and compare." He grabs Kagome's coffee and not so subtly urges her to leave the lab before Shoko convinces her she should stay all day.

"That's true. There's a lot I still need to know about this school before coming up with a plan." She shrugs off the lab coat and hangs it up. "Shoko, if anything comes up, call me. And I'll text you the details." Kagome grabs some napkins on the counter, but he takes it from her before she can bend down.

Fine, he'll get up his own mess. Even though Shoko needs to mop the floor, anyway.

"I can't wait until tonight," Shoko says. "Here's to finding hot men tonight." She smiles.

Shoko is messing with him.

"I can't believe you'd do Ijichi like that." Satoru throws the napkins away.

"I'm not in a relationship with him."

"How cruel you are," Satoru sighs and pretends to wipe a tear.

"Are you dating Ijichi?" Kagome asks.

"Not at all. Satoru has delusions sometimes. He images things that aren't there and comes up with his own reality."

His mouth drops. Oh, she did not.

"Is it because of your eyes?" Kagome turns to him. "The blindfold should help with that, since your eyes are so sensitive."

"... Shoko? What is going on?" Ino asks.

"A train wreck. Entertainment."

"I think I need to lie down," Satoru says, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Luckily, there's a couch in my office. We should go there right now."

Kagome nods. He reaches for her hand, enjoying the warmth of her skin. She's so soft. He doesn't look back as he kicks the door close with the back of his heel.

"How long have you been like this?" she asks after a moment as they walk to his office.

"I was born with the six eyes, but I didn't start wearing blacked-out glasses and the bandages until high school."

"And it wears down your brain?"

"I repair it with my reverse curse technique, but it's not nearly as effective as your massages." He doesn't remember a time when he didn't know the feel of her energy shimmering underneath his skin.

"What about Nanami? Does he—"

"No."

"But he reacted pretty poorly to the massage. He ran out like you did."

"I didn't run away. I just remembered that I had something to take care of." He lets go of her hand and opens the door. Placing the coffee on the desk, he goes straight for the couch and stretches out. His legs hang over the sides, but it's fine. Kagome peers down at him, and his tongue is as dry as sandpaper.

"Do I need to take your mission? You aren't doing too hot."

"You think I'm hot?"

Kagome frowns. "I'm sure you get compliments all the time. I meant you being sick. There's clearly something going on with you."

"I don't get praised enough. That's my curse. If I don't hear it from your lips, I might die."

"That makes no sense." Kagome turns away from him, muttering under her breath.

Satoru slaps his forehead. Oh, come on! That was so smooth. How could she miss that?

"I'm taking your mission tonight. Ijichi has the details, right?"

Her footsteps grow faint. Satoru sits up. Why is she leaving?

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"To talk to Yaga, if he's here," Kagome replies. "You need a break. Especially with how dangerous the missions are. You can't go out on the field if you're tired. That's just an accident waiting to happen, and you guys don't seem to get any days off is not good on the body."

"I'm fine," he stresses. "But... if I got hurt, you'd nurse me back to health?"

"Satoru, I'd nurse anyone back to health." She shakes her head. "Just get some rest. We can go over the curriculum later."

"Wait!" He hops off the couch. "You know, brunch would help. There's a spot nearby."

"You should go get food then if you're hungry?"

"I mean, we should go. Together. In case I pass out." What the hell is he saying? Pass out?

Kagome presses a hand to his chest and pushes him backward. He bites his lip. Does the thought of helping him turn her on?

"You coming on to me?"

"Sit," she commands. "What's the name of the spot? I can grab you something to eat. If you pass out, there is no way I'll be able to carry you back. You're way too big."

He leans forward. "I could fit," he murmurs.

Kagome sighs. "I know you can fit, but there's no way I'd be able to get you in on my own."

"I'm a team player."

"If you're passed out?"

Satoru leans back and smacks the back of his head against the wall.

"Satoru!" Kagome grabs his face. "You should just go home."

He pouts. His shoulders slump forward. Her palms are really warm. They feel so nice. "Mhmm, could you help me home, then?"

Kagome opens her mouth right as the door slams open. The pictures on the wall shake. Panda and Maki burst into the room.

"No class today," Satoru says.

"We aren't here for you," Maki says. "Stop hogging Higurashi-sensei."

"Oh, did you guys need something?" Kagome pulls away and turns to address the students, who look far too smug.

"Gojo-sensei said you're good with barriers. Do you mind showing us?"

"Of course," Kagome quips. "Satoru, just lie down. I'll come check on you later."

"But—" The door closes. Satoru huffs. He pulls out his phone and dials Ijichi, who picks up on the second ring.

"Y-yes?"

"Get the car ready. We're going wig shopping."

***

A/N: I live! Started taking some medicine as soon as I felt off, so it hasn't been too bad. Brain is no longer blah.

Just reiterating that the reverse harem option won for this story and I want to thank everyone for voting. This story is different from the others in that it was supposed to be a one-shot, so I've just been writing off of vibes. I know not everyone is a fan of the reverse harem, so right now A Thousand Days and Wish I Could are the only reverse/poly stories. All others are Satoru and Kagome. And when I get around to that one night stand fic, that will also be Satoru and Kagome.

Wishing you all a wonderful week. If you start to feel sick, please listen to your body and give it the rest that it needs. If you haven't heard it this week, I think you are amazing. Take care of yourself. Fill your well. And try not to engage with things that suck your energy.

Haven't answered any questions in a bit:

The Higurashis have some powers in this story, not Mama H though.

'Could Kagome set up a bigger protective barrier' - She could, that's definitely a possibility and I think some people would be very interested in her and what she can do.

"Are the effects of the massage permanent or temporary" - Temporary, but how long it lasts is determined by the individual and how many they receive also plays a factor.

"Is this pre-Hakari's suspension" - Yes. I'm sure he will have a lot to say when he meets Kagome and sees how Satoru is behaving.

We will be getting some insight into the demon realm and Shippo is 100% guaranteed to troll everyone.

"Where can you read the fox story" - I'm still debating which site, but in the meantime, I'm stock piling chapters so updates will be consistent.

Next update will be Wish I Could. Here's a sneak peek:

"Kagome," Satoru calls, "Can you come do the splits on it?"

Kagome pauses. Her body leaned to the right as she stretches. "I don't know." She sighs as she stretches to the left. "I don't wanna bewitch you any further."

"That's okay, I'd gladly go under your spell."

#gojo satoru x kagome #gojo x kagome #crossover pairings #jujutsu kaisen x inuyasha #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru #inuyasha x jujutsu kaisen #crossposted on ao3 #kagome crossovers

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