#15 ways to spark a new idea

[writingwithfolklore]

15 Ways to Spark a New Idea

Revisit an old project

Take inspiration from classic stories/folk tales

Follow your interests

Start with genre (or a unique combination)

Start with a character

Start with setting

Combine or reinvent some classic tropes

Ask someone to share a story they don’t usually tell (be curious about the people around you)

Use something from your past

Focus on a hard to define feeling

Experience something new

Brainstorm with a writing friend

Read outside of your comfort zone

Talk to a stranger about their life

Twist the normal, normalize the magical

[prettyforwoso]

Help Us Understand.

Barca x teen reader

Alexia x teen reader

Lionesses x teen reader

word count: 3500

Summary: y/n, a talented 16-year-old footballer, nicknamed "la princesa," battles the harsh realities of adolescence. Burdened by self-harm scars and body image insecurities, she attempts to hide her struggles from the team. The team uncovers her deepening eating disorder, prompting a collective effort to guide her through recovery.

tw: mention of eating disorders and self harm

Being a teenager in this world is hard. Not only are you working with shitty hormones and breakouts on your face, you also have to put up with the nightmare of other teenagers. Most of them are fine, in fact, what seems to be the worst of it, are the people who are no longer teenagers, and think that’s a valid reason to attack those who are younger and more vulnerable than them. Like you.

You are a lioness, 16, debuting at 15, now playing for Barcelona, a along side your England teammates, Lucy and Keira. You are known as “la princesa.” The nickname came around after your first game for Barca, in which, you scored a Hatrick and pulled a neat assist. the fans linking your talent to Alexia, saying how much you play like her. Quick, rough, strong. You have always been that way.

This nickname sparked a close connection between you and Alexia. She took you under her wing the second you got off the plane in Barcelona. She didn’t like the idea of you living alone in a new country, despite your ability to speak perfect Spanish. So, you lived with her “only for the first few weeks” which has turned into months. Alexia acts like she is trying to help you find an apartment, but isn’t, like secretly loves having you around, seeing so much of her younger self in you. She fusses over you, cares for you, feeds you, scolds you, drives you to school, gets emails from your school. She has stepped into your life and has supported you in every way a mother would.

You have a bad history with self-harm. It was Leah Williamson who noticed it first, well maybe just the first person to speak to you about it, but you don’t know that. You were rooming with her for your first England camp. Nervous about the girls seeing your scars, you were always wearing a long sleeve under your training kit, which at times got hard as it was summer.

A few girls would joke to you, “how are you not boiling?” was the consistent one that just made you want to rip the skin off whoever said it. It was some of the older girls who brought it up with each other at a post-match dinner that you managed to get out of. It was Lucy, Leah, Mary, Beth and Lotte who exchanged their concern, how they never seen your arms, how you were always somehow too busy for ice baths, how you shivered when someone would grab your wrists. They all kept a close eye on you, but decided not to come to any conclusions, as in reality, you were known to be the sunshine and smiles of the squad.

But you weren’t, and deep down, they knew that too.

It all came crashing down one afternoon, when Leah found a bloody rag in the bathroom bin, she investigated further and found your blades in the back of your phone case that you had left on your bed.

She called Beth to your room, who then called lucy, they gathered together in your room, talking about the next steps. The three of them sat in an almost silence, saddened by the conformed truth. They made their plan, not wanting to waste any time.

They found you in the games room, laughing with Ella as you and a group of girls played table tennis.

“y/n, sorry I just need to grab you real quick” Leah said, breaking her observant silence. You were pulled into a room, it all happened so fast. Lucy placing you on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and Beth pulling your phone out of her back pocket. Leah speaking, you didn’t hear any of it, your focus being on Beths hands, taking off your phone case and picking up the tiny metal blades. You just cried and cried as they talked to you, you didn’t say a word, not denying anything. You cried into lucy’s arms as they tried to understand you and your reasoning being the scars. It took some gentle tugging and tears of resistance for your top to be pulled over your head, leaving you in just your bra and pants in Lucys lap as Leah ran a gentle finger across the healed and fresh marks along your arms. Beth moved closer to you, taking your face in her hands, clearly holding back tears of her own.

No one was supposed to know. But when they did, it killed you.

The bad thing about talent is the expectation of performance, and when you underperform, you would be attacked online. The hatred and negativity really got you, and ruined a lot of your confidence and the girls knew that. They knew the comments you would get, about your play, your personality, your body.

The comments about your body were some of the worst, and they didn’t get better when you started at Barca, in fact, they got worse. It was almost like it was all you saw. You would make a post about a game and hardly anyone would speak about how well you played or how many goals you scored. All you would see was the comments about how your body has changed, how you look in the kit, your legs, hips, arms, boobs. It got so bad that you stopped posting all together and turned off all your comments. Soon however, they comments came to the Barcelona Instagram page, and the pages of your teammates. You worked harder that ever. Working out was no longer about training your body to perform and be strong, it became about looking different and making changes to your body physically.

You were running lengths each morning and evening as well as staying back at training. You weren’t fat, or thin, nothing abnormal for a teenager with a changing body. You had bigger boobs than you did 3 months ago, wider hips, thicker thighs, yknow, everything normal, but the fans didn’t think so, and that’s what got the best of you.

Alexia noticed your increase in running and working out but at first brushed it off as you wanting to prove yourself to a new team. But it soon became hard to ignore when you were finding excuses to not eat, the snacks she would buy you because she knew you loved them, sat in the kitchen untouched. She tried to pretend she couldn’t hear you coughing up each meal in the bathroom, more for her own comfort.

It became too much to ignore when others noticed.

“Why are you running so much little one?” Mapi asked you, completely innocently after training one day in the change room.  At first you pretended not to hear, until you realised the whole team was awaiting an answer.

“Do you think I’m just naturally the fastest on the team?” you joke back, getting a laugh from her and a few others. Alexia remains stone face, looking as though she could see right through you.

A few of the girls watched you through squinted eyes as you pull your bag over your shoulder, noticing your spine that wasn’t visible last week. They exchange looks amongst themselves as you and Alexia walk towards her car.

“I got a call from your school yesterday” Alexia says, hiding behind her sunglasses as she pulls out of the car park.

“Why” you ask dry as you pull your phone out of your hoodie pocket. Alexias’s silence was inevitable. You turn your head towards her, awaiting a response. She keeps her eyes on the road, rolling her tongue along her top teeth, looking out at the cars ahead in deep thought.

“Why are you hiding from me bebita?” she breaks her silence, with an almost whisper.

“What are you talking about” you snap back in her direction

“You tell me Pequeña, Why do you think your school called, Se honesta conmigo” her eyes didn’t leave the road.

“No sé” you reply, swallowing the truth that lingers on the tip of your tongue, threatening to reveal itself.

“What is going on with you” Sabes que no deberías actuar de esta manera.” She takes a breath, remaining hidden being her bold sunglasses, refusing to look you in the eye, scared of becoming too vulnerable.

The silence was deafening. Pulling up in the driveway, you reach for the car door, your attempt at defusing the situation quickly rejected as Alexia locks the doors, trapping you in a conversation. You refuse to turn from the window, Alexia now being the one begging for eye contact.

“Bebita, look at me” she whispers. Her failed attempt of a resolution resulting in her hand reaching for your long curls, gently moving your head around to see your face. Her breath hitches as she looks at the tears swelling in your eyes, immediately bringing her thumb to wipe them off your soft skin.

“I hate when you yell at me” you begin, chocking on almost every syllable. “Estoy tratando de ser valiente”

“oh cariño ven” she says desperately as she pulls you effortlessly over the centre console and into her lap, wrapping her arms around you. Your tears just get heavier, as you hide your face into her neck, the idea of getting out of the car, now long forgotten.

“Bebita, your school is worried, you are the top student, why are you not doing work? Hay algo que te distraiga? She gently nudges you in her arms as she askes. “I am worried for you, talk to me”.

You just couldn’t bring yourself too. The truth is, you were too distracted for school, for homework, for study. There was so much on your mind right now. The last thing you were worried about was classes that you already knew all the content for. You were hungry, not eating at all, desperate for control over your changing body.

The next dreaded team bonding night came all too soon. Your tried to convince Alexia you were too busy with school but she wasn’t having a bar of it, almost having to drag you out the door and into the car. Nothing you wanted to do more in that moment than curl up in bed with a teddy and your warm blanket Alexia got you for my room in her house. But it was unavoidable. Alexia was correct in the way of you having to be at the dinner, in her perspective it was to show up and be social, for you personally it was about proving the concerned rumours between the girls that you weren’t eating wrong. However, that didn’t exactly go to plan.

Alexia parks in the driveway of Mapi and Ingrid’s home and you follow her inside. You greet all your teammates, receiving a kiss on the cheek and head pat from most of them and they smile down at you.

Since the conversation in Alexia’s car a few weeks ago, she hasn’t let you out of her sight, you didn’t even get into the not eating stuff, but still has watched your every mouthful over the past few weeks. You still had your tricks, not eating when she wasn’t around, running now three times a day on top of training, and all else. You were deteriorating. Dark bags under your eyes and hallowed cheeks.

“Y/n come get some pizza before you sit” Frido pulls you to the kitchen away from the crowd that was the typical team bonding, this felt like a test.

“Oh no, its okay” you scan your surroundings before following up your statement. “Alexia fed me before we came” you smile, attempting to be casual.

“oh, that’s weird, we always have dinner at team bonding” she raised an eyebrow, questioning what felt like your whole existence. She grabs a slice for herself and tries to offer you some anyways, failing as you kindly decline, insisting you will have some later.

People were scattered everywhere around the home, some sitting around the table playing card games, others vacating outside with a drink. You scan the house looking for place to escape to. All you wanted was to leave the overstimulation that was this monthly event.

You head towards the empty bathroom, the room you spend probably the most time in at other people’s houses. You begin to almost run towards it as you hear your name being called. It was too late; Lucy was stood outside yelling your name through the door of the garden.

“Y/n, come talk to us we miss you” she giggles as she enters the room to get you. You begin the walk of shame towards her. Overthinking what is coming next. Stepping out the door onto the porch your gently grabbed by the back of the neck and brought to a group of women standing around. Their faces light up as they see you. The group consists of Mapi, Lucy, Alexia Frido, Jenni and Ona, all sharing a bottle of wine.

“Y/n, you want a drink?” Ona asks, you aren’t sure if she’s joking or not.

“No Ona, she is a child” Jenni interferes and takes the drink Ona is pouring, handing it to Lucy, who puts it down with ease. You crack a smile at the interaction. They think you are so innocent…

“You’re not old enough for a drink yet Bebita, especially on an empty stomach” Alexia jokes with a smile.

“empty stomach?” Frido butts in, tilting her head in confusion at the contradicting information.

fuck.

You let out a load cough to clear your voice before quickly excusing yourself from the conversation. “I need to pee” you announce before hurrying inside, finding Ingrid at the table, playing cards with a few others.

The group, now abandoned by you stand in a deafening silence.

“She’s not eating is she?” Frido breaks, looking at Alexia with wide eyes.

“Shes not doing good, no” Their captain reply’s looking down at the glass in her hand.

“So we were right” Mapi says through squinted eyes as she tightened her grip on the stem of her wine glass.

Most of the team has been talking for a few weeks now. Lucy briefly filled them in about your history with Self harm and how you were managing it now. But the not showing up to meal times and doing overtime in the gym was something she couldn’t explain. However, they soon linked it to the bullying from people online about your body. It became to much for them all when Alexia broke down in front of them, claiming her worry for you. It was clear there was a bigger picture to what you were letting them see, seeing as their usually stone faced, strong captain had tears in her eyes over you.

Your rapid weight loss didn’t go unnoticed, even coaching staff beginning to threaten benching you if you didn’t gain some weight, claiming you were too weak to continue at full trainings and games. You always just told them you were sick, claiming it as an excuse for the weight loss and loss of appetite.

At first, everyone, including team members believed you, until they noticed you weren’t getting better, like you would if you were really sick with a catchable illness.

“So what are we going to do? because we cant loose her, shes our best” Lucy asks, getting more frantic as the sentence rolls out her mouth.

“I’ve tried talking to her, she just lies, tells me shes fine, ella me ignorará” Alexia says, finally looking up from her half full glass, meeting the eyes of her teammates.

“I know she needs me, but she won’t talk to me, she is sneaking into my bed each night for comfort, I wrap my arms around her when she falls alseep, ella tiene miedo de estar sola, shes been clinging to us, as if she is desprate for help, but doesn’t know how to ask. She won’t leave my side, unless there is food involved. luego ella desaparece” Alexia blurted out, speaking slow and clear, explaining herself.

“Maybe if we all try” Ona breaks her personal silence, earning a raised brow from a few listeners, the nodding heads soon followed.

“Bebita, can I come in” You hear Alexias voice beam through the small gap in the doorframe.

“A few of us are here too see you” you tilt your head in confusion at her followup statement, why are people here to see you, so late in the evening. You thought everyone would have returned home after team bonding, as did you and Alexia, why was there people outside your bedroom door?

You sit up in your bed, still tucked under the covers in your hoodie (that may of may not be Alexias) and shorts, clinging to your Stitch teddy. You close your laptop playing your movie and move it down the bed, finally giving Alexia a response.

“ehh, yeah come in” you say, unsure on what you are agreeing too.

You remain put under the safety of your covers, as if they would protect you from danger as the group of women enter your once personal space, finding refusge in spots around your room, most of them making themselves at home on your bed, espechailly Alexia, who comes up close to you and wraps and arm around your shoulders. Lucy, Ingrid, Mapi, Frido and Ona looked at you, as if they were waiting for you to break the artifical silence.

“Querida estamos aquí para hablar contigo” Ingrid is the first to speak up, beofre Mapi adds to her girlfrinds statement.

“I think you know what about” she fidgests with her rings. “we are just trying to understand”

“so help us do that, please sweetheart” Frido interupts.

You shake your head and close your eyes, as if you could open them and it would all go away. “I don’t know what your talking about”

“I have lectured you enough about your lying bebita” Alexia says in a stern voice.

The silence isn’t going away. You were in full control of it, and you knew that. You knew that they were waiting for you to talk, no one was going to make it easy for you.

”Desearía poder hacer que todo desaparezca” you shut your eyes once again as the tears start to spill out the creases. “I just want to be able to control what is changing”

The girls don’t speak, they are waiting for more, and they won’t break untill they are statified.

“I don’t know how to ask for help, or how to be okay” The tears get heavier as you push out the words, Alexia runs her free hand along your face, nudging you to keep going. You put in your best efforts to regain your breathing as your lip quivers in Alexia’s hand. Still no one was talking.

“I never meant for it to get this bad, I just wanted to get some control, I feel like there is so much online about me, rumors, hate, negitivity, all things I cant just reach out and get my hands on, to be able to toy with it and mold it to the way I want it. There is so little I can control, but my body, I can. No queria llegar tan lejos. Im so scared of losing myself, I want to hold onto the me that I am forever but I know I can’t, but I wanted to try, and that is why I yearn for whatever control I can get. So many ideas are put into my head about what my body should look like, how tall I should be, how much I should weigh, how tan I should be, how I should hold myself. I realised I am so calm and content when I play football, and that is because I am perfect at it, no one finds flaws in the way I play, but I second I step off the pitch I loose that warm feeling, because I have flaws again. When football is out of the picture, I am covered in them. I just wanted living to feel the same as playing, perfect and flawless.

The amont of tears in the room should safe a deadly drought.

“nuestra niña hermosa, estamos aquí” Ingrid climbs onto the bed coming closer to you, followed by the remaining womens in the room, all finding a spot, as close to you as they could get. So many arms are wrapped around you, so many hands holding your face, wiping your cold tears away.

“Let us help you darling” Lucy and Ona say in an unmost unison.

You slowly allow yourself to nod.

The following weeks were slow and painful, but what isn’t in recovery? The girls put it upon themselves to keep you in check, taking turns taking you out on small adventures, like going for walks or getting icecream to get you out of the house as you were ruled out of training and playing for a few weeks by your phycologist, that Alexia and Lucy insisted that you saw, they drove you to each appointment and picked you up, no questions asked. Meal time in the house became a big thing, Alexia discarding the idea of sitting around the table and eating, instead opting for sitting wherever, weather that was outside, or in, watching a movie, or just chatting. This change of environment around meals made eating less of a chore, as you got better, teammates would come over for dinner and it became more a social event, a more relaxing endeavor. You slowly made your way back to training as you got your fitness back, earning pats on the back from your team who you had made, very proud.

[mzzledmutt]

—BLIND DATE

starring.ᐟ katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis.ᐟ “a social engagement or date with a person one has not previously met.” After neglecting his personal life for so long, Pro-hero Dynamight, also known as Katsuki Bakugou, can no longer run form the inevitable. With the help of his nosy parents, Katsuki ends up on a blind date with you.

warnings.ᐟ SMUT, fem!reader, pro hero!katsuki, first blind date, drinking, fingering, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, overstimulation, creampie, biting, marking, hair pulling, pet names (excessive use of princess), slight man handling, bakugou is a softie at heart, praise, slight softdom!katsuki, breeding

word count.ᐟ 4.8k words

m.mutt 𐂯 please enjoy my brainrot!!

KATSUKI Bakugou was known for many things. His boisterous personality. His bulky, intimidating stature. His impressive and powerful quirk. His less than family-friendly language and his hatred of paparazzi.

You would think being in the spotlight since 15, he would be used to it at this point. Maybe even indulge from time to time but, it’s never been his thing. He makes that fact well-known, constantly. Written and spoken interviews, press conferences, and award ceremonies, he will remind everyone to mind their own business. Especially when it comes to his personal life.

New photos and videos always arrive of the hero, dressed in alleged disguise, flipping off and yelling at the paparazzi. Especially when they get too close to his family and friends. One of his most iconic videos is of his poor father attempting to calm down both his large, rowdy son and his equally rowdy, yet smaller wife.

This strong distaste for the prying eyes and cameras belonging to paparazzi, unfortunately, takes a hard toll on his love life.

Their obsession with publicizing his entire life has forced his hand in many situations. That and the exclusive life he is now forced to lead. One of the biggest downsides of being a hero is the increase in difficulty in your love life.

These few relationships he’s had have all ended one of two ways.

One, in a ball of fury and tears. As a pro hero, Katsuki is often spotted with many people. Typically, people he knows. In bars and restaurants, caught conversating and drinking. Those candid moments are always being televised, even without his knowledge.

Suddenly, his after-work drink with a few friends is skewed and Dynamight is allegedly dating pro-hero Uravity. Resulting in arguments and watching as his partners stormed away.

Two, the spark simmers out. Coming home to put on a front feels exhausting as the days tick by, they both know it. It’s only inevitable until someone’s bags are packed. They’ll cry, holding hands on his couch as he speaks. They’ll go for a hug, only to realize now isn’t the time and leaving is the better option. Soon his apartment is quiet again, leaving him alone.

All of it has turned him away from the dating scene. He’s young and green, with plenty of time to settle down. Except, the consistent pestering from peers, fans, and his own parents is draining. Balancing his hero life, personal and love life all at the same time, was nearly impossible.

“I’m not going out with some chick you designed a dress for!”

“Just give it a try, you brat.”

Katsuki groans, his head rolling back at Mitsuki’s pestering. They were currently sitting in his childhood kitchen, eating brunch as they usually did on Sundays. “You have no idea, you could find the love of your life!” His father chimed in, attempting to add support.

“Maybe you’ll finally give me a grandkid.” Katsuki cringes, shaking his head at his mother’s words. “Look, as your parents we just want what’s best for our little boy. Even if you’re a hulking mountain a man now.”

“I think you should give it a try, she was a sweet girl too. Very well mannered.” Masaru pipes up in Katsuki’s silence.

“Look, just give it a shot. I’ll give you her number and you two can work things out. If things don’t work out you can always try again.” She sips at her hot tea, eyes fluttering shut due to the steam.

“And if I say no?”

“Why do you have to be so incredibly difficult?” Mitsuki scolds as he swirls his spoon in his tea. “Why do you have to be so incredibly annoying?” He muttered followed by a swift pop to the head.

“Ow! Shit!”

That’s how he ended up in this high-end lounge, awaiting a random woman his parents vouched for. He nursed a glass of whiskey, looking over their messages on his phone. Their conversation was rather bland, nothing incredibly enticing but, everyone doesn’t connect over text.

After some time, from his spot at the bar, he sends her another text. It’s only fifteen minutes, there could be traffic. He closes the messenger, choosing to scroll through his social media feed. Occasionally, he lifted his head scanning the area.

It wasn’t a quiet night, the place was bustling with conversation and laughter. Twenty minutes late.

He sent another text.

Everyone is secluded in their worlds, eating snacks and conversing with their loved ones. Their loud conversations exceeded the confinements of their seats. Katsuki was growing impatient.

Thirty minutes late. He’s already attempted to call, being sent straight to voicemail. Was this a joke? Had his parents set him up for some reason?

Glowering red eyes linger across the bar, noticing a figure he had seen earlier. Dressed in a sleek, black dress and nursing a martini between manicured nails. And another text.

Each time he looked in search of his alleged date, his eyes wandered back over to you. Watching as you pitifully looked around, maybe in search of someone like him. His eyes shut as he grimaced watching you pout. Your full, glossed lips jutted out with sadness.

He goes to pick up his phone and sends another message before, shutting the device off. Nearly an hour and a half late, he wasn’t that desperate to pester someone who didn’t care.

“Excuse me.” He calls the bartender. It didn’t seem like this mystery woman would be appearing any time soon so, might as well take a chance. “Lady at the end of the bar,” He gestured toward you. “Another of what’s she’s having, from me.” The man nods, heading off to prepare the new drink.

Katsuki grins seeing your reaction. Confusion washed over your face for a moment before you were directed towards him. Eyes locking for the first time that night. You smile and wave, he reciprocates nonchalantly.

Soon, his whiskey is finished and another is placed before him. “From the lady.” The bartender smiles, pointing his gaze to you once more. You raise your glass in solidarity, your beautiful smile still on display. He raises his glass, as a sort of distant cheers, taking a swig right away.

He watches as your gaze falls to the background, peering around the dim bar before you rise from your seat. Katsuki anxiously shifted in his seat, unsure of where you were going but, his anxiety didn’t settle as you stride over to him.

“Hi.” One word and he’s hooked. Your melodic voice wrapping itself around his brain and heart. “Hey, care to sit?” He offers the seat beside him. “Gladly.” You’re nervous, curt responses give you away along with the slight tremble in your hand.

“What are you doin’ here, beautiful?” He’s starting bold, liquid courage providing him strength. “I was supposed to be on a date. He hasn’t shown.” He ashamedly smirks. “Funny enough, I got stood up too.” He down the rest of his drink.

“What’s your name?” You answer sweetly, a bright smile on your face. He shared it, almost subconsciously. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki—“

“I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. I’m surprised everyone is being so calm right now honestly.” You laugh and his heart skipped a beat, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while.

“Places like these are used to seeing pros, they get over it.” He replies, leaning against the bar top. “Not every day one-half of the wonder duo walks through those doors.” You reason, a smug smirk on your face as if knowing you’d won.

“Touché.” You giggle, a sweet sound he yearns to hear again. “Did you enjoy your martini?”

“It was delicious. Thank you, again.” Well-mannered and gorgeous. “Anything for a pretty girl like you.” You flush, thanking him profusely. He orders you both another round, choosing to carry on the conversation.

As you two spoke he fell deeper and deeper into infatuation. “I’m the newest assistant for your friend, Chargebolt. This is only my third month at the agency and I’m tired.” You sip at your drink. “Really? Been so busy I haven’t had a chance to make the trip. Can’t be an easy job though, knowin’ Kaminari.”

“It’s not the most difficult task in the world but, I do have to keep my eye on him like a toddler.” You share a laugh at the comparison.

The conversation shifts to your personal lives. Lamenting on your lack of a love life, work beginning to consume your free time. How your close friends and family have urged you to get out of your shell. Which led to this night.

His hand lays over yours as he showers you with compliments. Deflecting anytime your humble attitude attempted to shut him down. He complimented your dress, you tried to brush him off claiming that the piece was old and unflattering.

“Well, I think that dress is absolutely stunning.” His hand grasps yours, and you reciprocate. “I should know, my ma’s a designer.” He’s almost smug in saying that as if his association with a designer made him the judge of all fashion.

“I’m aware, I’ve browsed her catalog since I was little.” The way your eyes light up talking about particular garments his mother fashioned that she always dreamed of owning. “I think you’d look gorgeous in just about anything.”

“Are you flirting with me Katsuki Bakugou?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment. The two of you leaning into each other's spaces unknowingly. He could smell your sweet perfume from her, the scent filling his senses. “I am, is that alright?”

“It is.” Your eyes flicker down to his lips as you lick your own before sitting back in your seat. Katsuki’s already hooked, still leaning into your space as if entranced by you. He leans back, stuck in an unfamiliar haze of attraction.

That haze seemed to slow the time as he checked his watch seeing he had been chatting with you for nearly four hours. It was dark outside, patrons still lingering in the lounge.

“Hey, it’s getting late.”

“Is there anything I can get you? A ride home? Maybe a nightcap?” The last part was slightly rushed as if he were embarrassed. “A nightcap sounds good, I’m off tomorrow anyway.” The wink you give him doesn’t go unnoticed making his stomach tighten. “Excuse me, can I close our tabs?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, let me. Besides that jerk should’ve been here paying anyway.” You sit in silence as he closes you both out of the night and thank him as he helps you to your feet. Bakugou drapes his big coat over your shoulders, holding out a hand which you graciously take.

The contrast of the warmth of the bar and the chilly night air flushes your cheeks. You’re thankful to the hero for his warm coat. “Your hands are really warm.” You mutter as you both stride down the sidewalk.

Katsuki’s notices before you. The stares. People turn to whisper to each other as he walks beside you. Soon, there are flashes and cheers of his name. He rolls his eyes out of annoyance, holding onto your hand tighter as he moves faster. “Can ya’ keep up, princess?”

A small swarm of fans and paparazzi crowd the couple, snapping photos and begging for an interview. He barks orders at them to leave you alone, keeping your face obscured from their ravenous gaze. You blindly follow, rather unphased by the crowd around you.

Before you, a sleek, exquisite sports car sat with flashing headlights. Katsuki opens the passenger door, still blocking you from view as he helps you inside. Once the door is shut, you’re concealed by his dark tint. “Can’t you guys just fuck off, for one night?” It was a rhetorical question, more to himself than the people around him.

He waves at fans along the street, ignoring the money-hungry reporters behind him as he opens his own door and settles into his vehicle.

“I’m so sorry.” He’s met with a soft laugh and a gentle touch to his hand. “Katsuki, I’m used to it. This is a part of my job too, I’m just more behind the scenes.”

“They’re just invasive,” The card engine roars to life, vibrating the interior. “Almost predatory. Going any length for a snippet of gossip.” He groans, leaning his messy blond head against the leather seats. “Bakugo—“ - “Katuski.” He speaks over you.

His head lulls to the side, his full attention on you. “Katsuki. I appreciate all you’ve done tonight.” Plump glossed lips upturned into a smile that melts his heart. “Consider it a late welcoming gift. You’re lucky, I usually send assistants gift cards to a spa.”

You both laugh, a break between the growing tension filling the cramped space of his car as you hold eye contact. His tongue darts to lick his chapped lips, teeth barely grazing the skin before he clears his throat and looks away.

“You sure you still wanna go back to mine?” He asks, buckling his seatbelt and you do the same. “Yeah, it’s just one drink.”

One drink.

Just one drink.

The phrase repeated in his mind almost the entire time. Your voice disrupting his thoughts the only thing keeping him from being completely silence. He drives you to his building. A large, clean structure. Covered in windows, and lights, and well decorated.

You don’t even need to enter the lobby. Katsuki leads you to an elevator activated with a special keycard.

After a short trip, the doors open to this grand place.

You find yourself in awe as you walk through his front hall. His apartment was massive and spotless yet, homey. Although he clearly preferred a more modernized look, it still managed to have the charm and personality of his childhood home.

“This place is ten times bigger than my apartment.” Katsuki laughs, taking his coat from you and hanging it beside the door. “I want to downsize, this was an impulse buy from when I first started. A financial disaster is what I refer to it as.” You giggle, he swoons.

The blond guides you to his kitchen, pulling out a stool for you to sit in at the island. “Are you hungry? I can whip something up.” He offers. “I thought I was just here for a nightcap, not dinner.” You joke, settling down in your seat.

“Well, I like a nice snack when I drink and a lady always deserves a nice dinner on the first date.”

“This is a date now?” You quirk a brow, still rather unsure of what to make of this evening.

“Wasn’t it always? We both had shitty dates who stood us up, we just found each other instead.”

“Yeah, then I guess it is.” You bat your lashes as silence falls over the kitchen for a moment. Katsuki clears his throat and smiles, moving away to gather something to eat. “What’re you making?” You ask seeing as he stands before the fridge. “Nothing.”

“Fresh bow of fruit, put it together today. I can get some crackers and wine, that work for you?” You nod.

“Could you grab the bottle off the counter? Don’t worry about a screw I’ve got one.” You help yourself to sort of peruse his kitchen, taking in little bits of his taste from the pictures and decor before returning the bottle to him.

Katsuki pops the bottle, pouring you both half glasses. You cheers, taking the first drink together and savoring the sweet taste. “I didn’t expect you to like sweet wines.”

“I indulge from time to time, besides it was a gift from my ma.”

“Aww, Dynamight the mama’s boy.” You giggle, grabbing a fresh strawberry and popping it into your mouth. “Oh hush, she gets these kinds of things for free and knows I’ll actually use them.” He’s close, using his elbows to lean on the counter.

“So don’t always do this?” You can smell his cologne.

“Do what?” He can smell your perfume.

“Being pretty girls to your apartment.” The scents colliding are an intoxicating concoction.

“Only pretty girls I like.” A strawberry is held cautiously between his fingertips, held between your space. “You like me, Katsuki?” A rather silly question on your part, he wouldn’t do this for just anyone.

“I do, princess.” He slowly bites into the juicy fruit, keeping his eyes on you.

The sudden bass and rap of his voice along with the intense eye contact fill you with a sudden wave of heat. The facade of small talk became harder to keep up.

It wasn’t long before Katsuki was brazen enough to lean over the counter and press his lips against yours. Your glasses of wine are soon abandoned, sloppily making out as you sit on his pristine countertop. He stood between your legs, hands crawling across your back and hips as you pant into each other mouths.

Soon, you’re both stumbling down his spacious corridor and into his dimly lit bedroom. He lets you go, turning to close the door as you take in your surroundings. Once the door is shut his attention is back to you, frantic hands roaming over each other skin, pulling at the almost offensive fabrics that keep your bodies apart.

Your clothes are eventually scattered among his own on the bedroom floor as Katsuki gently lowers your naked bodies into his fresh sheets. Cradling your head as he brushes his lips along your jaw and neck. You shiver under his touch, calloused hands running along your soft skin, cupping your breast, and rolling your hardening nipples.

You mewl under his touch, legs squeezing his hips to keep him in place. His teeth nip at your jaw, lowering to nip and suck marks into the skin of your neck. Your hips buck against each other, his hardening cock jumping against your dripping cunt.

It was becoming too much. you whine, pulling his attention away from your neck.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His words are followed by more gentle kisses. “Want you, ‘suki.” you pout, eyes watering dramatically. “You want more, baby?” You nod, lips still stuck in a pathetic-looking pout. His right hand moves to your jaw, pinching the bone between a few, thick fingers.

“Use your words.” His voice is strong, and commanding. Yet, loving and soft. “I want more, ‘suki.” He smiles at your muffled words and presses a wet kiss onto your puckered lips. “I’ll give you more then, princess.”

Your jaws sore when he lets go, the feeling of his fingers still remnant in their wake. Your legs fall slack as the blond kisses down your torso, from the valley of your breast to the bottom of your navel. He follows the trail back up and down once more, staring you in the eye.

His eyes shift down for a moment, a wolfish grin forming on his face. “You’re dripping, baby.” He cooes making your skin flush. another whine leaves your throat as you tear your gaze away, trying to focus on the ceiling above you. “No no, look at me.”

“Good. Look at me, baby.” His right hand moves from rubbing at your hips, to gently caressing your skin until his thumb lands on your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden contact, your gaze locked on him. Thumb lowers to collect the juices from your cunt, making a show as he brings the digit to his mouth to taste you.

You’re infatuated with the godly figure before you. His pale skin glistens with sweat, muscles unintentionally flexed as he lewdly moans around his fingers at your taste. “‘s so good, princess. You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He makes of show of it, wickedly at your already blissed-out appearance. “So damn sweet, soakin’ my sheets.”

Your eyes follow him as he descends between your legs once more, harshly biting the plump skin before soothing it with kisses.

You’re so caught in your own pleasure, the shock of his fingers prodding your cunt forces a gasp. His free hand moves your thighs onto his shoulders as he stares you down. “Can I?”

One thick finger breaches your cunny slowly, gently pushing in before pulling out. He follows the motions a few times, watching as you gush around his finger. Soon, another is added. Carefully, thrusting into your pussy as he presses kisses to your clit.

You writhe at his ministrations, fighting to keep your eyes focused on the man before you.

He sets a slow and mind-numbing pace, slowly thrusting in and out. The sounds of your slick coating his fingers and your breath moans a chorus to him.

“Yeah? Feel good, princess?” He teases, gaze fixed upon your pleasure-ridden face. Your mouth is agape as strained moans are pulled from your aching chest. He was breaking you apart in two fingers, stretching you open and preparing you for his cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight. Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy, baby? ‘M gonna stretch you open like a good girl deserves.” He declares, mainly to himself. Too lost in how your walls greedily suctioned his fingers back in.

Bakugou carefully leans down to lap at your clit, eliciting a soft cry and an arch of your back. He shuts his eyes as he savors the taste he was beginning to yearn for, suckling your poor neglected clit.

“Katsuki!” You shout, digging your nails into the pillow behind you. “Katsu—fuckk! Please, fuck me, baby! I need you so badly, need your cock so bad!”

He’s devoted to searing your taste into his mind. Messily coating his face and your cunny with a thin layer of wetness. Soon, he’s haphazardly withdrawing his fingers from your salacious cunt, against your protests to taste you further.

Spikes of blond hair bob between your legs, his tongue delving between your folds making you whimper and writhe. His hands grab a hold of your ass, holding you close to his face so you wouldn’t escape. Your back arches from the comforter, keening into his touch.

“God!” You cry as you fall back onto the sheets, fingers grasping for anything to clutch. His pace never falters, gratefully drinking your slick that spilled into his awaiting tongue, then swirling it around your throbbing clit.

“Kat—fuck! Baby—Katsuki!” Your body felt electric, an almost buzzing sensation that erupted from your pelvis and spread through your body. Your wanton moans are loose into the air, eyes shut as your head is tossed back.

You were a gorgeous statuette of pleasure.

You felt as if you bit off more than you could chew. Going out with a pro hero was already anxiety-inducing enough, practical criminal, allowing him to lure you to his apartment with promises of a nightcap, and now naked and wriggling beneath him was driving you to insanity.

And he's not even inside of you yet.

The maddening way his tongue circled your aching clit, inscribing his name into the bud. His blunt nails digging into the meat of your ass, keeping you relatively grounded. His tongue unrelenting stimulating your soaked pussy pushed you to your first orgasm.

A sudden wave of pleasure and the ever-growing pit in your stomach unravels through your body. You grip his hair, keeping Katsuki’s mouth in place as your hips buck into the pleasure. You loudly cry out his name, and a few tears roll down your cheeks as you cum.

He groans into your cunt, eyes rolling at the sweet taste of your cum. His hands rub your skin, easing away any pain left behind by his grip. Slowly, you open your eyes, chest still heaving.

“‘Suki,”

He pulls away, the lower half of his face soaked with slick and spit.

“M’yeah?” You can’t even think of what to say, just laying your head back to catch your breath. “You alright, baby?” You nod, still returning from your high. Katsuki crawls up to face you, a soft smile on his lips. “You look so pretty.” He cups your cheek, running his thumb along the soft skin.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He quirks a brow, a smirk on his face. “Yeah? I’ll fuck you, baby.”

“I promise, I’ll fuck you real good.” He captures your lips, sharing the taste of you once more. Your tongues are quick to entangle as you pant into each other's mouths.

Your fingers naturally gravitate to his blond hair, keeping him close as you kiss. Your bodies move together as you grind against one another, his hard cock leaking pre cum against your stomach. You’re both growing increasingly needier, rutting and panting like dogs in heat.

Katsuki breaks from the grinding, settling himself between your thighs. The tip of his cock pressed against your clit, spreading his precum as he teases you.

“You want it?”

“I want it, ‘suki.” His grin is wolfish at the nick, happily dragging his cock from your clit to press at your fluttering hole. He groans at the warmth and wetness, your dripping cunt already leaking onto him.

A pathetic high-pitched whine leaves your open mouth as his thick, heavy cock slowly bullies into your heat. Pushing deep into your plush, warm walls. Katsuki is slow, taking his time to ease you into the feeling. His lips are on your breast, kissing and nipping the soft skin.

“More, please.” You whine, your hands moving to hold onto his back. His hips increase in pace, still slow as you hiss once he draws back.

Katsuki slowly molds your tight pussy to his cock, stretching you open to only accommodate him. The sharp pain of your nails digging into his back only encourages him to thrust faster, making you cry out his name. Your cunt loudly gushes around his heavy cock, spilling syrupy juices down your skin.

“God damn, this pussy—fuck—you’re s’fuckin’ tight.” He grits out, grabbing your leg and pushing it back to the mattress. The change of angle causes you to lurch forward, your hands pushing at his shoulders. “Oh my god, Katsuki!” You shout, as his throbbing cockhead smushes against your cervix.

He’s back to sucking your tits, leaving spit-soaked freckled hickeys in his wake. You’re still adjusting to his size, the sudden change in position driving him deeper into your guts.

He’s pressed himself closer against you, his pelvis adding stimulation to your nice neglected clit. You throb around him and cry, fat tears slipping from your eyes. “Y’feel that, baby? I’m so deep in this pretty pussy. Y’feel me in yer tummy, does it feel good, baby?” You’re incoherent, only capable of breathless moans and sobs.

“You look so pretty, all fucked out ‘cause o’ me. Tell me, baby, do I feel good?” His hand cruelly comes down to press on the slight bulge in your stomach, causing your poor cunt to twitch around him. “‘s too much!” You cry out, pushing against him to no avail.

“Too much? You can take it, princess. Can’t ya’?” His pace suddenly grows rough, hips slamming into yours as he fucks into your cunny. He pressed your other leg to the mattress, forcing his cock all the way inside.

You’re mindless. Eyes rolled back into your skull, unintelligible moans and clawing at his skin. The rooms full of thick, humid air, the sounds of your squelching cunt, and a chorus of moans. Bakugou savors this image, in case he may never get the chance to see you again.

He caresses all of the right places inside of you, each thrust full of never-ending pleasure. His wicked tongue in your nipples and sinful roll of his hips push you to the edge. Like a burning fuse, slowly trailing all the way to a firework.

“Y’close baby? Don’t worry, you can cum for—fuck! You’re so fuckin’ wet—cum for me.”

Katsuki’s thrust increases to a maniacal speed, jostling you around his mattress without care. He was chasing his orgasm now, keeping you secure beneath he ruts into you. Heavy balls slapping against your asshole, the rough feeling of public hair against your soaked cunt. You can’t think let alone protest before he’s spilling his cum deep inside of your womb.

Katsuki keeps himself buried inside of you as he changes position, opting to hold you instead. You’re both panting as if you’ve run a marathon, hearts racing and skin coated in sex and sweat. You lay in silence, catching your breath for just a moment.

“Please don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ ’bout leavin’.” He mutters into your hair, rubbing your back. You breathlessly giggle against his chest, shaking your head. “I can’t feel my legs, Katsuki.” He smiles, cheering to himself.

“How about we clean up and get some rest? I’m beat.” A yawn cuts you off as you agree, alerting you to how exhausted you truly are. Katsuki kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep and tomorrow, we can continue this date. That sound nice?” You nod again, and slowly drift to sleep.

“Good. Stay here and look pretty, I’ll run a bath.”

[deanssluvr]

midnight memories

pairings: frat!joost klein x fem!reader, friends to lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drugs. SMUT. handjob. cowgirl. unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it). mdni.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: I did it. Literally couldn’t think of anything else but this. yes the title is based on a one direction song. It’s what sparked this idea. hope yall like it. requests for Joost Klein are open.

You entered your new dorm, heavy boxes in your arms. You always hated this process of moving back in. But you were happy about the upgrade. Only one roommate this time, and a bathroom in your dorm meaning no more communal bathroom. You walked to your shared living room and you set the boxes on the floor. A loud crack as they hit the ground. You cursed yourself as you knelt to open the box and assess the damage.

“Fuck.” You picked up the pieces of the now broken desktop mirror. You loved this mirror because it was so convenient and you’ve had it since your freshman year. But now you have to trash it. You decided it was a good idea to pick up the pieces with your bare hands, but quickly regretted it when one of them cut your hand. You let a string of curses leave your mouth as you rushed to the sink. You winced as cold water washed over your wound. You spent 15 minutes tending to your hand and finally wrapped it in gauze.

You walked back out to your car to grab another box. As soon as you picked it up, your wound stung but you ignored it. You just wanted to finish unpacking as quickly as possible. You treaded back up the stairs to your dorm and stopped at your door. You set the boxes on the ground so you could get your keys out of your pockets.

“Heyyyy” You knew that voice and you groaned.

“Hey, Joost.” You turned to see your friend Joost standing in the doorway. He was in a plain white shirt and black sweatpants. You were confused about what he was doing in the girl dormitories, especially during move-in day. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m just here to help a girl move in.” You knew he was lying.

“Right. You’re just gonna help her. That’s it. Isn’t that how you ended up sleeping with my roommate last year?” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? First, that was a coincidence. And second I’m genuinely going to help her.” He attempts to explain himself. Because he was looking for a reason to see you, but he would never admit that.

“No. I don’t believe it. You do this all the time. You’re just trying to sleep with her.” You finally find your key in your pocket and open your door.

“I would never. What do you take me for? A whore?” You looked at him, giving him his answer. It’s not a secret that he sleeps with a lot of girls. And you see why. He’s attractive but cocky and you would never give him the satisfaction. He looks at your hand and sees the bandage. His face changes to concern and he gently picks up your hand. You wince a little at the contact and he apologizes, examining the wound. “What happened?”

“I broke my mirror that’s all.” You should’ve pulled away, but you didn’t. His hands were gentle with yours. Almost as if he cared. He looked at you with expression you couldn’t make out.

“Let me help you unpack the rest of your stuff.” He offers as he picks up the boxes that are still sitting next to the doorway.

“Are you trying that trick on me?” You raised your brow at him.

“I mean is it working?” He smirked, but you weren’t falling for it. “I’m kidding. I promise. I just want to help you out.” He gave you a genuine smile. You opened the door to your dorm allowing him to come in and set the boxes down.

—

After some time, the boxes finally made their way to your dorm. The hard part was over. You both sat on your couch, collectively deciding to take a well-needed break. It was silent between the both of you, but comfortable silence.

“We’re throwing a party tomorrow to celebrate coming back. You should come.” You knew exactly what party he was talking about. His frat always throws the biggest parties at the beginning of the year. They’re known for it.

“I don’t think I have a choice. My friends are dragging me there.” You chuckled looking at the unopened boxes that now littered your floor. If you looked at him, you would’ve seen him. looking at you like he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Which is exactly what he thought. He was so incredibly in love with you and has been since freshman year. But he would never tell you that. He believes that you deserve better. Better than him at least. He was brought out of his trance by his phone vibrating. He took it out of his pocket and looked at it and sighed.

“Hey I’m sorry but I gotta go. The guys need wanna go shopping for tomorrow. But I can stay if you need help.” He hoped you’d ask him to stay. Partially because he doesn’t feel like going and mostly because he wants to stay here with you.

“No, I’ll be fine. All I gotta do is unpack at this point. Plus my roommate should be here in an hour and she can help me if I need it.” you give him a reassuring smile. “Plus if you want to help somebody, I’m sure that girl that you mentioned probably still needs it.” you laugh and he rolls at you.

“You got jokes?” he gives you a smirk and playfully laughs. When you both stop you’re just looking at each other. It was quiet between the both of you.

“Uhm well, I should head out before they leave without me.” He looks away and gets up. You both say your goodbyes before he leaves your dorm.

—

You and your friend had decided to get ready together in your dorm since it was closer to where the party was being held. Your friends all crowded into your bathroom trying to finish their makeup. You had already completed it before they arrived and now struggling to pick an outfit. You just wanted something comfortable but cute because you’ll most likely be on your feet all night. You finally settled on an outfit that you were happy with and picked up your phone.

“Guys, we’re already 45 minutes late.” You yelled across from across the hall. You groaned when you heard no response and walked over to the bathroom. 2 of them were already finished while one was still working on her makeup.

“Sophie, how much longer are you gonna be? Because at this rate we’ll never make it to the party.” everyone laughed except Sophie.

“I’m sorry. This lash isn’t sticking no matter how much glue I put on it.” You watched as she tried placing a lash on her eye again only to take it off in frustration. Walking over, you take the lash out of her hand. You reapplied the lash glue and gently grabbed her face. You carefully placed the lash on her eye.

“How does that look?” You both were looking at her in the mirror.

“It looks so good thanks.” She smiled.

“Okay. Well, let’s get going.” All four of you quickly gathered your things and made your way out of your dorm.

—

The walk to the frat house wasn’t too long which you were grateful for. As you walked up to the place you could hear the music blaring and see multiple different colored lights through the windows. You and your friends arrived at the front door and were greeted by two guys. Obviously, they were members of the frat.

“Heyyy ladies.” One of them greeted you. Both of them looked at you and your friends like you guys were a full-course meal. It creeped you out. They moved out of the way to let you all in. The fraternity house throbbed with pulsating basslines that reverberated through every corner. Dim lights flickered overhead, casting shadows that danced against the walls as bodies moved to the rhythm of the music. It was packed. Two of your friends went to find their boyfriends and promised they’d meet up with you later into the night. Leaving you with Sophie who was already eyeing a guy.

“Wanna go get drinks?” You pull her from her trance, and you both stumble through the crowded living room, waving to familiar faces and exchanging playful banter. You both finally made your way to the drink table. You looked at the mystery punch and immediately passed it up opting for a beer. You were about to pick one out of the cooler before a rowdy group of students clamored over the table looking for refills. You rolled your eyes, grabbed your desired drink, and found your back to Sophie. She softly nudged your arm.

“Hey isn’t that the cute frat guy that you’re always around.” You looked in the same direction as her and your eyes met Joost’s. The room seemed to quiet down for a moment. The both of you just smiled at each other. Sophie grabbed your attention by pulling you by the arm.

“Let’s go dance!” You nodded and gave one quick look over to him again, but he had already turned back to talk to his friends. The part of the room that was considered the dance floor was tightly packed. But Sophie was able to find a spot in the crowd for the both of you. Your favorite song had come and Sophie was screaming the lyrics with you. You both were feeding off the energy of the crowd, dancing along with them. You had to admit that the playlist was fantastic because never was there one full moment on that dance floor. You were too busy having fun to notice Joost’s eyes on you. He had completely zoned out of his friends’ conversation to look at you. He was mesmerized by the way your body moved to the music. His mind drifted to dirtier things as he thought about his hands exploring your curves as you danced against him. He was quickly pulled from his trance by his friends pulling him to go get more shots. But after 15 minutes you were getting quite tired. Then one of the frat guys from earlier asked her to dance. She looked at you with pleading eyes.

“It’s okay. Go have fun. I’m gonna go take a break.” You tried yelling over the music, but she heard you anyway. She mouthed you a thank you and was pulled away to another part of the dance floor, leaving you to yourself. You made your through the crowd. You wanted to find somewhere where you could breathe for a moment, so you made your way to the front. You passed two guys on the threadbare couches who seemed to be engaged in a debate over something. On the patio outside, you leaned against the railing, escaping the heat and chaos inside. you watched as groups of friends played beer pong with fervor, their competitive spirits adding to the party's vibrant energy. The cool night air offered a brief respite from the sensory overload indoors.

“Want some company?” Turning your head, you see Joost walking over to join you. You smiled softly, silently allowing him to stand out on the patio with you. You both didn’t say anything for a few moments. You feel the cool breeze blow past, letting the heat you felt earlier go with it. You hear him dig through his pocket for something.

“You want one.” He offered as he held out a box of cigarettes. You shook your head, and took one out, putting it between his lips. He pulled out a lighter and lit it. You watched as he inhaled and blew the smoke into your face.

“Oh my god. You asshole.” He chuckled as he watched as you fanned the smoke away from your face which resulted in you laughing. A few moments pass again before you speak again. “Can I ask what you’re doing out here? I thought you would’ve been doing something stupid with your friends or trying to get in some girl's pants.” You took another sip of your beer.

“All of my friends are wasted,” he paused briefly, “And the only girl I care about is standing right here.” You looked at him in disbelief, but he was avoiding your eyes.

“You mean…” that statement could mean anything. You watched as he took in a breath and looked at you. It was dark with only the light of from the party seeping through the window behind you. Through the faint multi colored light you could see the hesitation in his face.

“I mean I like you. Like really like you.” You’d never seen him nervous until now. He flirts with so many other girls, but when it comes to you it’s different. He tries to read your face for any sign that you might feel the same.

“Joost I…” Words were lost to you. Nothing you could think of didn’t feel like enough of a response for him.

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to feel the same.” He gave you a pathetic smile. A bad attempt at hiding how he was feeling. “I was just tired of you not knowing how I really felt.” He sighed. He was sure that he just ruined everything between the both of you. He dropped the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. Anything to avoid your gaze. But you gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you. You watched as his eyes scanned over your face. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. You finally pull him into a kiss. He was caught off guard but enjoyed it nonetheless. He was hesitant to touch you at first, but his hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer to him.

Out of nowhere, a group of clearly drunk guys came yelling and laughing out of the party. They noticed you and Joost and cheered him on. You both pulled away a bit embarrassed. Joost more than you. You can see a faint blush rise on his cheeks and you giggle at him.

“I know somewhere more private.” He took you by the hand and you both went back inside. He pushed his way through the crowd of people. The energy still hadn’t died down in the slightest. As you both made your way through the crowd, you spotted Sophie still dancing with the guy from earlier. Then you saw your other friends watching their boyfriends play beer pong and losing. Joost led you up some stairs and into a hallway, which was crowded with random people making out with each other. It was awkward pushing past them, but you did it anyway.

He stopped once he arrived at a room. He opened the door and you both went inside. He locked the door behind you. The room was relatively tidy. You looked around and saw multiple posters littered on his walls. All pictures are different from artists to video games. There was also a flag that you assumed was from where he’s from.

You lifted his shirt over his and tossed it somewhere on the floor. Your hands were quick to explore the exposed skin.

“Is this okay?” You felt his hands reach up your back to your zipper. He was nervous and he hated it. You were the only one who made him feel like this. You nodded. He unzipped it and lifted it over your head. Then toss it on the floor along with the rest of your clothes. His lips found their way to your neck, kissing and sucking where he could. His hands carefully reach up your back to your bra. When he tries to unclasp it, he starts having trouble. You couldn’t help but giggle at the struggle, so you reached back to do it for him. He slides it off your arms and tosses it aside. One of his hands was in your hair, pulling you into another kiss. Your fingers unbuttoned his jeans and wrapped around his desperate cock and started stroking softly. He pulled away and inhaled sharply. You pick up the pace and he leans his head back, a low groan escaping his lips. You leaned forward kissing and sucking at the new exposed skin. He curses under his breath and grabs your hand, stopping your actions.

“I need to fuck you schat (baby).” he breathes, panting hard, his chest heaving. He sounded desperate. He sat up on your knees giving him room to pull his pants and underwear down. You pulled your panties to the and grabbed him, lining him up with your entrance. You slowly sank, letting yourself adjust to his size. One of Joost's hands went to your waist, to help support you. You sank lower, having to bite your lip but unable to stop a low moan from escaping you. Once he was fully inside you stopped. You placed a hand on his chest gently pushing so he was lying on his back. He had many meaningless one-night stands, but you were more than that to him. His eyes scanned over your body and he looked at you like you were the most beautiful girl to him, a goddess even. His hands come to rest on your hips. Without warning you start moving your hips at a quick pace. You feel his fingertips digging into your soft flesh. Strings of curses mixed with broken praises leave his lips. His breathing was fast and heavy, and while he continued rubbing you, he had a moan of his own escape him.

"Fuck," he said, the curse not typical for him. "You're so tight." You were becoming a moaning mess with every thrust. The loud music still blaring downstairs was the only sound blocking your near pornographic noises. You looked down at him while you moved. There was a light film of sweat on his brow and his face was one of utmost pleasure as he watched where you both connected. It was filthy and beautiful he thought to himself. He knew you were both close when your movements became messier. So he sat up, his arm around your back. He was meeting your movements with his thrusts, pulling you against him. His mouth landed between your neck, kissing you there, as he kept using his new leverage to fuck up into you. In this new position, he was able to find your sweet causing this newfound pleasure to surge through you as he relentlessly kept hitting it.

“I’m going to, i’m clo-“ You could barely talk, but Joost knew what you were saying.

“It’s okay. I want to feel you come.” He thrusted up into you a few more times and you held onto his neck for support. That was enough to bring you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a train and it felt as though fireworks were going off all over your body. He followed suit as he came only a few seconds behind you. His grip on your hips was tight as he brought himself over the edge. Then he stuttered to a stop, breathing heavily, his face against yours. When it was over you nearly collapsed on Joost, your forehead falling on his shoulder. He laid you both back, careful of how sensitive you were at the moment. You both lie there catching your breath. Your hand rubbed soft circles over his chest.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” This question had been gnawing at you since he said it, “about liking me?” He looked down at you in disbelief. But then he realized he was never the most honest with girls of his past and you knew this. But he wanted to make you see that you were different from any other girl he’d met.

“I meant every word. I promise.” You chose to trust and believe him. As much as you wanted to speak further about it, sleep was quick to take over you. Your eyes fluttered closed and he noticed.

“Slaapwel (goodnight).” He placed a kiss on your forehead and that was the last thing you felt before you blissfully fell asleep.

[luvwestwood]

"Build a Bear" - Nanami Kento

3,077 words.

note: just re-posting this as i'm no longer shadow-banned, enjoy kento slutting you out in the victoria secret changing rooms lol

content warnings: nsfw (18+), sex, breeding, dom! nanami, pet names (princess/slut, doll etc), changing room sex, hair pulling, you walk around the mall with his cum stuffed into you lol, quickies, standing sex, semi-public sex? kento sluts you out in the vs changing rooms lol

banner cred. @/yunonoai on twt/ig

Nanami was your boyfriend of almost one year, and you must say, things were going pretty well. He was a gentleman, who was able to prove 24/7 that chivalry isn't dead at all. Kento was all you could ever ask for, and usually you'd spend your days with him wondering how did you end up with a man like the Kento Nanami?

Kento loved to spoil you rotten. He was more of a giver than a receiver. Acknowledging the fact that he’s financially stable, earns way more than what he needs, of course— the rest will go to you, his beloved girlfriend. It was almost like.. he found pleasure in doing it. He always anticipated the big cheesy smile on your face when he comes home with bags full of everything. He's always eager to whip out his sleek black credit card at any given moment as if it was toy money.

Hair curler not working anymore? You’d be getting a new one the next day. Your car broke down? Look out into the driveway the next morning. He ripped your panties the night before? You’ll wake up to four bags full of bespoke lingerie, all specially made for you.

Today was Thursday, which meant either two things. One, it could just be a normal Tuesday. Two, it was Nanami’s payday. And so you know what that means…

“Anywhere else you'd like to go?" Kento followed behind you, all of your shopping bags from earlier in his grasp. Both hands full. Don't forget, he was a respectful guy. He'd never let you carry anything, even if you wanted to. "We have all the time in the world."

You let out a hum, thinking. "Hmm.." You continued, "Maybe Victoria's Secret? I heard theres a 4 for 15€ sale happening on the undies!" The two of you step onto the escalator, Nanami behind you. "And that will be it. I don't want to spend anymore."

"Doll, you already know what I'm gonna say to that." He lets out a labored sigh, looking up at you as you look down at him. You turn around and frowned.

"...I know, but.." You pause your words as Kento abruptly cuts you off. It was as if he was doing this so you speak no further about this matter which you bring up every now and then. Okay.. maybe every time Kento brings you on a shopping splurge.

"Hey- eyes forward, we're getting off the escalator." He quickly moves all shopping bags to one hand, using the free one to guide you off the escalator by gently pressing on your back. It was good timing, cause it allowed you to shut your mouth before you go on your daily rant about how he spends too much money on you, and that you would like to be independent for once.

"Okay, but.." You turn to him as soon as you enter the store; the sweet smell of the body mists and dark, sultry ambience of the place enticing you. "You never let me give you anything in return. I want to do something for you for once." You say this in a stern whisper, as it was more of a small but silly couple's quarrel, and you didn't want other customers to get the wrong idea between you and Nanami.

You hold eye contact with him as he returns the same, Kento remains silent before you see the evident glint in his eyes as an idea sparks in his thoughts.

"Alright then," He ushers you to a quieter part of the store, specifically where last season's lingerie was displayed. "You wanna do something for me?"

You aggressively nod in response. "Yes pleaseeee, anything." Tugging on his blue dress shirt, you quietly beg. Beg that he'd let you do something for him for once.

He looks around the store for a moment to see if anyone else was browsing close enough to where you two were standing. The coast is clear.

"Hmm.." The suspense was killing you. "How about, you and I head to the changing rooms.." Oh, I know where this is going. "I stuff you full of my cum, then we walk out like nothing happened."

You froze. Completely. You weren't mortified, just amazed at how he was able to come up with something like this. "Wh- Ken, are you craz-?!"

"Ah- bap bap bap- I'm not done." He shushes you immediately. "After all that, I buy you a set of lingerie that I get to choose, which you'll wear later tonight." You notice that he holds a tighter grip on the handles of the shopping bag - his sleeves were rolled up and you could see the veins straining on his forearm. Kento was most likely turned on at the thought of what he had just said.

Your own throat goes dry, causing you to swallow your own spit. With furrowed brows you approach him closer to whisper what you were supposed to say less than twenty seconds ago - "..Are you out of your mind?"

He just shrugs his shoulders. "You said you wanted to do something for me, so I gave you an idea for that exact something."

Skeptical, you frantically look side to side before you let out a blabber of words. "What is this, Build-A-Bear?!" And that's exactly what it was. Although he was a gentleman outdoors, and of course indoors; but he's a completely different story under the sheets, Kento never failed to amuse you.

He wanted to stuff you full of his cum in the changing rooms like the bears at Build-A-Bear that get violated by the metal rod that pumps out the fluff. Then, when he's happy about how full you are, he'll pull your panties back up before bringing you back out like nothing happened, choosing a new lingerie set for his eyes to feast on later tonight.

Nanami stayed silent as he watched you think. The two of you weren't talking, your feet grounded in the same position. But he knows your hard-thinking face when he sees it, and he can tell that you're considering the offer. Maybe you were tempted.

You cross your arms. "Fine. But tell me how they're gonna allow us to stay in those changing rooms for more than ten minutes. You know how they are... in a store like this."

Nanami, with his free hand, reached over to the rack beside you, that displayed cute baby-doll sets in various colors. You watched as he grabbed one in every color - he at least took five. In pink, black, red, blue and purple. "That'll give us enough time."

Your stomach fluttered at his remark, was he really going to blow your back in the changing rooms right now? Oh God, if we were to get caught I'm never showing my face in this mall ever again.

You squint at him before turning around, unable to catch the pleasurable grin he had ended your conversation with.

The two of you walked to the back of the store where the changing rooms were, with occasional glares behind you to Nanami. You were practically scolding him with his eyes. Luckily it was more secluded and closed off in the back, and the fact that it was only Thursday resulted in the mall being the complete opposite of busy. That meant no staff will continuously pester you to hurry up, as there are others waiting in the queue.

As you approached the changing rooms, a brunette girl came up to the both of you. You assumed she was a worker by the lanyard on her neck. "Hi, how many?"

You held up the hangers, smiling awkwardly. "..Six items." She weirdly ogled you due to the amount of items you had and don't forget, they were all the same item just in different colours.. As if it were her business anyways.

"Oh- I couldn't make up my mind.. I h-had to try them all." Your breath hitched as you told a lie, you heard Nanami snort behind your back as he listened to how ridiculous you sounded.

Fortunately the girl let it slide. "...Okay, follow me." She walked down the hall of changing rooms until she reaches the one at the very far end. Of course, you and Kento followed. You chewed onto the skin of your lip, gripping onto the mesh fabric of the baby-doll dresses as you walked.

The worker unlocks the door with the key on her lanyard, pulling it open and stepping aside. Only yourself enters first, and you turn around to the two of them. "You can just.. wait for me outside of the door babe." You cycle glances between the worker and Kento. The worker thinks nothing of it. Your boyfriend just nods, smiling as he stepped a bit further back from the door, leaning against the wall behind him.

The girl makes a comment before closing the door. "There's a special button on the wall, if you need any assistance with sizing. Just press it if you need anything."

You take a look at the button before smiling at her, and saying thanks. The door finally closes. You give yourself a minute, taking a look at yourself in the mirror, breathing in and out. You place the hangers on the rail, and your purse on the tiny stool in the corner.

The worker was long gone, it seems that she was occupied with stocking the body-mist shelves outside. Nanami was still waiting outside of the door, until the sound of a lock turning was heard followed by you opening it slightly. Your head poking out in the tiny gap you made.

"..C-come here." You whisper, before he moves himself away from the wall, entering the changing room with you in it.

Nanami wasted no time, immediately grabbing the door open wider with his free hand, locking it behind him. Dropping all the bags on the ground, his lips found yours first. The two of you gently move against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body - but cups your face in the end.

"Are you sure?" He had to double check. Kento wasn't the type of guy to force you into anything you didn't want to do, he always made sure you were comfortable doing it. That's another reason why you loved him so dearly.

Breathing heavily, you eagerly nodded in response. He peppers a trail of kisses from your lips down to your neck, causing you to let out a breathy moan of his name in response. "..K-Kento," You shiver as you felt him plant wet kisses just below your jaw, the obvious tent growing as you continuously call out his name. In return, you wrap your arms around his neck like a sloth, whimpering and moaning as he reaches your sweet spots.

He groans as he indulges himself in your scent, which he never fails to lose his mind about. You were just irresistible and each time he had you - Nanami just yearned for more. The way you'd be dripping wet even though he barely laid a finger on you, and how sensitive you were to his own touch. It felt like he had won the lottery by just being with you.

Considering the time you two had, Kento quickly went back to kissing you on the lips, this time with tongue. By the time he was finished, a string of spit connected your tongues as he pulled away. You look into his eyes before making a request. "..I need you in me."

"Turn around, stay against the wall." He says in short breaths as he tried to catch his own, clearly pent up by the intense make-out session the two of you just had. You obey, your cheek against the wall as he kept you in place.

You looked to your right to face the full length mirror, the cold air hitting the skin of your ass as he flipped your skirt up, followed by your panties being dragged down your legs. He kneels and places a small kiss on your dripping hole before standing back up into his original stance. He grabs a handful of your soft flesh, giving it a spank. The quiet gasps from your mouth only rousing him more.

He struggles with his belt, eager to get it unbuckled. Silently, you watch until he finally gets it, his hardened cock springing up onto his stomach as it finally was able to escape from his pants. Your heart palpitates like crazy at the sight of the arousal dripping from his pink tip, causing you to push back onto him when you weren't meant to - you needed him. Bad.

"..Be patient baby," he grins, after seeing how needy you've become.

You arch your back a bit more, putting your pussy on display to him. He did nothing but devour your body like a work of art with his own eyes. His warm hands snake onto your shoulder for support as he aligns the tip of his cock with your hole that was quite literally begging for him.

A sharp inhale comes from you as you felt his thick cock stretching you out. Kento heard this, and he quickly gave you a peck on the temple before gripping onto your flesh harder. As soon as he slid all the way in, he planted a few more kisses on your nape allowing you to adjust.

He gave you nothing but sweet, slow movements to make sure he didn't hurt you. His chin laid onto your shoulder as breathy moans slipped from his lips - this had only made your knees weaker.

Still pinned against the wall, you snaked your hand to the back of his head, pulling him closer. "G-go ha-arder." And so he did. Kento knew the difference between faster and harder, and he never mixed the two up.

You grab onto the wall for support as he ruts in to you harder, his cock covered with ring of creamy white near the shaft. The gel from his hair rather non-existent from the way you grabbed for it earlier.

"F-fuck," You moaned out, it had only made him go crazier each time you gasped his name or little curses under your breath. The noise of whimpering and squelches from each thrust echoing through the rather tiny changing room.

Your stimulation reaches peak as he fondled with your breasts each time he thrusted into you, his balls making a slapping noise along with them.

He gently tugged your hair into a pony, causing you to haul your face off the wall. "Look into the mirror doll," He spoke between soft grunts. "Watch how you take my big cock like the little slut you are." Your face was messed up, along with you hair at this point too. Each hair was no longer in place with its curl, and your lipstick had been rubbed off into different directions.

You felt his pace change not too drastically, but he continuously deeped onto your g-spot. Your knees weaken and he notices this, the knot in your stomach tightening as he felt your muscle clench non-stop around him.

"K-Kento.. I'm gonna..-" You gasp as he yanked the low cut collar of your top down, causing your boobs to slip out. He pulls you back onto his chest causing you to stand up straight, interlocking his forearms around your elbows. The two of you are now facing the mirror. Warmth of his chest hitting your back as you leaned against it.

You watch as your tits bounce with every deep thrust, Nanami whimpering quietly as he feels his balls tightening. "I-I need to cum..." You whispered, at this point your voice was no longer there. "Please..."

He leaned into your face as you rest the back of your head on his shouder, you were in a moment of bliss. "I know princess, cum all over my cock like a good girl."

And that did it for you. You moaned out loud, your intense orgasm washing over you, and Kento was quick enough to cover your mouth so no one from outside would hear the filthy things happening inside of a changing room as small as this.

Not long after, his warm ropes of cum filled you up constantly as he whimpered quietly, the two of you drained from the intense session.

You use your own two hands to grab onto the mirror decorating it with handprints. Kento breathed heavily as he watched his cock slip out from your hole. Before a drop slips out, he gently pushed two of his fingers in to make sure his load stays inside of you. And kindly enough, he pulled his panties back up for you.

"Thank you baby, you're too good for me." He combs your hair with his hands, putting it back into place before giving your cheek a soft kiss. You turn around and do the same, but this time on his lips.

"I love you, Kento. So much." You smiled, still a bit overstimulated but it was nothing you couldn't take. Your legs were a bit weak though, and it was time for you two to leave.

Just a few finishing touches before leaving, you made sure to fix straighten your top again as Nanami does the same to his signature animal print tie.

You turned to the untouched sets on the rack he had taken for you earlier, giggling as you had completely forgotten they were there. "I guess I didn't get to try them on," You smiled as you bunched up the hangers in your hand.

"I'm sure you'd still look beautiful in all of them regardless," He responded, picking up the bags off the floor and opening the door. Luckily no one was wandering the halls outside.

You rolled your eyes, walking out into the open as if you weren't stuffed with his cum right now. Kento walked beside you as he caressed your soft hair from the back, giving you another kiss on your head. "Hold on," Confused, you stopped in your tracks as he walked off somewhere else, calling out for one of the workers.

She was occupied with arranging the underwear into the sizing baskets. "Yes, may I help you?" She approached you both. It was actually the same girl from earlier.

"I'd like to buy everything in this store please, for my girlfriend over here." He asked, and he was serious. I mean, he's the Kento Nanami.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 15

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: You get sick and then get hit with your period at the same time. Word Count: 15k (most reasonable word count this story has had in months 🤣) Warnings: Sickness; menstruation; Miguel just wants to look after you!!; Short A/N: I'm ready to read the comments on this one, you guys better not disappoint Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Corazón de Poeta" - Jeanette "Sparks" - Coldplay, Acoustic Guitar Revival (guitar version)

Enjoy and thank you for reading! ❤️

Part 15

The moment you wake up, you feel it. The worst thing to wake up to.

A sore throat.

You sit up, blinking a few times as you adjust to the lighting. The sound of rain reaches your ears as it hits the penthouse’s windows. Glancing around, Miguel is nowhere in sight, though the pillow he used last night is still on the floor near you.

You swallow saliva, finding it hard to do so. Yep, you’re definitely sick. You sigh and push the blanket off you, only then realizing it’s been covering you.

Memories of last night come to mind. The power went out just as Miguel and you were going to have dinner, which led to lit candles and flashlights, and music from cassettes while lightning and thunder filled the sky. You eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to listen to music. You showed Miguel new ideas for his place and talked before you fell asleep next to him. And did you offer Miguel your pinky finger?

Staring at the rain, you remember you did and not only that, Miguel accepted it as you gaze into his eyes before you drifted off, too tired to bother with a blanket, which means Miguel covered you at some point after you fell asleep.

For a few seconds, you think about how you’ve slept on Miguel’s living room floor twice now. With him, Miguel. You never imagined such thing but the thought brings a soft smile to your face despite the ache in your throat.

You look around again, wondering where Miguel is before you stand up, your body feeling off, fatigued.

You still have it in you to fold the blanket before you realize you need to wash it considering you’re sick now. You sigh quietly in disbelief. For the first time in a few years, you’re sick. Your thoughts are interrupted by Miguel’s footsteps coming down the stairs, which makes you realize it must be sometime after 6am.

“Hey, good morning,” Miguel says, stepping into the living room, hair damp from his morning shower. Traces of Miguel’s hygiene products, scents you’re all too familiar with these days, immediately reach your nose when he approaches you, already in his suit. It doesn’t take long for Miguel to sense that something is off. “Are you alright?” Miguel asks, immediately taking in your appearance now that you’re awake.

You nod but then shake your head. “My throat hurts. It feels sore,” you reply, wincing slightly as even talking seems to make the ache worse.

Miguel’s eyes soften as he hears your voice for the first time today, taking notice of the way you wince and how your voice sounds different.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel says gently, taking several steps closer to you. “Sore throat. Do you have a fever?” he asks.

You lift your hand to your face, unable to tell right now. Are you warm because you just woke up, or are you warm because you have a fever? You wonder to yourself, hand on your cheek, trying to figure it out when you suddenly feel fingers pressed to your forehead. They feel cool against your skin, though not cold.

You blink, realizing.

“Tienes fiebre [you have a fever],” Miguel says, his tone being one of concern while the back of his fingers are still pressed softly on your forehead. His fingers are bare despite the fact that his suit is already activated, making the contact skin to skin. “Your face is burning.” Miguel lowers his hand at last, not even thinking about what he just did, concern for you being the only thing present in his mind.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me then,” you say, stepping back. “I might get you sick.”

“Nonsense,” Miguel replies. “I won’t get sick, don’t worry.” Miguel steps forward again until he’s the same distance he was just seconds ago. “I’ll have one of the doctors at HQ check you.”

“That’s not… necessary, but thank you. I”ll be okay,” you reply, touched by Miguel’s offer and his concern nonetheless.

Your response instantly makes Miguel frown. What do you mean you’ll be okay with a sore throat and fever?

“You’re sick,” he says gently, despite his frown.

Holding on to the blanket, you look away from Miguel. You know you’re sick, you can feel the ache in your throat and how your body feels off, but a part of you doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. A part of you simply wants to take some over the counter medicine and go on about the day, pushing through your symptoms. It’s what you did in the past the few times you were sick before joining the Spider Society, and after Peter’s death. You learned to take care of yourself since then and now, you’re no longer used to the concern or attention from someone.

“Do you want to go to your universe, or do you want to go HQ?” Miguel offers. “One of the doctors can check you, give you medicine.”

Your gaze meets Miguel’s at last. He’s staring at you, intently, waiting for a response. You nod at last. “HQ. Let me put my suit and get ready.”

“No suit,” Miguel says. “It’s raining and you’re sick. I’m driving us there, no swinging to HQ today. So just… put some regular clothes on, okay?” he adds softly. “Go ahead and get ready, I’ll let my team know we’re going.”

“Alright… thank you,” you say, agreeing with Miguel. You have a feeling that if you were to decline both of his options, he’d probably bring a doctor here to the penthouse to get you checked.

You get ready and change into regular clothes before you meet Miguel downstairs. He’s now wearing regular clothes, too, his suit disengaged to blend in, though that’s not his priority. His priority is to get you treated by a doctor and make you feel better.

The two of you leave the penthouse and head down to the car garage. He unlocks the vehicle and is quick to open and hold the door for you before he gets in the driver’s side. Despite feeling sick, you’re still somewhat aware of how strange it is to watch Miguel drive. It’s like you’ve unlocked another side of him.

The drive to HQ is a short one with Miguel knowing shortcuts around the city. You’re soon walking into the building under an umbrella that Miguel holds to shield you from the rain, walking near you as if he’s your bodyguard.

You head straight to the infirmary sector where a doctor is already waiting for you. Thankfully, the paperwork is short and soon, you’re in a room ready to get checked.

Miguel watches the process, standing by the door as the doctor does basic procedures such as getting your throat swapped and blood work.

“Lab results should take a few minutes. I’ll be back then,” the doctor says before they step out of the room.

You turn to Miguel as he walks over to you, a soft look on his face. He’s already making plans.

“Don’t,” you tell him softly.

Miguel raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me… You’re going home, right?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not working today, so you’re going home, yes?”

“You don’t want me here?” you ask softly.

Miguel steps closer, placing a hand on the patient’s bed, a few inches from your body, and looks down at you, his gaze gentle. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to rest properly on a bed where you’ll be comfortable, cozy. Not here at HQ.”

You nod. “I know, I was just… I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick,” you admit, feeling fatigue. You turn away and yawn, covering your mouth.

Miguel watches you, hating that you feel unwell. He has little time to think about what you’ve said, about it being a while since you’ve been sick, but a quick thought comes to mind. Have you been sick before joining the Spider Society? The door to the room opens, interrupting his thoughts. Miguel turns back to look, removing his hand from the patient’s bed and stepping back to give you and the doctor some space.

“Blood work looks good and the throat swap is negative. It seems to be a simple cold, but I’ll give you medicine. Would you like a shot as well?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll take care of that, let me just write down the prescriptions I’m giving you - record keeping,” she explains looking up at you and then at Miguel for a second before turning back to their paperwork. They scribble quickly, thinking it’s not strange to see the owner of the building, the boss, with you. Not anymore.

They recall when he was here a year ago, injured. You stayed by his side the whole time and it had been briefly discussed by the other infirmary staff that you had taken care of Mr. O’Hara at his home. Clearly, the two of you are close friends, or something like that.

Now, Mr. O’Hara is here with you for less serious reasons, a cold, to show up for you like you did for him.

They finish up and excuse themselves.

“While you get the shot, I’ll be stepping out. I need to take care of something,” Miguel tells you, both to give you privacy since the shot will likely go on your upper buttock, and also because he needs to talk to Jess about today, maybe even about tomorrow.

“Alright, everything okay?” you ask him.

“Yes, don’t worry. I just need to talk to Jess about something,” Miguel reassures you.

You give him a nod, not probing for more information just as the doctor returns. Miguel gives you a small smile, that being his cue to exit the room. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” he says softly.

“I’ll be out shortly,” you reply giving him a small, reassuring smile.

With that, Miguel steps out of the room to give you privacy. He calls Jess through his gizmo, standing outside the infirmary room. A second later, she answers.

“Miguel.”

“Jess,” Miguel says. “Morning. It’s very sudden, but I want to ask if it’s possible for you to take care of things around here today?”

“I can. Is everything alright?” Jess asks, watching as Miguel turns away.

“Y/N is sick. It’s only a cold, according to the doctors here at the infirmary, but she has a fever…”

“It’s always good for someone to be around when dealing with a fever. It may change,” Jess tells him, knowing already that Miguel doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“Yes,” Miguel replies, turning back to face her. “I’m going to look after her, make sure it goes down.”

“Let me know if you guys need anything. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thank you, Jess,” Miguel responds. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll tell Y/N about it. Thank you for today.”

“If you need to, take off tomorrow, too. It might just be a cold, but it can take a toll on the body for days.”

Miguel gives her a nod, relieved that Jess is making such offer so he can look after you. He had already planned for that, if he was honest. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Jess. I hope it doesn’t get worse, but we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated if I do take off tomorrow just to give you a heads up.”

“No need. I’ll know. Just look after her, alright? And tell her I hope she feels better soon. I’ll be sending her a message in a bit but either way.”

“I will,” Miguel replies softly. “I’ll tell her. Thank you again. Do let me know if I’m needed for backup.”

“Alright, take care.”

“You, too,” Miguel says before he ends the call. He gazes down the hallway leading to the infirmary lobby, lowering his arm to the side. Thankfully the floor is empty save for the medical staff, you, and him. No serious injury or someone on the verge of death. He sighs deeply as he remembers the few days he spent on this floor, injured, before he was allowed to go home. It feels like a lifetime since then.

He decides to wait a bit more to give the doctor and you time, so he stands there, just looking around. It’s so silent. He wonders if this is what it was for you, spending so many hours next to him with no one around to talk with. He thinks about you, waiting in the lonely lobby while his injuries were treated that rainy night.

You stuck by his side, like glue. You could’ve easily gone home at some point to rest, asked someone else to take a shift, but no. You stayed by his side every day. Miguel has a suspicion you would’ve stuck by him every second if you had it your way. He believes that especially when he remembers you offering to sleep on his bedroom floor to look after him that first night.

Miguel shakes his head now, still in disbelief. He would never allow such thing. He would’ve shared the bed with you before letting your body lay on the ground while he rested on the mattress. Of course, he didn’t make that offer because it was too personal for either of you back then, but now…

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the door open. He turns and finds the doctor wishing you a speedy recovery before she exits.

“I’ve given Miss Y/N medications and the shot, she’ll be feeling better soon but in any case that she doesn’t, bring her back in and we can give her other treatments,” she tells him. “Also, she’ll need to rest.”

“I understand, I’ll make sure she does. Thank you,” Miguel responds with a nod.

“You guys take care.”

Miguel nods again before he knocks on the door, entering when he hears your voice. He finds you halfway across the room, heading for the door already. You’re carrying a prescription bag just given to you by the doctor.

“You okay?” he asks softly, holding the door open for you as you keep walking.

“Yeah, I got the shot. It’s kind of hurting a bit,” you admit, feeling it sting as you walk. “But hopefully that means I’ll feel better shortly. Along with the medicine.”

“I hope so,” Miguel says genuinely as you walk out, falling in step with you. The two of you walk down the hallway, side by side, towards the lobby. “We can go home now. I’ll cook you some breakfast, something warm to ease the ache in your throat. And you’ll need to rest so you can get better, let the medicine do its job - let your body recover.”

“Rest? I don’t think I need to.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Miguel replies gazing at you, a hint of a smile on his face, wondering if you’ll be stubborn about this.

“She told me the same thing,” you say with a sigh as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators.

“You’re not going to ignore doctor’s orders, right?” he asks.

“I guess not… What are you cooking?” you ask softly.

Miguel smirks softly to himself as he presses the button, the doors opening in seconds. He gestures for you to enter before he steps in.

“Don’t worry about it. You just rest and get better.”

The doors close and the lobby is once again empty, or so it seems. A nurse and the doctor turn to look at each other after listening to the little snippet of conversation, the interaction between the boss and you catching their attention. They turn to the elevator again, not recognizing the man that just walked by. He’s a different man from the one they met many years ago, one that was distant and stoic.

“To love and be loved, is to be changed,” the doctor mutters before turning to look at a medical chart, smiling to themselves.

-♥︎-

Miguel and you leave HQ, and drive home. You said you didn’t need to rest but the entire drive back to the penthouse suggested otherwise to Miguel. He glanced at you a few times while driving, finding your sleepy gaze each time as you stared out the window.

Upon arriving home, he ushers you upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing, which you obey without question before heading back downstairs, feeling tired.

You find Miguel moving around the kitchen. Pans are already on the stove. He’s changed into sweatpants and a dark t-shirt now that you’re both home, ready to look after you for the day, tomorrow, or however long it takes for you to be back to your healthy self.

You sit down on the counter and grab the medicine bag, taking everything out so you can read the directions and side effects, seeing that you’ll need to eat before taking some of them.

“Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, okay? Do you want coffee?” Miguel asks softly, walking up to the counter and standing across from you now.

“I can make-”

“Sit tight,” he says firmly but gently. “I’ll make it.”

“It…” you finish but Miguel has already turned around. A few seconds later, he starts on the coffee. He moves quickly around the kitchen, his moves careful yet determined.

Just as he’s placed two cups on the counter, he turns to the stove and checks on the food.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling drowsy. You wrap your arms around yourself, glad you’re in cozy pajamas and wearing one of your favorite sweatshirts, the one Miguel gifted you for Christmas. You could actually go to sleep now without eating but knowing Miguel, he’ll probably refuse to let you sleep on an empty stomach and besides, you don’t want to decline his kind gesture when he’s already halfway done. So, you sit back and wait, listening to Miguel’s movement with your eyes closed. It brings you comfort and a sense of home, something not unusual to you in Miguel's presence.

“Café [coffee],” Miguel says gently a few minutes later, careful not to startle you.

Upon opening your eyes, you find Miguel in front of you. You glance down and find a mug of fresh coffee on the counter, steam coming from it. You can already imagine how great the coffee will feel against your throat, soothing the ache.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the medicine bottles. He picks them up and reads the labels once you gesture that you don’t. He nods to himself, noticing that they’ll likely make you feel drowsy and dizzy on top of the fact that two of them need to be taken with food. He also memorizes how many times a day you’ll need certain medicines and the hours between to make sure you don’t miss them.

As he reads, you reach for the mug and softly blow on it to cool it off before grabbing the spoon and stirring it. You yawn just as Miguel places the medicine back on the counter, pretty much all the directions locked into his head. He’s going to make sure that you’re taking the medicines the way they need to be taken, his priority is for you to feel better soon.

“Let me get you breakfast,” he says turning away and walking to the stove. He fixes your plate first, doing it with affection and hope that you’ll find it suitable despite your sickness. He grabs the appropriate utensil before walking over to you, plate in hand, and gently places it in front of you, his gaze soft. “Please eat, it’ll help you,” Miguel says as he puts the utensil on the side of your plate.

With a sleepy smile, you nod. “I am, thank you, Miguel,” you say softly, your tone tired. You pick up the utensil, eating because he’s asked you to. You try to cool off the food a bit before taking a bite. Of course, your throat hurts even to eat but it doesn’t take away from Miguel’s amazing cooking, and you feel like it even awakens your appetite. “So good, as always,” you comment before taking another bite.

Miguel smiles, watching you eat and enjoy the food despite being sick. His chest flutters at the sight of your sleepy smile, unable to not find it endearing.

“Are you not eating?” you ask softly, an eyebrow raised.

Miguel blinks, distracted. He nods. “Si [yes], yes, of course. I was just… Making sure your breakfast is okay.” He turns away to fix himself a plate before joining your side. He glances at you every few seconds, wanting to make sure that you’re alright and not in need of something, but you eat silently and peacefully, at least as much as you can while being sick.

You both finish eating and continue to drink your coffees. The rain has not let up since yesterday and so, you both hear the soft pit pat on the penthouse’s windows, filling the silence in a very cozy way. A few minutes later, Miguel watches as you place your empty mug down. He downs the last bit of his and stands up, picking up both mugs to take to the sink.

You watch as he retrieves a glass and fills it with water before he approaches you. He places it on the counter gently and then places the medicines in front of you. “For your medicine. Then, rest.”

You thank him for the water and take your medicine, hoping the ache in your throat will disappear soon. “Hopefully I feel better soon.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Miguel says, reassuringly. “You just need some rest. Why don’t you go to bed?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sleepy,” you say even though your eyes say another story.

Miguel tilts his head to the side. “Really?”

You nod but end up yawning at the same time, causing Miguel to raise an eyebrow. You give him a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I am…” you glance at the medicine bottles, thinking about laying down and Miguel heading back to HQ. “Be careful, okay?”

Miguel blinks in confusion. “Be careful? Of what?”

“If you go out on missions. Just - be careful, okay? If you need backup, call for backup. Please.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted as he stares directly at you. He waits until you look back at him to respond. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not…?” you reply, looking up at him, now confused.

“Nowhere. I’m staying here. At the penthouse. With you…”

“Oh.” You look down at the glass with water and take another sip. “I thought…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence. You thought Miguel would head back to HQ after breakfast to work, especially since it’s a work day. You look up at him again, finding a gentle and reassuring look on his face.

“No, I’m staying here… I’m looking after you. I’m not leaving you alone,” Miguel responds softly.

Holding his gaze, you nod, for some reason feeling relieved you won’t be alone, yet you don't want to keep Miguel away from work. “Thank you… Are you sure though? I’ll probably just sleep, so you probably don’t want to waste-” you start, wanting to let Miguel know he doesn’t have to stay at the penthouse all day, that he can go on about his day.

“Por favor [please],” Miguel says, lowering himself on the counter, resting his arms on it to be eye level with you. “Don’t say waste. You’re starting to sound like the old me,” he says gently, internally feeling frustration that you’re thinking like that, as if you don’t matter to him. “The one that didn’t want you to spend an entire day in the infirmary room with me a year ago.”

“That was different, though, you were injured. Seriously injured… Close to death. I’m just sick with a common cold.”

“Thankfully,” Miguel states. “It’s just a common cold and nothing more serious, but that doesn’t make it less important. It doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you all alone here to fend for yourself. I wish to do this, okay?” Miguel pauses and clears his throat quietly. “You’re my best friend.” Miguel's gaze is unwavering, leaving no room for questioning nor arguing with him. He's going to stay home and look after you today, tomorrow, or however long, until you're well. Period. “Déjate cuidar [let yourself be taken care of],” he adds gently.

You hum softly. “I wanted to say that to you a year ago.”

Miguel grins, eyes softening. He knows a year ago your friendship was still unofficial, neither of you had addressed it, so you held on to many of your thoughts, keeping them to yourself with the purpose of not pushing his boundaries. It’s a year later and things are different, at last. Progress has been made and Miguel can say what you are to him without the fear of what it means. He can now say those words you weren’t able to say to him a year ago. “Then, you understand… I ask the same of you now. Let me look after you. Please. It’s what friends do.”

Hearing Miguel’s soft tone and words, not missing the fact that he’s used the same words you said to him a year ago, you nod after several seconds of silence. “I understand,” you say, nodding. You know that feeling too well, of wanting to take care of someone. It was exactly how you felt with him when he was hurt. You just wanted to look after him and make him feel better as best as you could. You wanted him to be back to full health because you hated seeing him hurting and unwell. “Okay,” you add softly, accepting.

“Good,” Miguel replies, happy and relieved you’re not being stubborn about him staying at the penthouse to look after you. “I’ll stay here, if you need anything - anything at all - please let me know, okay?”

“I will, thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel says, a hint of a smile on his face.

You give him a smile and nod, really accepting the fact that Miguel is going to look after you today. You understand where he’s coming from but a part of you feels off. It’s not because of Miguel, of course, but rather because it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you when you get sick. You’ve grown used to taking care of yourself ever since Peter died. Now, Miguel wishes to do so, and a part of you is trying to remember what that feels like - trying to accept that it’s something normal for you to experience, to receive, as well. You sigh softly as you feel drowsiness, thinking it’ll take you a moment to get used to receiving this kind of care after so long. You yawn again, covering your mouth. You already felt fatigued after the doctor’s appointment, and now the food and medicines seem to be taking effect, adding to it. “I’ll go upstairs and rest a bit,” you tell Miguel, your voice showing signs of sleepiness.

“You need all the rest you can get,” Miguel says nodding. “I’ll be here, go on and take a nap.”

You finally stand up and give him a nod, thanking him for breakfast before you head upstairs to your room. You quickly find yourself in bed, under the sheets. Snuggling into the pillows and covers, you can definitely feel the medicines kicking in.

Your eyes flutter and you feel yourself slowly falling into a slumber when you hear footsteps - Miguel’s footsteps. You raise your head to see just as he walks in.

“Shh, rest. Duerme [sleep],” he says softly, carrying a blanket.

You lay back down as he comes to a halt next to the bed, your brain trying to process what he’s up to. He gently throws the blanket over you, tucking it in around your feet and legs. The rest, he carefully pulls up your body, just below your shoulders.

“There,” Miguel says quietly, watching your sleepy face, one he’s memorized by now but still beholds with keenness.

You hum softly, half-asleep and half-awake, his scent reaching your drowsy senses. “It smells like you,” you say sleepily, a soft smile grazing your lips, content and comforted by Miguel’s warm and cozy scent.

Miguel grins softly, gazing down at you. He can’t deny that he’s equally surprised and delighted by the fact that you even recognize his scent on the blanket. “Sometimes I sleep with it, so I guess it makes sense it smells like me,” he shares, his fingers still holding on to the edge of the blanket.

“I like it,” you say before you blindly reach for the blanket, your fingers curling around warmness before you tug it towards your face, wanting the scent closer.

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise when he feels your fingers wrap around his, tugging them, and the blanket, closer to you. “You like it?” he repeats gently, something in his chest stirring as he keeps gazing at you, slowly drifting off.

You nod sleepily. “I love it,” you whisper with a soft sigh, still holding on to Miguel’s fingers and the blanket before you let go, unaware that you were even holding them or of what you’ve admitted in your sleepy state.

Miguel exhales softly when you release his fingers, feeling the loss of touch immediately. Your words echo in his mind. You love his scent. A few seconds later, Miguel notices that you’ve surrendered to sleep, the sound of your even breathing reaches his ears in the quietness of your bedroom. “I’m happy you… love it,” he whispers back even though you’re asleep now. He lets go of the blanket, his knuckles brushing under your chin softly, tenderly, before he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger for about four seconds, the gesture so instinctive - so right - Miguel doesn’t realize nor questions it in the moment.

He lets go and steps back, watching for a few minutes as you sleep, listening to your soft breathing. He tells himself it’s time to step out of the bedroom and let you rest, so he does. He leaves your door halfway open and returns downstairs to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast.

Once he’s done, he works from home, checking on a few things that he can do from the penthouse to help the team but unlike previous years, Miguel doesn’t drown himself in work. He doesn’t feel the need nor want to check everything, to ensure that everyone is doing what they’re supposed to.

His focus is you, everything else is secondary.

He checks on you every thirty minutes to make sure you’re okay and resting well. Each time, he checks you to make sure the fever has gone down, pressing the back of his hand to your face, keeping track of how warm your face feels. He also fixes the blanket around you when he notices it’s shifted in your sleep, wanting you to feel the most comfort possible. Miguel watches your face, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in your sleep before he exits the bedroom, his steps deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you each time he’s in the bedroom.

On the two-hour mark, Miguel is pleased when he touches your face once again and finds a normal warmth, no longer burning hot.

“Normal,” he whispers to himself with a relieved smile.

Despite your fever going down, Miguel continues to check on you throughout the day. He cooks lunch and gently wakes you up at midday so you’ll eat and take your medicine again, making sure you hydrate yourself, too.

After lunch with some food and medicine in your system, you decide to stick around in the living room, not wanting to be in bed all day despite Miguel’s gentle comment about you resting more comfortably on a bed rather than the couch.

You fight off sleep as much as you can but you eventually doze off once again after replying to the spider gang chat, who sent you messages stating they hope you feel better soon, even asking if they can send you something.

Upon seeing you fall asleep again, Miguel brings his blanket downstairs and once again, covers you with it before settling on the couch, across from you, to keep watch.

He continues to work from a tablet, spending some time reading about mission updates and replying to questions from spider members, though he still doesn’t spend much time with work related tasks. He reads for a while, too, but even that doesn’t hold his attention. His eyes find their way to you more than he realizes, as if he finds the sight of you much more intriguing than any word in his book.

At some point, Miguel gets up to make dinner while you sleep and as always, he moves around the kitchen with ease. He’s a man that knows his way around such space, the kind that makes cooking look easy as he gathers everything he needs on one counter from the fridge and pantry. He has two goals in mind with the meal he’s cooking for dinner. One, to give you some comfort and make you feel better.

And two, to please you with his food. For months, he’s found happiness seeing that look you always get of pure delight when you take a bite of the food he makes. It used to be twice a month with the weekend dinners at each other’s place but ever since you moved in, temporarily, Miguel has the opportunity to cook more often for the two of you.

He always looks forward to it, wondering what your thoughts will be when he cooks something he hasn’t before. Either way, whether it’s something new or something he’s cooked before, Miguel always cooks with love.

He peels and dices vegetables, each one with precision. He washes the rice and keeps an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn once he pours it on a pan before applying some oil. Despite his concentration with the food, Miguel takes a few seconds to check on you, finding you still passed out on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background.

Some time later, you wake up. You blink the sleep away and sit up slowly, feeling disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you’re in the living room. You breathe in, only to find your nose stuffy, which immediately dampens your mood. You sigh and look for Miguel, finding his usual seat empty. His tablet is on the spot next to his seat along with the TV’s remote, left alone. Glancing around, you hear subtle noise from the kitchen, giving you an idea of where Miguel is. You look down at yourself, finding his blanket over you once again before you tug it close to your face. It’s so soft and you can smell just a bit of his scent on it, unable to truly smell it due to your stuffy nose. Despite thinking about Miguel’s scent, you don’t remember your confession from earlier.

You stand up from the couch and stretch at last. This has to be the most you’ve slept in a while during the day but you feel rested. You follow the scent of food to the kitchen where you find Miguel stirring a spoon in a medium size pot. He’s still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, gizmo on his wrist. He turns suddenly, as if sensing you.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, a smile immediately forming on his face, happy to see you up. “How do you feel?” Miguel asks walking around the counter to meet you, he pats the chair you always sit on, silently gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Better. I can still feel a light ache in my throat but it’s not as bad as it was this morning. It’s doable,” you reply as you move to the chair, Miguel pulling it out for you.

“Is your nose stuffy?” he asks, with a slightly raised eyebrow, making note of how your voice sounds now.

“And my nose is stuffy, yes,” you reply with a sigh.

“Hopefully dinner will help with the discomfort of your throat. It might help a bit with the stuffiness, too. I have something that’ll help for sure, if you’re open to it - after dinner,” Miguel says with a frown on his face, wishing you hadn’t grown sick.

“I’ll accept anything if I can breath properly again,” you state, now sitting.

“I feel that,” he replies leaning on the counter, eye level. His body is pretty close, seemingly not worried about catching a cold from you. He observes your face, his gaze landing on your chin. He suddenly remembers what happened earlier, realizing he brushed his knuckles against your skin, and how he then held your chin for a few seconds. He clears his throat. “Let me check the food, so you can go ahead and eat. I hope you like it,” he says softly, pushing himself off the counter. He flexes his hand, the same one he caressed you with earlier, having the sensation on his skin still.

“What did you cook?” you ask softly, sniffling.

Miguel smiles a bit at the sound of you sniffling before he thinks of something. Instead of walking back to the stove, he walks to the laundry room. “Hold on, just a sec.” You watch as he disappears into the laundry room, before he steps out several seconds later, carrying a small box. He approaches you, reaching you in no time, and offers it to you, which you realize is a tissue box. “For your nose,” Miguel says. “So you don’t hurt your skin with something else, like a napkin, if you need to blow your nose.”

You accept the box with a soft smile and thank him.

“Always,” Miguel says with a little nod and gentle smile. “Now, let me get you some food. I feel certain it’s going to make you feel good. My mom made it for Gabriel and I when we got sick sometimes. It’s caldito de pollo [chicken soup] with vegetables,” he says. “I made some rice, too.”

You lean back on the chair.

“That sounds really good. I think I’m actually hungry.”

“You think?” Miguel asks, amused as he grabs some bowls.

“Okay, I am hungry,” you say, fixing it. You give him a soft smile. “I think I’m still drowsy from the medicine.”

“That’s to be expected. The dosage on one of them is pretty high. If I remember correctly, it’s the same one you have to do double the dosage for bedtime,” Miguel replies as he recalls the instructions. “But maybe you’re also sleepy from hunger. I noticed you didn’t eat much for lunch. You haven’t had much fluids either.” Remembering that, Miguel stirs the pot before he gets you a glass with water. He takes it to you and of course, you catch the message.

Hydrate.

You oblige and drink, making Miguel satisfied. He turns back around and fixes a plate with food for you.

“So Gabriel and you used to eat this sometimes when you were sick?”

“Yes, we always loved eating this. It gave some relief to our sore throats. And well, we both enjoyed it overall, so it was also a comfort food.”

You nod, thinking about a young Miguel and Gabriel, sick and eating caldito de pollo as children. The image painted in your head brings a smile to your face.

Miguel finishes fixing you a plate and his own, so he brings both to the counter, placing yours in front of you with delicacy. He’s quick to get utensils and napkins along with some warm corn tortillas, and refilling your glass with water before he sits next to you.

“Eat,” he says gazing at you. “It’ll help you recover sooner.”

You nod with a small smile before you begin eating, the warmth of the liquid soothing your throat immediately. It’s like easing an itch. You sigh softly in content before you eat more, the flavors hitting you all at once in the most delightful way possible thanks to the rice and vegetables.

“That feels and tastes amazing,” you mumble as you bring another spoonful to your mouth.

Miguel smiles, feeling pleased with himself. You didn’t eat much during lunch but now, he’s hopeful you’ll eat the serving he gave you and that you’ll feel much more nourished.

“Tortilla?” Miguel offers as he grabs one from the tortillero [container used to keep tortillas warm]. “Gabriel and I used to roll it like this before dipping it in the caldo [broth], and then ate it.” Miguel demonstrates as he lays the tortilla flat on his palm, looking smaller than it actually is against his large hand before he rolls it outwardly. The tortilla is now a thin roll. He dips it in his caldo before taking a bite from it, clearly enjoying it.

You grab one yourself, craving it. “I’m very familiar with that,” you say with a little smile as you do the same, dipping it into the warm liquid. “Childhood memories,” you say before taking a bite.

Miguel smiles once more at the sight, watching you eagerly eat. There’s definitely a difference now. You’ve got more of an appetite than you did earlier and your tone sounds less tired.

“Did I miss out on something today? Missions?” you ask, looking at Miguel.

Surprisingly, the man that once used to bury himself in work with data reports on anomalies and missions, the fate of the multiverse, playfully rolls his eyes. “No work talk on a sick day. You worry about resting, and that’s all… but I will say, the spiderlings went on a mission today and their team flow was amazing, well planned out,” Miguel says, a hint of admiration and pride in his voice, like that of a proud mentor, or parent.

You smile. “They’ve grown and learned, so much. Sometimes I forget they’re growing up, but it’s happening.” You look down at your plate. Time is passing, whether you realize it or not. The years have gone by, and maybe it was the loss and grief, but when you lost Peter, it never occurred to you that the years would go by so quickly after his death. You almost feel that a part of you doubted you’d even make it this far without him by your side, but you did.

You have.

Despite the tearful days and nights you spent alone grieving, you made it. You silently hope you’ve made Peter proud, wherever he’s now.

“I forget, too,” Miguel says after a few moments, thinking. “It’s strange. They’re still these kids but much more mature, more experienced in their roles than when I first met them. I’m - proud of them.”

“I am, too,” you reply softly, putting your thoughts on Peter to rest. “Though sometimes…”

Miguel chuckles. “Sometimes they say the craziest things, and it reminds you they’re still kids.”

“Right? They keep us on our toes, for sure,” you say chuckling, feeling a sudden discomfort in your stomach, a cramp. The sudden shot of discomfort reminds you that you’ll be having your period soon.

“Trust me, I know,” Miguel replies, still smiling and talking about the spiderlings.

You both chuckle at that and keep eating, with you deciding to ignore the thought of your period. You ask Miguel what he’s been up to all day and he tells you about it, how he’s worked on some things regarding the society, read, and other miscellaneous things. Of course, he mentions checking up on you, accidentally informing you of how often he did it. You find the fact endearing, that he checked on you every thirty minutes.

Eventually, you both finish eating. You feel better than you have all day, so much that you feel like taking a shower. You offer to help Miguel clean up but of course, he politely declines, telling you to go and rest, and then to go shower once you mention wanting to do that.

After your shower, you come back downstairs, planning to just hang out in the living room. After sleeping for the majority of the day, you don’t feel like being in bed any more. You find Miguel fixing something in his bookcase before he turns, glad to see you again. He takes in your appearance and sees you seem to feel better. You sniffle as you approach the couch, which reminds him about the thing he said he’d give you for your stuffy nose, but before he heads to get it, he notices your little pout when you look at the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over to you, standing just a few inches away.

You look up, surprised he noticed you pouting over the fact that his blanket is gone from where you left it. “I… Nothing,” you say softly, causing Miguel’s head to tilt to the side, thinking. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes. The blanket, which he threw in the wash along with yours from earlier.

“Go ahead and lie down, rest. I’ll be right back,” he says gently, itching to place his hand on your shoulder and give you a soft squeeze to reassure you, to comfort you. Once he sees you lay down, he heads upstairs, a plan in action.

He collects what he needs and heads back downstairs, walking through the living room before you even notice him entering the kitchen and dining area of the penthouse. Silently, you wonder what he’s up to. You try to into the kitchen from the couch, curious. He appears a few seconds later, your face softening at the sight.

There’s Miguel, a 6’9” tall man, walking towards you with a blanket draped over his shoulder and on the other one, what seems to be a sweatshirt. On his hand, there’s a saucer plate with a cup on top, steam rising from it. And in the other, a familiar small blue and green tub. He walks towards you, with purpose, a man on a mission.

He reaches you in no time with his long strides and begins to work, placing the saucer and cup on the coffee table, along with the small container before turning to you.

“Miguel?” you say, gazing up at him from the couch.

“Yes?” he responds as he unfolds the blanket.

You don’t even know what to say as he spreads the blanket over your body. You simply gaze at him with wide eyes and awe as you watch him towering over you while he tucks the blanket around your feet and legs once more, leaving it loose above your knees and pulling it up to your tummy.

The sight stirs something in you, something stronger than endearment and appreciation that grows stronger as Miguel carries on with his pampering.

“Is your nose still stuffy?” he asks and for a moment, you don’t even comprehend his question, still awestruck.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter softly, sniffling once more.

Miguel nods and grabs the small blue and green container from the coffee table before he gets down on his knees, next to you. He’s now more eye level with you, though he still towers over you easily. He opens the tub, a familiar scent hitting his nostrils right away.

“Put some on your chest and rub it in gently,” he instructs softly.

You nod and pick some up from the tub once he holds it out to you. You slip your hand under your top and do as he said, pushing past your undergarment to apply it properly. Once done, Miguel nods.

“Good. It also helps putting some on your back,” he says gently, still holding it out for you.

You nod, knowing that, too. You pick up more and lean forward, reaching behind you and under your top once more. You apply the product as best as possible, it being a bit of a struggle with your undergarment, which Miguel notices.

He looks down at the tub and then back up at you. “Do you need help?” he asks quietly, making you pause.

Shaking your head, you reply. “Thank you but it’s alright, I got it.” You lie. You’re struggling but you’re not about to accept Miguel’s help with something so… Personal. Intimate. Especially when it involves Miguel and physical contact.

For a moment, Miguel wonders if you’re simply uncomfortable with the idea of him, as a man, touching you, a woman. He wonders if he’s pushing boundaries just by merely offering.

You stare at him, noticing the look on his face. He’s questioning his offer. You frown and regret your words instantly, thinking that you might have made Miguel feel rejected.

“It involves physical contact,” you say softly. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, Miguel.”

He glances up at you, listening to your words before he nods. He gives you a reassuring smile, feeling relieved. You’re not rejecting his offer, his gesture, for the reasons he was thinking. You’re as always, looking out to respect him and his boundaries.

“Even when you’re sick, nose stuffy and feeling fatigued, you’re still so considerate… so sweet, you know that?” Miguel says staring right into your eyes, without fear or embarrassment from stating those words. “I don’t mind, at all,” he continues as he looks at the container and collects some of the ointment with his fingers. “If you allow me, I’ll help you.”

You smile and facepalm, chuckling. It’s been so long since someone has looked after you like this. The last person was Peter, of course. You used to look after each other when the other got sick, just like Miguel has done for you today. Still smiling, you nod, accepting his help. You remind yourself to accepting the fact that Miguel is looking after you, that this is normal. That friends look after each other.

“Lean forward for me, please,” Miguel says, giving you a smile back.

You do so and lift your top slightly, just enough to let him slip his hand underneath it. “My - I’m wearing my-” you start, trying to tell him you’re wearing an undergarment to support your chest.

“I know,” Miguel says gently. “I could tell you were struggling because of it. Is it okay if I shift it slightly?” he asks carefully before he even makes a move, being a gentleman as always.

“… Yes, that’s alright,” you reply softly.

Miguel nods. “I’m going to slide my hand under your top now,” he says, letting you know what he’s doing as a way to avoid making you uncomfortable, and aware of his actions. As soon as he slips his hand under your shirt, your warmth radiates off your skin, greeting his own.

You stare right ahead, sensing the warmth from his hand even though he hasn’t even touched you yet. You wait as he moves his hand further up.

“I’m going to apply it now,” Miguel says softly, waiting to see your reaction. Once you nod, he nods back. He presses his fingers to your bare flesh, a second later, he begins to rub the ointment onto your soft skin. His fingers move gently but efficiently, making sure he’s applying the product appropriately so it does what it’s supposed to do.

Your eyes move to your lap as you feel Miguel’s fingers on you. They’re warm, but you’re not surprised. The man always seems to be warm, so it’s not unusual. What’s unusual is his actual touch. From pinky hugs to him touching your forehead and now your back, this is a lot of progress on Miguel’s end. It’s a lot for one day and yet, he’s doing it.

Then, there’s your own progress, you suppose. You haven’t had someone look after you in a long time, haven’t had someone touch your bare skin like this. You try to remember the last time someone, Peter, touched your back when you were sick like this. You find that you can’t remember it. It’s been that long.

Miguel rubs his fingers gently over your skin, unable to ignore how soft your skin feels. “I’m going to move your underwear a side. Is that okay?” he asks again, withdrawing his hand to grab more of the ointment.

“Yes, that’s okay,” you reply softly, returning your attention to the moment.

With permission, Miguel slips his hand once again under your top. He shifts the undergarment aside, gently and respectfully, before pressing his fingers to your skin again. With more space now, he moves his fingers more freely, rubbing in the ointment until he feels it’s been applied properly.

Neither of you truly notice that his fingers have gone still against your skin once he’s done. His fingers remain there, pressed to your soft skin, your warmth marrying his.

It’s seconds later that Miguel realizes, leading him to withdraw his hand in a way that would seem hesitant to anyone watching. He exhales softly and collects more ointment, just a little, not as much as before while you both silently miss the touch and warmth from each other, like the moon misses its stars on a starless night sky.

“And then, for the stuffy nose,�� Miguel says, gaining your attention. “Just a little right here.” With you facing him, he reaches with his index finger and gently rubs the ointment on your nose. “It’ll help you breathe a little better,” he whispers, staring at your nose to be precise with the application. “There.” He slowly lowers his hand and meets your gaze. You seem surprise, so Miguel gives you a small and sweet smile. “We need to cover these arms,” he says, pointing at them. “The AC has been turning on, you’ll get cold. Here, you can put this on if you’d like.” Miguel tugs at the cloth still draped over his shoulder. A sweatshirt.

Wordlessly, you accept it. You recognize it as his, Miguel’s. Sometimes he wears it around the penthouse in the evening. You remember him wearing it yesterday, which means it’ll smell like him. You put it on, careful not to rub off the ointment from your nose. The sleeves are a bit long for you but you don’t mind, if anything, that makes it feel even more cozy. You sniffle quietly, noticing how warm and soft it is, and despite the ointment’s fragrance on your nose, you still catch Miguel’s scent on it. You smile as you fix it around your waist before Miguel pulls the blanket higher up your body.

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing at Miguel who is still on his knees next to you.

He’s still smiling, giving you that sweet and gentle smile, even when he reaches behind him. He offers you the saucer plate with the cup.

“I made you a tea, it’s supposed to help with colds,” he says while you accept it. “Be careful not to burn yourself.”

You take a small drink, the flavor settling well with you and rushing soothingly down your throat and chest.

“Thank you, Miguel. That's really soothing and it tastes great.”

Seeing your smile, Miguel continues to smile back. “Me allegra [I’m happy], I'm glad you like it. Are you comfortable?”

You begin to nod but Miguel gets up. “I should get you a pillow. Hold on.”

“Wait, that's not-” you start but Miguel is already up the stairs. A few seconds later, you hear his approaching footsteps.

“Lean forward, please,” he says gently, so you do. Miguel slides the pillow behind you, fixing it so it'll be positioned just right for your head to rest on. “There.” He steps back and looks at you, trying to think if he’s forgetting something, or if there’s anything else he can do to make you feel better and comfortable.

“I… Thank you, Miguel,” you say, looking up at him, holding your tea. You briefly notice that he didn’t bring a pillow from your bedroom, but one of his own since the pillowcase is grey, just like his bedding set.

Miguel smiles softly at you and nods. “Always,” he says softly. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod once more, giving him a smile. “I will, thank you. You’ve done so much… Thank you, truly.”

Miguel crouches, grabbing the ointment container and closing it. “I’m looking out for you, just the way you looked after me,” he says, turning to look at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this, you know. So rest properly, so you’ll be back to your usual self. Please.”

“I will… I am,” you reply, sounding like you’re making him a promise.

“Good, thank you,” he says, as if you’re doing him a great favor by resting and getting better.

“You should rest, too.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’ve been - looking after me all day. You’re probably tired, too.”

“I’m good,” Miguel reassures you. “Not tired at all. Promise.”

“Alright… will you at least sit down?”

Miguel smirks softly. “That I can do,” he says before he settles on the couch across from you once more. “TV?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

With a soft smile, Miguel asks what you want to watch before you both decide on something, settling for a movie. You spend the rest of the evening in the living room together, Miguel watching over you like a loyal knight to his queen, both when you’re awake and when you doze off due to the medicines’ effects.

He makes sure you have everything you need and even notices when your face shows signs of discomfort, your hand pressed to your tummy.

“Is your stomach hurting?” Miguel asks, worried that your cold is turning into something else.

Noticing his concern, you ease his worries by telling him the truth. “It’s my period. It’s coming up soon, probably a few days. Or even tomorrow,” you say, trying to remember what day it is. With running into Harry and then your lunch with him, and now sick, you can’t even remember. “It’s cramps. They’re not bad, thankfully.”

Miguel almost scoffs. They’re not “bad” and yet, your face shows clear discomfort. “I can make you another tea - canelita.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll just take some medicine in a bit,” you reassure him before you ask him a question about the movie, distracting him from the topic for the rest of the night, or so you think.

-♥︎-

The next morning you wake up without an alarm. Miguel and you decided last night to take off today again, for your sake, and yet, you’ve waken up just past 7:30 by the need to use the bathroom.

There, you’re met with the lovely (not) news that your period has begun.

“Yay,” you say, grumpily. “Sick and now on my period.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back in bed with brushed teeth and different clothes on. You fall asleep again for some time. Only waking up when you hear Miguel’s gentle voice, coaxing you from your sleep.

You blink softly, your gaze finding his warm gaze and sweet face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, gazing back at you. He notices you look better today, back to yourself.

“Better,” you reply in a whisper, eyes fluttering for a few seconds to blink the sleep away.

“I’m relieved to hear that,” he says, crouching next to the bed. “How are you feeling… your period?” he asks softly, worried you’re feeling unwell from it. Last night you may have succeeded in changing the topic but not in erasing the worry and thought from Miguel’s mind. It reminded him of the first time he went to your apartment, how unwell you were. You haven’t missed any days at HQ because of your period since then, he knows that. Ever since that time, you’ve added more self-care steps to your period routine but Miguel hasn’t forgotten how unwell you were.

Over the months, he’s silently, and discreetly, made sure you don’t push yourself too much when he guesses you’re on your period. Thankfully, the new things you’ve been doing has helped you a lot, which include drinking canelita ever since he made it for you the first time. Either way, Miguel still tries his best to figure out if you’re pushing yourself too much because he worries about you.

“You don’t have to tell me… I just - you’re okay?” Miguel adds.

“Yes, I- I started today. I’m feeling alright right now. No cramps, or headaches,” you share, feeling comfortable to talk about your period with Miguel.

He seems relieved to hear that. “Good, I’m glad.” He sighs softly. “I bought you medicine either way, if you’re interested.”

You sit up slowly, fixing the covers. His blanket is sprawled over your bed and you’re still wearing the sweatshirt, the one he gave you last night. “You did? When?” you say, shifting slightly and patting the edge of the mattress, offering Miguel a seat.

He stands up and sits, keeping some distance to avoid disrupting how comfortable you look on the bed right now. “After you went to sleep last night, I ordered some. I got it delivered this morning,” he replies. “I figured I could help and offer you another option just in case what you’re taking now is not working. Plus, I remembered that medicine from this universe might be more effective than what you’re taking from your universe.”

“You think so?” you ask, looking hopeful.

Miguel smiles, his gaze softening because of your face. “I think so. Lyla has done some research and comparisons. Medicines are more effective in some universes than others, from prescriptions for colds to menstruation pain, even birth control pills. Apparently this universe is one of them, so this menstruation medicine might be better than yours.” Miguel pulls out a box from his pocket and offers it to you, the package sealed. “So, if you want, try this out. See if it works better. If it does, I can buy it, or if you’d prefer, I can have the infirmary supply it to you, whatever you wish to do. If you’d like to try another prescription in the future, just let me know, too, and we can look for an alternative,” Miguel offers as he watches you look at the box with hope.

“I’m going to give it a try if the need arises, thank you,” you tell him softly, looking up at him with a smile. “If it does, I’ll definitely be asking you or the infirmary to supply it to me. I’ve been trying new ones but they seem to stop being efficient after some time, so I’m hopeful about this one. Thank you so much, Miguel.” You gaze at him happily, feeling hopeful about this medicine. You’ve been using a different kind ever since the day Miguel showed up to your apartment, realizing the former one only seemed to make you drowsy and since then, you’ve been trying out new ones, hoping to find something more stable. You have hope this new medication will help after what Miguel said.

“Always,” Miguel replies, returning the smile. “Just let me know what you want to do, okay? I’ll happily do either. Do you want breakfast yet?”

You place the medication on the nightstand, considering Miguel’s question for a few seconds before realizing your stomach feels empty. It’s as if the moment he brought up food, your body recognizes it’s hungry.

“I myself, do,” Miguel says. “My stomach feels empty. I didn’t eat anything else after the chicken soup.” He pats his stomach, a bit of a frown on his face. “And neither did you,” he adds.

You chuckle. “So does mine, so I could definitely go for breakfast,” you reply. “What are we making?”

“I’m making something I’m certain you’ll like.”

You grin, hearing him emphasize that it’s him that’ll be doing the cooking. “Alright, alright. I’ll just…”

“Sit on the counter and give me cooking advice,” Miguel says, remembering the first time you cooked for him here at the penthouse when he was injured in the spring. He wanted to help you make food but you declined and told him he could offer conversation and advice, but no physical help considering his injuries. Despite you being capable to use your arms and the rest of your body, Miguel refuses to let you do any kind of work. He wants you to keep resting so you’ll fully recover soon.

“I see how it is,” you reply, shaking your head slightly in amusement. “But I can do that… I have no choice.”

Miguel smiles and stands up from the bed. “You’re still recovering, so take it easy. I’ll wait for you downstairs, okay? I’m going to start on the coffee.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. I’m going to make the bed.”

He nods with a small smile and heads back downstairs, giving you your time to start your morning routine in peace. He’s relieved to see you feeling so much better this morning, even smiling and playing along with him. You’re almost back to your usual self, the way he likes to see you. If he could, Miguel would take away your sickness for himself. Hell, he’d take the period cramps, too, if it meant you wouldn’t experience pain and discomfort.

As Miguel starts on the coffee and waits for you to come downstairs, he wonders to himself for the first time why you got sick. He wonders if it was the rain, or maybe sleeping on the living room floor, even over the rug. Growing up, he was told that such thing can make someone sick among other things, like walking barefoot, or sleeping with wet hair. He was always warned by his Mexican mother about it but he brushed it off, even when he got sick after doing one of those very things he was warned about.

Miguel sighs softly. Maybe it was sleeping on the ground.

Then, he wonders if it was stress from your encounter with Harry Osborn, a thought that brings a frown to Miguel’s face. The encounter with Osborn left you tense and nervous, and he hated seeing you like that. He doesn’t like how Osborn caused you such stress and is now wanting to be back in your life after years of ghosting you when you needed someone after Peter’s death.

Miguel still doesn’t know what your decision on that is. He hasn’t asked, though he won’t deny he’s curious. At the end of the day, it’ll be your decision.

However, that doesn’t mean that Miguel will let go of the grudge he has for the man. Miguel can’t help it, knowing what Osborn did to you. It does more than upset him.

He clears his mind from Osborn when he hears you approaching the kitchen, deciding to not give a moment of his time to the man when you’re here with him. What matters right now, is you, so he carries on with breakfast.

Miguel gives you a cup of coffee and continues to cooks, filling the penthouse with lovely scents of food. You sit at the counter, drinking coffee and talking with him. At some point music starts playing, surprising both Miguel and you.

“Lyla,” he says, remembering. He hardly saw her yesterday since he stayed home and she was busy helping Jess at HQ.

Both of you wait for her to pop up but she doesn’t.

“I guess she’s busy,” you say softly when she doesn’t show up.

Miguel nods with a grin. “Seems like it. I’m sure she’ll make an appearance later today.”

The two of you continue on and have breakfast, with soft music playing in the background. You take your medicine afterwards, which prompts Miguel to ask you to go and lay down. Even when you offer to help clean the kitchen with him, he declines and gently asks you to rest.

So you do. Feeling better than you did the day before, you think about yesterday and everything Miguel did to help you get better, even pushing his own boundaries regarding physical touch. You softly touch the top of your nose, remembering the way he gently applied the ointment yesterday. That leads you to the fact that he applied some on your back, too. That seems surreal but it did happen.

You smile at the thought, thankful for Miguel, who eventually joins you in the living room where you both watch some TV for a while. He’s truly glad to see you in a better mood today, taking notice that you don’t seem as sleepy as yesterday and that your nose isn’t stuffy either. It seems that you’re recovering quickly, which makes Miguel feel relieved. He still feels some worry about your period, though, but he really hopes that the new medication will at least help lessened your symptoms if you experience any.

He watches you for a few seconds after taking a seat, noticing that you’re still wearing his sweatshirt. With looking after you and making sure you have everything you need, he suddenly remembers yesterday, when you told him in your sleepy state that you “like” and then “love” his scent. The thought brings a warmth to his cheeks.

Did you really mean it? Or, was it just words being said in such sleepy state? He almost wants to ask you now but he stops himself, thinking the topic might embarrass you, and maybe, you really didn’t mean them.

He shakes his head at himself, turning to look at the TV instead. You both watch it for a while and spend the morning together. You manage to stay awake all the way up until after lunch time when you excuse yourself to your room, telling Miguel you’re going to take a nap because the medicines prescribed by the doctor at HQ are making you sleepy.

A few hours later, you wake up to your name being called. Miguel is crouched next to you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. You’ve been sleeping for a few hours and he’s decided to finally wake you up to ask if you’re feeling unwell due to the cold, your period, or both.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly, trying not to startle you too much with his voice.

You nod and stretch your legs under the covers. “Mhm, I’m okay,” you reply sleepily, making Miguel smile softly. He ends up sitting on the floor, next to your bed, and leans back on the nightstand, his body covering most of it. He stays quiet for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling in silence, thinking about something while waiting for you to fully wake up. Ever since you’ve been sick, he’s had this on his mind but every time he’s about to really think about it, something interrupts his thoughts. He’s wondered about it before but he’s never asked about it. Part of the reason why he hasn’t asked is because the timing was not right. The other part, the main reason, is that Miguel didn’t want to know the answer.

He still doesn’t because if the answer is yes, Miguel knows that it will hurt him. The time has come though. With you being sick and Harry Osborn trying to come back into your life, Miguel finds that this is the best time to ask. Sensing that you’re fully awake now, Miguel decides to ask what’s been on his mind.

“Did you ever - get sick? Before joining the society?” Miguel asks, still staring at the ceiling. “Between Peter’s death and you joining the society?” he continues, quietly, softly.

On your side, facing him, you stare at the wall thinking about his question.

“Yes. I got a few colds here and there but nothing more serious like the flu, thankfully,” you reply a few seconds later after thinking about it, thinking of the few times it happened. “And then a few times because of my period.”

Miguel nods, gulping softly. He turns to face you, remembering when he went to your apartment the first time ever because you were unwell due to your menstruation. You were all alone in pain and discomfort. That was one time alone - one month in many years of solitude. He silently wonders for how many of them did you experience a similar situation? How many times did you lay alone on your bed in an empty apartment while the rest of the world went on about its day?

How many times did you lay half-unconscious, half-awake squirming in pain and clutching your stomach?

It kills Miguel to think about it.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, catching his attention. For several seconds, his eyes have a distant and pained look in them. “What’s wrong?”

“I”m sorry,” he whispers back, blinking and coming back to the present - to you.

“For what?”

Miguel sighs and looks away, leaning his head back. Eyes closed, he wonders if he should tell you.

“Miguel?” you whisper. “What is it? You look upset.”

Miguel’s head snaps back to face you, eyes open. “Not with you.” He shakes his head, making it clear he’s not upset because of you or at you. “Never with you, I’m sorry. I just - you being sick - I’ve thought about it before and now that I’m here to see it, it’s brought back thoughts - questions,” Miguel says in a whisper, eyes meeting yours.

“Questions… About what?” You prop yourself up with one arm, wondering what’s going on inside Miguel’s mind. Whatever it is, is bothering him deeply. You wonder if it has to do with his question about you being sick in the past while alone.

“It hurts me,” Miguel admits softly.

“What hurts?” you ask, brows knitted, concerned.

“To think about you, alone for so long all those years. Especially when I think about you feeling sick, with no one to care for you - to make sure you ate, someone to ease your discomfort. To think that you were on your own,” he whispers.

You inhale deeply, your heart’s strings pulled by how bothered Miguel is by this. It feels as if Miguel really is in pain.

“Don’t think about that, Miguel,” you tell him softly. “It’s in the past now. Those days are over.”

“But you shouldn’t have been alone. Someone should’ve been there with you.”

“It was my fault. I pushed everyone away after Peter died.”

“No,” Miguel says, shaking his head. His tone is somewhat stern. “None of your friends should’ve ever accepted you parting from them. They should’ve kept reaching out. Kept showing up to look for you - to make sure you were okay. You had just lost Peter - you shouldn’t have been alone,” Miguel insists, his voice gentle. “Harry… He should’ve been there for you, especially.”

Surprise rushes to you. You weren’t expecting Miguel to talk about this, for this to be what’s been bothering him so deeply, as if it pains him in a physical way. “I was going to cut ties with him, too,” you reply, trying to lessen his hurt by stating a truth. “I was planning on it.”

“Planning,” Miguel states. “But you didn’t. Maybe you would’ve gone through with it but you didn’t actually do it because he disappeared before you could. He just - left you,” he says softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Ever since he learned about Harry Osborn and the fact that he abandoned you right after Peter’s funeral, it’s been impossible for Miguel to not hold a grudge against him but now, knowing that there were times when you were sick and alone, it only makes that grudge grow. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were alone all those years, with no one to look after you.”

“You have no reason to apologize. You didn’t do anything,” you reply gently, wishing that you could lay a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“No one deserves to be alone,” Miguel says.

You slowly sit up when he says that. “No, no one does. Including you,” you say softly, remembering the time Miguel told you he used to think he was meant to be alone, to live a lonely life.

Miguel’s gaze softens. He nods. “Including me.”

Smiling, you pull the covers higher as Miguel watches you. He returns the smile, feeling some calmness despite his negative emotions about this topic.

“I’m sorry if I’m… Overstepping.”

“You’re not,” you respond, gently.

He gives you a nod. “I just - I hate thinking about it. I wish…” Miguel trails off. “I wish you hadn’t been alone for so many years. If I,” Miguel pauses. “If I was there… I would’ve never left you alone. I would’ve gone to your place, every day, and knocked on your door until you opened up.”

You smile softly, your eyes slowly filling up with tears because of Miguel’s words. You blink them away, trying not to cry in front of him. With a sigh, you nod.

“I have no doubt you would’ve,” you tell him, believing this in your heart.

Miguel smiles, his own eyes glistening while thinking about the past. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, sincerely.

You shake your head, sniffling a bit. “Don’t be, Miguel. In the past, I’ve wished I had been here sooner, that I could’ve been here for you when you needed someone, too. Even if you pushed me away, I would’ve kept trying, the same way I did when I first started organizing the lab for you. Knowing what I know now about your life, I’ve wished for that many times. Too many,” you admit. “But you know what? I’m just thankful we’re in each other’s lives now. I wish it had been sooner but the fact that we’re even here now, that makes feel so grateful.”

You sniffle softly, thinking about your past.

“Those years I spent on my own… They’re in the past. Behind me. And although there were many lonely days and nights - days that I can’t even remember anymore because they all blended into one - it makes me appreciate the now so much more. I’m thankful for our friends, the spider gang. This,” you say gesturing to Miguel and yourself. “I’m so - so thankful for it. For all of it. For you,” you answer softly, smiling sweetly at Miguel despite your eyes threatening to spill your tears.

Miguel smiles again and leans forward. He reaches with his hand, placing it on top of the bed. He offers his pinky finger, which you notice immediately. You smile warmly at the offer and take it, wrapping your own pinky around his. Gently, you give it a squeeze, one Miguel returns.

His feelings of hurt regarding this conversation have calmed more. A part of him will always wish he had met you earlier, that he had found you sooner so you could’ve been in his life earlier, but your words and smile - your sweetness - replaces his hurt with pure ternura [endearment], so much the next words simply spilled from his mouth like stardust.

“I’m grateful for you, too, dulzura [sweetness],” Miguel whispers, still smiling. “I have been, for a long time now.”

You stare at each other, smiling, your chests stirring with affection, appreciation, and love. For several minutes, you simply enjoy the moment of such vulnerability with Miguel, calming each other.

You think about the little nickname Miguel gave you. Despite all the feelings you’re experiencing right now, that doesn’t mean you missed that part. You chuckle, still holding his pinky finger.

“Does this mean I can call you ‘Miggle?’” you ask.

Miguel rolls his eyes, playfully, of course. “Only when we’re alone. The spider gang would have a field day with that nickname. Peter B. especially,” he says gently.

You snort softly. “Fair enough.”

Miguel stares at your joined pinky fingers. “You may call me something else.”

Humming softly, you give Miguel’s pinky finger a hug with your own, smiling. “I’m going to think about it, then.”

“I look forward to hearing your ideas,” Miguel replies, amused.

You stare at the wall, beginning to think of a nickname you’d like to give Miguel.

Mig.

Migs.

Miggy.

Fangs.

You feel a cramp in your stomach, interrupting your thoughts. With your free hand, you press your stomach slightly, something that catches Miguel’s attention.

“Does your tummy hurt?” he asks, worried.

“Just a cramp,” you reply. “I’m going to take some of the medicine you gave me.”

He nods. “I can get you a heating pad. I have one.”

“I have… the socks with rice.”

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise. “The ones I made you?” he asks. “From back then?”

You nod, looking away, embarrassed. “Uh, yes, they’re quite efficient, so I… Kept them. They’re in the dresser,” you say nodding at them.

He turns to look, still surprised, only to find them laying next to a clean stack of clothes. He didn’t notice them before until now. He nods after a few seconds, gently squeezing your pinky finger. He doesn’t want to let go, even if he doesn’t voice that, but he also wants to look after you.

“How about I make dinner and then you take the medication? I’ll heat up the rice socks for you, if that’s what you want to use.”

You nod after a few seconds. “I like that plan, but I can help-”

“By resting,” Miguel finishes, somehow standing up without letting go of your pinky finger. “I got it. You rest, alright?”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh, still not used to someone looking after you like this after so long.

“Good. I’ll cook and you can rest. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.” Miguel stares at your joined fingers once again. He frowns for a second before squeezing your finger one last time for today.

You understand, so you squeeze back before letting go. “I’m going to take a shower while you cook. A hot shower always helps me.”

He nods, smiling softly. “If that helps, then go ahead and take your time. We have unlimited hot water.”

“Trust me, I know,” you say standing up at last from the bed. “I’ve become quite spoiled with the shower here, I feel like I forgot what my shower even looks like.”

Miguel chuckles despite the fact that he remembers that soon you’ll be returning to your universe. Your building will be livable once again and you’ll be gone. He fights the urge to tell you that you can come use the shower whenever you wish to. That you can use all the hot water.

That you can stay here longer, even if your building is ready.

But Miguel doesn’t.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” he asks, personally feeling that it hasn’t. Weeks have gone by, but for Miguel, it feels like you moved in just yesterday. “You just got here.”

You laugh softly as you grab something you’ll need for your shower. “It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Miguel nods. Always. “Yes, sometimes,” he replies instead, looking away from you and around the bedroom. It looks so homey, so cozy. So you. He wishes the bedroom would look like this for longer. He sighs quietly, shaking his head as you gather what you need. He needs to let it go. He clears his throat. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen, alright? Take your time with the shower, no rush.”

You nod with a smile. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs shortly.”

Miguel gives you a little nod and smile, wondering what you’d think about his thoughts. If only he voiced them. He finally steps out of the bedroom and leaves you to get ready for your shower, pushing his thoughts aside and focusing on cooking dinner and making you feel better, even though his mind is whirling with thoughts about you moving back to your universe, about your expressed gratitude for him, his nickname for you, which slipped from his mouth without a thought, and of your joined pinkies.

Two hours later, you lay on the couch. You’re in clean pajamas, wrapped up in Miguel’s blanket. You’re still wearing his sweatshirt, something that pleases Miguel for some reason. The socks with rice are under your clothes, pressed to your tummy. As soon as you came downstairs after your shower, he heated them up for you since he remembered to get them while you were showering.

You also took your medication for your cold and the new medicine Miguel got you for your period, which seems to have helped with the cramping.

And of course, Miguel made canelita for you. Your empty cup is now on the coffee table thanks to Miguel, who noticed you falling asleep still holding on to it.

As you sleep, Miguel sits across from you. The TV is on since you both decided to watch the telenovela again but you fell asleep halfway through it, which is no surprise to him due to the medication, and the fact that you got hit with a cold and your period at once. Definitely too much in a few days.

Miguel sighs softly. At least you’re feeling better. The worse of the cold is over now, at least it seems so, and you have new medicine for your period, so hopefully it’ll be better this month.

“She’s sleeping?”

Miguel blinks in surprise, finding Lyla over you. “Yes,” he says softly.

Lyla nods, watching you. “She always looks very peaceful in her sleep.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow but nods. “She does.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Miguel replies.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“Why?”

Lyla snorts and disappears for a second before appearing over the coffee table. “You fall asleep on the couch sometimes, especially recently.”

“Okay, and?”

“I’m just saying.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, not annoyed but just wondering why Lyla is even bringing that up. “How are things at HQ?” he asks.

“Good. Everything is running just fine. Don’t worry.” Lyla stares off to the side, arms crossed over her chest now. “I learned about a theory the other day.”

“What’s the theory?” he asks.

“Humans sleep better when people they love are around. Sometimes even small things that remind the human of their loved ones help, like the sight of their jewelry, or the smell of their perfume…”

Miguel hums. “That’s interesting. What piqued your interest in that?”

Lyla shrugs. “Nothing, just came across the article. Interesting stuff,” she says looking at Miguel and then at your sleeping form. “Well, I’m glad to see she’s doing well.”

“She is. She was better today. I’m sure the worst is over now,” Miguel says, his tone one of relief.

“I’m glad,” she says, turning to face Miguel again. “Well… I’m going back to HQ. I have some stuff to do.”

Miguel turns to her, nodding. “Okay, that’s alright. Thank you.”

Lyla smiles and nods. “You got it, boss. Take care of Y/N.”

“I will,” he says before Lyla gives him a peace sign and disappears.

He turns to look at you, finding your sleeping face. You truly do look so peaceful when you sleep.

“Always.”

A/N: MIGUEL GAVE US A NICKNAME!!!!! Sorry for screaming but - it was necessary!! You guys... Miguel... 🥺😭 HE WAS SO SWEET AND TENDER AND JSJIDJ why is he not real??? I want to marry him. AND WHEN HE TOUCHED OUR CHIN ??? AND APPLIED VAPORUB ON OUR BACKS AND NOSE????!!!! (Not me screaming about my own fic) Miguel really said f them physical contact boundaries today 😌 for real!!

I really hope you guys enjoyed this update!! Thank you for the support as always, guys 🥺 it really does mean a lot to me!! THANK YOU!!!!

-Alondra ❤️

Also, this was Miguel fr but with a smile and tenderness because it's reader obviously:

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 16: You Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

You and Joel look for Anna and find a new balance in your relationship. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 15, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Discussion of drug use and addiction. Mention of parent death Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter

“You’re sure this is a good idea?” 

You kept your voice low, watching as Joel swayed slowly with Ellie cradled in his arms. 

“She’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “C’mon. Would I do anything that would put this sweet little thing in harm’s way?” 

You sighed, Joel already ignoring you in favor of your niece. Not that you could blame him. In the two months that you’d been basically living with Joel, Ellie had blossomed. She still had her crying jags and was far from an easy baby - from what you could tell, anyway. But she was eating steadily now that you’d found a formula that didn’t upset her stomach so much and sleeping for three hours at a time overnight. She’d gone from being underweight to having charming rolls of baby fat on her arms and legs and she had this tendency to watch whoever was holding her with an intensity that felt uncommon for a baby. You were sure you were biased but you were certain that she was the smartest baby you’d ever seen. Her gaze was keen as she took everything in, her eyes shifting to a deep, rich chocolate brown and it was hard to not just look at her all the time. 

“I’d never let anything happen to you, would I?” Joel said to Ellie, his voice high pitched and lilting. “No I wouldn’t! Uncle Joel loves you so much, yes he does!” 

You smiled a little, letting yourself enjoy the sight of your best friend holding the baby who had become the most important person in the world before looking back in the direction of the kitchen where you knew Tommy was putting a mountain of junk food into the fridge and freezer. 

“Really, Goldie, it’s fine,” Joel said in his more typical baritone. “Tommy watched Sarah for me all the time when she was a baby, he’s actually great with kids, even tiny ones. She’ll be just fine for a night, I promise. We gotta do this.” 

You sighed and then nodded.

“Right,” you said. “You’re right, we do.” 

You held your arms out and Joel passed you Ellie before his lips brushed your temple, a motion that had become so commonplace over the last few weeks. You glanced at him quickly, eyes darting, as he pulled away from you and he flinched a little before grabbing your overnight bags and heading for the living room. 

That was a commonplace occurrence, too. The flinching when he touched you in some intimate, familiar way that seemed to go beyond the bounds of your previous relationship. 

You weren’t sure why he kept doing it. Kissing you, putting his hand on the small of your back when you were near, nuzzling into your hair. He always flinched some after, like these little sparks of closeness were nauseating. You had your theories as to why, of course. He’d told you little of Sarah’s mother but it sounded like she had been around for at least the early days of her daughter’s life. Maybe he was used to these tiny intimacies with a woman he was raising a child alongside, maybe the only way he was used to passing off a baby came with a gentle brush of his lips on skin. Or maybe he thought you needed it, that you were still so fragile even months after you’d shown up on his doorstep with a screaming infant and feeling like you were going to lose yourself if you weren’t careful that he needed to do things like touch you to keep you sane. 

But you wished he’d just stop. It didn’t help when you knew how much he apparently loathed it, it just stung. Even tempering it with the knowledge that he apparently cared enough for you to tolerate something he so clearly didn’t enjoy because he thought it was what you needed, it hurt. 

You and Joel had struck a delicate - if largely unspoken - balance since that first night. You’d all but moved in, Joel giving you two drawers and a corner of his closet, and you’d put a small bassinet in his room. The two of you took shifts overnight, switching out looking after Ellie when she stirred. Since UT’s school year ended a full month before Sarah’s did, you took over making breakfast and getting her out the door in the morning until she was on summer vacation and - now that summer break was in full swing - you watched her and you took care of Ellie while Joel was at work during the day. For all intents and purposes, you functioned like a couple. In all ways except one: you didn’t have sex again. 

You should probably be thankful for that, you knew. It wasn’t like you’d ever say no to him if he’d offered. Even if it destroyed you, you’d always fold the moment he touched you like he wanted you at all. The fact that it hadn’t happened since was a blessing. 

You tried to remind yourself of that when you were lying next to him at night and he didn’t touch you that way. Not that you expected him to at all, especially not with Ellie in the room but still. You wanted it. Longed for it. Ached for it, taking full advantage of what little privacy you got when in the shower or when Sarah was at a friend’s house and Ellie was down for a nap to fuck yourself hard and fast until you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning your best friend’s name. 

Because it was always Joel you thought of now. He was burned into you that way. The first time you’d ever touched yourself had been to the thought of Joel, back before you knew what kissing him and taking him into yourself would be. It had been a losing battle since you’d moved back to Texas, the proximity bringing him to mind so much faster now. Once you’d started dating Stephen, it felt almost like cheating when you made yourself come to the thought of someone else, even though you’d never talked about being exclusive in any sense, let alone in the world of fantasy. Still, you came hard to the thought of your best friend and dealt with the twinge of guilt after. You’d just hoped you’d be able to set this obsession down if you became serious about someone. 

The aftermath of sleeping with Joel again had proved, though, that you were going to be stuck here, feeling like this, for what seemed like forever. You cut things off with Stephen then, using Anna’s vanishing as an excuse to end things. Really, it was just because you couldn’t stomach pretending like it could go anywhere, like you wouldn’t spend your entire relationship wishing he was someone else. 

Since then, you’d thrown yourself into anything - everything - else you could use to distract yourself. Beyond caring for Ellie and Sarah, you’d made some progress on your next book, shifting the story to be about a family more than a romantic relationship. You’d helped Joel with a business plan for Miller Construction, the contracting company he was hoping to start. But, most importantly, you’d gotten some idea about where Anna might be. 

She was, at least, still alive. You’d been able to track down contact information for her sponsor after meeting her once and hearing Anna mention her first name a few times. Marlene had been reluctant to tell you much at all but did at least tell you that she was checking in with Anna daily. She seemed sober, apparently, and Marlene was encouraging her to seek some help but she hadn’t had any luck yet. 

“I shouldn’t tell you this,” she’d sighed when you called a few days earlier. “But she mentioned her ex today. I think she might be with him.” 

You’d all but flown into a panic at that, fighting to hold it together as you watched Sarah swim and you held Ellie carefully while you sat on the steps in the shallow end of the pool. Josh Williams was the worst possible fucking influence your sister could have. He’s who got her into drugs in the first place, their love affair had been a whirlwind even in the best of times. What would being around him do to her now, when she was cracking under the weight of motherhood and what you were certain was postpartum depression? 

“Goldie, take a breath,” Joel said that night after Sarah was in bed and he’d plied you with a margarita. “Here, gimme…” He held his hands out and you passed him the baby and he beamed at her for a moment, making her giggle, before he turned his attention back to you. “Drink more. Let’s think on it. When things went real bad for her, was she with Josh or was she on her own?” 

You sighed and took a sip of margarita. 

“On her own,” you said. “She definitely got into trouble with Josh but… he didn’t hurt her. Well, not like that.” 

“So she’s probably safe,” Joel said gently. “That’s good, that’s the important thing right now, right?” 

“Right,” you nodded and sighed again. “Jesus… So what do we do?” 

“Well,” Joel shifted Ellie and she cooed at him before he cooed back as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme just…” He typed something in, pressing a kiss to little Ellie’s cheek as he did. “Alright, looks like that band of his is on tour and they’ll be in Dallas in a few days. We can go, talk to him, see if he knows where she is.” 

You nodded slowly, taking another drink. 

“If I can talk to her, I can see if I can get her to get some help,” you said. “Or at least come home… Even if we still keep Ellie for a while, if she was at least home…” 

“It’s progress, Goldie Girl,” Joel said gently, putting his phone back in his pocket and shifting Ellie again. “It’s a good thing. It is.” 

You drank a few margaritas there on his couch, watching Joel with Ellie. He seemed enraptured with her, making faces to pull little gummy smiles out of her chubby features and peppering her with kisses before coaxing her to sleep on his chest. 

“C’mon,” he said quietly after a while. “Let’s get this one to bed and then get you to bed. You need it.” 

That night was the closest the two of you came to fucking again. You were tipsy enough that Joel had to help keep you from stumbling between the bathroom and the bed, Ellie sleeping soundly in her crib as she had been the last few nights, the distance from her still oddly foreign to you. 

“Careful there,” he caught you. “How many’d you have?” 

“Enough, apparently,” you tried not to laugh, worried you’d wake up the baby. 

“I’ll say,” he said, walking you to the bed and lowering you to the mattress. “Alright, legs in baby.” 

You obeyed and he tucked the sheets around you before turning out the light and climbing into bed beside you. You rolled onto your side and nuzzled against him before he’d even gotten settled, making him laugh. 

“Forgot what a touchy feely drunk you are,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you said, pressing yourself closer to him all the same. He laughed and then the two of you fit yourselves against each other, your body curving around his. 

“Know it’s not the best circumstances,” he said quietly after a minute. “But… I’m glad you’re here. That you’re not tryin’ to do this shit alone.” 

“Me too,” you said, moving somehow closer to him. His hold on you tightened, his nose nuzzling into your hair. Your lips ghosted over the warm skin of his throat. He groaned a little and your leg hitched over his thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you ground your hips against him.

“Goldie,” he said, a little breathless, pulling back from you enough to look you in the eye. “We… we shouldn’t…” 

You groaned in a way that was closer to a whine and his forehead dropped to yours. 

“You’re drunk,” he whispered. 

“Not that drunk,” you whispered back. 

“Drunk enough,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “This… you still want this in the morning? We can talk about it. Or just forget about it. Whatever you want, but we can’t right now.” 

You fell asleep before too long, feeling achy and needy as you did, and woke up still in Joel’s arms with dawn slipping through the slats of his blinds. Joel was already awake, his large palm resting on the crown of your head, his thumb brushing a gentle trail over your forehead. You looked at him for a moment, memorizing the planes of his face, the scruff on his cheeks, the way his hair was mussed first thing in the morning. 

“She still asleep?” You asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yeah,” he said, just as quiet. “Don’t know that she’s ever slept this late but checked the monitor a little while ago, she’s still breathin’…” 

“That’s good,” you smiled a little. Your stomachs were pressed together, your t-shirt had ridden up in the night so your skin was against his and he was so warm, the heat of him seeping out and spreading over you. 

“Goldie…” he whispered, his face drawn and so close to yours and your heart lurched in your chest. “I can’t…” 

Ellie’s sharp little cry made you both jump, like you’d forgotten for a moment about the little life in the next room that was completely dependent on the two of you. 

“I got ‘er,” Joel said, quickly pulling himself from you and all but running to Ellie’s room. 

The two of you didn’t talk about it again. 

You carried Ellie to the kitchen, Sarah perched on a counter as Tommy made a huge plate of nachos. 

“And we can watch movies and stay up late and…” 

“Just because I’m gonna be out of town for a night don’t mean that all the rules are out the window, baby girl,” Joel said, a small smile on his face all the same. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. “How late she stays up and what junk food we eat while she does it is none of your concern when you ain’t here, old man.”

“Yeah Dad,” Sarah smirked, leaning over and swiping a chip from Tommy’s plate. “You leave Uncle Tommy in charge? You get what you get.” 

“Lord,” Joel sighed, still smiling. “Such a bad influence on my kid…” 

“S’why you love me,” Tommy smirked before winking at you. “Alright, let me see the tiny one, c’mon.” 

You gave Ellie a kiss on her chubby cheek before passing her off to Tommy and he beamed at her. 

“There’s the cutest baby in the world,” he held her with his large hands around her waist, lifting her to blow a raspberry as best he could on her onesie covered stomach. Ellie giggled and he held her to his chest. “There, now I got the important stuff all set. You two get out of here, try to have fun…” 

“Not goin’ for fun,” Joel said, almost like a reprimand. 

“I know,” Tommy said, still calm. “But still. You two have had your hands full lately. Have a damn drink at least.” 

You stepped in before Joel had a chance to try to pick a fight with his brother. 

“You know how to hold her when she has her bottle?” You asked. “And where the extra diapers are in case the ones in the changing table drawers run out? And…” 

“I got ‘er,” Tommy said gently. “And I got your numbers if I need ‘em. Which I won’t.” 

You nodded, not fully able to shake the knot that had settled in your stomach at the thought of leaving Ellie with anyone but yourself or Joel. At the thought of being alone with Joel, no buffer of Ellie or Sarah that had been there ever since you’d slept together again. 

“Thank you for doin’ this,” Joel said earnestly. “It means a lot.” 

“One day, I’ll have kids and I’ll need you to watch ‘em when I want to get my girl out of town,” Tommy said. “Better believe I’m cashing in.” 

You and Joel stopped at a gas station on the way out of town, filling up your car and grabbing snacks from the convenience store and delaying the inevitable awkward silence when the two of you were alone with nothing else to distract you. 

It felt like the two of you were halfway to fucking Waco when Joel finally spoke. 

“You think she’ll be there?” He asked. 

You sighed. 

“I don’t know. I hope so, I hope we can get to her and that she’ll listen and…” 

You ground your teeth for a moment before looking over to him. Joel was driving - it never mattered that it was your car, Joel always drove, it had been like that even when you were teenagers - and there was something so reassuring about him being behind the wheel. 

“Is this stupid?” You asked. “Am I going about this the wrong way?” 

He glanced over to you, looking you up and down before turning his eyes back to the road. 

“I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do this,” he said after a moment. “It’s… it’s a shit situation. I just don’t want you gettin’ your hopes up too much is all.” 

“They’re not,” you said quickly. “God, even if she is there, it’s still going to be a fucking mess…” 

“It is,” Joel said. “But you’ll help her through it. You’re real good at that shit.” 

You scoffed. 

“What?” He said. “You are. You’ve been doin’ a great job, Goldie girl. That’s not going to change because Anna actually comes back - or doesn’t.” 

You nodded slowly, looking out the window again, trying not to think about whether you were more afraid that Anna would be at the concert tonight or that she wouldn’t be. 

“Think you’re ready to throw a pool party for a bunch of preteen girls?” You asked, giving him a little smile. 

“Lord,” he laughed once. “No. But thanks for helpin’ plan it all the same. Sarah’s so damn excited, rivals the fuckin’ concert…” 

“Your list is coming along,” you smiled a little wider him.

“Speaking of our lists,” he teased, glancing your way. “How’s that book of yours comin’ along?” 

“Good, shockingly enough,” you said. “You’re in this one, too. Well, kind of you, it’s not like I named the character Joel but…” 

“I am?” He asked, brows raised. You nodded and then he frowned. “Wait, too? What do you mean, too?” 

Your face fell before you could stop it, your eyes going wide. 

“Goldie,” he said, glancing toward you. “What’d you mean, too? Was I in your first book?” 

“OK, don’t start that,” you said. “Come on, I… Look, alright? My first book was more of a coming of age thing and you were my best friend so… yeah, OK, you might have influenced a character a little. Just a bit. That’s all, it’s nothing crazy…” 

Your heart was racing but Joel just smiled, broad enough that it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

“Didn’t know I meant so much to you, Goldie Girl,” he teased. 

“Don’t read into it,” you rolled your eyes. “Literally, please don’t read it…” 

“Pretty sure it’s above my reading level, anyway,” he winked.

You glared at him. 

“I hate you,” you said. 

“I know,” he smiled, glancing over at you. “S’why we get along so well.” 

The two of you fell into your usual, comfortable familiarity after that, joking and laughing and singing along to the songs from the playlist Joel made for the drive, you trying to forget about the fact that you were only making this drive to try to save your sister from herself. 

The room Joel had booked for you this time was not nearly as nice as the one from the Taylor Swift weekend - not that you were arguing. Putting the two of you in one hotel room right now felt like tempting fate as it was, let alone one that could be mistaken for romantic. But still, you were disappointed when he opened the motel door to a room with two queen sized beds instead of just one king. 

“Figured you could use some space from me since we don’t gotta listen to a baby monitor all night,” Joel said, carrying the bags in. He dropped your duffle on the bed furthest from the door and checked his watch. “Should probably head out in about an hour if you want to get something to eat first…” 

You nodded, fidgeting with your necklace, feeling Joel’s eyes on you. 

“Well,” Joel said, his voice a little awkward. “Think I’ll… I’ll just… take a nap. Keep my eyes closed. So you can get changed and shit if you need.” 

“Right,” you smiled tightly. “Thanks.” 

“Yup,” he said, lying flat on his back on his bed, his forearm over his eyes as you started going through your bag. 

You checked in with Tommy, already missing Ellie, before you got changed into something that was good for a rock concert. Well, you thought it was, anyway - this was always your sister’s territory - and did your hair and makeup so that you had a shot of trying to talk your way backstage to talk to Josh. Hopefully. Maybe. 

When you gently shook Joel awake he stared at you for a moment, blinking with a look on his face that you couldn’t quite place. 

“You really passed out,” you teased, fighting that awkward feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

“Yeah,” he shook his head quickly, like he was shaking off the sleep. “Guess so. C’mon Goldie, let’s go see if we can find Anna.”

***

There had to be more Joel could be doing to help you. He was sure there was something he was fucking missing because there had to be something he could do beyond twiddling his fucking thumbs, waiting in line to get into a small concert venue in Dallas on a Saturday night. 

You were twisting your hands around on themselves, lower lip between your teeth as you tried to peer around the line as though you’d have any chance of seeing any of the bands right now. 

“Is this dumb?” You asked eventually, looking at Joel with wide eyes. “I’m worried this is a stupid fucking idea…” 

“How else were you gonna get ahold of the guy?” He asked gently. “You didn’t have his number, it’s not like you can find him in the damn phonebook. You came to him. It’s what you had to do. You have to try, right?” 

You took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. 

“Right,” you said. “You’re right.” 

The words didn’t match your expression, still worrying your lip between your teeth, still knotting your fingers and Joel wondered yet again what the fuck he was missing. It had to be something, there had to be something he could do to make your life easier because, fuck, why was he even here if he couldn’t?

Ever since you’d all but moved into his house, you’d done nothing but improve his life. Sure, you came with an infant and she was nothing if not a challenge but Joel liked having another kid around to take care of. Thrived on it, really. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Sarah’s newborn days until he was faced with Ellie’s. 

Joel had been so alone then, drowning in the state of his life, in his new identity as Sarah’s father, in the weight of the future heavy in his hands whenever he held his baby girl. It had been hard to really enjoy that time. He knew he’d want to remember it, the way her little legs tucked up into her stomach and the way her nose scrunched when she first woke up - something she still did now if he woke her up abruptly from a deep enough sleep - but it had been a conscious thing. Remember it because he should, because he knew he’d want to keep these parts of his daughter close, not because it came naturally. 

He wondered, sometimes, in hindsight, if there was something wrong with him for that. If he wasn’t a good enough father because his mind had been elsewhere in his daughter’s earliest days, if some vital piece of him was broken because he hadn’t taken naturally to that part of fatherhood even though he loved her more than he realized any human being could love another. 

With Ellie, though, he knew he wasn’t broken. He’d just been so overwhelmed by everything else that the best parts of fatherhood hadn’t found their way to him yet. Now, though, it seemed like he had everything he needed. There was Sarah, you, a new little life that needed care and guidance and love. He felt like he had purpose and so much of that was thanks to you. 

And of course, once you came into yourself again with Ellie, you’d started doing what you always did: make things better. Of course, you just being there would have made things better. But you stepped right into loving his daughter like she was your own. He’d come home from a job site and find you in the yard with the girls, a makeshift soccer goal set up, Ellie in her bouncer in the shade, you in the goal to give Sarah a chance to practice shooting. 

“Dad, look!” She’d yell before Joel even got the door all the way open on the truck. 

“I’m watchin’,” he’d smile and look over her head to you and you’d give him a wink. And he did watch as Sarah dribbled the ball toward you and faked out her kick, making you go one way while the ball went the other. 

“See?” She beamed, her smile huge. “I’m going to score so many goals next season!” 

“You really are,” he kissed her forehead. “Great job, baby girl!” 

You helped him with his business plan. You gave him an audience while he practiced playing guitar with a plan to go talk to Jimmy and see if he’d let him play at the bar again, like he did when he was young. You’d kick him playfully as the two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch with your legs overlapping his in the middle, just like you had when you were kids. You made him dinner and made him laugh and made him want to kiss you so bad he wondered if it was possible to explode with wanting. 

You did so much for him. Why couldn’t he figure out a goddamn way to give it back to you? 

The venue finally opened and you laced your fingers with Joel’s as you worked your way through the press of people, trying to make it close to the stage. 

“This is so weird,” you said, looking back over your shoulder to Joel, standing at your back. “What do we do? Dance? Pretend this is a regular concert? Do we get a beer?” 

“If you want a beer, Goldie, I’ll get you one,” Joel smiled a little. “I think it’s fine if we just stand here until they come on and try and get his attention when they do. But… well, if you feel like you can have a good time, I think you should.” 

Your face pinched at that, like you thought maybe you shouldn’t even consider something as insignificant as your own happiness. 

“Think this’ll be easier with a drink,” he said, making an executive decision. Maybe having fun when trying to track down your sister when she was fuck knows where and left you with her infant daughter was insane but fuck it, being miserable while doing it wasn’t making it any easier. “Be back.” 

You looked like you were about to protest but he slipped away from you and into the people starting to press into the pit, working his way against the flow of bodies to the bar. He got himself a whiskey soda and you a vodka sour because that’s what you’d get with your fake ID when the two of you would sneak into places like this when you were kids. He smiled a little, thinking about that as he went to find you again, how you’d pretended like it wasn’t really breaking the rules since you were just helping Joel do research for how to break into the music business. You’d smile at him, your eyes so bright from the stage lights and say “Someday, that’ll be you up there” and he thought - even then - that you might be the best thing he’d ever seen. 

Joel was working his way back through the crowd to you, living in that time long past for a moment, when he saw you toward the front of the pit. But he didn’t have a chance to really enjoy the sight of you all decked out in your concert clothes. Instead, there was a man next to you, his hand on the small of your back as you leaned away from him and Joel’s blood got hot. 

“…just for a little while,” the man was saying, trying to step closer to you. 

“No thanks,” you said, your tone sharp. 

“C’mon, we’ll get you a drink and…” 

“Hey,” Joel said, stopping right behind the man, crowding his space. The guy was tall but not as tall as Joel and he had to tilt his head back to look him in the face. “You botherin’ my girl?” 

The man’s eyes darted to you before going back to Joel. 

“She didn’t…” the man began before puffing himself up, straightening his spine as much as he could. But the top of his head still only reached Joel’s eyes and he quickly deflated. “Look man, all she had to do was say she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off, alright? Think your problem is with your girl…” 

“No,” Joel said, jaw tight. “My problem’s with you. Don’t matter if she’s got a boyfriend or not, she says she ain’t interested? She ain’t interested. Learn some fuckin’ respect. Or do you need me to teach you?” 

The man looked Joel up and down, like he was weighing his chances. Joel just stood his ground. He wasn’t about to let this asshole just touch you without permission. An excuse to hit him would be welcome. 

“Fuckin’ asshole,” the guy muttered, turning to go. Joel watched him leave before turning back to you and handing you your drink. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

“Fine,” you said, watching him closely. “Thank you for that. He just was not backing off. I forgot what it’s like to go to places like this and deal with guys like that…” 

“Shouldn’t have to deal with guys like that,” Joel said, clenching his jaw. “Fuckin’ asshole should know how to take a no. But probably shouldn’t leave you unattended again, apparently the second I walk away some jackass swoops in…” 

You laughed a little and rolled your eyes as the crowd started cheering and you turned to face the stage as the opener came out. Joel slipped his hand around your waist to your stomach, his fingers splaying wide over the satin fabric of your shirt and he wanted to touch the silk of your skin below and he tried not to think about that. He tugged you back against him and you frowned, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“To be safe,” he said in your ear. “Keep other assholes’ hands off ya.” 

You smiled a little and Joel held you close as the first two bands played, your back pressed tightly against his front. The more of your cocktail you drank, the more you moved almost absently to the music and Joel had to focus to not get lost in you. 

It was easier to remember exactly what the two of you were doing here when the headlining band - Josh’s band - took the stage. The crowd became deafening when they came out and you grabbed Joel’s arm when the guitarist jogged to his place under the lights. 

“That’s Josh!” You yelled over your shoulder to Joel. 

He evaluated the man quickly. Your brother-in-law was on the other side of the stage, stocky and shorter than Joel’d expected him to be, in ripped jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, a guitar strapped across his body. He lifted the neck of it and played the first chord, the lead singer running out and taking the mic. 

“C’mon,” Joel said, keeping his grip on you and trying to guide you through the crush of people toward the other side of the stage, hoping that Josh would see you and recognize you in the crowd. “Try and get closer.” 

It took some time, a few songs passing before the two of you could make it over there and even then, getting to the very front of the pit was basically impossible, fans pressed tight to the barricades and reaching for the band. 

Still, it didn’t stop you from trying to get his attention, your arms up over your head and screaming his name. When he thought the set might be winding down and Josh still hadn’t acknowledged you, Joel started looking for where to take you to try to get back stage and, when the band left the stage and you deflated, he took your hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “Think we can try and get to ‘em this way…” 

He tugged you along behind him, keeping a tight hold on you as he led you to a side door. He jiggled the handle but it was locked. 

“Shit,” you swore, looking back to where people were leaving. 

“Any security?” Joel asked, voice low. 

You frowned and looked around for a moment. 

“No, but…” 

He grimaced but forced the handle down with all his weight, the old lock popping. 

“Did you just break the door?” You asked quietly, brows raised. 

Joel shrugged. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he said, ushering you through it and quickly pulling it shut behind him. 

“Now where?” You whispered it even though there was no one around to hear you. 

“Uh,” he looked around, trying to remember where he thought the green rooms would be as he looked down the hall. “This way, I think.” 

He led you down the cinderblock passage, things getting louder as he did - a good sign, he thought. And then, he turned a corner and walked smack into a security guard. 

“Sorry,” Joel said quickly, tucking you behind him and hoping the guy would forget it and move on. 

No such luck. 

“You two supposed to be back here?” The guard asked, looking you and Joel up and down. “Show me your passes.” 

“We don’t have any,” you said, stepping out from behind Joel before he could stop you. “But I’m trying to talk to Josh Williams from Shine Anthem, he’s my brother-in-law and…” 

“Don’t really give a shit who you say you are,” the guard said, reaching for Joel. “You can’t just come back here so I’m going to have to ask you to…” 

Joel was trying to figure out some kind of plan when he heard your name being called from behind you and then the man from the stage was there, running up and damn near tackling you, bending low to tuck his shoulder into your chest so he could lift you into a hug as you yelped. 

He put you down quickly, though, a broad smile on his face and a glassy look in his eyes. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” He beamed, looking you up and down. “Should’ve called! I’d have gotten you tickets and passes and shit instead of you hangin’ out out there with everyone else!” 

“Well, it’s not like I had your number,” you said, a little incredulous as Josh leaned around you to the guard. 

“They’re good,” Josh said to him. “This is my girl’s sister! She never fuckin’ visits, this is great!” 

You turned to Joel, a look of almost total disbelief on your face as Josh threw an arm around your shoulders and started guiding you down the hall. Joel just shrugged at the security guard and followed, you looking back over your shoulder to make sure he was still there. 

“She didn’t say anything about you coming, either,” he said, an almost odd familiarity to his tone. From what Joel knew, you’d only spent a little time with your sister’s husband, it wasn’t as though the two of you were close. “Could’ve called her, too! She can always get ahold of me, always answer the phone for that girl…” 

“Have you seen her?” You asked. “Because…” 

“Seen her?” He laughed. “She’s here! It’s like old times, s’been great! God I love that girl. She’s with the guys right now, nice to have her around again…” 

“She’s here?” You stopped and turned to stare at him. “Right now?” 

“Yeah!” He said brightly. “This is great, a regular family reunion! She’ll be so excited to see you, she’s always saying she wishes you’d come back home more. Who’s this guy, by the way? Not your husband, he’s that old dude, right?” 

“This is my friend Joel,” you said quickly before trying to refocus him. “Josh, I need to see Anna. Right now.” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, stopping outside a heavy metal door and turning to Joel. “You party? Because we can do shit up, I know this one’s not usually down but…” 

“We’re not here to fucking party, Josh!” You snapped. “I need to see Anna! Right now!” 

“OK!” He put his hands up and gave Joel a look as if to say ‘women, right?’ before opening the door. “She’s right here.”

The space was smaller than Joel had been expecting. Maybe he had idealized expectations for a rockstar’s green room since he’d once dreamed of being one but this one was small, with a few couches that were crowded with people, the air clouded with acrid smoke so thick he couldn’t help but cough. 

“Ahhh!” Anna threw her arms in the air in glee from the corner of one of the couches, where she was perched on the lap of some other band member. “My sister’s here! Look, guys, it’s my big sister!” 

Joel clenched his jaw and looked over to you, ready to help you if you needed it. The look on your face was hard for him to place, your expression so strangely foreign. Of all the faces Joel knew, he knew yours maybe best of all - Sarah the only exception. He knew how you looked when you were lost in thought, when you were about to cry, when you were coming, when you laughed so hard you cried. But you were so rarely angry that he didn’t recognize it, not at first. 

But your eyes narrowed and your hands curled into fists at your sides and for a moment, just a moment, Joel thought you were going to scream. 

But you didn’t. Instead, you steeled yourself and marched purposefully, forcefully, over to your sister. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, standing over her. “This is what you’re doing? You’re here, partying with your ex-husband and the guys you used to fuck around with while I’m home with your daughter?” 

The room had gone silent, Anna staring up at you with wide eyes. 

“Daughter?” Josh said quietly and Joel looked over at him. He was staring at Anna in disbelief and disappointment. “Wait, you had a kid? When…” 

“You didn’t even tell him?” You scoffed at her. “Of course you wouldn’t, why would you? Why would you ever consider anyone but yourself in your decision making process? You never have before! Hell, you never even really think of yourself, do you? Not your future self, not the person you really need to be worried about because if you did, you wouldn’t be fucking high right now!” 

“I’m not high!” She got up quickly, stumbling a little as she did. 

“Bullshit you’re not high,” you snapped. “Look at you!” 

“I’m not…” She lowered her voice, as though that would make much difference in a room as quiet and small as this one. “It’s just some pot, OK? It’s not like…” 

“Oh, because you’re not snorting anything or injecting anything, it doesn’t count?” You asked, brows raised, incredulous. “Because this isn’t the first step to you ending up back in the hospital after you OD again or worse, just dead somewhere?” 

“You ODed?” Josh said weakly, going over to her, running his fingers through her hair. “Baby, you never told me this, why didn’t you tell me this?” 

“It was last year,” she said. “You were touring, it wasn’t that bad…” 

“She almost died,” you said to Josh. “And she had been sober until you came along, so congratulations on dragging her down yet again.” 

You turned your attention back to your sister. 

“Were you ever planning on coming home?” You asked. “Or were you going to just party like a goddamn teenager without a care in the world until you wound up dead?” 

Anna just stared down at her hands and you shook your head. 

“I should have fucking known.” 

You stalked off without another word, slamming the door behind you as you went. 

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment, Josh looking at Joel apologetically. 

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly, his eyes wide, all the casual familiarity gone. Instead, he was almost uncomfortably earnest and almost sad. “I never would have… I didn’t know.” 

Joel looked back toward the door for a moment before he sighed and looked at Josh again. 

“We’re here ’til the morning,” he said. “Gimme your phone.” 

Josh handed it over and Joel typed his number into a text message before sending himself a message that had the name and address of the hotel you were at with the room number. He gave the phone back before he turned to Anna. 

“She loves you,” Joel said. “And she loves Ellie. You should come home.” 

She sniffed but just turned her head, looking away from him. 

“Right,” Joel said. “Well… Should know Ellie misses you. And we’ll be at that hotel until 11 a.m. tomorrow.” 

He had to run to catch up with you, finding you standing outside with tears in your eyes as you paced. 

“Hey,” Joel said and you looked at him, quickly drying your eyes on the insides of your wrists. “You alright?” 

“No,” you sniffed. “No, I just fucked everything up, I shouldn’t have done that, who knows what…” 

“Hey,” Joel cut you off, pulling you into his chest. “S’OK.” 

“Easy for you to say,” you said, voice muffled by his shirt. 

He sighed, holding you for a moment, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the hotel. Pick up some beer on the way.” 

You checked in with Tommy on the way and Joel tried to keep his distance from you once the two of you got back to the hotel room and you’d calmed down a little. He’d gotten the two damn beds for a reason and it wasn’t because he wanted to be apart from you. It was because he knew that things between the two of you had gotten too close since you’d shown up on his doorstep with Ellie in your arms. Even if the sex had never happened, it was too much like being with you, going through life with you the way he had been. It couldn’t continue, not without destroying him. 

So Joel stayed on his bed and you stayed on yours, a six pack on the night stand in the middle and he cursed the pretext of it. The space was smart, he knew that. But goddamn, couldn’t he just hold you as long as you’d let him? Couldn’t he just live in that liminal place for as long as he could manage it? Wouldn’t the damage be worth it in the end if he did? He didn’t know. He just stayed on his bed, finding some stupid action movie with a bad TV edit to put on, one where the dialogue choices were bad enough that you were laughing so hard that you spilled beer on your bedspread. 

“Oh shit,” you swore, putting the now nearly empty bottle on the nightstand and jumping up to run to the bathroom and grab towels. Joel joined you, mopping up the mess as best you could. “God, so much for having one night where I don’t end up covered in something. If it’s not spit-up at home it’s beer here…” 

“At least this didn’t end up in your hair,” Joel smiled a little and you laughed. 

“Yeah, thank god for small miracles. And at least it’s just my bed so you don’t have to deal with it, too.” 

“You don’t need to deal with it, either,” he said before he even thought about it. “You can just sleep in my bed.”

Not that he really needed to think about it. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you waved him off. “I’ve already taken over half your bed at home, you deserve your space. I’ll be fine sleeping in spilled beer for a night.” 

“Goldie, c’mon,” he said, realizing just how close he was standing to you. How easy it would be to kiss you. “This ain’t some frat house, not about to just make you sleep in that shit.” 

You bit your lower lip, uncertain, and he had to fight the urge to tug that soft flesh from between your teeth. He wanted to bite that lip, kiss it, run his thumb over it. 

“What?” He asked, desire edging into his voice whether he wanted it to or not. 

“What about distance?” You asked quietly, breathily. 

“Distance is overrated,” he said, tightening his hold on the towels so he wouldn’t grab you and kiss you the way he was so fucking desperate to do. 

He tried to make himself calm down in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, getting changed into pajamas and setting the beer-soaked towels out to dry. He wished he could jerk off because that might be the only thing that actually put him back inside his own goddamn head for a moment. Maybe he could once you were asleep, just lock himself in the bathroom and fuck his hand to the memory of you and try to keep your name off his tongue when he came. 

But that wouldn’t help now as he watched you cross the room in the little shorts and tank top you’d brought to sleep in, all but mesmerized by the bounce of your breasts when free of your bra when you walked or the way the soft cotton of your bottoms just skimmed the edge of your ass and he could see the swell of flesh there, almost out of sight, almost out of reach, close enough to tempt but far enough to not belong to him. 

“I really didn’t mean to put you out again,” you said as you climbed into bed beside him. “I really didn’t mean to the first time, either… In case I haven’t said it, I think I owe you my life for everything you’ve done for me and Ellie. I would have drowned in this alone.” 

“You’re not putting me out, Goldie girl,” he said, smiling a little. “Hell, it’s been nice, having the two of you around. Sarah’s been beggin’ me for a little sister since she could talk, think this is the closest she’s getting for a while…” 

You laughed a little and then sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard. 

“How bad do you think I fucked up with Anna?” You asked, watching him. 

He sighed. 

“I dunno… S’not like I know much about addiction or what she’s going through right now. But I can’t say I blame you for what you said. She knows you love her, that you want what’s best for her.” 

You sighed and looked down at your hands, picking at your thumbnail for a moment. 

“She’s the one who found our mom, did I ever tell you that?” 

“No,” Joel said quietly, watching you closely. 

“She did,” you nodded at your hands. “I can’t imagine what that would have been like for her. I only saw Mom after the funeral home had her, I didn’t have to… I wasn’t there for Anna after that. It’s no wonder she dropped out, found trouble, tried to take care of shit with drugs…” 

“That’s not on you,” Joel said. 

“Isn’t it?” You looked at him. “I was the big sister, I was who she had and I left her to cope with it alone and the first time I try to actually help her with something, I fuck that up, too.” 

“You were young,” Joel said. “Basically a kid.” 

“I was 20 years old,” you replied. “I was old enough to have a fiance and a career path and a life away from here. I could have moved back, I could have stepped up, I could have done something but I just…” 

“It’s not your job to take care of everybody, baby,” he said gently. 

“What if I fucked up so bad this time that she doesn’t come back?” You whispered. “What if she leaves Ellie with me forever and I can’t do it and…” 

You sniffed and looked back at your hands, a tear slipping down your cheek and Joel just tugged you against him, tucking you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head. 

“We’ll deal with it,” he said, tracing his fingertips along your hairline soothingly. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. It’s OK.” 

You nodded wetly into his chest and he held you like that for a while, your body slowly molding to his until you were soft and warm and pressed entirely against him and your tears slowed. 

“You doin’ better?” He asked eventually and you nodded against him, sitting up and sniffling a little. He smiled, reaching out and trying your tears with a swipe of his thumb, your cheek fitting against his palm. “See? Not so bad.” 

“No,” you smiled a little back. “It’s not.” 

Your eyes were on his and he was so close to you, so close that he could almost touch your nose with his. 

So he did, moving ever so slightly closer so your skin was brushing his own. Your breath hitched when he did and instead of finding relief in the contact, it stoked a fire he hadn’t realized was burning, low and hot and sure, inside him. 

“Joel,” you breathed. “Please…” 

“It’s OK Goldie girl,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

He kissed you then, the concept of distance so far at the back of his mind as he did, the spearmint of your toothpaste tinged with hops from the beer on your breath. 

It was hesitant at first. He wasn’t sure if it was just him holding back or if you were, too, but all pretense was gone almost immediately. You were twisting in the sheets, moving to face him, to put your arms around his neck and press yourself closer to him as his hands ranged over you, trying to touch as much of you as he could reach before you slipped through his fingers yet again. 

He pulled at your clothes, your mouth separating from his only long enough to get your shirts off, and you moaned into him, fingers fumbling with his pants, pulling the waistband down to free his already hard and aching cock. He palmed you through your shorts, your cunt so hot and wet he could feel it through the fabric and if he thought too long about what being inside you would feel like, he was going to come before he even had a chance to fuck you. 

Your hand wrapped around his length and you started working him, making him groan and you seemed hellbent on trying to move closer to him somehow, practically squirming as you worked yourself against his hand while pulling yourself toward him. 

“I’ve got you baby,” he said, breathless, as he tugged your shorts down, watching with rapt attention as your skin was revealed to him. You were glistening between your thighs and he groaned at the sight, tossing your shorts and panties aside before he teased your little, swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” you panted, closing your eyes for a moment. “Holy… I need…” 

“What?” He asked after a moment, working your clit harder. “What do you need, baby?” 

“You inside me,” your eyes opened again, your pupils blown. Your hips moved almost of their own accord against him and he moaned. “Please Joel, please, fuck, it hurts, I need…” 

“Take what you need,” he said, cock aching so bad he thought he might explode with hit. 

You just nodded before moving to straddle him. He sat back against the headboard and took your waist in his hands as your dripping slit brushed against his leaking head, his hips involuntarily jerking up toward you at the temptation of you there, hot and wet and wanting. 

Your eyes met his - so wide and vulnerable - before you lined him up with your grasping entrance and took him inside yourself in one, swift motion, 

He gasped at the feeling of it, how your velvet tightness made room for him inside of you, how your walls stretched over him, how you were so warm and soft inside, your wetness already making a mess of him. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathed, watching you closely. “So goddamn good…” 

You just gave him a strangled little moan as you looked down between your bodies to where he was entering you, panting for breath. You rolled your hips against him, slowly and deliberately at first, pulling a groan from him that made him thankful you were in some shitty hotel room and not home where his daughter would hear him because he didn’t think he could stop it if he tried. He didn’t want to stop it. He wanted to let himself get lost in you and your body and your pleasure until the only thought left in his mind was you. 

You started to ride him in earnest then, your pace increasing, your clit finding his pubic bone and grinding against him there as he thrust up into you, finding those deep, soft places inside your tight heat, places that made your channel start to flutter over him in little shocks of pleasure. 

He watched as you stifled your moan as he hit one of those places inside of you and he pressed there deeper, harder, holding you to him for a moment before his thumb moved to your clit, working you in tight circles. 

“Want to hear you, baby,” he panted before kissing and sucking at the tender skin of your throat. “Don’t gotta be quiet here, lemme hear you.” 

You nodded quickly, desperately, and his hands ran up your back as you arched into him, fingers digging into your flesh, guiding you over him as you rode him hard and fast and he met you stroke for stroke. You moaned, your body tightening around him and he took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and teasing and turning your moan into a needy little cry. 

“That’s it baby,” he panted against your skin. “Just take it. Come for me, make yourself come on my cock, c’mon.” 

Your movements became faster, more uncertain, your pussy so tight around him it would probably hurt in any other context but because it was you, like this, it was heaven. 

“Joel!” You cried, burying him deep inside as you exploded around him, your muscles throbbing over him. He held you close and tight and drank in the sight and sound of your pleasure for a moment before giving over to his own, coming hard and deep inside of you, rope after seemingly endless rope of his spend spilling into you. 

He held you close and tight like that as the two of you came back down from your shared high, buried inside you where it felt so much like he belonged he thought his heart might burst with it. 

Eventually, you sat back from him, your eyes searching his for a moment, a hint of panic at the edges. He ignored the sting in his chest that came with that and instead just cupped your cheek. 

“It’s OK baby,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.” 

You just watched him for another moment before you nodded and slowly, gently, pulled yourself away from him, settling against him on the bed. 

He had the fleeting thought that he should go, get a washcloth, clean the two of you up but he couldn’t bring himself to move, afraid if he lost this closeness with you now he might never get it back. Instead, he stayed there, trailing his fingers up and down your bare arm as he held you. 

“What are we doing?” You asked quietly, eventually. “We can’t keep doing this, Joel, we have responsibilities, we’re not teenagers anymore, there are kids involved now, we….” 

“Why do we have to be doing something?” He asked, adjusting so he could actually look at you. 

You pulled back from him, frowning a little. 

“What?” 

“Why can’t we just…” he paused, trying to find the words. Words he shouldn’t say but that he couldn’t seem to stop. “We’re basically living together. We have so much else goin’ on right now it’s not like we’re dating anyone. Why don’t we just…” 

He trailed off, hoping you’d fill in the rest. 

“Do you mean like…” You paused. “Friends with benefits or something?” 

“Yeah,” he said, even though calling you that felt so wrong that it was something like blasphemy. “Then we can just… do this when we need it. Don’t need to be a big deal, it can just…” 

“Right,” you said, looking from his face to his chest before nodding. “Yeah… That… we can try that. As long as you promise it won’t ruin things with us. I can’t lose you again, Joel. I just can’t.” 

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, kissing your forehead. “Can’t lose you, either.” 

“OK,” you said softly, nuzzling closer. “Friends.” 

“With benefits,” he said. 

“With benefits,” you said. 

The term felt so wrong that it took time to settle in him, reducing what he felt for you to something as simple as just friendship with sex. But there was something hopeful in him, too. Something that clung, vicious and hard, to the thought that he could have this with you, live in that place between worlds where he could pretend that you were his when he came home to you because he got to fit himself inside you every night. This, he thought, would be worth the destruction. 

He tried to dwell on the comfort of that as the two of you got packed the next morning, moving slowly but in sync with each other in the small room, one bed stained with beer and the other your indiscretions. 

Joel had given up hope that Anna would show - glad he hadn’t told you that he’d given Josh the room number so you wouldn’t be let down by it - when he carried your bags to the car in the morning but froze when he saw your brother-in-law standing outside an Uber, his arms crossed, watching the hotel room door. Joel just gave him a nod before going to put the bags in the trunk, Josh meeting him there. 

“Didn’t think you were comin’,” Joel said, closing the lid with a little too much force. 

Josh nodded slowly, staring at Joel’s feet. 

“Needed to talk things through with her first,” he said before meeting his eyes. “I didn’t know any of that shit, swear I didn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t have… I guess it doesn’t matter. I talked with her. She told me everything. I think everything, anyway.” 

Joel just nodded, giving him a chance to continue on his own terms. 

“I’m not good for her right now,” he said. “Shit, probably never was but I’m smart enough to know better now and I love her too much to let her get hurt because of me.” 

“So what are you going to do about it?” Joel asked. “Because saying that kind of shit don’t mean much if you just keep letting it happen.” 

“You’re right,” Josh said. “She’s in the car. She agreed to go home with you guys and go to rehab. Back to rehab, I guess.” 

Joel nodded again, looking toward the car, just making out the outline of Anna sitting in the back through the tinted window. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” Joel said. 

“Is she here?” Josh asked. Joel jerked his thumb toward the hotel room but Josh shook his head. “Not… I mean the baby. Ellie? Is she here?” 

“No,” Joel said. “She’s home, with my brother. He’s takin’ good care of her, he watched my daughter plenty when she was Ellie’s age.” 

Josh clenched his jaw but nodded anyway. 

“Probably for the best,” he said. “I’m not… I should figure my own shit out before I meet her. But I want to. I will. I’m going to.” 

Joel wasn’t sure he believed him but then, he’d done plenty to try to make himself worthy of being Sarah’s dad. Maybe Josh had it in him, too. 

“Joel, do you have the…” 

You fell silent as you came up beside him, one hand in your bag like you were looking for something, your mouth open in shock when you realized who he was standing with. 

“Hey sis,” Josh smiled awkwardly. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, eyes wide. 

“Anna’s in the car,” he said. “We talked. She’s going to head back with you, figure shit out.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, voice wet. 

“Yeah,” Josh said. “It’s… it’s the right thing. Just… don’t be too hard on her. She’s hurting.” 

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry I said what I did last night, I didn’t…” 

“It’s OK,” Anna said. Joel hadn’t even noticed her getting out of the car but she was there now, one arm crossed protectively over herself. “I know I didn’t give you much choice.” 

“Anna,” you breathed before all but throwing yourself at her, flinging your arms around her neck to pull her close. “I’m so glad you’re OK.” 

She laughed wetly as she hugged you back. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

Josh went to help her get her things from the Uber and you looked to Joel, drying your eyes on your wrists. 

“How’d you do it?” You asked quietly. 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t think I did much of anything at all,” he said, watching you closely. “Just told her the truth.” 

“Whatever you did,” you said, stepping closer to him. “Thank you.” 

You hugged him, your arms wrapping around him and he could feel every line of your body against his and he held you close. He couldn’t help but hold you close. 

“‘Course, baby,” he said. “Do anything for you.” 

He tried not to think about how true that was or how much that scared him as he gathered you up and took you and your sister home, where you belonged. 

A/N: I'm so sorry this took an eternity to write. My carpel tunnel flared up something fierce and put me out of commission for a while. Thank you so much for being patient!

Goldie and Joel are doing... something. It's something. I promise they're getting somewhere, they really are! There are just a few more bumps in the road until they do. I just really love writing these two as they work through these long-held assumptions and insecurities! Thank you for wanting to be there for it.

Love you!

Taglist: @kaseyconnour

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 6 - Cream

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: just silliness and fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Excerpt: “Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

A/N If you want to be on the tag list, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment. ❤️

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

It started with you craving some pastries. The four of you were making your way through the city when you caught a whiff of something sweet, delicious and so very tempting. You kept on walking at first, because you were on a budget and new armour for Karlach was more important than letting your sweet tooth dictate your purchases. But then your stomach made itself known, to your embarrassment.

Gale smiled and pointed in the direction of the bakery. “Seeing as we are nowhere near Elfsong, how about indulging in some baked goods? I, for one, wouldn’t mind having a sweet butter bun or two.”

Well, that was a different matter entirely! If it wasn’t a senseless purchase but rather something to improve morale, who were you to refuse?

“And I find your blood tastes just a little sweeter if you enjoy yourself, dear,” Astarion whispered into your ear.

“Oooh, I’ve heard about this place!” Karlach pushed the door open, “it’s meant to have the meanest, best damn apple pie in the city!”

Looking around, you wondered why Karlach was excited about the place. The bakery looked like any ordinary bakery except for one detail. It seemed to be suspiciously empty of any people. You listened carefully. There was shouting and thumping coming from the direction of the kitchen. Something seemed off.

“Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

“We can’t leave!” you frowned, bow at the ready as you took a step in the direction of the commotion, “they might need help!”

“Well, then some other do-gooder is welcome to come by and- hey!”

Ignoring Astarion’s protests, you burst through the kitchen door, the rest following close behind, to be greeted with a most peculiar sight.

Kobolds pranced around the kitchen to the dismay of the baker and a woman who appeared to be his spouse, the latter’s face almost puce as she shouted at the wretched creatures to leave. The kobolds seemed to think that her shouts and the weak, spluttering spells aimed at them were a nice accompaniment to their meal. They mostly ignored the couple and seemed to be quite content to gorge themselves on the pastries and cakes and, cream, cream, cream and more cream! What did not get eaten got carelessly thrown at the floor, the walls and the owners. There was a great big glop of custard on the baker’s cheek and his wife almost slipped in the puddle of jam on the floor.

Astarion doubled over in laughter.

“Oh, this was not what I expected to see but I definitely needed this!”

“Oh hush,” you admonished him, feeling your own lips twitch as you fought a smile. “We have to help them.”

“The kobolds?”

You gave him a deadpan look.

“Right, so how should we go about this one, soldier?” Karlach shouldered her axe with a frown, “can hardly use most of my attacks.”

“Yes, in such close quarters and with this much flour in the air, a single spark will set off an explosion. Most magic might prove too destructive. I doubt that us destroying the building in an effort to drive the kobolds out will be received with thanks,” Gale frowned.

“Perhaps we could try to reason with them?” you suggested weakly. The idea was not without its merit. You did have a somewhat successful chat with the kobold at the Circus of the Last Days.

“Are you proposing to hold a conversation with these base creatures? Oh, I have to see this,” Astarion grinned, giving you a shallow mocking bow and motioning for you to proceed with the entertainment.

That bastard. Sometimes you could not believe that you let him get away with being such an ass.

You cleared your throat loudly, which garnered no reaction from both the battling parties. It took Gale briefly casting a Silence spell on the kobolds for them to realise that you and your companions were even in the kitchen. All inhuman senseless eyes turned to you as the creatures adjusted their stances, clearly seeing your group as a bigger threat than the baker and his wife.

“Right. Can somebody please tell me what is going on?” you motioned at the destruction.

“We give money for treatos!” kobolds screeched, each wanting to be the first to complain.

“One gold piece! It was not enough for all the buns that they demanded from us!” the baker protested loudly.

“You give no treatos, so we take treatos!”

“Oh, and just look at all the damage that you have done!” the baker’s wife lamented, wringing her hands and being quite understandably upset.

“Next time, you remember to give treatos. We give money!” the kobolds defended themselves, tongues flicking out of their mouths, shaking their scaly fists as they shouted about the great injustice that was committed against them.

“So how are you planning to defuse this one, darling?” Astarion leaned closer to you.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Very much.”

“Any chance you might want to contribute to the conversation?”

“When you are doing so splendidly? I don’t think so.”

The kobolds seemed to have decided that you were not on their side and started gathering whatever buns and cakes that were not destroyed. Their ammunition in their hands, they attacked in quick succession. Karlach and Gale were fortunately out of their range, but you and Astarion found yourself swiftly covered in jam, and cream, and sticky dough. Astarion roughly pulled you down behind an overturned table, the second barrage missing you by an inch as you dropped to the floor.

“Argh, just look at me! Will the horrors never cease!” Astarion flicked a flaky piece off his shoulder and into your face. “This is all your fault, you know! If only you did not have some kind of hero complex, we would have grabbed some cakes and been on our merry way. But noooo, we have to get involved!”

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, “how could I have known this would happen?”

“Rule of thumb, if you see people in trouble, you walk away!”

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You have jam in your curls.”

The look of pure horror on Astarion’s handsome face was just the revenge you needed.

“Gale! Slow spell!” you commanded, hoping he could still hear you over the cacophony of shrieks and cries.

“On it!”

You heard the incantation and dared peek from behind the table. The kobolds were still on the offensive, but their movements were sluggish, as if the air thickened and they had to fight against it.

“This is your last warning, you little rat bastards! Either you stop this, or we are going to turn your asses to stone and sell you to Popper!”

“Popper? You tell Popper? No tell Popper!”

Apparently, you mentioning the kobold from the Circus of the Last Days did the trick, as he was the law and order when it came to their community in the city. You rubbing shoulders with Popper, the best and the greatest of them all, was reason enough for the kobolds to regret their actions, renounce their fiendish ways, promise to never set foot near the bakery, and hastily make their way out of the kitchen.

Finally, there was silence. Complete blessed silence. Beautiful silence that lasted for a grand total of ten seconds before it was broken.

“Oh, these horrible creatures, I thought they would never leave!” the baker’s wife wiped her eyes as she tried and failed to hold back tears, “However can we thank you?”

“Coin always works best,” Astarion chose that moment to speak up.

“What coin?” the plump woman bawled pitifully, “we didn’t have the chance to sell anything!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shot Astarion a look full of admonishment, “we were glad to help.”

“But of course we were,” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “It was a pleasure to be of service,” he mocked and marched out of the room, muttering something derogatory under his breath.

The walk back to Elfsong was uncomfortable and silent. You were hungry, sticky and quite frankly not in the mood to entertain one of Astarion’s moods.

You knew that he was right, in a way. You didn’t have to help out everyone you came across on your journey. You could have looked the other way, turned a blind eye. But that wouldn’t be you. So, he would just have to deal with it!

You loved Astarion, faults and all. But if he berated you every time you chose to do a kind turn and made you feel small and stupid, then perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen to be in a relationship with you. Because you would do anything for Astarion, but you refused to change who you were on the off chance you would get a smidge of approval from him.

When you opened the door to your shared room at first there was complete silence. Everyone was trying and failing to keep a straight face as they looked at the damage done to you and Astarion.

“Oh, shut up!” Astarion shoved past Shadowheart, making sure to leave traces of cream and jam on her as he pushed her out of the way.

“I see you clearly fought a great, formidable foe today,” Lae’zel quipped sarcastically, “at least tell me that you were the victors.”

“Argh, so not in the mood to talk about it! Gale, could you do the talking, please? I just want to wash and sleep,” you grumbled and dropped your bow and arrows near the trunk. You could not wait to get out of your clothes and into a bath.

“Certainly, my friend,” Gale wanted to pat your shoulder, but then decided against it, not wanting to get whatever was on you onto himself.

It took several changes of water for you to scrub yourself clean. You were bone tired and prickly when you finally settled in, choosing to sleep alone rather than in the bed you and Astarion have been sharing pretty much ever since you started staying at Elfsong. You heard his annoyed huff from across the room and squeezed your eyes shut. If Astarion had a problem with your sleeping arrangements, he could shove his complaints in any orifice of his choosing. In spite of being worn out, it took hours of tossing and turning for you to finally drift off.

You were woken up by sunlight spilling into your eyes through the gap in the curtains. Rising and groggily rubbing your eyes, you noticed that your living quarters were empty, the others apparently deciding to let you sleep in and having gone out hours ago. You flopped back onto the bed and stretched out your sore muscles. Perhaps yesterday’s humiliating display was worth it if you were given the chance to have a lazy morning. But then you remembered your fight with Astarion, and your smile turned sour.

You heard the door open and shut as the subject of your musings came into the room. You quickly turned away and pretended to be resting, not really sure what to say to him. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge.

“Darling, I know that you are awake. Will you look at me, please? I come bearing treatos.”

And he did. He held a tray laden with butter buns, delicate little pastries, fruit tarts and an assortment of other mouthwatering, freshly baked delights.

“The baker sends his regards and says that you, as his favourite customer, can be assured to have a discount for life. So, dig in my sweet! I got you the coffee you like to go with it.”

You sat up and looked at your vampire, worrying your bottom lip with blunt teeth. Cautiously, as if not unsure whether you will accept the gesture, Astarion took your hand into his, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.

“I think an apology is in order. I- I do get annoyed that you spend your energies on creatures who, quite frankly, don’t deserve you giving them a moment of your precious time. Someone odd and pathetic that you pick up on the roadside and decide their cause is worth fighting for.”

He put a cream puff onto a plate and handed it to you, long cool fingers brushing against yours. You took a tentative bite without breaking eye contact. It was lovely, not too sweet, delicious and flaky. Astarion brushed a speck off your lips with his thumb and cupped your cheek tenderly.

“But then I realised that at some point I too was an oddity that you chose not to leave behind. A creature who did not deserve your protection, just seeking to take advantage of your kind nature at the time. Recognising your worth and how truly wonderful you are as I got to know you.”

You felt something warm and pleasant bloom in your chest, Astarion’s words making your shoulders relax as you all but melted into his touch.

“So, no matter how aggravating you may be, and how you drive me up the wall with your selflessness, I do not want you to change. You are perfect in every way.”

And then you thew your arms around your vampire and kissed him, all the worries and troubles seeming insignificant as you got lost in each other’s touch. You felt Astarion release a shuddering breath against your lips as he deepened the kiss.

All was well in his world. You were his and he wanted you, faults and all. Even if that meant that he had to spend half the evening getting various foodstuffs out of his curls.

Tag list:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[enigma-the-mysterious]

Komuram Bheemudo: "Make that bastard kneel now!" Part 2/?

Hey! Hey! Hey! Remember how the whole point of the public flogging was to make Bheem kneel?

Who am I kidding? We are reminded of it constantly throughout the flogging

Ram's failed attempt #1

Ram's failed attempt #2

This bitchiest bitch to ever bitch

Ram's failed attempt #3

This asshole dickfuck vomitted straight out of hell

Ram's failed attempt #4

And in the end, Bheem has his way. He falls, but he does not kneel. They break him, but they cannot be bend him. They can command him, threaten him, brutalize him, but they cannot subdue him. He is the tiger, he cannot be tamed.

But!

BUT!

BUT!

You know what detail makes me go absolutely feral is interesting?

Bheem is not the one who kneels after the flogging.

RAM DOES!

RAM IS THE ONE WHO IS BROUGHT TO HIS KNEES AT THE END OF THE FLOGGING!!!

And I don't even mean this in a metaphorical sense (though that one is true as well)

Ram. Is. Physically. Kneeling. Beside. Bheem. I cannot stress this enough.

This is a KEY moment in the movie. It's a turning point.

We know that seeing the unarmed civilians rising up against the armed British forces in the wake of Bheem's defiance is what spurs Ram to finally, FINALLY arrive at his epiphany. His idea of what a revolution is and how it can be achieved is too narrow, too rigid, too costly. The sacrifices are too many and at what point will the ends justify the means?

But to change his viewpoint (again both literally and metaphorically), RAM HAS TO BEND FIRST! Once Ram bends, only then can he finally SEE!

And what is it that makes Ram bend? It's his LOVE FOR BHEEM! His love for Bheem changes him.

So these, that is, the shots where Ram is SEEING a revolution, an actual revolution in action, sparked by nothing more than Bheem's song and his indomitable spirit....

....come AFTER these shots. Where Ram is compelled by his love for Bheem to bend down and kneel

Compare this with Ram's introduction scene.

There is a revolution going on. People show up in front of a police station on the outskirts of Delhi to protest the arrest of Lala Lajpat Rai, a prominent Indian political figure, in Kolkata, armed with nothing more than torches, flags, and their righteous anger.

Ram watches the revolution. But he does not SEE it. He is so focused on his distant goal that he is blind to what is right in front of him. What is literally staring at him in the eye.

So, what does Ram do with his myopic worldview? He quashes the revolution. He stamps out the very thing he is fighting for. He breaks the spirit of the revolution, the spirit of the people, and he watches stone-faced as the protesters limp away, defeated. All because he cannot SEE the revolution for what it is.

So, with these two scenes in mind, we understand that this is not the first time Ram has witnessed a revolution. The people's uprising in the wake of Bheem's torture is nothing new to him. He has watched it all before, has actively participated in snuffing it out even.

Here, Ram STANDS tall, straight, rigid, focused, unbending.

Here, Ram is ON HIS KNEES.

The only factor that changes between these two scenes is the presence of Bheem..... and Ram's love for him. It's Ram's love for Bheem that bends his inflexible worldview. It's Ram's love for Bheem that makes him take a step back and actually see the true meaning of revolution. It's Ram's love for Bheem that shifts his perspective. It's Ram's love for Bheem that makes Ram willingly give up a 15 year long mission he has been toiling endlessly for.

Love is THE MOST powerful force in RRR. No amount of pain, grief, anger, heartbreak, trauma, brutality or violence can wipe it out. It is love that shines and love that emerges victorious. And after the flogging, Ram's love for Bheem is the most powerful driving force in his life, more powerful than a lifelong mission, more powerful than a promise made among tears and blood.

The visual storytelling and symbolisms in this movie are insane. I am going to scream about them for the next 80 years.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Mini Meta]

[deancaspinefest]

Take The Long Way Home

Author: sidewinder | Artist: caught-a-dragonfly (Sarah)

Posting on Monday April 15

Two months ago, the world didn’t end. But for Dean Winchester, who fully expected to sacrifice not just his life but his very soul in order to stop Amara? The celebration has been clouded by the disappearance of his best friend, Cas—the friend he’d started to realize meant more to him than he’d been willing to accept until now. The last anyone’s seen of Castiel was when he was banished from the bunker by Toni Bevell. The Brits swear they don’t have him. Neither Heaven nor Hell claim to know of his whereabouts. All of Dean’s calls, texts and prayers to the angel have gone unanswered, and Dean can’t help but worry that a "Winchester win" has once again come at a terrible price. One day hope finally arrives in a lead from an unexpected if not always trustworthy ally. However finding Cas might end up being only the first step in saving him—not simply from the forces holding him captive, but from the prison of his own mind.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

As Dean approached the galley, he saw the light on there already, meaning he wasn’t the only early bird up and about today. His mood brightened with a momentary spark of hope—Cas rarely slept, and when he was around the bunker, he usually enjoyed hanging around in the kitchen to read or watch cat videos and shit all night on one of their laptops. But Dean’s bubble of hope burst when he saw it was just his brother, sitting there in his sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt, chugging a disgusting-looking green smoothie. Sam was no doubt ready to head out on his morning self-imposed torture session—that is, a five-mile run looping around the bunker to Lebanon and back.

Kid seriously had to be the devil’s vessel if he found that kind of physical torment enjoyable.

“Hey,” Dean grunted at his brother.

Sam looked up from his laptop at Dean and nodded. “Hey. You’re up early.”

“You too. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Rarely do.”

Yeah, that was something they had in common. “Anything up?” Dean asked on his way to fill the coffeepot with water. 

“Not really. Just restless, I guess. I found a case, maybe. Not that I was looking for one,” Sam added quickly. “But while I was searching for any signs of Cas, or Lucifer, I came across a news story about some strange deaths in Wichita. It’s not far from here, and—”

“If you wanna go hunt whatever it is, go for it,” Dean cut him off. “Take mom. I know she’s itching to get out of here and do somethin’ other than stare at our ugly mugs all day.” 

“Dean—”

“No, Sam. I mean it. Until I know where Cas is, I just can’t. My head’s not in the game.” A distracted hunter was a dead hunter. That was the rule their father had drilled into them as soon as they each could carry a weapon, and learn about the things that went bump in the night being real. A week ago, Dean had let Sam talk him into going on a “milk run” hunt to clear out a small vampire nest near Toledo and he’d nearly lost his neck thanks to not fully concentrating on the job at hand.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Do you?” Dean snapped. “Cas has been missing for two months, Sam! We have no idea where he is, if he even—”

Dean cut himself off. He couldn’t say it. Not out loud.

If he even survived.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Monday April 15)

[writingwithfolklore]

Writing a Story from Start to Finish - Guide

                I see you guys in the tags and reblogs talking a lot about how you have a desire to write, but have no clue what to write about, or where to even start figuring that out. While starting any project can be incredibly daunting, I wanted to put together a little guide to hopefully make it a bit more accessible. Be warned, this will probably be a long post.

Step 1: Form an idea

All writing begins with this: an idea. Ideas can start as small as an object, or as big as a world or cast of characters. What’s important is that your idea genuinely interests you, and makes you want to explore it more.

                There are a million ways to gain inspiration for ideas, but my favourite method is a sort of brainstorm/mind map of all the little and big things you find interesting. Any tropes, characters, places, concepts, objects, animals, other stories, etc. you love—write them down. Then, start connecting the pieces. Each connection is one concept or idea you could explore further.

                If this doesn’t work for you, try using some writing prompts or check out 15 ways to spark new ideas.

                If you are a planner, proceed to Step 2. If you are a pantser, skip to step 7.

Step 2: Create your Protagonist

Now that you have a sort of concept or inspiration to work off of, you need your main character. There are about as many ways to create characters as there are characters themselves, and each method is going to work better or worse for every writer.

                At the barest minimum, all your protagonist needs is a Goal to work towards, a Reason for wanting it, and a Flaw that keeps them from having it right away.

                These three things can form a baseline character. Consider what the thing they want, why they want it, and what’s keeping from it says about them as a person.

                Rapunzel (from Disney’s Tangled) wants to see the ‘floating lights’ on her birthday. She wants to because she believes she will learn more about herself through seeing them. Her fear over disappointing and disobeying her ‘mother’ keeps her from it.

                My favourite character creation technique is actually Here—it takes you through creating character in order to create story.

                If that one doesn’t work for you, try this one. It is more focused on defining traits and figuring out the personality of the character first.

Step 3: Your Plot is your Protagonist’s Arc

As stated in the character creation technique I shared in Step 2, character is plot. By that I mean, the character’s journey is the plot of the story. We’re here to see the protagonist transform because of the circumstances incited in the beginning.

                So to form a plot, we need to know who the character is at the beginning, and what they need to learn by the end.

                Your character’s arc is A but B so C:

                A – your character and their flaw

                B – The conflict they go through

                C – how they change

“Obsessed with success, Jenny Beech works tirelessly to earn the approval of her strict parents and graduate top of her class, but when the new girl in town pulls her into a whole new world of excitement and fun, she must stand up for herself against her impossible standards and learn how to be a teen again.”

                This one sentence has everything we need to know about this story and character: “Obsessed with success (character trait/flaw), Jenny Beech works tirelessly to earn the approval of her strict parents and graduate top of her class (goal), but when the new girl in town pulls her into a new world of excitement and fun (conflict), she must stand up for herself against her impossible standards and learn how to be a teen again (change).”

                If you have these three things, congratulations! You already have a story. If you’d like, you may begin writing it now (skip to step 8). Or…

Step 4: Theme

                I did a whole post on theme you should check out here. Essentially, the big takeaway is that your theme is a lesson to impart to the readers—which means it is not a question, it is an answer.

                For the example given above, our theme would likely be something like, “Teens need to balance their additional responsibilities as they mature into young adults with the joy of being young and having fun.” Or, “Friends and a close social network is more important than having the best grades.” Or, “It’s important to take frequent time away from work in order to maintain one’s humanity.” Etc. Etc.

                Theme is conveyed through what your characters need to do to succeed (or what they do that causes their failure). If Jenny lets loose and suffers consequences for it in the end, we’re saying that she should have stuck to her studies rather than letting herself have fun. If she lets loose and is rewarded with a greater relationship with herself and her parents, we’re saying that was the correct thing to do.

Step 5: Outlining

                Now that we have a plot and a theme, we can outline our story. An outline is like a roadmap of what you’re writing. It can be as specific or broad as you want. My outlines tend to follow this structure, and I improvise the little stuff in between, but if you need to get all your ideas within your outline, that’s good too!

                Just make sure your notes make sense to you so when you need to know where to go next, you have a handy tool just for that.

Step 6: Worldbuilding

                Worldbuilding is probably where you’ll spend the most time because there’s just so much. However, I also find it one of the most fun parts. The minimal thing you need to know is your world’s normal, and how that normal is disrupted in the inciting incident.

                Jenny’s normal is school work and trying to impress her parents. The disruption is the new girl in town.

                Rapunzel’s normal is the tower and her hobbies. The disruption is Flynn breaking in.

                I did a more in-depth post on worldbuilding here, but the basics is just ask questions, explore consequences, and do plenty of research.

                Which brings us to…

Step 7: Research

                This can also be done after your first draft, but can’t be skipped entirely. It’s important when trying to convey experiences that may not be wholly your own, or unique perspectives, that you understand the context behind those things in the real world.

                Once again, ask questions, talk to people, and remain open to what you find.

Step 8: We can start writing now

                Now that you have all your planning ducks in a row (or have a good inspiration to jump from) it’s time to start writing! Either go from the outline you built, or just try out scenes. I have some tips for actually writing the dang thing that I’ll put here:

                Let me know how your writing goes, good luck!

[whoreish-behaviour]

Revenant 15 (Final)

Previous

Recom!Miles Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< 4k of just pure smut i'm so sorry lool, unprotected sex, oral (F Receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (alot), tail threatening?, fingering, gentle man handling?, scenting, praise, ALOT of clit simulation.

NOT PROOF READ

'There.'

Miles's eyes followed the direction in which your finger was pointed before quietly humming in agreement and then nudging through the connection to his Ikran for it to slowly descend to the deserted beach below.

Miles knew that he should be on his way back to basecamp, back to his lieutenant to rally up a new idea on how to finally get rid of Jake.

But he couldn't even try and force himself away - he had absolute no desire to.

He felt his fangs poke at his bottom lip as he grinned to himself - your grip tightening in anxiety of dropping closer to the ground on the forearm he had pressed to your stomach, securing your tightly to his chest.

He almost choked when he felt your tail brush his thigh in warning, the strength and control you had there always throwing him off slightly.

'I don't have to see to know your laughing at me Miles.' Your voice had a playful edge to it as you looked over your shoulder at him before jutting your chin away.

Brat.

'So what you tryna achieve with this thing?' He mused, accent thick as he reached with his free hand to grip your tail in a tight grip, thumb moving like muscle memory to gently brush against it.

He outright laughed at your silence and refusal to look at him , your ears twitching constantly before lowering in embarrassment.

He didn't let go, continuing his touch against the sensitive limb until the giant claws of his Ikran landed in the loose sand - its wings flapping powerfully and disturbing the surrounding area.

He got off first - large body moving with balance has he jumped down before he turned to you, fully prepared to cup your thighs and drag you to him.

However he was unpleasantly surprised to see you moving on your own, already landing in front of him - tail swaying gracefully behind you and your eyes looking up at him.

He raised his brow when you said nothing, smirking down at your sudden teasing and defiant attitude.

'Princess-'

He was cut off when you suddenly grasped his hand in both of yours, tugging him gently to follow you.

'Come.' You beamed, ears erect and accentuating your face.

He didn't respond, only watching you silently and taking in your beautiful face and mood before picking up his feet behind you - his spirit unable to do anything but lift with yours.

You could feel Miles's intense stare, your knees feeling weak in nervousness as he drank you in.

Shaking your head, you concentrated on following the deserted path - your memory sparking from when you was younger, before your clan had moved to join another and left this place to be tended to by Eywa.

It felt special to have Miles be here, despite his eyes being more on you than the scenery.

'We are here.' You spoke softly, glancing back at his large yellow eyes before moving to stand beside him instead of in front.

'Hm..and what is 'here'?' He asked, hand gesturing out at the various sized pools scattered pool - before you suddenly felt his large and cup your waist and pull you towards him.

'This- this is where my people, especially mated couples would come to relax.' You felt your face burn slightly, eyes averted as you explained quietly.

'So ..it's a fuck spot?'

'Miles!' You hissed, lifting a hand to cover your face as your ears and cheeks warmed in embarrassment - his laugh making you wanted to punch him.

'Come on Princess, if you wanted us to 'relax' together, you could've just asked.' You felt him lean down towards your neck, nudging your jaw up and nipping at you neck.

'I'm not talking to you.' You tried to deadpan, pretending as if his touch didn't make you want to explode with want.

Taking a breathe, you gently pulled away - the sway of your hips graceful as you approached one of the shallower pools.

Miles couldn't let up on his stare as he watched your nimble fingers reach up behind your neck - undoing your decorative top and then reaching lower, past the curves of your waist and stopping at you hips.

He kept his footsteps as silent as he walked up behind you, committing what he could see of your bare body to mind.

Before he was able to even lift a hand to touch you, you slipped away - stepping down and into the cool water of the pool below.

Standing, the water level came to your hips - your body shivering as the ripples lapped at your skin softly.

Turning around, you exposed yourself to Miles - eyes innocent as they looked up at him, wanting and so desparate.

No words were exchanged or needed as Miles followed you, oversized hands coming reaching up to slowly rid his uniform, his azure skin reflecting in the pool.

You felt your cheeks warm as you watched him undress, his body still new and yet to be explored.

Stepping back, you opted to lean against the opposite side of the pool - allowing him room to step down to join you in the water - your eyes still connected.

'Come're baby.' He called you gently.

Closing the distance, you pressed your chest up against his - his bulging arms caging around you as he leaned down and caught your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, noses brushes as he hungrily drank you in.

You then felt his hands slowly explore your dips and curves, closing in around your rib cage before moving suddenly moving up and cupping your breast in a possessive grip.

You gasped slightly at the shameless grope, lips separating from his and eyes shooting open to catch his.

You scanned his cheeky expression, his ears pointed up before he dipped his face to your neck.

'You like when I touch you here Princess?' He teased, your erect and sensitive nipple suddenly being pinched playfully.

You whined when his fangs grazed your collarbone at the same time, hand coming up to press against the back of his head as you squeezed your eyes shut.

'Please-' You begged.

'What's got you all sensitive hm?' He nudged, the hand that was holding your waist moving down to cup your ass - hand so big that you felt the tips of his finger brush against you cunt from behind.

You whimpered at the sudden stimulation everywhere: his mouth sucking bites across you neck, his fingers effortlessly tugging your nipple until it was almost painful how hard it felt and his hand that was using the grip on your ass to rock your hips into his.

'You dragged me here just so I could finally play with your pretty pussy again, huh Princess?' He chuckled, moving his head up to catch the love of your ear between his blunt front teeth - careful of his pointed ones.

You flushed at the accusation, lips pressing in at being called out.

You felt his breath as he laughed at you, his cheek pressing against yours as he breathed in your scent.

'I came here to- please, talk to you.' You finally managed as he used your body, his strength rocking the water as he moved you against him.

'About what?' He turned his head so your flat noses brushed, both twitching at the touch.

'I cant..do this - with you yet.' You looked away as the words left your lips, his eyes staring into yours and serious expression too much.

'My kind, we can't just mate with whoever - it, it has to be with a chosen mate.' You trailed off, hoping he understood what you were trying to say.

What you were admitting to.

After a beat and at the lack of response, you directed your eyes back onto his - that were still staring and if anything.. his gaze seemed more intense than before.

'Turn around.'

You tilted your head at his request but obeyed nevertheless, preparing yourself for some sort of rejection - heart growing more heavy in your chest by the second.

Your confusion grew when you felt both his hands grip your hips before you were suddenly spun around, hands reaching out to catch yourself.

You were now facing out, the edge of the pool pressing just above your mound as Miles moulded himself to your back.

'Bend over Princess.'

You eyes widened as you attempted to look back at him, tail moving in the water so it brushed his thigh but you weren't able to see his face since he had it up against the back of your neck, nosing at your skin.

'Bend. Over..and I'll fuck you so hard you won't even have to think about choosing me.'

You swallowed at his words, resting your hands on the smooth rocks surrounding the pool for support as you bent yourself over - back naturally arching as your tail swayed.

'You're body's already decided for you pretty girl, you're mine.' You shivered when he pressed down on your arched back, lifting your hips even higher as he leaned over you.

'Miles.. please touch me.' You begged when you felt his planting kissing down your spine, slow and fierce until he got to the base of your tail.

You tucked your bottom lip in to suppress a whine when he placed a kiss there before his hand came up to move it out the way, revealing your most intimate parts.

'Look at you, fucking shaking for me already.' He groaned as he brought his other hand up to firmly grope your thigh under the water, using his strength to separate your legs more.

From your position, only your legs were in the water - the rest completely on show and his for the taking.

You whined when you felt his breath graze over your pussy from behind, hips bucking back and your arch deepening.

'I can see you clenching baby, you need me that bad huh? Need to get you nice and ready for me.' You nodded rapidly, attempting to look over your shoulder as his bend form.

'Please, please Miles-

You cut yourself off when his tongue finally licked at you, the warm and textured muscle separating your lips and cleaning up the leaking slick.

He groaned against you and repeated it over and over and over again, growing more hungry by the second before he finally released your tail and used his free fingers to hold you open.

'Miles!' You whimpered when he focused on your now exposed clit, the nerve pulsing with need as he covered it in his saliva.

'Your little clit too sensitive baby?' He teased, his mouth never far before he was back - gathering the slick collecting at your core on his tongue and then dragging it back to swirl over your clit with it.

You flinched when his lips wrapped around it, softly suckling until your cried out - rocking your hips back into his face.

He allowed you to, moving his head in time with your grinding so he was always latched on - forcing you closer and closer to your high.

When you felt your stomach drop, body shuddering with your oncoming orgasm - you didn't even notice your tail moving, pressing against his cheek until he was forced away.

'Princess..' The warning in his voice was clear, your pussy now covered.

You lowered your ears and sheepishly looked back at him, his large yellow eyes sat on yours in dominate.

'I'm giving you one chance..' He ran his nose over your asscheek, eyes unmoving.

'Move your tail - or I will.' He then nipped at you, your body jumping when you obeyed, tail moving to the side to grant him access once again.

'Such a good girl, acting up when I haven't even made you come yet.'

As soon as the words left him, he was back on you - this time even more aggressive and unforgiving than before - his blunt teeth tracing over your clit and his hand back to spreading you open.

You rested your head against your forearm, moaning out when he leaned up and traced your hole with his tongue before plunging deep - collecting your arousal like water and swallowing it down.

'So wet, just keep giving and giving huh Princess?' You whimpered back at him, his name leaving your lips in broken cries as your high suddenly hit.

You hips continuously rocked back and twitched, legs feeling weak as Miles continued to lick at you, both his hands moving to the back of your thighs before he spread them as far as possible - finger tips digging in to keep you in place.

'Keep going, come on - come for me.' You cried out, nails almost breaking as you clawed at the rocks in front of you - giving him what he wanted before you collapsed boneless.

You flinched and whined when he continued you lap over you, collecting what was left of your come that had dripped down to your clit - the bud pulsing and too sensitive.

He didn't seem to care though as he cleaned up after himself, breathes fanning over you as he eagerly inhaled your scent before groaning.

'Always smell so fucking good.'

Miles nosed his way around the plumpness of your cheek, staring down at your body from your bend position - cock twitching with the need to just plow into you and fully claim you as his.

Not that you didn't know already.

'You ready for me to stretch you Princess? You’re too tight for me to fuck you.' Miles smirked when you didn't object- allowing your body to show him by spreading your legs wider, tail moving even further to the side.

'Words baby.'

'Please Miles, need your fingers.' You voice was hoarse from moaning and crying out - ears erect as you looked back at him.

Miles didn’t hesitate to run his thumb over your slit, separating you open before applying pressure at your core and then back up.

He continued to tease you until he replaced his thumb with his middle finger, coating the appendage before he finally eased it inside you.

‘Ohe kawkrr ngenga.’ You whined, moving your tail to wrap it around Miles’s forearm as you familiarised yourself with having him inside you again.

I need you.

'I can hear you pretty girl, I know - open up for me.' Miles hummed lowly, leaning over you to nip as your shoulder as he gently moved his finger inside, then back out - repeating as he felt your body give way for him.

'Doing so good hm?' He eased his bites to gently sucks, marking your body and drowning you in his scent.

You cried when you felt a second finger wedge its way alongside the one already inside you, the girth pushing you closer and closer until the pit in your stomach seemed to turn into a sinkhole, body quaking.

'Almost there princess, so fucking tight - so perfect.' Reaching a hand over your shoulder, your fingers came in contact with his crisp cut jaw - pawing softly at him to help ground you as your high grew more a more overwhelming.

You choked you were spread open even more, another finger being added to the mess between your thighs - the embarrassing slick slick noise sounding louder.

'Good girl, come on - come all over my fingers.'

'Squeezing so tight, you gonna do that on my cock princess?'

'Thats it, fuck yourself on them.'

You whimpered at the non stop thrusting and attention - stuttering when the hand that had been keeping you spread for him looped around your waist and trailed down your stomach from behind - hand smoothing over your mound until your clit was taken in between two fingers.

'Still think your clits too sensitive?' His teasing, as gentle as it was, was what threw you over - your high raining down on you as your clit was pitched and the fingers inside pressed down, curving to hit that one spot.

'Miles! Please, pleas- its-' Your begging was non stop as you convulsed, hips grinding - trying to escape from the stimulation but if you moved back his fingers only slid deeper and then when you moved forward the pressure on your clit increased.

You where trapped, forced to ride your high out until you went limp against the rocks again - breathes panting out irregularly.

You loved it.

'So good for me, such a good girl.' You felt your mind ease even further at the rain of praise, hissing when he retracted out of you and slipped his hand off your clit to rest his palm against your mound.

'You okay?' He asked, nosing near you ear before pressing a kiss to it.

In your state, the question went completely over your head - mind still in the clouds. ]

And clearly you took way too long to register that the words had even left his lips before two hands where gripping your waist and gently lifting you from your bend position, flipping you over and lifting you back onto the edge of the pool.

You were startled by the sudden appearance of Miles in all his glory, wide shoulders leaning down as he cupped your face, tilting your chin up as he looked over you.

'Still here princess, still with me?' He repeated, lifting his thumb to your lips and running the pad of it over as if to coax you into responding back.

You gazed over his features warming before you smiled back and nodded, movement slow and unrushed.

He mimicked your smile with his own as a gentle 'yes' left your lips.

Using his hold on your face, he tipped your chin down to press a kiss to your forehead, repeating the gesture over and over again - migrating slowly down your face until he got to your lips.

You purred at his attentiveness, nuzzling closer to your mate until his lips descended onto yours.

You allowed yourself to get lost in his caring touch, hands coming up to rest against his chest as he continued to kiss you, the soft rumble of his own purr matching yours.

You were pulled out your trance when his stiff cock grazed your inner thigh, your cunt clenching in response quicker than you had even registered the touch,

Pulling back, your kept your hands at his chest to keep him back - looking up through your lashes.

You didn't say anything and neither did he as you slowly trailed your hand down, finger tips featherlight against his skin until you reached your goal.

You confidence dipped slightly when you took him in your hand, attempting to swallow down your nerves as you familiarised yourself with his size again.

From the growing smirk on his face, you could tell Miles could smell your nervousness a mile away - ears twitching before he dipped down to your neck.

'Still want me princess?' He spoke against your skin.

Your throat bobbed as your pressed your cheek against his head.

'Want you Miles, need you to..' You didn't finish, cheeks burning as your lightly tightened your grip around him.

His shudder shook you to your core, thighs twitching with the need to wrap around him.

'I know, can smell you from here.' You were grateful his teasing had passed, taking your hand off him and instead laying it against his side - pulling him closer between your legs.

You felt electric as he hands came up to your thighs, bringing each to either side of his slim waist and angling your hips up.

You gasped as his tip caught against your clit, stomach rippling as your core clenched down again.

'Relax.' Was all he said as he suddenly bit down on your neck, anchoring you to your place as he reached down and took himself in his hand - running the tip through your folds to open you back up.

You whined when he finally drew lower, hips cantering as he sunk into you - nails digging into his side when he didn't stop, stretching you open a lot more than you anticipated.

'M..Miles!' You bellowed, the mix of pleasure and pain perfect.

He groaned into you neck, teeth still lodged into you as he held you still - pushing himself further and further inside you until his hips were flush to yours.

'I can't, its too-'

'You can take it princess, settle down.' You didn't even feel him remove his fangs, face suddenly in front of yours as he swooped down and covered your mouth with his.

You whimpered when he drew back, hand on his chest coming up to claw as his neck.

Despite your sounds, he didn't stop - pace slow as your body finally accepted the intrusion, the feeling simmering down until you were knocked breathless.

'So fucking tight, sucking me in.' He released your lips, forehead pressed to yours as your noses brushed.

You thighs rippled from his thrusts, body moving back and forth as he sped up. ]

Throwing your head back, you moaned out - your clit sending shocks through you as his pelvis brushed against it again and again.

'Look at you taking me like such a good girl huh? You feel so good.' Miles looked down at where the two of you were connected, thighs bracketing his waist softening the blow of his hips against yours.

Once he felt you open up further for him, pussy finally allowing him some edge way - he sped up his pace, the loud slick sound of where you continuously met emitting in the air.

'Doing so well for me princess.' Unable to take your eyes not being on him, he removed the hand that was on your thigh - moving it behind your head to grip your kuru.

Your gasp made his ears perk up as he turned your attention back to him, your eyes completely fucked out as they landed back on him.

'Your mine - you watch me fuck this pussy until she finally gets it, understand?' He voice was scolding but his eyes were soft, the grip on your kuru tight but not painful.

Dominating in the exact way you needed it.

'Yes, yes..' You moaned back, hand moving to hold into his forearm - not clawing at him to let go but just a subtle way of telling him that you liked it.

Reading your body language, Miles smirked at you - other hand going to your waist to make you meet his thrusts, keeping your hips up so he was able to freely rock into you.

You furrowed your brows when you felt his hips changing angles, thrusting into you harder and harder until you felt it.

His tip suddenly brushed against that one part, the same area he had teased with his fingers earlier - except this time it was more powerful, more hungry.

You choked, eyes widening at the sudden pressure inside you - stomach twisting as if he was too deep inside you.

'Miles, Miles wait-'

'Fuck, found it.' He spoke to himself, fangs flashing as he grinned at you.

You weren't able to question him before he fucked into you harder, hand releasing your hair in favour of wrapping around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge and to him.

You suddenly found yourself laid once against across the rocks, belly up and your hips in the hands of Miles.

You could see and sense the shift in him, body moving faster between your legs as he fucked waves and wave of pleasure into you.

'Miles, please! I feel- it's too much please!' You words were muddled with a mix of English and Navi.

'Come on, come for me pretty girl - can feel you clenching down on me.' Miles' voice was firm and left no room for arguing, hips pistoling in and out to cement his words.

You could hear the water of the pool sloshing around, disturbed from Miles' nonstop humping as he threw you head first into your orgasm.

You cried out as you came, hips stuttering against his when he refused to stop - fucking you through your orgasm until your thighs were twitching in his hold.

And even then, he didn't stop - calling down to you to 'Keep going' and 'Look at you princess, so beautiful when you come.'

Your head felt heavy as you whimpered, overstimulation sending waves of exhaustion through your body as Miles continued to grind into you, hips slowing until finally he paused.

Miles watched as you lifted your arm and the rested it against you eyes - panting out like a cat in heat.

He suppressed a groan when he felt you continuously clench down on him, wall hugging tight as you came down from your high.

Moving so he was hovering over you, he kissed from your shuddering stomach to your sternum - feeling his tail sway in the water behind him in pride at having you so fucked out this early.

He rained praise down on your skin, watching as your chest began to slow down - breathes leaving your lips less irregularly and harsh.

His ears perked up when his eyes zeroed in on your exposed breasts, mouth grinding with the want to mark and bite into the soft flesh, knowing his claim would flash anyone if you so much as moved too much.

He didn't even notice the slight grind of his hips until you flung your arm away and gaped down at him, ears alert while his rested against his head.

You felt as if your whole body was on fire, lit from the inside as Miles stared down at you - his stare similar to a predator stalking its prey.

'Your doing so good, behaving so fucking well.' His soft words didn't match his hungry gaze, his hands moving to tighten their grip on your thighs.

'But we're not finished here princess.' You swallowed at the dip in his tone, staring into his eyes before you dipped your head and nodded, giving him the green light that he was free to use your body.

He was your mate, you wanted him to know that he owned every bit of you.

You saw the pride cloud over in his yellow eyes, face moving down to rain a few last kisses - stare still trained on you as he took the skin between his teeth.

You hissed as he sucked his mark on you, hands reaching to clutch at him.

You didn't notice the hand migrating from your thigh until it slipped under the arch in your back, palm flat to you as it pulled you towards him once more.

He didn't stop until you were sitting up again, flush to his chest as the hand on your back moved down to your thigh, grip so tight the pudge of your thigh spilled through his spread fingers.

You prepared yourself for his thrust, cunt spamming around him in want but you were surprised when it never came.

Instead you felt yourself being lifted higher, off the edge of the pool until you were being entirely supported by the hands on your thighs, gasping when you felt Miles shift around inside you, slipping even deeper.

You looked down at your stomach, mouth agape and half expecting there to be a bump from his intrusion.

'Too deep for you baby?'

You snapped your gazed back to Miles at his teasing tone, your hands holding tightly onto his broad shoulders before you dropped your head to his collar bone - panting out at the feeling of being over whelmed again so soon.

'Please move.' You spoke against his skin, your curiosity of how it would feel to have him buck into you at this position clouding your brain.

The words barely had a chance to leave your lips and sit in the air before he was moving again, the hands supporting you lifting you up and then dropping you back down.

'Mi-.. Miles!' You cried his name over and over again as he bounced you on his cock, your weight nothing in his hands as he used you.

You clawed at his back and the nape of his neck, nuzzling under his jaw as he fucked up, his chest rumbling below you with groans of his own.

'Pussy's so fucking good, should've fucked you back on that ship - let you moan your little heart out until everyone knew you fucking were mine.'

You whined at the imagery, nodded into his throat.

'Your never getting my scent off you princess, fucking drowning it in.' As if to support his words, you felt him lean down to nip at your neck - flat nose twitching against the raw and sensitive skin.

Triggered by his own words, he bounced you on him harder - his hips moving up at a faster pace - crude and obnoxiously loud slapping filling the air.

'Miles please, I need-' You tried, digging your claws harder into his skin until your felt it give way, body not even register that you had pierced skin.

Miles, from the sounds of it, didn't seem to mind - his groans only sounding louder as he rocked you up and down.

'You need to come agin baby? Gonna cover me again?' He bit down, repaying the favour sinking into your skin once the words left his lips.

'Yes, just- please!' You cried.

'Touch your little clit for me baby, come on-' He commanded once he had released your poor skin.

Obeying silently, your hand shook as you pulled it from around his back and down your brushing stomachs - crying out when your finger came in contact with the bud.

You pressed yourself harder into Miles' neck when you high rapidly built once again, fingers stuttering once again once it grew too much.

'Don't you dare fucking stop, keeping going.'

Using his forceful encouragement, you couldn't stop yourself from sinking your teeth into his neck as your high hit - hand automatically pulling away as soon as the sensitivity took over the pleasure.

However you weren't expecting Miles to suddenly move one arm under your ass, continuing to bounce your clenching cunt on him while his now free hand slid between you both and took over your abandoned job.

You practically screamed when he circled your overly sensitive clit, thumb forceful and not as forgiving as your hand.

'Miles! Mil- fuck! Please, its- pleaseplease' The unfamiliar word dropped from your mouth like nothing, brain not even picking up what you had said as you fell face first into another orgasm.

'Keeping coming for me princess, such a good fucking girl!' He panted into your neck - his hips stuttering against yours for the first time.

'Come on, come for me and I'll fill that pretty pussy.' He ordered, the arm supporting you slowing your bouncing until you were gently grinding against each other - hips jutting as your high too over.

Your retracted your fangs from Miles’ neck at the feeling of him coming inside you, pressure building in your stomach as he pumped load after load into you, the warmth seeping out around where he was still inside you and dripping into the pool.

The hand on your clit stopped, opting to instead just rest against it as it thrummed against the pads of his fingers.

He didn’t stop moving you until you both shuddered with overstimulation, his cock twitching inside you as it spluttered what last of what he had to give.

Dropping against him, your heart hammered against your chest - nipples hard as they brushed against his chest.

‘Breathe baby, thats it princess.' You felt him planting kisses along your neck and the side of your face, panting against you as he himself came down from his high.

'It's okay, your safe.' He repeated, kissing over you ear .

You whined when you felt him remove his hand from your delicate clit, moving back to your thigh as he cupped both again like before - pressing you further into him and hugging you close.

Once you had caught your breath, you repeated his treatment - nosing over his skin and layering kisses over the bruised areas.

You purred when you smelled that his scent was muddled with yours, the mix delicious as you breathed it in .

'Smell yourself?' You felt Miles chuckle against you, jolting against him slightly when you suddenly felt his tail creep up and around your thigh.

You shivered as it coiled around you, the tuff of hair at the end wet from the pool you were still in as it raised goosebumps along your skin.

'Smells like us.' You murmured, breathing out as you felt your eyelids droop - waves of exhaustion finally catching up to you.

Miles felt you slowly going limp again, smile of pride etching onto his face as he carefully lifted you, hisses leaving both of you as he slipped out of you.

He hushed you quietly when your stirred, thighs twitching around him.

He turned with you in his arms and walked back to the entrance of the pool, the water rippling as he stepped out.

The soft gusts of wind helped to cool his risen body temperature as the droplets along his skin cooled and dripped off.

He held you tight, placing occasionally kisses whenever he felt like his lips had spend too long away from your skin.

He carried you until he got to the open beach, eyes scanning the open plain to deem the area safe enough for you both to rest before keeling on the sand.

There was still water coming in from the ocean, leaving about two inches of water over the almost white sand but Miles sat anyways, dragging your body with him until you were in his lap.

You had moaned the whole time he had shifted you, but didn't fight or complain.

Miles felt his ego flare at the fact that he really was able to do anything he wanted to you, your pliant body his for the taking - that you trusted him enough.

He was your mate.

The thought lingered as he huddled you closer, pulling until you were kneeled over him - thighs on either side of his hips, chest glued to his and your face under his jaw.

He had never felt so light, his mind coming up short when he searched for a moment in his past life where the feeling in his chest was the same.

It was peaceful.

You were his peace.

'Miles?'

He didn't hesitate to look down at you, brows already furrowing at the meekness in your voice.

'What's wrong?' His eyes darted along your face before moving to your neck, searching for anything that could've been causing you pain.

You shook your head before you looked up at him, eyes connecting as you watched him.

'What do we do now?' You tone was unsure, lips pouted in worry.

Miles couldn't stop himself from leaning down and capturing your plump lips in his, kissing away the growing anxiety as he cupped your jaw - tilting you head up for better access.

'You’re okay princess, I'll sort everything out.' His voice was low to not startle you once he pulled away, pecking your twitching nose as you continued to stare at him.

You didn't respond for a beat, searching his eyes before nodding silently - ears bowing in submission to your mate.

'I trust you.'

AHHH DON'T WORRY, THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE (and a time jump) it just felt like too much to include it in 15. If i didn't include your idea, it'll be in the epilogue- they're first time had to be somewhat soft lmao

[baileypie-writes]

Hiii! I love your Velvet and Veneer writings, especially the ones with a younger sibling! Could you possibly do one with a 15-16 sibling who they’ve not seen in a long time due to their career, but once they do they realize the sibling is one of their musical techno rivals?

A/N ~ Sure! Hope you enjoy!

~Unknown Sibling Rivalry~

Velvet and Veneer + Musician!Younger Sibling!Reader

Random: Trolls 3: Band Together

Relationship: Familial

Synopsis: When Velvet and Veneer got to see you for the first time in a while, they were not expecting to also meet their rival.

Warnings: Rivalry, minor swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh gosh. How were you gonna tell them?

You’re the younger sibling of the famous pop stars, Velvet and Veneer. You always looked up to them, ever since you were a kid. So, you decided to make your own music, just like them.

You thought your techno songs wouldn’t get noticed, but to your surprise, your latest few songs were always on the top spots on the charts. Either behind or in front of your siblings’s.

At first, you were excited to share the news with them, but it became clear that they saw you as a rival. You planned on hiding it from them, but as you were on your way to visit them, you realized that might be more difficult than expected.

~~~~

Their house was… big. Way bigger than you expected. You knew they were rich, but damn.

Velvet and Veneer led you to the living room. The TV was on, and was playing a channel about trending music.

“Once again, (your music alias)’s new song is at the top of the charts! And Velvet and Veneer’s song is right behind them!” The reported stated.

Velvet scoffed. “Again? Really? Their music isn’t even that good…” You felt your heart crack, but kept your neutral expression up.

“Oh c’mon Velvet, I know you listen to their stuff all the time. Their music is pretty good. I mean, they are our rival after all.” Veneer said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“What’s so funny (name)?” Velvet asked.

“Nothing, I just can’t believe that you like my stuff.”

Shit.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. You turned towards the twins slowly, hoping that they somehow didn’t hear what you just said. There expressions proved that your prayers were not answered. Their eyes were wide, unblinking. And their mouths hung open.

“I’m sorry… what?” Velvet finally spoke after a good seven seconds.

“Hehehe… surprise?” You gave a subtle jazz hands movement, hoping to lighten the mood.

“You’re (your music alias)?!” Veneer said, pointing to the TV, which was discussing your success. You just nodded, cringing. The twins looked at each other in disbelief, then back at you. Then Veneer’s expression changed to one of pure excitement.

“No way! That’s so cool! I had no idea you were so talented! Great job (name)!” He caged his arm around your head, and gave you a noogie. You laughed, trying to wiggle out of his chokehold. But then, his knuckles stopped the painful grinding on your head, and he let out a dramatic gasp.

“Wait a minute. That means that you’ve been stealing our number one spot! How could you!” He puts his hand over his heart, acting way more offended than he actually was.

“Yeah! How could you do that?” Velvet chimed in. She seemed more genuinely upset, but still quite a bit proud.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry guys. I really didn’t expect my music to get so much attention. It just sorta happened.” You stared down at your shoes, as if you were being scolded by your parents.

Velvet huffed. “Well, I guess we’re gonna have to do better next time.” Veneer nodded at her statement.

You looked back up at them. “Next time?”

“Yeah, you’re our rival, aren’t you? So that means we have to do everything we can to beat you!” Velvet said, giving your shoulder a playful jab.

You laughed. “Well good luck. You’re gonna need it, because I’m planning on continuing my winning streak!”

The twins smirked at each other, before caging you in both their arms, and giving your head more noogies.

And thus sparked the start of a colorful sibling rivalry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[cyber-corp]

Another smash out of the park!

Here are some of my favourite moments from the 2023 Doctor Who Christmas special, The Church on Ruby Road. Spoilers ahead!

15 serves all cunt anytime he’s on screen. He wears kilts at the club, he flirts with a grandma, he sings to goblins. The sluttiest Doctor yet.

Ncuti and Millie’s chemistry is infectious in the best way. Anytime they’re on screen together they create the same sort of sparks and 10 and Donna or 4 and Romana. Can’t wait to see more of their Bart/Lisa sibling dynamic in the near-future.

Furthermore, Ruby and the Doctor’s connection as orphans. The Timeless Child is once again mentioned as the Doctor says he “just found out recently” and it once again creates more growth and emotion than whatever Chibnall tried to do with the idea.

Also, the Doctor just straight up says “I don’t have anyone” without hiding it!!! He’s slowly growing as a person!!!

Everything about the goblins. The musical number, how they’re manifested through coincidence and bad luck, their love of eating infants. The monsters of all time.

The Sundays’ neighbour is brought up as a very intriguing character right at the very end. Why does she know what a TARDIS is, and where has she seen it before? I smell a plot point….

The intelligent gloves are the best gadgets since the psychic paper. Love how they’re introduced and how they’re utilised when the Doctor yanks the goblin ship from the sky

“I AM TRYING TO LEARN THE VOCABULARY OF ROPE”

The commitment of the mavity bit

The final bit where Ruby walks into the TARDIS and Ncuti says The Line(TM) fully convinces me we are all in for a new era of Who.

I reckon this is one of the best overall Christmas specials yet in Doccy Who, up there with The Christmas Invasion and Twice Upon A Time. There were a lot of unwrapped plotholes I feel, but RTD will probably expand upon them in Season 1/14. And I cannot wait!!!!!

[schemmentis]

La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 24

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21 / Part 22 / Part 23

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Summary: Your new life continues...but the past has a funny way of coming back.

WC: 3.1k

Melissa keeps her word. She’s able to keep Lena with her mother while everything gets sorted out. And when it comes down to it, Lena and her mother end up staying in your guest room for a bit until they can get back on their feet.

So, the names Melissa and Y/N slowly fade away and become a thing of the past for the time being. Only when you’re positive that the other family is out of the house do you call each other by your real names.

After a few months, your girls are trying to convince Lena’s mother to stay with the four of you. Even though you’d arranged it so Lena had even gone to summer camp with them, and it had been months since that trip on top. With a bit of savings, and a few favors from one of the real estate guys you know, they’ve found their own little townhouse not too far from yours. You ensure they know the space is always there for them if it’s needed but you don’t beg like your daughters. You and Melissa have to bribe them with a movie weekend to get them to stop pouting once Lena and her mother officially move out. Despite the fact they still see Lena every day at school and spend plenty afternoons afterward between both of your houses.

By then, it’s the end of summer. Your wife has stolen the laptop you share for late nights putting together her lesson plan for the new year. Thankfully, this is your job’s slow season. You gladly hand primary possession to Melissa, taking over dinner and other evening chores in her stead so she doesn’t have to worry about anything that isn’t getting everything straightened out for the new school year. You knew she hated feeling unprepared, especially when it came to teaching.

It wasn’t the same as the restaurant. That brief glimmer of a dream come true that you try not to think about because of all the other things it was wrapped up in. It isn’t the same but you still see that spark of passion, even if it isn’t as bright for this profession as her previous. You see it all the same and smile with every new school year for the reminder of it.

You take a rare Monday half-day the day the school year starts. It used to be because you had to in order to ensure the girls were to school on time. One less thing for your wife to worry about that day even if it was in the same building. Plus, you got to sneak a little extra time with her yourself after seeing the girls to class.

Now, it’s out of habit though you’ve switched to taking the afternoon instead of the morning off. Especially since the girls try to speed walk away from the car that morning before you or Melissa can get out of it to avoid being seen with you. Like their friends don’t know who you are. In particular who Mrs. Vinci the second grade teacher is.

“Okay, bye!” Your wife shouts once she’s stepped out of the car herself. “Have a great first day! Mommy loves you!!”

You see the cringe of two pairs of shoulders as they duck inside while you step to Melissa’s side. “You did that one on purpose.” You accuse.

“No idea what you mean, Amore.” She murmurs as she loops her arm with yours to start walking in together. The smirk on her lips tells you she knows exactly what you mean and it very much was on purpose.

“Don’t torture them for not sayin’ goodbye at lunch, huh?” You suggest as you round the corner to head down the hall for her classroom. “It’s too early in the year for me to referee at dinner.”

“Honey, you’re refereeing in this family year round and you know that.” She retorts. Her arm unhooks from yours to pull out her keys to unlock the door that she props open. 

You lean against the doorway as she crosses to her desk. Her mug of coffee sat down along with her purse. “I could bring you lunch instead?” You offer a more tempting solution. “Sandwiches from your favorite deli? That’s a good start to the school year, huh?”

“You wanna renew our vows?” Melissa jokes in place of a yes. Still, she grins at you a moment later when she glances up from organizing her desk. “What’d I say? Refereeing twenty four seven, Amore. Without even meanin’ to.” She winks before turning her attention back to getting ready for the day.

You take what you know to be an absolute joke to heart though. “We never did officially get married as Raphaela and Saoirse.”

“I was joking, my love,” your wife chuckles softly. She sees the way that you look at her though, a softness that is only reserved for her. “Maybe.”

“I have to head to work,” you kiss her gently. “But you have a great first day, and please… don’t embarrass our girls. Please.”

“I make no such promises,” Melissa tells you earnestly. Then her lips quirk upwards. “I swear, all I do is breathe sometimes, and Cat flips her shit.”

“She takes after you,” you remind her. “Rosie definitely takes more after me.”

“That she does.”

You press one last kiss to her lips before you head out to your own job. 

It’s a slow day for you, and one of your clients ends up having the last name ‘Howard’. It takes you back years as your mind is flooded with memories. You wonder what they’re up to. Is Barbara still teaching at Abbott? Is Gerald still a senator? That gets you thinking about what the rest of your group is up to. After going down the rabbit hole and being relieved that both sets of parents are still alive and well, you check a few of the names of those in La Cosa Nostra. Dominic and Tommy are both dead. Dominic and Tommy have been dead for years. You swallow harshly at that news.

Meanwhile, Melissa is greeting her students at the door as they come in for the first day with their parents. It's all normal first day jitters until green eyes land on two figures she’s seen before… and not in New York.

Your wife coughs awkwardly. “Danik? Shaw?”

Two pairs of eyes dart right to her. “M- Raphaela?”

“I- oh my God.” Then she smirks and punches Shaw lightly. “I see you finally grew a pair and asked her out.”

“We’ve been married for the last… pretty much as soon as you left,” Shaw rubs his arm in the place that your wife playfully smacked him. “Had Frankie not too much later.”

“Frankie? I have a Frankie in my class this year,” Melissa stutters out.

“It’s funny,” Grace chuckles softly. “We saw the name of his teacher, but we didn’t think it could possibly be you.”

“It- it is,” she says softly. “Hey… I have to get to the kids, but… we should meet soon and discuss what’s happened in the past eight years.”

“We should,” both agents say at the same time. 

When the afternoon finally arrives, you swiftly turn off your computer. You’d ended up not getting nearly enough done. Instead, you’d gotten lost in following all those old ties. Seeing what presence of members of the Family you could track down. Most of them lead you to obituaries. It had only been in the last hour you’d be at the office that you had brought yourself to actually search for members of your family. You find a small smattering of them online; sharing photos from gatherings and holidays and birthdays. 

What had entirely stopped you short had been coming across a memorial post. For you, Melissa, and your daughters. For some reason, you hadn’t even considered it would be your own memorial you’d run across even as you had done so for many others you knew in your old life. You look at the poster, closing your eyes briefly when you see it’s Kristen Marie. If Melissa finds out about this you know you won’t be able to keep her from booking a flight to Philadelphia. Not if her sister is posting things like this, remembering her every year publicly on plenty of different occasions. This was the type of thing a Schemmenti sister pretended to not care enough to do. The fact that Kristen Marie has, and multiple times over a near decade, speaks volumes. 

It would be one thing if it had only been your daughters. You knew Melissa wouldn’t pitch a fight over that. She’d agree the girls should be remembered. Completely innocent just like they still were. You know though if your wife sees her own face and the caption her sister has put sharing how much she misses her it will be the last straw on the homesickness you’ve both been fighting ever since you left. 

From Kristen Marie’s post, you’d looked through her profile and clicked through to Mickey’s. Mickey who had gotten out only a few months after you’d ‘died.’ Mickey who’s profile is nearly entirely Melissa, you and your twins. The only exception is posts from Sunday dinner of everyone together. Even then there’s always a mention of the four of you.

You don’t dare click on the profile you see for Barbara. Relieved when that had been when you’d glanced to the clock to find it time to go. A quick rush to your wife’s favorite deli to pick up lunch and you’re walking back into the school. You’re certain you’re going to become an honorary TA for the rest of the afternoon but you don’t mind.

You knock on the doorway before you walk back into Melissa’s classroom. “Lunch as promised.” You say as you place her sandwich on her desk, pointedly over the papers she’d been trying to grade despite being on her break. It’s only when she looks up to glare at you for it that you steal a kiss, winking as you move to pull up your own chair.

“Thank you, Amore.” Melissa says as she unwraps both your lunches while you pull the chair over. “You’re never gonna guess who the parents of one of my kids this year is.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the youngest kid of that one mom from a couple years ago that was an absolute bitch and thought you were wrong for failing her daughter?”

Melissa’s lips form into a tight line. “Nope.”

“Who?”

“Danik and Shaw. Their son Frankie is in my class.”

“What?” Your eyes nearly pop out of your head.

“They dropped him off this morning and couldn’t believe it either.”

“Wh- how? Why are they in New York?”

“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “We didn’t get a chance to chat, but I told them we should meet at some point to discuss everything.”

“Oh god,” you groan softly. “Well… you’ll never guess what I did today at work.”

“What’s that?” your wife’s brow furrows as she takes a bite out of her sandwich.

“I…” You take a deep breath. “I went back to our past lives. Looked up people who were real important to us from Philly.”

“Y-you did?”

“I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper softly as a few tears bloom to your eyes. “Our parents are still alive. Kristen Marie is still alive and kicking. Mickey’s Facebook is pretty much dedicated to us… I didn’t have the courage to check on Barb’s facebook, but she seems to be doing well. I found our memorial pages. It was…” you sniffle. “And uh,” you scratch the back of your head. “Dom and Tommy are gone. Have been for years.”

“They’re gone?” Melissa’s face pales just slightly. You know how much they meant to her, even if they almost always put you through hell.

You nod silently. “Died in prison.”

“C-can you show me their obituaries?”

“At home, love. For now, can we just… If we keep talking about it, I’m going to keep crying,” you request softly. “Almost everyone from Cosa Nostra is gone. And we can look into it later tonight… when the girls are asleep.”

She obliges your request, reaching a hand over to settle gently on your thigh. She squeezes it softly, letting you know silently that she’s here for you.

Despite your request to not speak of it, you continue to have tears fall down your cheeks as you break down quietly. You tend to break down a bit more than she does- you blame the girls and the fact that you gave birth to them for that.

“I miss our old lives,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I miss my mam, and my dad… I miss Babs.”

“I know,” she replies just as quietly. “I thought it would get easier.”

“I wish… I wish we could go back.”

“I do too,” Melissa tells you. “But like you’ve told me before: the life that we built here is just as beautiful, and not nearly as messy. It’s what we had to do to keep our girls safe.”

She goes on to say more, but the bell rings to signify that lunch is over. You quickly finish your lunches before she’s standing at the door and waiting for her little gremlins to come in.

As soon as you see Frankie, you know who he is. He is almost a spitting image of his father, right down to the goofy smile that you only got to see a few times while he was trying to keep spirits light for your girls in the hospital. And that… that’s something special that tugs at your heartstrings. 

You turn back around under the cover of saying goodbye one more time. Something you’d be guilty of anyway but today you have other motivation too. “When they pick him up, see if you can find out when they’re free. Maybe invite ‘em to the house? We can have dinner when the girls stay at Lena’s next.” You say before kissing her one last time then letting her get back to teaching the second half of the day. You meant to offer to help her out if you could but after the conversation over lunch, and your mild breakdown, you figure its best you take a little breathing room. For you both.

You force yourself not to go home. You know if you do you’ll just go right back to digging and you can’t let yourself now. At least tonight Melissa will be looking with you and her stronger willpower can get you to stop better than just you on your own. You wouldn’t have stopped at the office if you hadn’t been leaving early today.

You avoid the hallway where you know the middle school’s classes are to ensure your girls don’t see you. You’re not trying to get a lecture about being embarrassing tonight over dinner. You duck into the library, finding one of your old favorites among the shelves to get lost in for the hundredth time. Which you do, thankfully. Your mind keeps distracted until you hear the dismissal bell. You take the time to finish the page you were on to avoid arriving to pick up either your daughters or your wife too quickly. Any of the three of them would be suspicious, especially knowing you had the afternoon off today.

Carefully, you return the book to the proper section of the shelf before you step out of the library once more. You make your way to get the girls first. They don’t have any of their extracurriculars today and you don’t want them to end up just standing outside when you’re already here. Still, you decide to wait halfway down the hall instead of going to the door. The potential for a lecture is still on your mind. You wait only a few minutes before both Cat and Rosie exit their homeroom with Lena and some of their other friends. All of which greet you politely and with smiles but still Cat takes your hand to hurry you back down the hallway to get you on your way to pick up Melissa before you can manage more than a hello.

You roll your eyes where neither of the girls can see though you don’t fight. Not that you really want to, considering it is your wife’s classroom you’re once again returning to today. 

“Hi, Ma.” Cat and Rosie greet her at the doorway in unison. 

You don’t think either of them see it but you still pick up on the miniscule jolt at the nickname. “There’s my three favorite ladies. Gimmie just a minute to get my stuff together and I’ll be ready.”

You turn back toward the hallway at a tap at your leg. “‘Scuse me,” A tiny voice says to you, stepping past you in the room you’ve made in the doorway once you’ve turned.

“Ms. Vinci, my mommy said to give you this note.” The little boy says as he nearly runs into your wife’s legs in his hurry to get to her to complete the task. 

“Thank you, Frankie. Tell her I’ll talk to her soon, okay? And don’t run in the hallway on your way back to her and your dad.”

“We’re getting reading time tomorrow, right?”

Your wife laughs, nodding. “Yes, I promise, now go before you worry your parents, sweetheart.”

In anticipation you press against the doorway to give little Frankie enough room to zoom past you in the lead up to his sprint down the hall. Your eyes follow him just to make sure he’s safe. Just to meet the gaze of Agent Danik, or Shaw? You’ll have to ask her when you properly catch up. She waves once before leading Frankie out the front door of the school.

You turn back around to see Melissa’s gaze on the paper that Frankie handed her. Her face flickers through several emotions before she jumpstarts back up and continues packing her bags.

You cross the room and pick up a few things to help assist her. It earns you a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, my loves,” she finally sighs once she tucks the paper away. “Let’s head home. Mommy’s making lasagna tonight.”

As you all climb into the car, you glance back to ensure that your girls are distracted. Of course they are, both with headphones on and drowning out the world around them.

“What did the note say?” you ask as you squeeze her hand gently.

“Danik said we should meet them at their house on Saturday. Gave me the address and everything,” Melissa says through a tight lip.

“Should we?” You hope she nods, and she does.

Once you’re home, the girls fly up to their rooms to start on homework. They grumble about the fact that it’s ridiculous that they have homework on the first day of school. You’re inclined to agree.

[elvisabutler]

one night of sin

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( priest au ) x female reader word count: 3003 warnings: priest kink. religious talk. cheating ( reader is technically cheating on her boyfriend ). minor implications/ideas of entrapment. minor breeding mention ( like blink and you miss it ). cum swallowing. boot riding. oral ( male receiving ). an obscene amount of the words father presley used. elvis ia a catholic in this because that's my specific flavor of priest. improper confessional. author’s note: welcome to day 15 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, religious kink/priest kink with 68/69 era priest elvis presley x reader. so. long time no see? i got no excuse but to simply explain that when you need the us government to go fast, it'll go slow as molasses in january in yellowknife but when you need it to maybe go a little slower you end up concluding what has been a nearly 5 year long adventure in less than two months. america y'all. BUT. i'm back with a new shift, a sleeping pattern that enables me to not pass out every hour and a priest fic for the smut summer ( that's now just smut last half of the year ) to tide y'all over while i finish up spark and other shenanigans. pick your poison the elvis though to be honest.

"A woman like you should know better," Father Presley murmurs in your ear as he pulls you in for a hug. Unlike most Fathers the congregation has had, he's always been more of a tactile person. He's always joked that it came from his Pentecostal upbringing even as other there were always titters about how it came from actually being a Baptist. Father Presley would turn the other cheek though, a true sign of how he was a good godly man. A man who truly was meant for the cloth.

Yet, your body craves him, and you desire to be on your knees, praying to God and him for salvation. The Lord wouldn't allow the devil to tempt you so viciously with Father Presley. There had to be some good in this temptation. There had to be a plan you were yet to be privy to, but perhaps perhaps the Father might be.

"What did you mean by a woman like me?" You ask after the service legs crossed at the ankles in a plush chair, long after you should have left to spend time with your significant other. He was a boyfriend you had been steady with since college, and yet neither of you had decided to marry. Neither of you had decided to walk down that aisle despite both of your parents insisting on the union. You ought to be spending time with him, but more and more, you found yourself in the rectory with Father Presely discussing any number of topics. He was intellectually stimulating in a way those around you weren't, and you found yourself drawn like a moth to a flame to Father Presley's light.

Father Presley looks up from the papers he had been scribbling on, and you feel a shudder pass through you at the heat in his gaze. The Father shouldn't be looking at you like that. Your boyfriend barely looks at you like that, and yet here the Father was with eyes that set a fire ablaze inside you and underneath your skin. A part of you wants to hang your head in shame, to hide your face as if the Father is stripping your purity with every second he looks at you. If you were being honest with yourself- he already had been. A woman like you should know better than to fantasize about the man who God chose to lead the congregation you're a part of. You always found yourself in the late night hours before bed or the early morning hours before daylight, wondering how his plush lips would feel against your neck, sucking marks on your skin. You wondered how the occasional beard he grew would feel between your thighs and against your most intimate parts. Against your will your thighs clench at the thoughts that float unbidden to the forefront of your mind.

His eyes dart down to your clenched thighs and you see his nostrils flare before he speaks. "A woman who believes in God and who cares about how he sees her. You should know better than to fall for tricks the devil puts in front of you."

Tricks. The word feels like a joke bouncing about your head once it leaves his lips. Was that Father Presley confessing to you that he wasn't a force of good in the world? That he was sent by the devil himself to tempt young women such as yourself to the side of the dark. No, no, Father Presley wasn't that sort of man. Maybe he wasn't perfect but he loves God so much and the mere idea sends a shiver down your spine and through to your soul.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you swallow. "And what sort of tricks are those, Father?"

If you weren't paying attention to his face, you'd miss how his jaw clenches and miss how his hand tightens on a paper he's holding. You are paying attention. Rapt attention as you always do for Father Presley and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips. He may not be sent by the devil to tempt young women but maybe you were sent to tempt him. And it appears that it might be working. You're playing with fire though, hellfire and damnation you could joke but but something in the way Father Presley stands up from his desk and makes his way to the front of it has you willing to risk even more.

"You ain't naive, lil one," his voice is pitched so low you almost don't hear him but the words are there, just barely. "You're so innocent, so pure n' righteous but I know ya. Ya ain't the least bit naive. Ya know better than this."

To play with hellfire like this. Perhaps that was the point, perhaps you knew better and yet you also knew this was what you wanted. You wanted to see how far you could push Father Presley, you wanted to see if he would finally break and join you in having a mind swirling off and on with images of the two of you entwined together. Lips pressing against one another and against every body part. Your clit throbs at the memory of your dream from last night.

With a shaky exhale, you try to respond with something witty and charming and expected. "I'm only a woman, Father Presley. I- I'm not- I'm not as innocent as I once was."

You watch as something shifts in Father Presley at your words, how his jaw tenses and he finally moves the front of his desk to right in front of you. He's always been a bit taller than you, than most of the congregation, and yet you've never realized how overpowering that simple height difference could be. You've never quite realized how his broad shoulders and thick arms could cage you in with an ease until you found yourself in the position. Your breath comes in short pants as you swear Father Presley steals them from your chest. His eyes roam across your body, beginning at your open mouth, gliding down your neck and chest and down, down, down until he stops at your thighs.

The thighs that are clenched together so tightly he reckons you'd be able to form a diamond out of coal from the pressure. He can hear the whispers of the Lord telling him he shouldn't do anything. That this is a test the Lord wants him to pass. Yet the longer he looks at you, the longer he sees your chest rise and fall with shallow breaths of desire the louder the voice of the Devil is in his ear becomes. You want this, you need this. You deserve this for being such a pious young woman. You weren't like some other girls who thought they could throw themselves at him, no, you stayed pure and so very inviting for him.

He moves a hand to under your chin, grasping it lightly in an effort to have you look at him. His words leave his mouth in a murmur. "Have ya done somethin' ya need to confess?"

A burning fire rolls through his veins at the idea, threatening to envelop the two of you in hellfire from the Lord smiting you where you both sit. He watches as you open your mouth to speak only to have something akin to a low whine leave your lips. "Lil one, I asked you a question. Have ya done-"

The words are cut off by your answer, a measured response where you drag the words out. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

He's heard so many people say those words through tears and with husky breaths yet the way you say it has him needing his own confession. The way your eyes look up at him with desire and pure unadulterated need have him exhaling heavily. "When was your last confession?"

It was last week, he knows because you were always so dutiful in admitting when you had done wrong. The glint he sees in your eyes tells him you hadn't admitted this before, hadn't dreamed of putting this sin into words for him and for the Lord. That devilish voice becomes just a bit deeper, a bit more pronounced.

"Last week. But- Father, I- I've been keeping this a secret. From you and the Lord." Your voice shakes even as your gaze on Father Presley is steady. "I've- I've-"

"It's alright, lil one, this- this ain't any different than the other times you've confessed, you can jus' see me now. The Lord is forgiving if you're truly repentant, darlin'. are you?" His thumb brushes against your chin and it occurs to him that if he moved it just enough he could run his thumb over your lower lip, could coax them open like he was going to feed you a wafer. "Tell me what it is."

"I've thought of you sexually." You whisper quickly and quietly, your face and body heating up as if you've caught it on fire. Is this the Lord smiting you for finally admitting what you've done? Putting into actual words your desires and wants? "I've touched myself to the thought of you, Father. Touched between my legs and cried out for you to help me."

It's not that you mean to utter such filth so quickly and with such fervor but the more the fire burns within you the more you can't help it. Father Presley's gaze is unwavering even as his jaw tightens more and more with each passing word. You swear you see his eyes becoming hooded, a dangerous glint forming as his pupils start to widen and his nostrils flare. Against your better judgment, your hand sneaks up to his jaw.

"Don't," he growls, his grip on your chin tightening as he does. "Don't touch me like that. You- you know better."

The cracks that had always been there, miniscule as they were are widening with every second the two of you are in this room. His clerical collar is choking him, tightening like a vice grip the longer your hand stays on his jaw.

"Father Presley. Forgive me, but I want to. And I think you-" Stopping yourself, you take a deep breath. "I'll repent if I can just have one time with you."

A moment is all you have to regret the words that come out of your mouth before he backs away from you like he's been burned. Shame runs through your body infecting every inch of you as you start to get up, ready to run from the room. Hiding would be an acceptable alternative than seeing the look on his face become one of pure disappointment and distaste. So busy with the thoughts in your head, you don't realize that he's moved back in front of you until his hands grab your hips.

"One night," he commands with a tone that offers no questioning. The tone he uses at the pulpit, the one that forces everyone in the church to hang on to every single word that passes by his lips. A shiver runs through your body as you start to drop to your knees despite the way he tries to keep you from doing so. "Don't- Get back up here."

A head shake is the only response he gets as your hands move to the front of his slacks, shaking as you fumble with the button and the zipper. His cock is warm to the touch and firm as your brush against it and you wonder how it's supposed to cool the fire between your legs. If anything you worry it'll stroke it even higher and higher until it burns the two of you to ash and takes the church down with you. You've gone far to back down and once his pants are finally undone, his cock springs from its confines. He hadn't worn underwear, his bare cock had been so close and yet so far from you. You've never seen one before, not up close and personal but you know from the way his thighs tighten there's something different, something that makes him nervous as you lick your lips, admiring the head of his cock trying to peek out from the skin that surrounds it like a casing.

As your hand moves to grasp at his cock, Elvis grabs your wrist and holds it tight for a moment. "It's different, I know, lil one. But-"

If the ache between your legs didn't make you want to cry from sheer desire and if you had something to truly compare it to, you're certain you would have wanted to defend Father Presley's cock, tell him that you haven't seen anything more beautiful in all your years of living. Instead you allow yourself a tentative lick, looking up through your eyelashes to see Father Presley's head lean back, eyes looking up as if to pray for salvation.

His hand drops your wrist and moves to your shoulder, clenching and holding on for dear life as you play with the slit, unsure of how to move the skin around. You mouth at his cock, spreading your spit and his not small amount of precum around it. Noises you've only ever dreamed of ripping from his mouth exit in an unending stream as his hand moves to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you off as much as he can, even as your teeth graze at his cock. "Darlin' you- You gotta move up the skin, let 'im in your mouth fully."

His grip loosens the moment your hand slides his foreskin up and without missing a beat your mouth is back on him, tongue playing with the slit of his penis, and trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. What you can't get into your mouth, your hand grasps, trying to make sure every moment of this is something you can remember all those nights when you won't have this, won't have him. A hand makes it way to your hair and you whine around his cock, wanting him to do something with it. The chuckle he lets out, low and practically devilish is all the warning you get before his hand yanks at the ends of your hair. If your mouth wasn't full, you're certain you'd have cried out as you grind against the floor. As it is, he still hears you, still understands what he's done and yanks again, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

"Takin' me so well, such a good woman. Saved your mouth and everything just for me, haven't ya? Been achin' wit' no relief from that boyfriend of yours. Jus' wanted a forbidden fruit like Eve, didn't ya?" He knows the words he's saying don't make sense, that it's murmured and muttered as he focuses on the warm heat of your mouth and the feel of your tongue against his cock and tracing the veins. "Lord's pushed us too far. Couldn't- Shoulda- Been wanting to taste ya for too long. Needed ya for too long."

He shouldn't admit this, shouldn't tell you these things but it's as if the devil himself has taken over his body and filled his mouth with every sinful thought he's had of the two of you. Your thighs clench and he moves his foot in between them, trying to give you something to grind down on proper. And grind down you do, whimpering and groaning around his cock, almost seeming to bounce as you chase a release while bringing him to his own.

"Devil put us in front of each other- tempted us till we broke but this- we'll get it outta our systems. Gonna forget all 'bout this after tonight. No one but us and the Lord'll know. Won't have anythin' to 'member tonight wit'."

You nod, even as your mind tells you that's not what you want. Even as your mind tells you that you want to remember this and that you want to beg him to give you something to remember this by. That's not what you're supposed to do, what either one of you are supposed to do and yet it doesn't stop the desire and need you have for it. It doesn't stop your mind from picturing a life past tonight with him as his grip tightens once more when he yanks and your clit brushes against the toe of his shoe. You feel your orgasm slam through you at that simple brush, already overstimulated and aching and you worry you're going to stain the carpet or the leather of his shoes but looking up, you realize he won't care.

"Gonna have ya swallow, lil one. Gonna be good for ya," he groans, even as his minds supplies an image of your face and hair painted with his cum. At another drag of your teeth along the underside of his cock, your mouth fills with the salty tang of his cum. Your mouth fills with it and you have to force yourself to start to swallow quickly to avoid choking. Your eyes burn from the effort but it slows quicker than you expect, leaving you exhaling through your nose heavily and inhaling the full musk of his pubic hair. His grip on your neck is the first thing you feel as you start to come back to yourself and you let him pull you off his cock, opening your mouth when you feel his thumb against your lower lip.

"Didn't waste a drop," he whispers, patting at your neck and motioning for you to stand up. Your legs are shaky but he helps, even as you fall against his chest, so warm and inviting.

"Father-" You start to speak only to be silenced by a finger to your lips as he starts to walk both of you back to his desk.

"For tonight, it's Elvis. Let me take care of you."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour @butlersxbirdy, @precious-lil-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @doll-elvis, @whatstruthgottodowithit. i literally think i used spark's last tag list. lord help me i don't even know.