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trashogram · 3 months

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He Chose You (Pt. 2)

Lucifer/Reader

Rated E for the smex coming next chapter I SWEAR. ((Also there will not be any non-con in this fic, so please don’t worry. You’ll see when you read.))

Tag Requests: @loslox, @for-hearthand-home, @navierkalani

‘The worst thing they could be are swingers.’

Your heart was racing, and you felt ridiculous for how uppity you felt at the prospect of having dinner with your two elderly neighbors.

Normally, meeting new people would cause a healthy amount of anxiety in you. You’d grown up into a recluse and upholding social niceties took most of your energy. It was even worse to be in their home, and among people that you likely did not have much in common with.

These were personal reassurances that you told yourself after denying the first invitation for dinner with the Farrows. The guilt you felt, paired with the subsequent relief of not having to spend more than five minutes with your chatty neighbor, stirred an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Of course you’d been unable to stop thinking about what a wretch you were, how karma was going to bite you on the ass for denying an old couple some company.

And oh Karma did come back to bite you. Hard.

You felt like you were hanging by a thread at work. Three weeks into the job and you’d already been reprimanded. Even the memory of your supervisor looking down her nose at you from the other side of her desk made your eyes water.

“We have a ‘three strikes’ policy here. I’m afraid this will count as your first.”

Never having been fired from a job notwithstanding, you felt like the idiot your parents always purported you to be.

If you’d have just stayed in your hometown, living off your parents’ good graces and kept your head down, instead of prancing out the door as if you had self-respect and no need for a safety net…

Maybe things wouldn’t be so dire.

Maybe you wouldn’t be on the verge of having a panic attack at this very moment, feeling the anxiety and restlessness from declining the previous invitation tenfold.

With a deep breath in and out, you crossed the hall with the hesitance of a mouse approaching a snap-trap. You knocked on the door to Unit 606 with a shaking hand.

There was a moment left to blanch at the realization that you hadn’t brought anything with you. Like the shittiest, most thoughtless guest ever.

——

“You made it!” Mrs. Farrow held her arms out dramatically. “Come in! Come in! You’re right on time! Oh and you look lovely dear!”

“Thanks.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks as the door closed behind you.

The layout of the apartment was a mirror image to yours, but you were overwhelmed by just how much stuff had taken up the space. From the kitchen to the living room, the apartment was brimming with kaleidoscopic color. Antique statuettes of unknown deities, handcrafted vases and sculptures in-set with gems and gold filigree, expertly framed posters of old Hollywood, and Persian rugs beneath well-worn furniture were visible from just a cursory glance.

It distracted you from the unusually bitter, earthy smell that assaulted you upon entering.

“Wow,” You said in genuine awe. “Your home is lovely.”

“Aw, you’re too kind sweetheart. Too kind. Here, let me take your shawl - we’ll hang it up on the rack here, see.” She took your cardigan and placed it on an old hat stand before steering you out to the living room by the back of your shoulders.

There was a man sitting in a leather armchair adjacent to the couch. He was wearing a tweed jacket and his silver-blond hair had been combed back finely to show a pale, wrinkled face and eyes so dark they shone almost black in the lowlight.

He looked at you with interest once you’d finally caught onto his presence, and opened his mouth to speak.

‘Quack!’

“Lou!” You laughed as the duck came racing over on its little legs.

Without delay, the bird climbed onto your flats with an impatient flap of its wings, trying to balance while looking up at you adoringly.

You couldn’t help but reach down and pat his little head, murmuring ‘hellos’ and ‘how you doing buddy?’ softly and sweetly.

The man opposite you both smirked. “My wife was right. He’s quite taken with you.”

“I’m always right!” Mrs. Farrow called out from the kitchen.

You looked to the kitchen and back to, presumably, Mr. Farrow, an uncertain smile on your lips.

“Welcome to our home.” The elder man’s voice was almost hypnotically deep. His hand was outstretched and waiting. “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly. When you get to be as old as I am, your body does everything it can to make you stay put in one place.”

You shook your head. “Oh no, please don’t worry about it! I understand.”

Mr. Farrow’s smirk seemed to soften as you spoke.

“Please make yourself comfortable, my dear.” When he gestured to the couch, you awkwardly shuffled to sit down. Lou was right on your heels, loathe to spend even a second without your warmth.

The duck ended up snuggled on your lap after begging to be lifted as you sank into the plush sofa. And you were grateful, hugging Lou to you gently as if he were a plush toy.

It helped take your mind away from that spine-tingling feeling when it made a comeback — the way Mr. Farrow’s eyes glittered when he looked at you and his duck.

‘Oh god, they probably are swingers. And they lure in their targets with this crazy well-trained duck.’ You thought, punching yourself in the face mentally. ‘And you fell for it. Walked right into their den of debauchery. You stupid bitch.’

“Here’s some water, honey. We’ll save the stronger stuff for dinner.” You jumped in your seat when Mrs. Farrow appeared at your side, setting a glass of ice water down on the end table beside you.

You reached for the glass as its contents sloshed over the edge. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Farrow.”

Mrs. Farrow beamed.

“What did I tell ya, Warren? Isn’t she lovely? Just a peach. Lou is smitten.” She patted your shoulder. “And it’s Cassie, honey. Call me Cass.”

“You were right, Cass.” Warren Farrow intoned.

He took on a conspiratorial tone as he addressed you once more. “You must know, my wife hasn’t stopped talking about you since you met the other day. I wondered if she was preparing us for a new roommate.”

Heat flooded your face for the second time. “Aw.”

“Oh poo, as if you wouldn’a done the same.” Mrs. Farrow sniffed derisively. “Dinner in 5 minutes!”

Her exit left room for you to start a conversation, but you couldn’t find it in you to say anything. Mr. Farrow kept staring, smiling, which made you stroke Lou’s feathers for comfort that much more.

The silence lasted a little while, save for the clinking, crackling, thudding from the kitchen dining room. Aside from catering to Lou, you surveyed your surroundings in an effort to avoid bouncing your legs.

The Farrows didn’t have a TV, only a large fireplace that they’d positioned their furniture around. There were displays on either side of the grate. On one stood an oversized chalice with intricate, swirling patterns. The other had a statuette of a goat-headed figure sitting crisscrossed on a throne, one arm poised to reach out to the sky.

“Baphomet.”

You turned from the sight, head swiveling to face your human companion. He was eying you keenly again.

“O-oh, the statue is…?”

Warren nodded. “Baphomet. Conceived as a false god around the time of the crusades. Most people see him as a depiction of Satan these days.”

The association wasn’t too far-fetched, you figured with another look at the figure. Its goat-head and large horns were the most eye-catching thing about it.

“I apologize if the sight upsets you, dear. I hadn’t thought to remove it before your arrival.”

“Oh no, please. It’s alright.” You said. “It doesn’t bother me. It’s very interesting.”

The rumbling hum at your side seemed to signal approval, or maybe general geniality with your neutral response. “Are you religious by chance?”

You turned to Warren again.

“Ah, no.” You replied apologetically. “I grew up in a Christian area, but I was never very involved with the church.”

Warren nodded. “That’s just as well. The institution and its practices can be stifling. I was never very involved with it myself.”

“Religious artifacts have always been fascinating to me, however. There’s no shortage of temples and synagogues in this world.”

“Have you been to many? For the history?” You were genuinely curious.

The old man nodded again, stately and dignified even as he puffed up in his armchair like a peacock. “Cass and I are seasoned travelers. We’ve been to all 7 continents at least twice, seen the wonders of the world from the Hindu shrines in Malaysia to St. Basil’s Cathedral. I have a particular fondness for those countries surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. I was able to convince Cassie another trip to Rome wouldn’t put us in the poor house last year.”

Your little huff of laughter was sincere, though the idea of traveling to Rome - or anyplace outside of the familiar - sounded amazing. “I’d love to be able to do that.”

Warren’s head tilted to one side. “You’re quite young, I’m sure you’ll get the chance if you haven’t already.”

“Sure.” You scoffed before immediately falling into contrition. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me —”

“Dinner time!”

Mrs. Farrow hollered from the kitchen, stopping you from trying to come up with a suitable excuse for yourself.

Luckily, Mr. Farrow chuckled good-naturedly. He rose from his chair stiffly, legs visibly straining. “No need to apologize, my dear. But we best get going before the Missus comes out and drags us by our ears.”

——

All things considered, the dinner was perfectly fine.

The jitters never left your frame, but you had chalked that up to a simple byproduct of your skittish nature. The red wine that Cass had insisted upon you made you feel warm and solid, at least.

As did the fact that Cassie Farrow could hold entire conversations all on her own with very little effort or input from yourself.

“You got a boyfriend, honey? Or girlfriend? No shame in that at all. We may be old but by no means bigoted. We’ve been all over the place, seen so many things - what’s natural to you and me could be the furthest from, in certain places. Isn’t that right, Warren?”

“Men in Ancient Greece often had relationships with other men.” Warren replied. “Royals in Europe had extramarital affairs with different sexes. It was all about keeping the bloodline pure, but romance was a different thing altogether.”

“I haven’t dated in a while, actually.” You said. “It’s not been a priority.”

Cassie nodded, exuberant as she drank from her wine glass. “That’s good too! Plenty of independent women these days! It’s about time, I say.”

‘Quack quack’

Lou was beside you, red eyes locked in as he gazed upon you at the dining table. It made you giggle.

“Mm!” Cassie had a spastic moment. “I almost forgot!”

The chair lurched out from under the old woman as she rose and scuttled out of the room. It left you blinking, and out of the corner of your eye you saw that same smirk on Warren’s face before his wife had returned.

She had a small wicker basket in her arms.

“This is for you, honey. Housewarming present from your kooky neighbors across the hall.”

As she drew nearer, you caught a glimpse of the contents, some of which shone beneath the light of the overhead chandelier.

“Thank you! You really didn’t have to.” The basket was pressed into your arms and Cassie was back in her seat before you’d finished your sentence.

“Nonsense. It’s the least we could do. I still can’t believe no one welcomed you for a whole week!”

The basket was lined with shredded filler, and nestled in between were little gemstones and crystals.

“There’s jade and ruby in there, and I believe there’s moonstone as well.” Mr. Farrow recalled. “Is that it, Cass?”

“Yes, yes, and carnelian too. It’s all scattered about there, with the Scrabble and the socks and the hand cream and oh!” Mrs. Farrow laughed. “Forgive us honey, we saw that little rubber duck and just had to get it for you.”

There was a little rubber duck. It was a novelty type, with a tiny red jacket and a tiny black top hat.

“It’s a carnival barker. No, it’s something like that. It’s on the tip of my tongue.” Your nose scrunched in thought. “Oh, a circus ringmaster!”

“Exactly! See, what’d I tell you, Warren? She loves it!”

“I believe I was the one who suggested it.” His voice carried through the otherwise silent dining room.

“Oh well maybe it was, so what. She likes it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Yes, but…” You felt funny again. Tingly. “This is too much. Really. You’re both so kind but I can’t accept this.”

A hand laid gently on your shoulder and you looked up at a frowning Warren Farrow. “It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”

“The cost must’ve —”

“No cost, really. Gemstones and crystals are quite popular these days. You can find them all over. And the little trinkets are just the same. Given to you in good faith of course.” He patted your shoulder gently.

You swallowed, eyes once again roving over the little mundane treasures. Silken feathers brushed against your ankle under the table and you met those red eyes, sparkling like the crystals in your basket.

Lou was such a funny little thing. So expressive, he looked as if he were waiting as he stared at you.

So funny.

… You felt funny.

Perhaps the anxiety from before was doubling back, just like that prickling sensation. It was less of a tingle and more a shiver or chill as you sat there.

“I think it’s about time for dessert, don’t you?” Mrs. Farrow was saying somewhere far away. “You like chocolate, sweetheart? I made mousse, all fancy-like. It’s not as fancy as the kind you get at that restaurant downtown, the Ivy, but they’ve got fancy ingredients and such…”

Reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from your forehead, you felt heat coming off from between your temples. With a shaky breath, you slumped down in your seat.

The basket was gone.

Your chair was scraping against the wooden floor as it was pulled out from the table.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?”

Wrinkled hands swept the hair from your face as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Words couldn’t get past the cotton-dry feeling in your throat.

“It’s the wine, the wine. Said she’s not much of a drinker, it has to be the wine.”

Cass’s voice was dampened and thick, like it was trapped underwater.

Or perhaps you were trapped. Your head was spinning, limbs heavy as if you were a puppet sans strings. You had to be picked up from under your arms like a toddler and pulled upright.

The next second you were walking through your neighbors’ kitchen, the door held open for you.

“Maybe we oughta call a doctor? Honey, can you hear me?”

“I… yes. I can hear you.” It felt like an Olympic feat, but you spoke clearly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.”

You stumbled against the wall and strong arms caught you when your knees buckled. It was Mr. Farrow allowing you to lean on him, solid as a rock.

“Cass is right, you had quite a bit of wine.” He said. Another pat to your shoulder.

Did you? You could’ve sworn it was just a glass.

Your apartment was barren and blank, the smell of laundry comforting against the memory of that earthy incense smell.

“Get some rest, honey. We’re right across the hall.”

“Thank you.” You breathed, lying on your sofa bed. “Again, I’m very sorry. Thank you for the welcome.”

“Oh no, thank you.”

——

When you opened your eyes next, you were shrouded in darkness. The outline of your entertainment system was in front of you, and the kitchen at your right.

It was raining outside; little raindrops smattering against the glass. The sound was normal, no longer muffled until you were straining to hear it.

‘Well that’s good.’

The heavy feeling in your arms was still present.

‘That’s not so good.’

You felt perfectly sane and hysterical at the same time. It was like being caught in the eye of a storm. The danger had abated momentarily, but would begin again shortly.

Your door opened, and in your peripheral you saw a shadow cut across the wall as a new figure emerged from the hall.

You squinted in the dark. ‘Lou?’

The duck’s silhouette stilled as if you’d spoken aloud. You could feel something shift in the air, tension breaking through to your mind when it could not seize your body.

That shift grew stronger, sucking in the air around it until a dazzling flash and crack of light blinded you.

Lou’s shadow was gone. Or… it had changed. The shadow on the wall wasn’t a duck anymore it was…

Your blood ran cold as the man stepped into your apartment and let the door close behind him.

“Hello there!”

#hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

725 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 6 months

Note

Ooooh I would love to see Prosecco h taking care of his pretty girl when she is sick :( and maybe she doesn’t tell him she’s sick but he finds out and is like 🥺

sooooo! I changed this just a little but I hope you still like it! thank you sm for requesting!!!!

wordcount: 7.5k

—————

(Y/N) smiled, listening back to the voicemail Harry left for her this morning.

Those small gifts had become her favorite thing to wake up to, eager to hear his voice and know that he was thinking of her even when he had been in a rush to get to the office. More often than not, she was greeted with a stream of consciousness message about all of the things he was doing or needed to get done before he could head out, along with tender declarations that he would talk to her soon, and that she was on his mind. It was never anything particularly grand or cloyingly romantic, but (Y/N) saved every single one of them. Hearing his voice was a part of her morning routine now, she couldn't go without.

Though she was just as in love with this recording as the others, there was a slight sticky quality to his voice this morning. It was extra thick, seemingly heavy on his tongue as if he had a stuffy nose. But, he didn't mention anything about feeling under the weather.

She would have to check up on him later, she decided. Send him a text or call him on his lunch to make sure it wasn't anything more than allergies or those cold symptoms that seemed to pop up in the morning before a cup of coffee could flush out his sinuses.

Once the voicemail ended, Harry finishing with a small "I love you", (Y/N) pulled the phone from her ear, scanning through the rest of the notifications she ignored in favor of hearing his voice. There was nothing more to read than a couple of flags reminding her the schedule she had input on her phone and some social media messages from the girls she was growing closer to from her classes.

Bypassing those minute messages, she pulled up Harry's contact thread. Typing out a message, she reveled in the soft cushioning of her bed with her boyfriend on her mind.

i just listened to ur voicemail🤍 i hope ur day gets less busy but I love u too soooo much

also it sounded like u were a little sick over the phone are u okay?:(

Starting her day slowly, (Y/N) took her time getting ready, checking her phone here and there in hopes of receiving a response from Harry. It wasn't until she had a cardigan draped over her shoulders and bag on her shoulder, walking out the door, that her phone vibrated.

Though she knew that Harry would scold her if he saw how distracted she was crossing the parking lot to her car, phone in hand, she didn't really care. Especially when it was his notification that she was enamored with.

H🤍 My day's already getting better since hearing from you, love. Would it be alright if I call you on my lunch? I miss you.

No, I'm not sick, just allergies. Thank you for checking on me🩷

Her heart bubbled in her chest as she climbed into her car, a bashful grin splitting her cheeks. She could hear his messages in his voice, lingering over the soft sentiment that he missed her. Before pulling out of the parking lot she made sure to let him know that she was more than okay with him giving her a call later, attaching multiple hearts and kisses to the text.

She hoped she made him smile like he did for her.

—————

Blindly reaching for her phone to cancel her alarm, (Y/N) barely cracked her eyes open when she brought the device to her face. The time blinked up top, an early class alarm having pulled her from her dreams. Thursdays were always the worst day of the week in her eyes; she had to wake up extra early, wait around on campus after her morning classes ended because the hour-long gap between her afternoon courses was too short to head home, and most of her deadlines were set for 11:59pm that night. She dreaded starting her day when it came to Thursdays.

Allowing herself a moment of reprieve, taking an extra long blink of her eyes, (Y/N) finally sat up with the motivating thought of seeing what Harry had left her in his voicemail.

Blinking the sleep from her gaze, she swiped through her phone with sleep-shaky fingers. She absently pulled up her call log, expecting to see a missed call from Harry, attached with a voicemail to start her day with.

When there was no red bubble denoting a notification or a text message informing her of a missed voicemail, (Y/N) blinked extra hard in hopes of clearing her vision. When she recovered, coming to her senses more and more, there was still nothing to be seen.

Harry hadn't called her.

A pout formed on her lips. He never missed calling her in the morning. Since this had become a regular thing, there was never a morning Harry missed greeting her, starting both of their days off with a sweet message. She hoped he was alright.

Pulling up his text thread, she typed out a quick message.

good morning honey ! are you doing okay? i didn't get a voicemail from u so I wanted to make sure !! miss and love u so much call me when you can:)))))

When the receipts didn't quickly change to read, she took in a sigh. While it wasn't like him, there was a possibility that he woke up too late in the morning to give her a call like usual and didn't have time. There was always the chance that he had taken a late night hours before, working hard and allowing him to lie in this morning.

(Y/N) was willing to convince herself of either scenario, pushing her imagination along with the terrible ideas sprouting. She just hoped he was okay.

—————

Sitting in the quad, breathing in the first airs of autumn with her headphones covering her ears, (Y/N) didn't rush away from her textbook when she felt her phone vibrate. Finishing off her notes, she waited a moment longer, rereading what she had transcribed before plucking up her phone. The name on her notification had her heart skipping a beat

H🤍

Sorry, sweetheart. I woke up late this morning, and have been rushing around the offie all day. I didn't mean to ignore you, I'm so so sorry. Maybe I can call you tonight, on my way home? Love you so much.

Her lashes fluttered as she blinked, reading over his message. Honestly, a chunk of worry she hadn't realized she had been holding onto evaporated. The reassurance that he was okay, and none of the haywire scenarios that she had forced to the back of her mind had even been a little true, was freeing. He was just having a Thursday, just like she was.

don't be sorry im just happy youre okay!!! im sorry youre having a rough day:( is there anything i can do to help?????

yes yes please call me later:( I miss you:(

love you moooooooore :)

The time between the moment she had sent off her last message to the receipts flipping from delivered to read was almost instantaneous. The three grey dots popped up on the side of her screen just after.

H🤍

You don't need to do anything for me, sweetheart, you're already helping. My afternoon is going to be busy, but I should be out of here around the normal time so I'll call you around then. I miss you too.

It didn't feel right not to call you this morning, but I didn't have time. I think it threw me off.

Love you most:)

Laying back on the grass, music still fluttering through her speakers, (Y/N) smiled up at her phone as she held it over her face. It was always especially cute when he would add little emoticons or emojis to his messages.

i missed hearing u this morning too but its okay !!!! don't stress urself out too much this afternoon though just call me when you can 🩷🩷🩷🩷

i have to get to class now but ill talk to you later :))))

Harry's response came in the form of a string of hearts being sent her way, the messages making her smile before she pocketed her phone. Now that the anxious urgency she had before was now melted away, she took her time gathering her things and heading towards her next class.

Everything was turning up, she decided. Thursday was almost over, Harry was okay, and she now could look forward to a phone call from him this evening.

All she had to do was get through this final class.

—————

"Hi, honey," (Y/N) smiled, pressing her phone to her ear as soon as she saw the call blinking across the screen.

On the other line, there was a slight rustle. "Hi, love," Harry finally murmured, his breath coming out heavy, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she sang, closing her laptop lid in favor of focusing on Harry, "Just waiting for you. Did you just get home?"

"Yeah," he sighed once more, "Been a long day. Sorry to keep you waiting."

(Y/N) shook her head even though she was well aware of the fact he couldn't see her. "Don't be sorry, H, stop. I'm sorry you had a bad day, what happened?"

Before he could answer, a rattling cough was heard over the receiver. Harry seemingly pulled the phone away from himself, the sound growing more distant before he returned a beat later. "Sorry, I jus—"

"Are you getting sick?" She didn't quite believe his explanation of allergies anymore.

"No, love," Harry muttered, his voice suddenly sounding thicker than (Y/N) remembered, a sniffle of his nose sounding a moment later. "I've jus' had a long day is all. 'M a little run down."

That didn't ease her any. (Y/N)'s lips thinned, a pinch appearing in between her brows. "It's okay if you're getting sick, H. I'm worried you're not taking care of yourself."

"'S not like that, sweetheart, I promise. After I get through tomorrow, everything will calm down and I'll be fine. Don't worry over me, okay?"

Every word that fell from his lips sounded less and less convincing. He definitely sounded sick with the way he gummed around his words through a thick throat, his breathing coming a bit heavier as if he couldn't breathe through his nose, and his reassurances sounded exactly like someone who was getting sick but didn't want to admit it would say.

Harry took her silence for exactly what it was: her disbelief. "(Y/N), love, I really am jus' tired. Thank you for worrying about me, but y'don't have to. 'M alright."

She swallowed. She supposed he really could be experiencing those cold symptoms for no other reason than the fact that he's tired, and has been going through a couple of long nights. With the weekend coming up, she too could argue that she wasn't feeling well enough to finish out her week, for no other reason than she would prefer to sleep in and do nothing instead of attending class.

"Okay," she relented, "Sorry to interrogate you, I've just never heard you sound like this before."

"I know, 's okay. But I promise I'm alright. I still need to take you to the aquarium this weekend, remember?"

(Y/N) immediately brightened up at the reminder of their weekend plans. "Yeah, so you better not be sick then. I have to see the sharks."

"Trust me, I know. You've said that almost every day since we booked the tickets." His voice took on a faux-exasperated tone, as if he couldn't wait to be done with their plans for no other reason than she would stop bringing them up.

A peal of laughter left her lips as she curled up on her couch, getting more comfortable now that she was talking with him. "You're so mean," she bubbled, "This is what I get for worrying about you? Maybe you should be sick and I'll just go alone."

"As if you'd drive yourself there."

Yeah, he was definitely feeling fine.

—————

While she was disappointed, (Y/N) wasn't surprised to see the lack of voicemail left for her when she rolled over on Friday morning. On the phone the night before, Harry had told her that he had another early morning coming, and it wasn't a secret just how rundown he was feeling. She had hoped, in the back of her mind, that he could be feeling well enough to send her a message in the morning anyway, but she couldn't blame him for opting to sleep a little bit longer before heading out the door.

Nonetheless, she still sent him his own good morning text, hoping it would brighten his day and remind him that it was finally Friday. He'd made it through the week and could now look forward to their plans.

morning honey!! i hope you have a better day but its friday!!!! we get to see each other tomorrow!!!!! text me when you can love uuuuuuu

Setting her phone on her nightstand, she proceeded to start her own day. Maybe, on the way to campus, she'd stop and get herself a matcha latte. It really had been a long week.

—————

just went to study in the quad and it started raining AS SOON as I sat down:( I had to run and take all my stuff back to my car:( and I think I forgot my favorite pen on accident :(

Pressing send, (Y/N) added her new lunchtime message to the string of blue messages she'd already sent that had gone unanswered. Even the read receipts hadn't flipped to anything other than delivered since her morning text hours ago. Of course there had been times where he hadn't gotten back to her by the time she had sent another text, as well as the other way around, this was just slightly out of the range of normal.

Being with him for almost a year allowed her to learn some of his schedule. She knew what his day to day must look like, just from the fact that he usually texted her, called her, or made plans around certain times of the day. It wasn't hard to pick up on the fact that around eleven-thirty he took a small break from his morning paperwork because that was when he would send her a message if he could. His lunch was always placed around twelve to one, something she learned because that was when he would ask if she wanted to come visit him, or he'd place a call to her while he ate. He left the office at the same time everyday, sometimes a little earlier and sometimes a little later.

With the time blinking past one-thirty with no phone call, text, or even the reading of her messages, (Y/N) didn't want to be worried but she was.

There were so many things that could have gone wrong, she figured. Her list of scenarios started with his phone breaking beyond repair, and ended with her sitting in a hospital waiting room. More than half of her worries were irrational, but that was unfortunately how her brain operated at times.

Without second guessing, (Y/N) pulled up Harry's contact before pressing the call button. As it rang and rang, she knew what the outcome was going to bet but she still hung on to the final trilling noise until it finally ended. The generic voicemail greeting played in her ear before she tapped the red end button.

Rationalizing herself, (Y/N) had to remember the way he had talked about how busy today was going to be for him. This week was all about prepping for a large conference meeting that would be taking place on Monday, including hours of paperwork, presentation reviews, and running in and out of meetings with other executives. While she thought she knew his day-to-day schedule rather well, that didn't mean that day like this wouldn't force him to deter. It was more than just a possibility that he really was that busy that he wouldn't be able to get back to her before he left the office.

He would call her when he could.

—————

goodnight! i hope youre okay honey just text me when you can

I love u

(Y/N) wasn't even sure how long she looked at her phone screen, waiting for the receipts to change when she sent her final message for the day. The thread consisted of blue messages she had sent through the day, no response in between. Her call log had three unanswered calls on the list, all outgoing to Harry.

It wasn't until six p.m. rolled around without a single response from him that she was unable to fight back the worst case scenarios she had rolling around her head. This just wasn't like him. He never stayed that late at the office. There was no way that through over twelve hours, that he didn't have a single second to even react to one of her texts, even just a short one telling her that he was okay but would be staying late.

Dropping the phone to fall in her sheets, her hands limp at her side, (Y/N) stared up at the ceiling. Something was wrong. Even if all it came down to was that he was so overworked that he fell asleep as soon as he made it home, that thought didn't exactly soothe her. It was scary thinking that something could have been so intense—work, meetings, preparations for the following week—that he didn't even have the mind to text her during his lunch. She just hoped he was alright.

She'd give it until the morning, she decided. Sunday was their aquarium date, and if she didn't hear from him by lunchtime tomorrow, then she was going to go to his apartment and see what was going on.

(In a very small part of her mind, a place she had shoved to the very back after everything with Andrew and Iris had been flushed away, she had the insecure thought that he could possibly, maybe, perhaps be ghosting her. While she could never imagine Harry, the king of communication, to go the route of ignoring her as a breakup option, that logic didn't necessarily win out against irrational insecurity).

Hopefully, giving him the night to rest and recuperate would be exactly what he needed, allowing him to get back on his feet tomorrow and reach out to her with everything she missed the day before.

Now, she just needed to figure out how she was going to get to sleep.

—————

There was no way she was going to get to sleep tonight.

Her brain was too preoccupied to settle, that much was apparent. She pretended as if she wasn't waiting for a notification to vibrate her phone with the way she picked up the book she was borrowing from Harry, barely reading any of the pages. She scrolled through her socials, distracting herself with videos and posts or whatever was fed to her to keep her from pulling down the top bar and checking for any messages she could have blinked through. More than once during her attempts at staying away from her phone, rolling away from her night stand and nestling into the sheets, she reached for it anyway.

This cyclical routine led her to stare up at the ceiling at one in the morning, phone at her side lest she get a message and not hear the buzz for whatever reason.

The later the hours got, the more her brain went wild. What if something happened and no one knew to contact her? What if he was really trying to break up with her through ghosting? What if no one even knew he was hurt in the first place and Harry was alone, scared? What if, what if, what if.

Throwing her comforter off her body, (Y/N) sat up in haste. She fit her phone into the pocket of her sweatpants before she was trekking through her apartment, heading to her kitchen. Flicking on the light, she stalked towards her cabinets as if she wasn't itching to grab her phone. Pulling out a glass, she filled it with water and took a long sip. Hoping the cold temperature would soothe her brain and settle the unease in her stomach, she stayed in her kitchen, leaning up against her oven, as she drained the glass.

When there was nothing left in the glass aside from a few drops and her anxiety was still flitting through her veins, (Y/N) felt restless.

What else was there to do? There was no way to fix this problem, but she couldn't see herself getting over it enough to actually get any rest. Her body had convinced herself something was wrong even if she tried to reason with herself otherwise. There was no way she was going to be able to beat out the quivering her stomach and rattling of her brain with logic.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she checked once more for a notification that wasn't there. Swiping through to the text thread itself, she saw it was still the same string of unanswered blue texts sitting in the black void.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, she shifted her weight where she stood.

Would she be crazy to even consider going to his house right now?

She, unfortunately, couldn't stray her mind very far from the awful possibility that something could have happened, that Harry could be needing someone, and that was why he hadn't been able to contact her. It was a completely irrational, worst-case-scenario mindset, but one that couldn't be tamped down for very long.

(Y/N) just wanted to make sure he was alright.

That was all she could think of when she pushed off of the counter, heading towards her bedroom with a purpose. She tugged on a heavy hoodie, the oversized shape blending with her sweatpants, before she slid on a pair of slippers. She pulled her hair out of her face into a messy twist, chunky clip on the back of her head. Grabbing her keys and bag, she didn't give herself enough time to second-guess anything before she was beelining towards the front door.

By the time she made it to her car, key in the engine and dash lights illuminating the space, (Y/N) was convinced she'd lost it.

Nonetheless, she backed out of her space and started towards Harry's home.

—————

Using the key Harry had given her months back, (Y/N) let herself into his house. The lights were off throughout the space. His shoes were in a neat line along the wall, his jacket carefully hung up, and his work bag set up by the door like usual. Everything was immaculately perfect, as if he took his time and didn't rush a single step. (Y/N) rolled her lips between her teeth.

She set her bag down by his, kicked her slippers off the same, before peering around the living room. His kitchen was clean as far as she could tell, no crumbs or even takeout containers on the counters.

Her stomach sunk as she scaled his stairs. She was officially acting insane, wasn't she? Harry was obviously fine, and she just couldn't let him have a day to himself, could she? This is what happens when she obsesses over things, she ends up looking like a fool, and it—

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks as she stepped into Harry's room, the door having been cracked before.

In his bed, Harry was curled up in a bundle of wrinkled sheets. Large comforters were draped over his form with more sitting on the end of the bed. A sliver of his face could be seen, his brows furrowed in distress with his forehead shimmering with sweat. The lump of bedding shook as he shivered underneath the mountain of down. Did he know his teeth were chattering? Did he know he was making these slight whimper tones?

With her concern skyrocketing, (Y/N) crossed the space to his bed in quick strides. Up close, she could see the flush on his cheeks, the dry skin of his lips, the way he had his arms bundled over his chest as if he was still freezing under all the blankets and the hoodie he had on.

And he said he wasn't feeling sick.

"Harry?" she murmured, crawling onto his bed as she reached to place a hand on his forehead. She cringed at the feel of the damp skin, too hot to be healthy. He didn't even stir at her disturbance. "Harry?"

In a fluttering blink, Harry suddenly woke up, a hurried gasp filling his lungs. It took a moment for him to catch his bearings, his eyes darting around the space before they settled on her. His gaze was bleary, unfocussed as he attempted to take her in.

"(Y/N)?" he croaked, voice crackling and dry.

No wonder he couldn't call her, he barely had a voice. (Y/N)'s heart cracked just a bit as she looked at him, settling on his bed with her legs folding up underneath her.

"Hi," she smiled at him, hoping to soothe him just a little, "I thought you said you weren't getting sick remember?"

"Yeah," he answered in a breath, his eyelids going heavy once more as he sunk into the bedding, "I don't want to be sick."

"I know," she murmured, "But it's going to be okay, we'll get you better again."

A slight curl landed on his lips as she spoke. "Are you staying?"

"Of course, I am," she promised, running a hand through his hair, pushing the strands off of his forehead. Harry happily pressed into her hand, seeking out her warmth as another shiver wracked through his system. As sweet as she thought it was, she was less than impressed with just how intense his fever was. "When was the last time you took medicine?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, voice thick as his eyes shuttered closed, "I don't know if I have any."

"Harry, you're joking." He had to be, really. There was no way that her responsible Harry didn't have any kind of cold medicine at his disposal.

A smile once more tugged at the corners of his lips. "Maybe," he shrugged, "I can't remember."

(Y/N) sighed, knowing she was going to have to ransack his house and try to find any kind of medicine she could get him to take when he was a little more lucid. Until then, she was going to start small.

"Have you been drinking water?"

"Don't know."

Harry shivered as she looked towards his bedside table, finding not even a half finished glass of water waiting. She had reason to assume that he hadn't been lucid enough to even remember to hydrate during this whole thing.

"(Y/N)?" Harry crooned, voice too thick to be comfortable.

"Hm?" she hummed, carding her fingers through his hair once more.

Keening into her touch, he spoke with his eyes closed. "I'm tired."

"I know," she murmured, brows pinching when another shiver wracks his body, "You can sleep, honey. I'll find some medicine for you, and everything when you wake up, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, completely compliant to whatever she had to say. Shifting under her palm, he turned his head until her palm was grazing the planes of his face. He puckered his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too, honey."

She watched as a sleepy smile bloomed on his features before he sunk into his pillow, heavy blankets set on his form. He was out, just like that.

Watching over him, (Y/N) felt a guilty sense of relief as she saw a shiver roll down his spine. She didn't like seeing him so down, obviously out of it with fever chills going through his body, but this was a decidedly nicer outcome than the panic scenarios she had swirling through her head.

Giving him one more pass of her fingers through his hair, she backed off his bed. She doubted he would be sleeping very soundly, so she didn't have much time to go through and find all of the things he would need to get him through the night.

His bedroom door was left cracked open as she padded through his home. There was no way he didn't have any medicine laying around, she was sure of it. She just needed to find it.

"Shoot," (Y/N) murmured under her breath, fumbling through the cabinet in his first floor bathroom.

She was going to have to call the aquarium in the morning and reschedule their reserve tickets.

—————

"Harry? You've got to wake up for me, honey."

Harry wanted to open his eyes, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't. He was too tired, too cold, too enveloped in his vivid dreams.

"Just for a second then you can go back to sleep, okay?"

Taking in a heavy breath through his sore throat, Harry attempted once more to crack his eyes open. This time around he was successful to a small degree, his eyes opening into slits. Everything was a bit blurry, too hazy to make out exact details of what was around him. He was so cold—freezing even. The blankets weren't enough.

Above him, he saw who he was ninety-eight percent sure was (Y/N). There were vague memories of seeing her earlier in the night. He remembered the shape of her smile, the sound of her voice, her gentle touch through his hair. He thought he had been dreaming,

"You're here?" he croaked, deep crackles in his voice.

"I am, yeah," she crooned to him, shuffling closer to him, "And I have medicine for you to take."

"You do?" A sudden chill swept over his form. He burrowed deeper under his covers.

"Yeah, but you need to sit up for me so you can take it and drink some water."

His brow creased her words. "No," he whined, unwilling to abandon his cocoon for something so trivial like water.

"Yes," (Y/N) argued, "You're sick, H. You need to take some medicine so you can feel better."

He shook his head. "I'll get better later."

A soft peal of laughter filled his bedroom. "I think we should get better now, honey. I know you don't like being sick, so this will help it go away faster."

Her logic checked out, really, though it didn't really make him happy to admit. "Fine," he answered begrudgingly.

(Y/N) helped him sit up, his layers of blankets falling to his lap. His palms were sweaty as he clutched the hem of the comforters, his eyes going just a bit less bleary the more he blinked away his sleep.

At his side, (Y/N) was huddled amongst the folds of his bedding. She looked at him with a softened smile, eyes glancing over his features and whatever state he must be in.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, reaching behind herself to grab both the medicine and the water she had waiting for him.

Harry shrugged, his head feeling too heavy. "Tired," he grumbled, "I have a fever, don't I?"

Her smile downturned some, frowning at the edges. "Yeah. I don't know how high, but I think it's a pretty good one," she told him, "So we need to make sure you keep drinking and start taking medicine again."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

A huff of laughter fell from (Y/N)'s lips again. "I'm sure it will be, but I don't think it'll be much work for you." Before he could compute some kind of retort, (Y/N) was handing him a duo of pills and a glass of water. "Only sip the water, okay? Too much could make you sick."

Her voice was like static in the background as he moved with lethargic limbs, tossing the pills to lay on his tongue before taking down a large gulp of water. He could vaguely hear her scolding him for taking down too much right after she warned him to slow down.

"Sorry, sorry," he told her, throat not feeling quite as rough now that he drank something. "'M thirsty."

"I'm sure you are, but you need to be careful," she told him, her voice a soft soothe as she took the glass from his hand and back to the side table, "Just take it slow. Are you hungry?"

Trying to remember the last meal he had, Harry struggled to cast his mind that far back. While he didn't necessarily identify any hunger pains in his body at the moment, too much else going on, he figured they were buried somewhere amongst the crowded chaos.

"Yeah," he answered, voice thick through his burning throat, "A little."

"Let me go make you some soup, okay? After you eat, you can go back to sleep if you want."

(Y/N) made a move to shuffle off of his bed, but she didn't get very far when he reached out with heavy limbs to pull her back. "'M not that hungry," he murmured, "Stay."

"Harry," she started, her tone turning into a coaxing plea, "I'll be fast, and you need to eat, okay?"

Disregarding her attempt at reasoning, he proceeded to tug her back to his chest. Though he didn't feel particularly strong at the moment, (Y/N) helped by moving pliantly wherever he wanted, even helping him when he shifted them to lay beneath the covers together.

"'M too tired," he said, nosing at the curve of her neck, "I'll eat later."

"Harry," she sighed once again, "I was going to make that soup you like, though."

He only shook his head, pressing the tip of his cold nose into the column of her throat. He buried himself close against her, feeding into her warmth and the comfort the soft curves of her body provided.

"Later," he insisted, her voice slurring and weakening. He puckered his dry lips and gave a small kiss to the shelf of her collarbone. "Stay."

It was when he felt her hands return to his hair, carding through the swirling curls and scratching her nails against his scalp, that he knew he won.

"Alright," she relented, planting her own kiss on the crown of his head, "I'll wait until you wake up, honey."

All it took was shuttering his eyes, lashes glancing over her skin with a slow breath in, that he fell asleep again.

—————

Harry's muscles ached by the time he finished the small serving of soup (Y/N) had made for him, only small remnants of carrots and celery remaining at the bottom. While he was much more lucid, his fever finally having gone down almost a full twelve hours since (Y/N) started feeding him medicine, his body was now exhausted from the fight against his cold.

"This was really good, sweetheart. Thank you," he smiled at her when she came to claim his dishes and return them to the kitchen. In his now empty palms, she replaced the dishes with another duo of pills for him to take.

"Those should get you through the night," (Y/N) explained, "But just wake me up if you need to. I'm hoping the soup will help your throat so you won't wake up coughing again."

That had been the story of his day, at this point. In between the fever, the cold sweat, and the muscle aches, he had barely been able to sleep before he was forced awake by the burn in his throat that demanded he cough until he swore his esophagus was raw.

"Okay," he responded, voice feeling gummy in his throat, "Are we going to bed now?"

Dishes still in hand, (Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him. "Actually," she started, shifting her weight, "I was thinking—if you're feeling okay enough—that we could take a shower? I think it would help you feel better to get all the fever off of you and into some clean clothes."

To be fair, he fell asleep in these sweats Thursday night, and it was now Saturday night with the same hoodie pulled over his torso and heavy sweats that kept him warm through his perceived chill. But the idea of standing up for that long, in a space that hot and warm, already made him tired enough he figured he could fall asleep in an instant.

She must have been able to tell what he was thinking by the soured expression on his face. "We'll be really fast, I promise," she assured him, "I was going to wash your hair and everything, so you wouldn't even have to do anything but stand there."

While he was sure she was bribing him with the promise of washing his hair for him, taking the task off of his hands while simultaneously giving him the gift of feeling her nails scratch at his scalp and card through his hair under the warm spray of water, he knew he wasn't going to win when that offer was on the table. She knew exactly how to get him.

"We'll be fast?"

"Promise."

With a sigh, Harry caved in. "Okay, but if I fall asleep, y'jus' have to let me."

"I'll make sure you don't fall then," she pledged with a proud smile on her face, "I'll be right back and then we'll go upstairs."

—————

"Too cold," Harry grumbled, his bare skin erupting into goosebumps under the spray of water.

Reaching around his back to adjust the temperature knob, (Y/N) turned it up just a bit more. By her preference, the water was plenty hot, especially apparent with the amount of steam filtering through the room already, but she figured he was still fighting off a few chills.

"Is that better?" she asked, quickly pulling her hand out of the stream.

"Almost," he murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

His skin was quickly turning red under the temperature, but he seemed to revel in it. He threw his head back under the water, wetting his curls. His arms were barred over his chest, but she could still see the way he pulled in a deep breath, the sauna-like atmosphere cleaning his sinuses. She allowed him to luxuriate in the feel, hoping his muscles were relaxing as much as she knew he needed.

"Which shampoo do you want tonight?" she asked, looking towards the built in caddy he had in his shower, the cubby full of both his and her products.

"Yours," he answered automatically, his voice sounding much less clogged after reveling in the water.

With a soft smile, she retrieved the bottle, aware of the way Harry turned to offer her the back of his head to run the cleanser through.

"Fast, right?" he murmured just above the sound of the pounding water.

"Fast," she promised, sudsing up her hands before she was going through the soft curls with her shampoo.

Though normally Harry would have leant down for her to get better leverage and not have to reach too far above to wash his hair, she couldn't blame him as he kept the full of his height. His back hurt enough some days without having a cold running through his system, it didn't help when his muscles were pinched with fever chills. Nonetheless, she stood to the tips of her toes and did as best she could to get him back to feeling more like himself.

It didn't take long for the cherry-scented bubbles to start scenting the steam, wrapping around them in sweet ribbons. She smiled at the way he practically melted at the feel, rolling his neck and allowing her more and more coverage of the shampoo. It was a silly thought, but for a minute she felt as if she were playing as his hairdresser. Was she supposed to do small talk with him?

The thought had a huff of laughter puffing through her nose.

"What's funny?" Harry asked, his voice sluggishly warm.

"Nothing, just something silly," she told him, pulling her fingers from the silky suds of his hair, "Rinse your hair and we'll wash one more time before conditioning, okay?"

"Okay," he answered absently, turning to place his hair under the rinsing spray, the bubbles running down his skin.

(Y/N) couldn't help herself, following the string of bubbles that ran down his chest, flushed skin slick from the steaming water. If this shower were under different circumstances, she would have taken it upon herself to trace that line of bubbles with her own hands, but that would have to wait, she decided. The lines of his muscles were attention grabbing, but there was something in it that made her feel sad for him. It wasn't fun to see him, knowing just how strong he was, to be reduced down to shivers and half-lucid conversations all from a small cold.

With his hair rinsed free of all the bubbles, he looked to her, curls draping down around his face. "Again?"

"Again," she affirmed, "Then we'll finish up and go to bed."

A soft smile touched the corner of his lips. "Okay."

Repeating the motion of washing through his hair once more, reviving the pattern after days of enduring his cold sweats. When she gave him the go ahead to rinse down once more, she could see just how slow he was moving again; lethargic limbs heavy.

"Which body wash are you thinking?" Though she had an inkling that he would choose to utilize her products again, she still thought to ask.

Instead of getting an answer, she was surprised with heavy, tattooed arms wrapping around her middle from behind. In her ear, he whispered, "Not yet?"

"Not yet?" she asked, turning in his arms to look up at him, "I thought you wanted to go fast?"

Gazing down at her with hooded eyes, he looked at her with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils. "I don't want to leave right now."

"No?" she asked with a beaming smile, a small huff of laughter falling from her lips. She looped her arms around his middle, setting her palms on the slick skin of his back. The water sprayed down on her hands, the temperature no longer bothering her.

"No," he said, murmuring over the thrum of the water. A silence settled between the two of them as he gave her a slow blink, his gaze drifting down to the curve of her lips. "Kiss?"

(Y/N) looked up at him with a pout, her hand on his back running a soothing circuit over the planes. "I don't want to get sick, H."

"You won't get sick," he tried to tell her, bringing his hand up to cradle her cheek, "I promise."

"How can you promise that, hm?" she prodded, teasing him some with her pout turning into a tender smile.

She seemed to have stumped him some, watching as he rolled her words around. "I don't know," he settled on, "But, I'll take care of you if you do."

With that, he dipped his head down and brushed the tip of his nose against the side of her own. The lilypads of his tired eyes were close enough for her to pick out the varying shades of clear green, the wet clumps of his lashes a dark frame around them. It was hard to say no to him, especially like this.

Tipping her chin up, she pressed her lips against his. It was a soft, innocent kiss that lingered for only a moment. It broke off when she could feel the curl of Harry's smile.

"Is that enough?" she asked, nuzzling his nose in a puppy's kiss.

"Almost," he murmured, "But I'll wait until bedtime."

(Y/N) let out a soft laugh, pulling away to rest her cheek against his chest. His skin was blazingly warm, aided by the steaming water still scenting around them. He hugged her close, his arms a loose loop around her with his nose grazing the top of her head. His heartbeat drummed a soothing rhythm under her ear, a comforting reminder that he was right here, right with her. After the hours she went worrying and building anxiety over his state when she hadn't heard from him the day before, feeling the solid build of his body and the steady heartbeat under her ear, this was more relieving than she was sure he even knew.

"(Y/N)?" he asked after a moment.

"Hm?" she hummed, snuggling that much closer.

"Are we still going to the aquarium tomorrow?"

Blinking her eyes open in an instant. She forgot to call.

—————

thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if theres any ideas anyone wants to see pls send them in:)))

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slayfics · 6 months

Text

Katsuki reaches out to you after ghosting you.

Katsuki rested his head back on the headrest in the car chauffeuring him to his hotel. He had been on this mission for 11 days now on the other side of the country than he was used to. He was thankful this mission had a driver who specifically worked with chauffeuring heroes around. It meant not running into Uber drivers that were fans. Most importantly, the agency that assigned the chauffeur to Katsuki knew to pick out drivers who didn't make small talk.

Katsuki put in his earphones for the drive wanting to drown out the day's events in music. The problem was he had no idea what the hell to listen to. That's when he wondered. Were you awake? Were you listening to something?

Back in U.A., you, Eijiro, and Denki bugged the crap out of him until he agreed to join you all in a dumb-ass video game you three were obsessed with. He hated video games and thought they were a waste of time. But, he gave in just so you all would shut up. He even made a Discord to join in voice chat.

Although, It didn't take long for him to get angry at the game and accidentally explode his computer. He still kept the Discord app, however, and even installed it on his phone. From time to time he looked to see if you all still joined in the same voice chat to play whatever game caught your interest. The times he saw you all talking were few and far between now that everyone was busy with hero work. He had noticed though, that whenever you listened to Spotify it showed on Discord what song you were listening to.

From time to time when he was away on extended missions he'd look to see what you were listening to. It was hard when he was away. He knew he wasn't good at words. Honestly, he'd rather shoot himself than call you and say some dumb mushy shit like he missed you. Sometimes he hated that he was this way. He'd seen Eijiro communicate so easily with Mina every time he was away, why couldn't he be like that? Why was this shit so hard for him?

Katsuki opened his discord and saw you were indeed listening to Spotify. He clicked on your username and it popped up that you were listening to Shirt by SZA. He navigated to his own Spotify to play the same song and read the lyrics along with the song. Some of the lyrics jumped out at him.

Kiss me, dangerous Been so lost without you all around me

In the dark right now Feeling lost, but I like it

Is that how you felt about him? Lost and in the dark? Did his actions when he was with you not carry through the space and time when his hero work kept him away from you?

He knew he should have called you, texted you, or something in the past 11 days he was gone but- You could have called him too. Damn it. Why did you both have to be so fucking stubborn? Katsuki inhaled sharply. He was probably just thinking too much about it. Even though he hadn't listened well to this song before, he knew it was popular at the moment. That was probably the only reason you were listening to it. He was being too egotistical making it about him. Surly you were fine while he was gone.

The song ended and he navigated back to Discord to see what song you were listening to now. That's when his eyes widened, grip tightened on his phone, breath caught in his throat. You were listening to that damn stupid song the class of 1A played at the summer festival. The one he played the drums in all those years ago.

You were thinking about him. Fuck. He ran his hands over his face frustrated with himself. If he were more like Eijiro even that fucking idiot Midoriya, you'd never question how he felt about you because he'd be able to say easily and gracefully. The fact was though, that just wasn't him, and he just couldn't. Simple as that. However, this did give him the slap in the face he needed to reach out to you.

Katsuki opened his messages and scrolled down to his text thread with you to type out a message.

I'll be back next week, what are your days off?

He watched anxiously as three dots appeared while you typed. Would you tell him off for not reaching out to you for almost two weeks? Would you accuse him of not caring?

I have Monday and Tuesday off.

Can I see you Monday?

Your next response left a lump in his throat and mist in his eyes.

You can see me whenever you want Katsuki.

You were too forgiving of him, too patient and he knew he didn't deserve it. You deserved someone who could say all that fucking cheesy shit, someone that didn't ghost you for two weeks because they were afraid of their feelings. But for some reason, you never seemed to mind, and you always welcomed him back in. He tried so fucking hard to show it when he was there, and he hoped that you were seeing it. He was trying. In the best way that he could.

Tags: @unofficialmuilover

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dancingtotuyo · 19 days

Text

11. up from the dust, inconceivable love

Woman | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Ellie learns the truth. Your family gains a member.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy related things, angst, hurt & comfort and no comfort?, self worth issues, canon violence, anger, child birth, spoilers for TLOU 2 (we’re entering the timeline that starts to burrow things for part 2 of the game)

Notes: huge thank you to my constants, my rocks @ramblers-lets-get-ramblinand @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and scream and break their hearts.

If you have checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader! The final part is out now!

Words: 5352

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

“What do you think of Peace?” You ask, propped up in bed, hand over your swollen stomach. You’ve gained more weight this time, probably because you’re not in the throes of grief.

“I mean, I’m a fan. I hope everyone is.” Joel says, trimming his facial hair with the bathroom door wide open.

You bite your lip, admiring the expanse of his bare back. If getting out of bed wasn’t an event, you would be behind him right now, kissing his shoulders.

“No, as a name for a girl,” you say. Joel turns around looking at you like he’s contemplating checking you into a psychiatric ward if those still existed. “A middle name, not a first name.”

Joel sets his trimmers down, leaning in the doorway shirtless. “And what would her first name be?”

“Willow.”

Joel furrows his brow stepping into your bedroom, your shared bedroom. “Darlin, I know we live in a commune, but we’re not hippies.”

“You bring me wildflowers and we walk barefoot through the fields. I wouldn’t be so sure.” You can’t help but laugh. Joel cracks a smile. “Do you have suggestions then?”

“Thought about naming Sarah- Katherine.”

You make a face. You know one too many Kates and Katies even in Jackson.

“It’s not a bad name,” Joel chuckles.

“Neither is Willow.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a hippie?”

“Would you leave if I said yes?”

Joel shrugs “I don’t know, but I knocked you up so I guess I have to stay.” He crawls into the bed. His head is level with your stomach as he watches for movement.

You roll your eyes. “How romantic.”

He grins up at you and then his eyes are back on your belly. He rests a hand at the top, staring, waiting in wonderment. Neither of you can believe this is all real. Your baby moves around all the time, kicking your bladder and lungs, signifying life. A life you did not think would make it.

You thread your fingers through Joel’s soft brown hair. The outline of a foot appears and then disappears. Joel’s eyes sparkle and he kisses the same spot. He’s soft and gentle. In these moments, all your anxieties are carried away like leaves on an autumn breeze. This is your peace.

“What other names did you have picked out for Carter?”

You bite your lip. “We didn’t have any other boys' names.”

“And if he’d been a girl?” He’s still enthralled with your stomach as if there’s been an enchantment cast over it.

“Sarah.”

His head snaps up.

“Tommy and I talked about her a lot when I was pregnant. She was on my mind… being a part of Sarah’s life made me realize I wanted a family… even in this world where I had no right to do so.”

You keep playing with his hair. His eyes go glassy making you wonder what memory is playing behind his eyes. You stay like that until Joel is ready to talk. Eventually, he sits up, clearing his throat. His lips touch yours.

“What about Willa?”

You tilt your head to the side. You don’t really see how it’s any different than Willow, but you’re not going to bring that up. “I like it.”

“And Miles for a boy.” His smile returns. He doesn’t tell you that he’s positive you’re having a girl.

“Miles is an old man's name!”

“Good, then he’ll grow to be an old man.”

You take in a sharp breath. It’s just an offhand comment, but it carries so much weight. It’s a stark reminder of the heaviness of the world, and the twinge of guilt you feel bringing another child into it.

Joel takes your hand, kissing your palm. You see it in his eyes too. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’tve-”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers comb through his hair. He leans into your touch. His grays are more noticeable than they were a year ago, but the brown still outnumbers them.

“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” he asks.

“I don’t know… I- I haven’t really let myself think about it until today.” It's true. The fact of the matter is you’re within a month of your due date. You and Joel are so close to welcoming this baby into the world and are wildly unprepared.

“We’re getting close… We need a crib.”

“The one I used for Carter is in the attic.”

“I can bring it down in the morning.”

“I need to get some baby clothes. I traded all of Carter’s.”

“Looks like we have a bunch of work to do, Mama,” Joel smiles, kissing your forehead. He still hasn't told you about the swaddles and onesies tucked in the back of his drawer, but it seems you’re finally ready for them.

You cock your head to the side, contemplating the nickname. There’s a mix of emotions with it. You’re already a mother. Joel is a father, but this is a life you’re bringing in together. It’s uncharted territory for both of you. Sarah’s mom was out the door before she was six months old. Neither of you have done this part with a partner before.

A sharp knock on the front door pulls your mind from its wandering. Joel’s brow furrows, rolling out of the bed. People don’t knock on your door often. They usually barrel right in, unless it’s bad. Your stomach drops.

Joel is out of the bedroom, shrugging on a shirt. Dina’s voice calls through your home. “Hello?” She sounds worried, desperate.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed. It takes more time to stand these days. If you try too quickly, your head rushes making you feel dizzy.

“Dina? What’s wrong?” Joel’s at the bottom of the stairs now, but his voice carries. You have to stop at the top of the stairs to catch your breath.

“Ellie is gone.”

You freeze, grabbing the railing for stability. “What?”

Joel turns around, worry etched in his face. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She mentioned something about the Fireflies and a hospital, but she wouldn’t talk to me.” You make out the flicker of hurt in Dina’s face. Those two tell each other everything, or most things. You’re not sure Ellie has told her about her immunity. You all keep that one pretty close to your chests.

“Shit,” Joel mumbles. He glances between you at his back and the front door in front of him. You see the push and pull. He needs to go after her. He needs to be here for you.

His eyes settle on you. Your hand settles on top of your swollen belly. He’s looking for permission. You want to give it, but what if he’s needed here before he gets back.

“She’s been off lately. I don’t know why. She won’t talk to me.” Dina seems to sense the silent conversation going on. “I can go after her, but-“

“No, I need to go.” Joel swings back toward the teenager, both hands placed on his hips. You try to bite back the panic rising inside you. He’ll be fine. They’ll both be fine. “Do you know when she left?”

“Probably sometime before the sun came up. Shimmer isn’t in the stable.”

Joel lets out a ragged sigh, hands running over his face. You try to keep the tears away, your hormones making it difficult.

“Will you let Maria know I’m going after her? I need to pack.”

Dina nods, her eyes flickering up to you before she’s gone in a flash of dark curls. Joel turns around, hand resting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You swallow and walk back into the bedroom.

It’s silent at first, nothing but the sounds of draws opening and closing and the soft slaps of his leather saddle bags. You sit in silence at the edge of your bed, chewing on your lip as you watch him. Ellie needs him. It echoes on repeat in your brain.

“I can probably catch her. We’ll be back in two weeks if I don’t.”

You stare down at your ever growing belly. You could easily be pregnant when he returns, but what if you’re not? You’re fairly certain you’ll have this baby sooner rather than later, but Ellie needs him too.

“Why does she want to go back to Salt Lake?”

Joel freezes for a second, like he’s contemplating his answer. It sets an uneasy feeling in your bones. “I don’t know. Maybe she thinks some of the Fireflies are still there? That this whole cure business is still an option?”

You nod, thoughts drifting to her face when you looked at her blood a couple months ago. She looked desperate. You hadn’t seen her like that before. It was almost unnerving, like the need to be needed by humanity had returned tenfold. It made you wonder if you’d been there for her enough these past few months.

“I have to go after her.”

There’s a desperation you don’t quite recognize in Joel’s eyes, sending a thread of dread through your body. Is he leaving something out? Not telling you something? You nod, biting your lip. “I know.”

He lays his hand on your bump, fingers stretching out over it. “We’ve got time.”

You nod. “Hurry back, and be safe, okay?”

Joel kisses your forehead. “Always.”

He rides out thirty minutes later.

You try to stay busy while they’re gone, cleaning the clinic and the house thrice over as the nesting and anxiety sets in. You ask Tommy to get the crib out of the attic as you prep the corner of your bedroom for the baby, wiping it free from the dust and cobwebs.

Maria hosts a small get together for you pulling together some semblance of a baby shower, something you hadn’t had with Carter. It's nice, but you feel like they skirt around the questions nagging in their brains. Where did Ellie and Joel go? Will they be back in time? You don’t have answers. You have the same fucking question. Will they be back?

The braxton hicks kick up, so much so you think you’re in labor ten days after Joel rides out. The fear that courses through your body is so paralyzing that you just lay in bed. Your body tenses with the memory’s of Carter’s labor. It’s not the physical pain of it, but the emotional rollercoaster you went through, alone. You’re not supposed to do this alone this time.

Then, the contractions stop with no explanation and you fall into a restless sleep. You miss Joel, his warmth and comfort. His unspoken love that fills the room. You’re becoming more comfortable with the idea of it.

You miss Ellie too, worried about what she’s going through. Providing it’s still vacant, Salt Lake won’t hold any answer for her. What lengths will she go to? How many miles will she travel in search of answers you believe don’t exist? How will she handle reality?

You see the differences in Carter too. In his mind, Ellie and Joel have always been here. Two weeks without them feels like a lifetime to him, and to you.

On day twelve, your front door flies open as you come down the stairs. Ellie bursts through looking frantic and frazzled. Her short cropped hair sticks up in certain places. Dirt smudges her forehead. You’re too relieved to see her to worry about her appearance. If anything, it’s expected after two weeks of travel, but your relief is short lived.

“Did you know?” She yells. The door stays wide open behind her, rage flaming in her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you know?”

“Know what?” You step toward her, reaching out, but she backs away like a wild animal.

“He killed them! All of them!”

“Killed who? Ellie, take a deep breath.”

“Joel! He killed the fireflies! They had a cure!”

Your breath catches. It’s not that Joel has killed people. You know about the years he spent as a raider. You know the cost of surviving in this world, but this isn’t the story you have been told about Salt Lake. When you asked him why she would go back, he lied. He knew. Knew the story hadn’t lined up in Ellie’s mind.

“So he lied to you too!”

“Ellie!” Joel is stern as his frame fills your doorway.

She spins around, the week of silence she spent next to him on the road back, wrath bubbling over and focused on him. “Tell her! Tell her, Joel!” She steps toward him. “Tell her what you did!” She shoves against his shoulders.

“Ellie…” He repeats her name, softer this time.

“Don’t do that!” She turns back to you, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They were going to make a cure from me, and you stopped them! You slaughtered them!”

“They were going to kill you!”

Your eyes widen, and it makes sense. Why Joel hasn’t talked about it. Why he needed to go after her. Why Ellie feels so useless. She’d been promised the cure. He’d taken that from her with a facade of an excuse.

“You should have let them!” Ellie screams until she pushes past him, rushing out of your house.

Joel lets out a sigh, defeat evident across his features. You can’t even enjoy their homecoming, their safety, your head spinning too much.

Joel shuts the door behind him, stepping closer like he’s expecting an embrace, but you step back, a mother’s anger building in your bones. He looks surprised. “Sweetheart…”

“You lied to her.”

“I protected her.” Joel’s eyes narrow. He’s tired and irritable. Neither of you expected a fight to ensue the moment he got home. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You’ve watched her struggle with this for years!”

“They were going to kill her!”

“Have you listened to anything she’s said?”

You almost don’t recognize the Joel in front of you. He looks like a shell of the assured, warm man you know. You wonder if this is the version of Joel Tommy used to speak of. The one Joel has told you about during those late night chats when you spilled the depths of yourselves to each other, or you thought you had. The one who floated through his days, barely living.

“I couldn’t lose her!”

“Except you did!”

Joel straightens, shoulders setting in denial. “She’s alive! That’s what matters.”

“You’re missing the point!”

“You’re saying I should have let them go ahead with it! Let them cut open her head for a cure you don’t believe is possible!”

Fire blazes in Joel's eyes. You see it. There’s no rationalizing with him about this. In his eyes, there were no choices to be made. He did the only thing. It doesn’t matter what else he has to sacrifice, she’s alive and that’s all that matters. “That’s not-”

He scoffs, cutting you off. You see the pain and hurt ripple through his body, causing him to step back from you. “Sure sounds like it.”

“Joel!”

“Don’t.” He yanks the front door open. “I can’t be here right now.”

He disappears across the threshold in the blink of an eye leaving you with a mountain to process and a growing tension across your stomach.

Joel knows he’s in the wrong. He knows he shouldn’t have lied to Ellie, held the truth from you. He’s a grown man, of course he knows what’s right and wrong, but that admittance doesn’t do anything to calm him. He needs to get out. Out of the house. Out of the walls into the open. It doesn’t matter that he just came from two weeks out there.

He sneaks over the wall with more ease than he should be able. Instantly, he feels the tightening in his chest begin to ease. He paces the outside of the wall like a caged animal, the series of events reeling through his mind. He doesn’t realize how much he’s been pushing it back since they left Salt Lake. Her words, her pleas, over and over. She’d given him every opportunity to tell her the truth and he kept the lie going.

There was no cure. The words he’d utter to her after they found that couple, one dead the other infected while out on patrol.

He’d almost told her, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t risk it.

His pacing becomes more frantic as he remembers the fear he felt at the thought of losing Ellie, the fear that pushed him into wiping away every firefly that crossed his path. The same fear that put lies in his mouth before he had time to think, that kept him from telling her the truth. He knew this would happen one day, but hadn’t been enough. He’d kept it from everyone, including you.

Tell me, she had pleaded with him, begged him and he still felt the pull to replace his lie with another.

She’d had to poke and prod to get the words from his mouth. Had to threaten to leave before she got the truth. That hurt almost as much as the fallout. Everyone thought he was a better man than he actually was. Ellie, you, himself, but when it came down to it. He failed that test. Good men don’t make someone threaten to leave to get the truth.

I’ll go back, but we’re done.

Joel wears a path in the fresh grass beneath his feet, letting the spring chill take over when the sun sets, leaving him in darkness. Ellie had kept her word. He’d never heard her stay quiet for so long. The loss had begun to settle in with her riding next to him.

Joel’s muscles ache from two weeks out on the road. He misses you and Carter. He hasn’t even touched you yet. Will you let him?

Getting over the wall from the outside proves more difficult than it had the first time. Which is a good thing, but had Joel feeling every one of his 59 years. Embarrassment creeps over his cheeks with each step toward your home. The one he shares with you, but he feels like a guest as he climbs the steps. He doesn’t catch a glimpse of you or Carter or anyone else through the windows.

The house is silent when he enters, no signs of life except for the faint buzzing of light bulbs. His brow furrows. You wouldn’t have left the lights on if you weren’t home. Then a faint sound comes from upstairs, movement at the very least. He follows it, placing his hand on the closed bedroom door before cracking it open.

Soft groans come from behind the cracked bathroom door followed by a whispered curse. Maria's voice follows. Joel’s throat drops into his stomach. His boots echo off the wood floor as he crosses the room. “Sweetheart?” he calls, staying on his side of the door. “Is everything alright?”

“Joel? Get in here,” you groan out.

It sends some reassurance through him to hear you so clearly before he swings the door open. His eyes go wide at the sight of you in the tub, sweat staining your skin as Maria kneels next to you. “Shit, are you?”

“Make yourself useful and hold my hand.”

He nods, kneeling beside you. Maria stands, grabbing a few instruments from the bathroom sink, she gives Joel a look that lets him know you’re near the end of labor. Your baby will be here in minutes. It sends a rush through him. “I’m sorry, Darlin.”

You grab onto his hand tightly. It’s wet from the bathwater sloshing around you as you fight to get comfortable. It’s a useless pursuit, but it doesn’t keep you from trying. “Can we do the apologizing later? I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

“Yes,” Joel takes a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. He squares his shoulders next to you, giving an air of assurance you know he doesn’t have. “I’m here for whatever you need.”

“I think you missed most of it.”

“Not that you’ve had much to miss,” Maria says, stern. She pissed at him, which is more than fair given everything. You’d had some time to explain what happened. “We tried to find you. Her labor progressed pretty quick.”

“Speaking of which-” You let out a gasp, face twisting in pain. “I think the baby is crowning.”

“She must be in a hurry,” Joel says.

“She?”

“Just a hunch.” Joel smiles, kissing your head.

For the next few minutes, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Your fight never happened because there’s only one thing on your minds, bringing your baby into the world. The world goes silent again, but not in a bad way. A way that makes you feel at peace, Joel’s warm hand in yours. It doesn’t take long until she announces her arrival with a fiery scream once Maria pulls her out of the water.

You hold her close, tears of relief gathering in your eyes. Joel leans in, his forehead pressed to your temple, arms wrapping around you and your daughter as she pulls air into her lungs.

“You did great, Sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair as he kisses your cheek, cupping your daughter’s head. “She’s beautiful.”

Your eyes flicker between him and your newborn. It’s the moment you’ve been envisioning for months, the one you thought you’d get with Gabe when Carter was born. A little piece of you mends. Your child soothes against your skin.

After you’re both cleaned up, Joel helps you into bed, then settles beside you. She sleeps in your arms, tiny fist clenched around one of Joel’s fingers still curled up in your softest bath towel. You brush her cheek softly.

“I believe we decided on Willa Peace?”

“Did we?” You tilt your head to the side, a grin verging on your lips. “I thought we weren’t hippies.”

Joel shrugs, tracing your shoulders. “I had a lot of time to think about it the past couple of weeks.”

“Joel…”

Dirt still traces over his face. He hasn’t had time to clean off since he got back. You catch the faint smell of sweat on his clothes and skin. “I know.”

“I would have done the same thing to save her. You know what I think about cures.” You keep your gaze on your child. It only reminds you what you brought her into. “You lied to her over and over when she needed the truth.”

“I was trying to protect her.”

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I know.”

“This only works if we’re open with each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” You bite your lip. “I’m going to need some time with this one.”

Joel nods, arm wrapping around you. “I know.”

You lean into him, enjoying the quietness that surrounds the three of you.

“Willa Peace Miller,” You smile. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“Yeah.” Joel hums beside you. “Can’t believe she’s actually here.”

“And we’re both okay.”

He nods, and neither of you can tear your eyes away from the precious little being in your arms. You hang on every rise and fall of her chest, everything micro movements, the soft flutter of her eyes that never quite open. It all feels so fragile, so sacred.

You remember similar moments with Carter. When the grief and the world got too loud, you would lay on the floor or bed with him on your chest asleep. The weight of his small body was a tether that kept you from flying away.

Even in this moment, as your heart inexplicitly expands, you feel that thread of fear winding itself through your body. Another person to love and protect. Another person to keep from the jaws of the world. Another person you can’t bear to lose.

“You know,” you say, pulling Joel’s attention. “If you were ever gonna pull those baby clothes and blankets out of your drawer, now would be the time.”

His brow furrows and then eases with realization. “How long have you known they were there?”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I washed them the next time you went out on patrol. I wasn’t going to leave those filthy things in your drawer.”

“You were going through my things, I see.”

“Next time don’t try to hide something in your drawer from the person who washes your clothes.”

Joel laughs, easing out of the bed to fetch the items from the drawer. “Got it, I’ll be sneakier next time.”

“Can you get the onesie with the yellow flowers?” You bite back a smile. He doesn’t know how you often pulled the drawer open and just gazed upon the items. It helped you visualize it all even when the fear threatened to take over. Another child, and here she was. You’d been most drawn to the little yellow flowers.

Joel laughs, grabbing the onsie and the swaddle with little yellow flowers to match. You’re gentle with her as you work the small article of clothing over her tiny body. It’s a bit baggy, but you can’t complain. It just means she can wear it for longer. She sleeps through all the jostling as if she’s fully absorbed her middle name.

She’s settled back into your arms when a soft tap echoes on your door. “Mommy?” Carter’s voice comes through muffled.

“You can come in.”

The door flies open as your son bursts through the door, grin spread wide on his face. Ellie stands behind him, looking like the space might envelope her.

“Aunt Maria said I have a baby sister.”

“You want to meet her?” you ask.

Carter nods eagerly, dashing toward your bed. Joel catches him before he can jump onto the bed beside you and potentially on you.

“Daddy!” Carter’s eyes go wide. He hasn’t seen Joel in almost two weeks.

Joel laughs, arms tightening around the boy. “Hey, bud.”

Your eyes meet Ellie’s. Her eyes are red, bags deep underneath. You motion her next to you. She hesitates before sliding onto the bed beside you. She’s timid, keeping to the edge, eyes flicking over you and Willa.

“You can get closer.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I never got to hug you earlier.”

She looks down, eyes scanning over your comforter like she’s reliving her homecoming. Once she’s close enough, your arm slips around her shoulders, tugging her close. She nuzzles into your side like a child seeking comfort. “You’re alright?” she asks.

“Yeah… we both are.” You say, kissing the top of her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“But I’m still sorry you’re going through this.”

Ellie seems to sink into your further, eyes pinned to Willa. She doesn’t answer you. She doesn’t look at Joel as he sinks next to you with Carter, but you feel her tense when he does.

“What’s her name?” Ellie asks.

“Willa,” you reply.

“Baby Willa.” Carter grins proudly.

And the five of you sit there together in silence. You try to push it out of your head that it’s the last time you all might be together for a while. Even now, you feel the underlying anger rolling through Ellie’s body. This is a wound that’s been festering. It’s going to take time to heal.

Eventually, Ellie slips from your side without a word to leave. She’s barely out the door when Joel goes after her.

“Ellie,” Joel says, catching her on the front porch.

Her head whips around, expression set in stone. “I’m here for them, not you.” She keeps her voice low to not be overheard by nosy neighbors. “They’re my family. Do you understand?”

Joel’s apology catches in his throat. He’s been apologizing the whole way back from Salt Lake. He knows there’s nothing he can say to rush this process. He made a decision, and these are his consequences. “Yeah… I got it.”

“Good.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else.

The bed is empty next to you, the sheets cool to the touch. Your eyes blink open. Cool moonlight shines through the window. You glance at the bathroom door. No light shines through the crease. Joel’s name is on your lips, interrupted by his voice.

“Do you like the butterflies?”

You turn to your side. Joel sits next to the crib, talking to Willa. She’s awake, moonlight reflecting off her big eyes. She’s content and still.

“Your big sister liked butterflies. When they come out in the summertime, I feel her around me.”

She stares at Joel, mesmerized by his voice. Your eyes float upward to the mobile Joel made. He hadn’t explained it to you, but you already knew. Sarah had pinned them all throughout their Austin home. You keep one stuck to the window above the kitchen sink. There’s one tucked in his nightstand drawer.

“I think she sent you to me.” He lets it sit there, contemplating the weight and depth of what he said. “I think she sent you to me, your momma, Ellie, I suppose she’s your big sister too, Carter. All of you.

“Her name was Sarah. She would have loved you.” He chuckles. “She used to ask me for a baby brother or sister. I didn’t know your momma yet… Well, I guess I did, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.”

You stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Joel’s eyes lock on yours. He smiles, shooting you a wink. He looks younger under the moonlight, more at ease. The creases in his skin are less apparent.

“Your momma, she’s quite a bit younger than me.” The smile stays pinned to his face. “It’s not so creepy now- least that’s what she tells me- but it would’ve been then, and I was a decent fella back before the world went to shit. Besides, between you and me.” He leans closer to Willa’s ear, but his eyes are still on you. “Your momma had a pretty big crush on me back then.”

You groan, heat flushing your cheeks. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is. You chuck his pillow at him. Joel catches it, laughing. It’s the kind that sits deep in one’s chest and bubbles up with the purest kind of joy. You can’t help but smile.

He slowly stands, grunting as he does. You hear the familiar pop of his joints. He leans into the crib. You notice Willa’s eyes have fallen shut. “I love you, my little wildflower.” He kisses her cheek before falling back into bed next to you.

His arm wraps around your waist. Pulling you close, he steals a kiss on your forehead. “I’m getting too old to sit on the floor like that.”

“You’re getting too old to have a newborn, yet here we are.” Your fingers run through his hair.

“Still can’t believe she’s here… you’re both healthy.”

“Neither can I.” You glance back at the crib. She’s just a few days old and already, you can’t imagine life without her.

Tears well at the corner of your eyes. Your heart has grown so much. You thought you couldn’t open it to more people, yet here you are. The you of 4 years ago would be too terrified of losing this life to give it a chance, the price of pain too high. Yet here you are, embracing it, taking that risk, because this is living, and the love and belonging far outweigh the potential for pain even as it grows with every passing day. You fell into the trap,and it’s a crowded one, but it’s a happy one.

Joel kisses your cheek. “You should get some sleep before she wakes up hungry.”

“Mmm,” you hum as his hands move soothingly over your back. “Someone not named Willa woke me up.”

Joel chuckles. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.”

But even now you feel your eyelids getting heavier.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“About?”

You let your eyes fall shut as Joel massages out a knot in your back. You lean into it. “About Sarah sending us to you.”

“I did.” He kisses your forehead.

Taglist: @pedrotonin @amyispxnk @joeldjarin @ilovepedro @justagalwhowrites

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#woman (joel miller)#joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories #ppcu fanfiction #em's fics

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beyondthesefourwalls · 1 year

Text

Remember You Even When I Don't (11-Epilogue)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 2.2K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: The end of an era! I hope you all enjoy.

A special shoutout to @roosterforme and @mak-32. Em is the one who encouraged me to make the one shot this was originally supposed to be into a full length story, and without these two constantly encouraging me, I promise this wouldn't be half the story that it turned out to be. Love ya, ladies!

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As it turns out, your first wedding had been a quick, private affair. The judgment the two of you received from moving as quickly as you did had made you decide early on in your engagement that a big, pompous wedding wasn’t for you. And really, you didn’t care about any of that anyway. The rumblings of a potential deployment or change of station had you moving even quicker and on a Wednesday afternoon in late summer, the two of you were married by a justice of the peace on the National Mall in DC, the Washington Monument in the background. You had wild flowers threaded through your hair and a lacy white dress and there were tourists in the background of almost all of your pictures. Despite all of that, it was still categorized as one of the best days of his life, but the second time would be different.

Bradley wanted you to have everything you ever wanted this time, but you had been insistent that there was no need for a grand event. Wedding venues with short notice were hard to come by in San Diego and you didn’t want to get married on the beach. When Mav had suggested his hanger, you had lit up at the idea. The next few months had been a whirlwind of ordering catering and finding flowers, constructing arches and finding tables and chairs to rent and stringing twinkle lights from the ceiling - so, so many twinkle lights. But it had all been worth it once he saw the awe on your face as you walked around the open space the night before your vow renewal. The hanger was almost unrecognizable, and even though the ring was already on your finger, he couldn’t wait to marry you here tomorrow.

You don’t sleep apart the night before, but he leaves early that morning to meet Mav and the rest of the guys from the Dagger Squad. You’ll be spending the morning with Nat and Coyote’s wife and a few of your other close girlfriends, and the kiss he gives you in the doorway to the garage is long and slow.

“We’re getting married today,” you whisper against his lips.

“Again.”

You laugh at his response, getting lost in his kiss. His phone dings in his pocket and he knows it’s the groupchat asking where he is, not for the first time. He pulls away from you reluctantly.

With a sigh, he slips his ring off his finger and hands it to you. Your nose crinkles in protest, but you do the same with yours. He sees how you flex your fingers the moment you do, not used to being without them.

“I still don’t get why you want to exchange rings again,” you mutter without any heat. Bradley kisses your forehead, lifting your left hand to his and then placing a kiss to your ringless finger. You shiver despite yourself and he smiles.

“Because I want to enjoy putting it back on you, Pumpkin.”

There’s really nothing you can say to that, but you roll your eyes fondly anyway, pressing forward for one more kiss.

The morning and early afternoon go by quickly. He plays a round of golf with the guys and then they all help him with ensuring his surprise for you is completely good to go for the next day. He steps back at one point, watching as his friends, his family, work and laugh together, genuinely happy to be here for this day, for him and the two of you, and feels his heart swell. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that this is his life.

He doesn’t wear his dress whites like he did the first time. Instead, as afternoon fades away and guests start arriving, he changes into the blue suit you had told him was your favorite. He forgoes the tie, leaving the top button of his white shirt undone, and the early spring sun is just starting to set as he takes his place at the end of the makeshift aisle. His breath catches in his throat when you finally appear at the other end.

It feels like it takes you forever to make it to him, but when your hand finally slips into his, the nervous energy that had been building in the last hour fades back into the normal excitement he always feels in your presence.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you whisper right back, the moment just for the two of you, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Isn't it? You come here often?”

Your smile tugs into something of a smirk, and your eyes flash with mischief, “Just twice now,” you say, “hoping we don’t have to do this again anytime soon if we can help it.”

Bradley can’t help the laugh that he lets out, uncaring of all the people watching them from their seats, waiting for them to get started. He likes that you’re in a place where you can tease him about this now.

“I’m not going to make a habit of this,” he assures you. You squeeze his hands, and he knows that combined with the bright smile on your face, it’s your way of saying that even if he did, you’d be there at the end of the aisle walking toward him every time.

The officiant clears his throat, asking if you were ready to begin. As the man starts the ceremony, you send Bradley a wink, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop the giddy laughter bubbling in him at how damn happy he is to be here.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from you the entire time, wanting every single moment ingrained in his brain forever; every smile, every word, every tear, everything. He doesn’t make it through the vows without crying, and neither do you, but you hold his hand the whole time and wipe away some of his tears with the pad of your thumb. When it’s your turn to speak, he thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest as you read the words you had written to him.

When it comes time to slip your ring back on your finger, it feels like you’re completely alone out here on this runway. He doesn’t exactly remember doing this before and it feels like the first time and he vows that no matter what happens, he’ll never, ever forget it.

You’re both practically vibrating after that, a smile so wide his cheeks are starting to hurt that’s reflected on your face, too, and he doesn’t hesitate when he’s finally given permission to kiss you. He dips you as the small crowd cheers loudly in the background. He can barely kiss you because of how much the two of you are smiling, but you more than make do.

“I love you,” he promises, an oath he’ll never break. You caress his face as he holds you.

“I love you too. Every part of you, sweetheart.”

—---------

He wakes you up early the next morning. Your face crinkles in protest and you move to burrow back under the safety and warmth of your blankets. With a soft, fond laugh, Bradley pulls the covers away from you completely.

“Baby,” you groan, “it’s not even light outside yet. We barely even just fell asleep.”

You’re right. It had been almost midnight when the two of you finally slipped away from the reception, the party still going strong. It was after two when you finally went to sleep, both of you basking in the afterglow and pressed against one another, and it was only nearing five now. “I know,” he says, rubbing your bare hip gently, “but you gotta wake up. I have a surprise for you.”

You crack an eye open at that and he chuckles again. “What kind of surprise?”

“Get up and I’ll show you. Dress comfy. You can sleep on the way.”

“On the way?”

He winks at you, standing from the bed and walking toward the door, already dressed and ready to go. You call after him, wanting to know where you’re going, but he makes his way down the stairs without a word; he knows the curiosity will keep you awake and moving.

You join him in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in leggings and your favorite oversized Eagles sweatshirt. He’s struck for a moment, remembering how beautiful you were to him that first day in the hospital in the same outfit, when he didn’t remember you but he knew you. It seemed like so long ago and it blew him away how far you’ve come together in just six months.

You fall back asleep almost as soon as he pulls out of the driveway, tucked against his side in the Bronco. Music plays quietly from the radio but it’s the sound of your breathing that really keeps him company during the drive back to the hanger in the desert. You stir awake when he puts the vehicle in park, looking around with tired, bleary eyes.

“Are we here to clean up?” you ask through a yawn as Bradley helps you out, closing the door behind you. He shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you walk toward the building. He stops right before the runway becomes visible, looking down at you.

“I thought maybe we could watch the sunrise together.”

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically. “We couldn’t do that from our backyard?”

A grin tugs at his lips and he shakes his head. “Not from the clouds, we can’t.”

You only look confused for a moment before realization hits you and you gasp loudly, suddenly looking wide awake. “It’s ready?”

“It’s ready,” he confirms. “What do you say, Pumpkin? Want to be the very first passenger?”

He laughs when instead of responding with words, you squeal and grab his hand, taking off running toward the other side of the building. His newly finished, flight-ready Cessna is there waiting in the lightning of the early morning. He was starting to see the faintest hint of orange in the skyline and knew time was of the essence.

He helped you into the aircraft carefully and climbed in behind you. He went through the necessities easily, knowing that Mav had already done all the mandatory preflight checks when he brought the plane out before dawn.

He slips your headset on you with a fond smile, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb. He double checks your seatbelt one more time, stealing a kiss before straightening in his seat.

“You ready?” He asks. You nod rapidly. With a deep breath, he begins to ease the four seater forward. Within moments, the two of you are airborne, leveling out with the clouds. The sky is beginning to streak with pinks and shades of orange and hearing you gasp in awe at the view from this high up is added to his list of favorite things, all alongside other memories of or with you.

“Do me a favor?” he asks after a few minutes of silence. You pull away from watching the sky out of the window, turning your head toward him instead.

“Anything.”

He’s already smiling, so excited to show you. “Look inside your wedding band for me.”

Your eyebrows knit together, but you follow his request anyway, slipping the jewelry off your finger and holding it close to your face to look on the inner surface. You let out a small gasp when you see words that hadn’t been there before.

You turn it as you read, the inscription taking up almost the entire surface of the inside of the ring he had originally given you years ago. He had managed to find someone to do a same day service to make sure it was done and ready from the time he left the house yesterday to the time he said I do in the evening, and the extra charge was worth the way your lips parted and your eyes filled with tears.

“Do you like it?” he asks, wanting that validation even though your eyes, always so expressive, conveyed just how much you did. Instead of answering right away, you leaned over, straining against your seatbelt to press a quick kiss to his lips, mindful of the fact that he was still flying the plane.

“I love it. I love you.”

You study the ring again, pinching it between your thumb and pointer finger of both hands to avoid dropping it, treating it like it’s something precious because he knows that, just as he views his, to you it is.

He had accepted that he may never get all of his memories back. He may live with tingles in his brain and flashes of remembrance, living with unknown gaps for the rest of his life. It had frustrated him at first, but he had made peace with it. He knew that no matter what, you’d be here beside him, filling in what he was missing and making brand new memories along the way. Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was the way he felt about you; it wasn’t something he had ever been able to truly forget. He planned on making sure you knew that every single day, and if he was ever not there to tell you, the words resting against your finger would do it for him.

Remember you always, love you twice.

-----

Series Masterlist :: Spin Off One Shots :: Main Masterlist

Notes: What a journey this has been!! I can't tell you how much I appreciate every single person who has commented, reblogged, or liked this little story of mine. I hope it was everything that you wanted it to be. I'm so sad that we're already at the epilogue, but I'm so excited at potentially writing more for these two! I have a few one shots in the works for their story before Bradley's accident. If there's anything specific you'd like to see, please feel free to drop in my asks or inbox.

Tag List: @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

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@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @eclecticfashionbookszipper - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @topaz125 - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @littlemiss-n - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @aj-weekend - @wolfiealina - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @caitlin222 - @vabeachazn - @phantomxoxo - @letsgomamas - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @slippinginto-theairwaves - @winterrebel04

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myoddessy · 1 year

Text

out with the old, in with the new | w2s/harry lewis

summary —new accounts, new lifestyle, new clubs every night. an insight into just what—and who—youtube's non-youtuber it girl got up to during her split from harry

*once again following the lead of @whoetoshaw and her bog universe's iconic breakup era ALSO, one of the twitter threads is rlly grainy and I'm sorry abt that, i couldn't properly fix it so you have to just zoom in on it 😭

2023, January

2018, July.

liked by zoeleonards, taliamar, masonmount, and 11, 824 others

yourusername lay all your love on me 🌻🍹☀️

tagged: zoeleonards, chloemitchells

zoeleonards london reality, greece fantasy 💔😞

yourusername ibiza couldn't come sooner!

wroetominter OMGOMG IVE DREAMED ABOUT YOU RETURNING TO SOCIAL MEDIA

ynfan omg shes glowing 🤩🤩

chloemitchells mykonos has never looked better 🤤😍😘

yourusername love u, lover girl 😘😘 ❤️❤️

2018, August.

liked by chloemitchells, tobjizzle, leahwilliamson, and 20,349 others

yourusername snuck behind a dj booth and had a blast, had a few more shots than I should've, fell more in love with my girls. ibiza, you will forever be famous 🍾✨️

zoeleonards it was nice having the hotel room to just myself and Chloe for a bit x 🤣🤭

ynfangirl DOES THIS MEAN THE MASON MOUNT RUMOURS ARE TRUE??

chloemitchells @ynfangirl who's that? never heard of him 🤷‍♀️

ynloverrrr it HAS to be true

freyanightingale beautiful girl ❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

sidemenfav the way that her, freya, and talia still like each others posts and support each other 💔

liked by yourusername, taliamar, and freyanightingale

ynandharry tobi likes every one of her posts, too. they really are family no matter what 😭

2019, January

liked by pierregasly, zerkaa, mabel, and 30,568 others

yourusername we're able to have semi-classy girls trips, who knew?

tagged: zoeleonards

chloemitchells gutted I couldn't make it, I miss u two beautiful girls 😭❤️

yourusername CHLO!!! it wasn't the same without you, babe xx

zoeleonards I missed placing bets on who y/n was gonna make a move on 💔

yourusername IM NOT THAT BAD ZOË JESUS

chloemitchells yeah, give her some slack... it's usually placing bets on who's gonna make a move on her 😉

ynfanpage queen we need tips on how to live our best lives because you are teaching us all rn

yourusername 1) the only long term relationship you need to focus on is the one with yourself. 2) surround yourself with people you love and support & who will love and support you. 3) learn to not give a fuck what anyone else things because everyone's too busy in their own heads to care ❤️❤️

taliaminterr how is your life so aesthetic?? irl gossip girl vibes!!

yourusername babe trust my life doesn't look like this day to day, I only show the fun bits. rn it's 4am and I've got four day old greasy hair, dried mascara under my eyes (I watched UP without taking off my makeup first), and I'm eating cereal and drinking flat coke zero. I am not the standard you should aim for 😭😭

ynslover I love how open and honest she is about her content. she's actually such a good role model

liked by taliamar, freyanightingale, chloemitchells, and 19,519 others

yourusername apparently people think the party life in my photo dumps is my day-to-day? babes, if I can teach any of you one thing in life, it's that half the shit you see online is fake. half the 'candid' moments are staged, same goes for almost every picture you see. so here's a little dump of my actual reality

zoeleonards yeah guys she's actually so messy it's insane. it makes me want to move out

yourusername SHUT IT. zoë has about three different vases of dead flowers in her room because she forgets to take them out.

zoeleonards that's nothing on the old cups in your room

yourusername BLOCKING U

ynslover how does it feel to be the most relatable influencer ever even though you're not an influencer?

taliamar omg you've still got the vinyls!!

yourusername ofc, babe! I needed something to remember our days of charity shop hopping

2023, January

#harry wroetoshaw #harry x reader #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader #wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #w2s #w2s x reader #w2s imagine #sidemen #the sidemen x reader #the sidemen #social media au #talia mar #miniminter #ksi #tobjizzle #freya nightingale

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stevebabey · 1 year

Note

hiii ruby !!! congrats on ur milestone i think ur so cool and funny and ofc so so deserving :D for ❤️‍🔥 can i request forehead against forehead from prompt list 5 bc i am a sucker for it <33 thank u ily !

ahhh!!! anna you are so lovely <3 thank u sm for picking this one it opened pandoras BOX in my brain and i think this is by far my absolute favourite i've written this whole damn celebration & its bcos its, of course, friends to lovers <3 - 1.7k+

The wish is far-fetched.

You knew that from the beginning and yet, like wishes were stackable, like wishing for something over and over would improve its odds of happening, you couldn’t help yourself. Every eyelash, every time the hands of the clock line up at 11.11, you wish desperately.

Eyes scrunched closed, you wish for Steve.

You have him, of course, just not quite as you want him.

It feels selfish, the hungry feeling that rises in your chest when you look at him too long, eyes drinking in every detail you adore. Long lashes, hazel eyes, lips so pink it wasn’t fair. You want him all to yourself. These are not the usual thoughts of a best friend.

Sometimes, the yearning seems to carve out every part of you til you feel hollow inside; because you’d offer it all out to him, every piece of yourself between your cupped hands, his if he only wanted it.

You want him to want it. To want you. Badly.

So, you wish. At this point, it feels more like a habit than anything — the clock hits eleven minutes past 11 and you send a little prayer out to the universe to give you this one thing. You don’t notice how Steve notices.

He can’t quite connect the dots in the beginning, can’t see the pattern that strings together all the things he’s noticed. How from time to time, you’ll close your eyes and squint just a bit— but then, quick as it happens, it’s gone. You’ll open your eyes, look over back at him, and continue on as if nothing has occurred.

Steve doesn’t pry, even though he really wants to — the first time you notice him watching you, he raises his brows, a silent what was that? with a hope you’ll clue him in. He wants in on all your secrets. But in an instant, he can see the embarrassment creep across your features, so he drops it, waving his hand, and resumes talking, eyes back on the road ahead of him.

After a month of subtlety catching the habit of yours that he's come to cherish, the sweet scrunch of your eyes and gentle clench of your fists at your side, Steve notices the clock.

You check the clock, most of the time, before your eyes flutter closed. It happens late in the morning and close to midnight. But then again also at random intervals, at times he’s not expecting. The frustrating pattern evades him even though he’s noticing. Noticing is, infuriatingly, not enough.

It takes another month for Steve to realise you’re wishing.

He’s enamored with the habit now — especially, now he knows you’re sending little hopes, blowing on eyelashes with the fervor of a little kid. The craving to know your secrets, to be trusted with your wishes, has grown ten-fold since he first noticed. Steve notices just about everything about you now.

It’s hard not to. What started as trying to comprehend your peculiar pattern, has become... something entirely different. Steve feels helpless to do anything but admire you now. His feelings for you have become startlingly fond, borderline sappy.

The sound of your laughter and how it threads gold into his days marvels him. The colour of your eyes in the morning light. How you curl up in his passenger seat like it’s the comfiest place you’ve ever known, like you could sit there all day with him. If he asked.

He’s pretty sure his heart strayed from best friend territory the moment he figured out the wishes. Maybe, he’s fooling himself and it’s always been this way.

It’s on his mind, even as the two of you sit at the back of the Hawk theatre, some garbage Sci-Fi film flickering on the screen. Normally, the back of the cinema was unofficially reserved for couples that wanted to make-out — Steve had pulled that move on a dozen dates. Picked a cheesy romance and the cozy darkness of the back of the theatre.

This is not the same, he knows. It’s not a cheesy romance film, you’re not quite at the back, and most importantly, this is not a date.

Steve really wishes it was.

“Hey,” Your whisper shakes him from his thoughts. Steve’s gaze moves from boring into the back of the chair in front of him to your concerned face. “Y’okay?”

You’ve turned towards him, shoulders hunched over like you might disturb other people in the cinema if you’re too big. It’s silly, there’s barely anyone else in here but you and Steve. A couple people a few rows forward.

Steve nods, throat dry. You don’t look convinced, eyes narrowing for a moment as if you’ll say something when your expression shifts. You focus on something below his eye.

“What?” Steve whispers, too aware of your fixed stare. His nerves creep up, feeling a bit flushed beneath your attention. Your hand comes up, reaching out to graze across his cheek and Steve forces himself to stay still. To not melt into the touch.

“S’just an eyelash.” You whisper, still focused. Thumb moving gently as you can, you sweep the eyelash beneath his eye off his cheek. It moves an inch but remains stubbornly on his skin. You huff silently, turn his way a little more, and lean in closer to try pinch it. It takes a moment as you try your best not to pinch Steve at the same time.

When you finally snag it between your fingertips, victory comes in the form of your pleased smile. It takes another moment to realise just how close you’ve gotten to Steve. Leaned over, his breath fans over your face and you can see the film reflected in his eyes, action sequences playing far, far away.

Faintly, you think that if you had your wish already, you could lean in a few inches further and steal a kiss. You think of the eyelash in your fingertips.

The thought knocks sense back into you, blinking hard, but just as you go to pull back Steve’s eyes flash down to your lips. He licks his own, then swallows, looks back up at you. A wretched thread of hopes keeps you from pulling back just yet — desperately praying you’re not reading into nothing.

Steve doesn’t pull back. His heart has hiked so far up his throat he’s surprised he’s able to get any words out at all.

“What are you wishing for?” He croaks, too quiet. You hear it anyways.

Surprise shows on your face, lips parting and eyes widening just a moment. Steve wants you to give back the eyelash just so he can make his very own wish right now.

“How did you... know?” The last word is meek, only audible because Steve is so close. He wants to be closer. He moves an inch, recalling every single time he’s gotten the signals right in the past to keep him from losing his nerve. Tries not to think about what he might lose should he be wrong this time.

“You,” He huffs a little laugh, searching your eyes, trying to see if it’s the same hope he feels inside that he’s seeing in your eyes. “You close your eyes and wish on every 11.11. And— and eyelashes and dandelions too. You do this little squint, like you’re thinking real hard about what you want.”

Unable to help himself, Steve steals another glance at your lips as your tongue darts out to lick them nervously. His chest rises and falls a bit fast, nerves urging his pulse to run faster, faster. God, he’s nervous. Steve can’t remember ever being so nervous at the mere chance of just a kiss.

“So, what're you wishing for?” He asks again, in a whisper just for you two.

The film illuminates the side of your face, shadows dancing across the lines of your cheek. You’re beautiful, Steve thinks, achingly so. The silence twists his heart painfully. He doesn’t know you’re merely gathering your hopes to spit out the honest answer.

“You.”

You whisper the word quickly, knowing if you have a moment to think about it you’ll tuck it and all your selfish desires back away into your heart. But you ache for this moment — hunger devouring your insides with how much you want to kiss the boy before you. Enough that you’ll risk it.

It’s worth the risk.

The single word sets Steve off and he closes the distance between you in an instant, lips against yours. It’s gentle as he can manage while his heart works overtime pumping molten-hot affection into every part of his body. He feels giddy. He nearly forgets to memorise the curve of your lips, the warmth of this against his own, it feels so deliriously good to be kissing you. He thinks he’s been missing this his whole life.

You look a little dazed when Steve pulls back, lips with a sheen that catches the flashes of the cinema screen. You don’t speak, just blink and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, mind miles away. Your lack of a smile worries Steve; he feels like he could burst with how he wants to beam if this is what you want too.

He gathers his courage and presses forward again, til his forehead against yours. Tells you what he knows to be true, what you’ve been dying to hear. “You have me.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his and you give Steve a flood of relief, lips pulling into a smile. A small laugh of disbelief titters out of you, your smile transforming into a grin that betrays your utter happiness. This close, you let the want take over you and lean in to steal another kiss off his lips. He gives it to you sweetly and oh-so-willingly.

You stay this close, nose nuzzling against his, both your heads bowed to meet each other in the middle.

“I’ve been wishing on you for months,” You admit bashfully, your whisper wobbling in your embarrassment. You’re worried the enormity of your want for him will scare him off. Steve’s grin somehow gets wider, eyes somehow fonder. His voice comes out a bit scratchy, all sticky with affection.

“I think you’ve had me the whole time.”

It’s the honest truth. You’re not even mad about lost time because when he kisses you again like that, there’s no doubt that now? He’s all yours.

#DELICIO #two mutual pining besties sitting in the back of the theatreeeeee #k i s s i n g #this. i want this. i need this to happen to me #somebody SMOOCH me in ze theatre STAT #ruby writes steve #ruby's very own tour of hawkins #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington blurb #stevie blurb!#honestly might tag this as a fic lmao #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #wahooooo

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gvfmarge · 3 months

Text

My second ever fic!

I wrote this a 2am last night after some… thoughts. I don’t know how to continue it or wrap it up, I’ve never been good at endings. So here it is, I wish I knew how to make it spicier. I also have not edited this whatsoever, so please excuse any mistakes or errors.

Anyways! Hope you enjoy!

•Jake Kiszka x Reader

•18+ MDNI

•Toy play, dirty talk, ummm just filth.

Fed Up

Jake was supposed to have today off, they were supposed to have a free day and it was supposed to be your day with him. But, as it always seems to happen, he had to meet with their manager for a quick follow up that morning on something with the label; you weren’t quite sure what was going on but Jake was mad when he woke up to the phone call at 7:30. He promised he would make it quick and be home as soon as possible, between kisses and tight squeezes he promised to be home by 11am.

Sitting on your couch watching trash TV, your phone lights up with a text from him. You notice it’s already 11:15am.

Jake: We’re so close to finishing up! I’m so sorry love, I’ll be home in just a bit.

You huffed and turned your attention back towards the TV. You couldn’t pay attention to the annoying valley girl laughs or the drunken slurs that poured out of the speakers. You were fed up. The day that you had been looking forward to for weeks was halfway through and you hadn’t got to spend any of it with Jake.

Sinking down into the plush pillows your mind was wandering. You had created this beautiful day full of love between the two of you and had hoped it would end with you two wrapped around each other in bed. You started imagining the last night you were in bed together and the events that took place and your cheeks started to warm. You tried to ignore the thoughts of his hands gliding over your thighs or the sounds of his panting over top of you that night. You tried to ignore the way he looked in pure bliss with you. You knew, you hoped, you could spend tonight the same way. Your thighs twisted together and clinched to keep the deep feeling of lust away, but it was no use. You picked up the remote and turned off the TV. You aggressively picked up your phone and opened his text thread again, hoping that he maybe had texted again that he was on his way; but there was no new texts from him.

You: Okay! Let me know when you’re on your way. Love you! 😘

You watched the blue bubble swoop onto the screen and hoped that he would read it and respond immediately. But when the read receipt didn’t come after a minute or two, you gave up. You trudged your way up the wooden stairs, your feet hitting heavy after feeling defeated.

You thought maybe a nap would pass the time and would wake up to Jake waking you up and you could officially start your day with him. You fell back into the bed and stared at the ceiling fan spinning around and around. A few moments later, you rolled over to your nightstand and opened the drawer. Grabbing your vibrator, you thought it might help your nap come easier.

Rolling your eyes you quickly kicked your shorts off into the floor. You double checked your phone for the last time, making sure he hadn’t texted to let you know he was on his way. He hadn’t.

You clicked the vibrator on and slowly ran it over your stomach, around your belly button and across your hip bones. Just imagining and pretending it was Jake’s tongue licking stripes across your skin. Goosebumps rose across your legs at the feeling. You let out a deep sigh and continued down your torso, making your way with the vibrating wand down the insides of your thighs. Careful not to hit that perfect spot yet, you ran it across your mound and down the crease of your thighs. Finally giving in, you moved it into the sweet spot and let out a muffled moan. You imagined what Jake would say as he was watching you pleasure yourself with your favorite toy. “Good girl, you’re doing so well baby, you look like an angel spread out for me.” His voice echoed in your head as your breathing picked up. You were so close, your stomach was tightening and you felt your legs begin to tremble.

That’s when you heard it. The squeaky floor board at the door of your bedroom gave him away. Your eyes shot open and you sat straight up in embarrassment. You threw your vibrator in a stupid attempt to act like you weren’t just pleasuring yourself. Your eyes met his as he walked into the room, his walk pouring confidence. His eyes dark and lips turned up into a smirk. He reached you beside the bed and ran his hand down your cheek with a soft chuckle.

“Jake, I- I didn’t hear your text come through” you stuttered out. “I didn’t know you were home already.”

“Well I wanted to surprise you but I see I’m the one who got the surprise.” He grinned.

“I just couldn’t wait, I was going to try to nap but it just happened.” You sat up hastily and tried to pull your shirt down far enough to cover yourself, finding yourself embarrassed and feeling too exposed. His hand grabbed yours to stop you from covering yourself. Pushing your hand away, he lifted your shirt over your shoulders and threw it into the pile of clothes on the floor. “Keep going.” He quietly commanded.

“What?” You were shocked. You two had gotten up to some pretty wild times, but this was never one. This was new territory and pleasuring yourself in front of him, for him seemed to be too daunting.

“I want to watch you, I want to see you do what you do when I’m not home.” He sauntered to the end of the bed and pulled off his half buttoned linen shirt. Sitting down on the edge, he held out his hand in your direction, motioning for you to continue.

You cleared your throat and closed your slack jaw, grabbing your vibrator again and trying to reposition yourself to feel more comfortable again. You looked at him and his eyes felt hot on your skin. You could feel his eyes burning into you, ready to watch what unfolded in front of him.

He could sense your hesitation. It was heavy in the room. He rose onto the bed, crawling towards you on his knees. You had never felt like prey to him, you had never felt so vulnerable with him. Jake ran his fingers down your shin in an attempt to soothe your nerves. “It’s just me baby, it’s just me. I just want to see my girl.” He whispered, his demeanor changing in an instant to help bring you back out of the hole you were falling into.

You swallowed and grinned, finally feeling the confidence slipping back into you. Pressing the on button, you slowly ran the toy over your skin like you had done earlier. Teasing yourself again, you slowly made your way back to your throbbing clit. The instant the toy touched your sensitive spot, your head rolled to the side and your eyes squeezed tight. Knowing he was watching, was even more exhilarating. It felt like you hadn’t been touched in years. “There you go baby, just like that” Jake mumbled out, kissing the side of your knee.

Your moans grew louder and louder and Jake could feel your legs begin to shake. “Take it off.” He whispered. It brought you out of the blackness and your eyes popped open along with your mouth dropped wide. “I said take. it. off.” He demanded again, this time with more dominance in his voice.

You removed the toy and instantly felt the build up in your stomach disappear. “Jakkkeeee” you whined throwing your head back. He huffed a laugh and stood up, unbuckling his belt and letting his jeans slide down his legs and stepped out of them. He climbed back onto the bed, again sitting beside your legs and leaned his head against your knee. “You may continue.” He grinned, feeling so proud of himself for getting you into this predicament.

You pouted your lips at him and slowly placed your toy back onto your clit. You instantly jolted from the sensitivity. You had never felt this before, he had never edged you from orgasm before. He had never taken away the one thing he seemed to always want to give you.

Your mouth opened slowly, allowing the growing moans to escape. Your chest was heaving as that pressure began to build again, more intense than before. Your head shot up as your stomach tensed and you knew you were about to see the stars.

“Off.” He demanded once again. Tears filled your eyes and you felt like you were going to actually die from the loss of sensation. “What are you doing??” You almost yelled at him sitting up straight in a panic.

“Just trust me.” He replied, kissing your legs again and running one hand across your stomach, the other palming himself, just trying to relieve pressure for himself. “Okay, last time baby.”

You returned the toy to your clit, hoping he would let you finally finish. Finally end this game.

You were instantly floating in space. Stars flying by your body. Your hearing disappeared and you weren’t sure if sounds were coming out of your mouth. You saw black. Your body convulsed and you came, harder and harder, it seemed to never ease up. Just as you felt that maybe you were floating back down to the ground, you started to remove the toy from your body. “No, leave it there.”

You couldn’t even think, there were no thoughts coming into your head. Just screams. Just ecstasy. Pure bliss. The stars began fading and all you could seem to do was reach for anything your free hand could reach, you grabbed onto his shoulder for leverage; you felt like your whole body might turn into mush. You couldn’t make any sound now, your entire energy was being expelled through your orgasm.

“Yes baby, god I can’t even believe how perfect you are, look at your beautiful pussy fluttering, I can’t wait to feel you on my fucking dick, oh my god” His string of thoughts spilling out into the air as you felt like you had died and gone to Heaven.

“Okay baby, okay” he whispered as he moved your hand away. Your body couldn’t lay still, you had no control over your movements and you were convulsing as you curled over into your side. You felt him slide behind you, kissing every inch of your neck down onto your shoulder. He ran his hands through your hair to try and ground you again.

You were finally able to take a few deep breaths and even out your breathing. The feeling in your body slowly returned and you could finally open your eyes. You slowly rolled onto your back to see the smirk on his lips.

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka #Jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #gvf #greta van smut

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bella-rose29 · 3 months

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Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 11

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: making out to the point of hickeys and low level states of undress (don't read if you're not particularly comfortable with it, it's pretty early on and you don't really need it for the rest to make sense 👍), swearing, reader's mother (Emma) is a gem and loves teasing them, lockwood's hands (and ring), I have no idea what came over me to make me write this (I was probably thinking about his hands let's be real)

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“I just don’t understand how they never gave themselves away,” Y/n said while she and Anthony got ready for bed.

He was in the bathroom, so she’d had to raise her voice a little in order to be heard. When he didn’t respond immediately, she frowned at the closed door. “Anthony? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright, darling.” She heard shuffling and then the click of the door as it opened, and he stepped out, dressed in his pyjamas.

“Still can’t believe you have matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” she snorted, moving over to the bathroom.

“You love my matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” he called as she started brushing her teeth. “And as for how they never gave themselves away, I imagine they were all waiting for the moment they could finally breathe again. Your mother especially, did you see how tightly she hugged me earlier? I thought she might crush my ribs.”

“You’re so dramatic, Ant,” Y/n replied after spitting out the toothpaste. She washed her mouth out, flicked the light off in the bathroom, and headed for the bed. Anthony was already sat on his side, the covers pulled back for her to get in, and she curled up next to him. His arm automatically came around her body, fingers burying in the fabric of her (his) top.

“You love that too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her head. She hummed, burying her face in his chest and swinging her legs over his. The afternoon had been peaceful after Steph and Linda had finally left (although not without a lot of pointing fingers, empty threats, and slammed doors), with Y/n’s family asking questions about their relationship and wanting the real answers this time, and her father had received a call saying that the roads would be clear in the next day or so, and there was a limited train service starting up not too long after that. The storm had blown over faster than people had anticipated, but with the limited technology they had for weather readings, anybody’s guess could be the official report. They had booked tickets on the first train back in four days time, and Y/n knew that both her and Anthony were looking forward to getting back to Portland Row.

“You know,” she started, feeling her eyes start to close when he started threading his fingers through her hair. His other hand was on her thigh, just above her knee. “We should probably think about what we’re gonna do when we get back. About the whole ‘we don’t hate each other now and we’re actually dating’ thing.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Maybe we just… don’t say anything, like your family? And see how long it takes for them to bring it up?”

“Ant, why would we do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” It was a rhetorical question, and she could feel him smiling from the way his jaw shifted over her head. His fingers hadn’t left her hair, and the hand on her thigh had edged upwards slightly while they’d been talking.

“I suppose it would be quite funny, wouldn’t it?” she mused, nudging her leg further into his grip subconsciously. He hadn’t taken off the ring he always wore, and it was cold against her skin.

“See, I’m winning you over,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You missed,” she murmured, sitting up a little and opening her eyes.

“Missed?”

“Yeah.” She took his face in her hands, nudging her nose against his before kissing him. When she pulled back after a few seconds he automatically followed her, eyes still closed while he searched for her lips again. “Anthony,” she breathed, feeling his breath fan over her face. He surged forward, his grip on her thigh tightening a little while the hand that had been in her hair slid down and cupped her cheek as he kissed her. She brought her hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjama shirt and gasping when he deepened the kiss, and she thought she might pass out from how gentle yet desperate he was. She could feel it, how he was holding back and taking it slow, but the fire that burned in her needed more, making her shift in his lap so she was straddling his hips, and if she could take the sound he made when she did so and bottle it up to keep forever, she would.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered between kisses, tilting his head slightly to press his mouth to her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck.

“I hope not,” she replied, burying her hands in his hair when he kissed a spot on her neck that made her feel like she was in heaven. “I quite like having you around, actually.”

“Yeah?” He made his way back up her neck, his hand hot and searing where it sat on her thigh. She met his eyes, the half-closed lids and blown pupils combined with his swollen lips making the fire burn hotter, and kissed him sweetly.

“Yeah.” His hair was a mess, but he’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment, the golden glow of the bedside lamp highlighting his features and casting long shadows at the same time, and she threaded her fingers through the mop of hair that was starting to stick to his forehead. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. She thought she could live on the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing he had ever wanted and he needed her to breathe.

“Stay alive for me? When we get back? You can’t keep- you can’t keep being so reckless with your- your life. Anthony.” He’d trailed the hand that had rested on her cheek down her side, and had gripped her hips with both hands, his fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt she was wearing and bunching it up slightly.

“Sorry, darling.” She supposed she could forgive him when his voice was so low and hoarse, and his fingers were creeping under the top to stroke her skin. “I promise I’ll live for you.” The next kiss burned, filled with the weight of what he’d just sworn, and it was only when they couldn’t hold their breath for any longer that they finally pulled away for air. “I promise,” he whispered into her skin, dragging her closer by his grip on her waist. “I promise.” His hand was drifting upwards slowly, the cold metal of his ring a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and she knew he was waiting for her to tell him it was alright. His lips had barely left hers, and when she took her hands out of his hair to start undoing the buttons on his shirt she felt his breath hitch.

“This okay?” she asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly, leaning back in for another kiss. He was drunk on her, she was sure, but she wasn’t exactly sober herself. Eventually he decided she was moving too slowly, taking the bottom of his top into his own hands and doing it himself. The next few minutes were frantic, Anthony’s shirt discarded on the floor by the bed and hers on the way to joining it, hands travelling over skin in an attempt to know every inch of each other. When he lifted her up and laid her on her back, settling between her legs while he braced himself on one arm and held her with the other, she knew she was doomed.

~~~

The next morning, Emma was on tea duty.

She and Ben took turns making teas for the family in the morning, and as she traipsed upstairs with a full tray of mugs (after depositing two in her parents’ bedroom downstairs) she yawned, hoping that everyone was at least a little bit awake so that she could go back to bed and read her book. John was first, bleary-eyed and scratching his side like a monkey, and he took his tea with a very sleepy “Mornin’ Mum”, the door closing in her face as soon as he had a grip on the handle of the mug. Then was Sam and Will, who were being made to share, and as she had expected Will was the opposite of John, wide awake and already dressed, reading in bed with the small lamp on so that he didn’t wake Sam. “Thanks, Mum,” he’d smiled, planting a kiss on her cheek and kicking the door shut after taking his and Sam’s teas. Tom was in the library with his colouring (she had to stop and put down the plastic mat so that he didn’t accidentally colour the furniture), and he barely acknowledged her presence when she left the mug on the table nearby and told him to be careful. Olivia wasn’t awake, so Emma left the mug on her bedside table and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before creeping back out and moving on to the last room before her own.

A soft knock was normally enough to alert Y/n, telling her that the teas were ready, but when after roughly thirty seconds nobody appeared at the door, Emma frowned, balanced the tray on her hip, and gently pushed open the door. “Oh,” she whispered to herself upon seeing her eldest daughter and Anthony curled up in bed together, both sound asleep.

She’d figured that the two of them weren’t actually dating after they’d first arrived, although at the time she’d thought it was more that they were in a rough patch and were attempting to hide it. They’d argued over who was taking the suitcase in, for crying out loud! But then Anthony had gone and comforted her after Steph had made comments that forced Y/n upstairs, and Emma had been confused again. When Olivia had been helping her get dinner ready that first night, she’d put forward the idea that maybe they weren’t together, and Y/n just felt that she couldn’t turn up without a boyfriend to a huge gathering where everybody thought she was in a relationship. Then things had started making sense, like the way Y/n had looked stiff in his arms for the first few days, or how she would glare at Anthony instead of gazing lovingly at him like Emma knew she herself did with Ben.

At some point something had changed, though, because now they were apparently actually together. She, along with everyone else, had spent the afternoon yesterday questioning the young couple on pretty much everything, including why the hell they hated each other in the first place. Anthony had gone bright red, apologising profusely for his behaviour, and then Y/n had interrupted and said that she should be the one apologising, and then the pair of them had traded such love-struck looks that it made even Emma want to throw up a little. She was planning on getting the photo albums out today, since she had been so scared of revealing that she knew the truth before that she hadn’t fully settled in to the role of Embarrassing Mother. She’d wanted Y/n to feel that she could come forward in her own time, and the situation was sticky enough as it was with Steph and Linda (she frowned at the memory of how poorly her sister and niece had acted) making comments and embarrassing Y/n that Emma had taken a step back. Now, however, there was no hiding. Anthony would be seeing all of the photos of Y/n as a baby, and that was that.

She would have a field day at breakfast, too, if her assumptions were correct.

From what she could tell as she put the cups of tea on the bedside table and had a quick look around the room, neither Anthony nor Y/n were wearing tops, and in the dim light of the room she could tell that there were definitely marks on both of their necks. She smiled to herself, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s shoulder, and tiptoed out of the room.

~~~

When Anthony woke up, the first thing he thought was how comfortable he was.

He opened his eyes, rubbing lazily to try and clear away the last remnants of sleep, and he realised that Y/n was lying with her back to him and he had wrapped an arm around her waist in an effort to meld their bodies into one. Their legs were tangled together under the duvet, his pyjama-clad ones mixed with her short-wearing ones, and it was no wonder he hadn’t been able to breath too well when he’d first woken up, because his face had been buried in her neck.

Her neck.

His eyes widened as he took in the state of her skin, littered in small marks (and one or two larger ones), and he knew that he would most likely be murdered when she woke up. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the memory of last night, though, and all the kisses they had shared. They hadn’t gone much further than that, both deciding it was far too early and far too risky in a house that was shared by most of her immediate family, but Anthony could have died a happy man after that.

He wouldn’t, of course, because he’d promised her last night that he would live.

He took note then of the two mugs of steaming tea on the bedside table, and realised that someone must have come in and placed them there not too long ago. Then he realised that whoever it had been had probably seen the hickeys on Y/n’s neck. “Shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to gather strength. It would be fine. Maybe they hadn’t been able to see clearly in the darkness of the room? But then again some of them were pretty large, and there wasn’t much chance of them being missed. Y/n was going to kill him.

She was waking up now, he could tell from the way her breathing changed and her body shifted, and she stretched out her legs and twisted in his arms to face him. “Good morning, darling.”

“Mornin’ Schmoopie.”

“I thought that name was banned?”

“Banned for you. I can use it.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled into her forehead, pressing his lips to the skin in tiny kisses. “Did you sleep alright?” She hummed her assent, eyes still closed while she nestled further into him. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Best sleep I’ve had for a while.” It had felt like he’d blinked and gone from the after-effects of last night to waking up with her in his arms this morning.

“That’s good. Can I smell tea?”

“Yes, although I don’t know who it was that brought it in; I was still asleep.”

“Probably Mum,” she said, groaning and sitting up. Anthony watched her for a moment, small smile on his face as he took in her sleepy expression, then followed suit. He went to say something, but the movement of his body sitting up had pulled the duvet away and down the bed, and all thoughts went out of his head. “Shit, it’s cold in here,” Y/n hissed, putting down the mug she’d just picked up in favour of wrapping the blankets back around her torso. She paused when she realised Anthony had frozen and gone red, and frowned at the face he was making. “Are you… alright? You look a bit… I dunno. Weird.”

“What? Oh, I’m…” he swallowed thickly and met her eyes, immediately looking away again and studying the wall opposite the bed. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I’ll pass your tea over if you want it?”

“Thank you.” He still wasn’t looking at her, although he did remove his gaze from the wall to ensure he held the mug correctly, and a slightly awkward pause followed.

“You didn’t put your top back on last night.” He heard her choke on her tea and pressed his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean- I just- you-” he sighed, giving up on coming up with an excuse that would explain his previous statement.

“Of course I didn’t put it back on, I was way too warm,” she said once she’d recovered. “Wait. Were you staring at my chest?” When he didn’t answer and instead kept his gaze fixed on the tea he held she let out a laugh. “You didn’t seem bothered last night by me not wearing a top.” Now it was his turn to choke, and he had to set down his mug before he spilled the liquid. When he finally turned to look at her she had a smug grin on her face, sipping her tea while she watched him with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“That- that was different!”

“Different how?”

“I- you- it just was!” He wished the ground would swallow him up. Y/n snorted, taking a larger gulp of tea.

“I’m teasing, Anthony. You don’t have to look so terrified.” He didn’t think she would ever let him live this down. He had just taken his first drink of tea when he heard her curse softly. “Ant?”

“Yeah?” He looked over at her, brows drawing together. “What is it?” She bit her lip, eyes focused on something below his face. “Y/n?”

“You, uh… you’ve got…” she gestured vaguely to his neck, hesitating a moment before touching a finger to the skin just above his collarbone. It hit him, then, what she was referring to.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you leave marks on my neck last night?”

“… yeah?”

“Well we’re in deep shit.”

“… why?”

“I… might have done the same…” he trailed off, his voice growing quieter with every word, and she could only stare at him.

“Anthony.”

“Hmm?”

“Anthony. Please tell me you’re joking.” He didn’t say anything, instead taking another sip of his tea. “Anthony, if it was Mum that came in and did tea this morning then we are screwed because there is no way she didn’t see. Anthony answer me.”

“I’m not joking, sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile at her exasperated groan that followed, and he opened his mouth to speak again. “Although you didn’t seem bothered by me kissing your neck last night,” he said, using her earlier words against her. This time it was his turn to be smug, and he laughed when she lightly slapped his chest. “What? You rather enjoyed it from what I remember.”

“Your memory is wrong,” she grumbled, finishing off her tea.

“I don’t think it is, darling, but whatever you say.”

~~~

“Good morning love birds! Did you two sleep alright?” Emma chirped when Anthony and Y/n walked into the kitchen. She noted the slight flushed look to both of them (particularly Anthony who had gone a wonderful shade of pink that she didn’t think she’d seen before), and then the poor attempts at covering up the marks that decorated their necks.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you.” Y/n looked like a deer in headlights, sitting down on a bar stool and smiling when her father placed a plate of food in front of her. “Thanks,” she muttered, picking up a fork and digging in. Anthony was apparently dealing with everything a lot better than Y/n, already engaged in conversation with John and Sam about something while he entertained Tom at the same time. Emma was glad that he was here, especially given how stressful Steph and Linda were, and she could tell that her eldest daughter was far better off with him in her life. He really cared about her, most likely better than Emma ever had, and while it stung to think that he was doing the job that she should have done, she was happy that Y/n had someone that she lived with to rely on.

“Are you sure, dear? You look quite tired, I don’t imagine you did much sleeping.” She did feel a little bit of remorse at her teasing, but it was too funny watching Y/n squirm in embarrassment while she tried to come up with something to say. Even Anthony was blushing now from his place on Y/n’s right. Besides, this was her first experience with being the Embarrassing Mother, and if she needed to she would explain herself to her daughter later.

“Did you do tea rounds this morning?” Y/n blurted instead, her brow furrowing.

“I did… where is this going?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s fine,” she said, entirely unconvincingly.

“Right, well eat up. Anthony, I’m showing you the photo albums after breakfast!”

“Mum, please don’t, I can’t take any more of this,” pleaded Y/n, but Emma just chuckled.

“I just want him to see some of the previous Christmases we’ve had!”

“Personally,” Anthony chimed in, “I would love to see the photo albums, Emma. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the morning.” His grin could only be described as shit-eating, and Emma loved it.

She loved it even more when Y/n groaned and held her head in her hands.

~~~

“And here- what was happening here? Oh yes, she’d managed to get her head stuck in the railings of the bannister, only three years old!”

“So you took a picture before helping your three year old daughter out of the bannisters?” Y/n asked her mother incredulously, not enjoying the way Anthony was studying every single photo of her as a baby. They had already been here for roughly forty minutes, and they weren’t even a third of the way through the album.

“Well you don’t look too bothered, darling. In fact, you look like you’re having a whale of a time, look how big that smile is!”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, cuddling closer into his side. His laughter warmed her, and suddenly she didn’t mind so much that he was being promised copies of some of these photos. She knew that her mother knew about the marks on both of their necks, too, her suspicions confirmed after the whole fiasco at breakfast (there had been many more innuendos and exaggerated winks), but she didn’t mind that too much either. How could she, when Anthony was burning brighter than the sun right now, with his smile that lit up every room he walked into (or even walked past) and his easy charm? How could she be upset when he was sat so close to her, holding her to him so gently yet so tightly, as though he were afraid that at any moment she might disappear?

No, she was happy. Not about the current photo of her with cake smushed all over her face and outfit at her friend’s 4th birthday party, but generally, she was happy. Steph and Linda were gone, Anthony was here, and in a few days they would be back home with Lucy, and George, and Holly too when she came over.

For the first time in years, she was truly happy. And she could owe it all to Anthony Lockwood.

part 12 (final part)

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters, @bobbys-not-that-small, @neewtmas (sticking you on just in case my lovely <3)

I don't think I'm missing anyone but there are so many people that I honestly can't say for sure, so if you want to be added to the tag list for the final part (and maybe... other... special posts... that might be written in the future... 👀), then let me know! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #deck the halls (and not your partner)#enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

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tired-teacher-blog · 2 months

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Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

_ "You seem.. distracted," he breathlessly utters while peering up at you from between your thighs, "aren't you enjoying this?" and the smirk following suit is an indication of his teasing, and confidence in his skilled tongue.

_ "Wha.. no, no that's not it!" truth be told, his wondrous mouth has always been enough to fog up your brain and renders you a moaning mess, and this time is no different as he has you sitting comfortably in the same chair you sat on months ago when you came for your tattoo, only this time, your skirt is hiked up around your waist and your legs are resting on his shoulders while your panties are discarded somewhere.

How scandalous.

Here you thought you'd have dinner together between his scheduled appointments, but he had something else entirely in mind.

You aren't worried about someone walking in though, since everyone else is diligently working at the moment, you are however still not over what happened a few weeks ago when he came to visit you at night, all troubled and distraught.

_ "Look at you, swallowing my fingers eagerly." his teasing words are flustering, and his long thick digits are pushing you closer to insanity. He's aware of what he's doing to you, moving them slowly in and out of your fluttering heat, and curling them right at that sweet spot he knows all too well.

His lips are peppering your shaky thighs with soft kisses as his fingers keep spreading you deliciously, and you know that you will certainly not hold out for much longer.

_ "Shouta.. yes, keep going, please." you squeeze your eyes shut and arch off the leather chair while threading your own fingers through his beautiful hair, further messing his already messy bun.

You are grateful for the blasting music outside of the booth, because everyone would hear your sinful moans otherwise.

His fingers quicken and his mouth envelops your reddened clit, sucking it hungrily and coaxing your release.

Your legs tighten around his neck and your eyes shoot open while shockwaves of pleasure rock you to the core and leave you pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasmic release.

Your throat is dry and your whole body is tingling as you strive to regain your composure, it was wonderful as usual, and for a moment there, you were actually able to forget about what's been bothering you for weeks.

_ "That was.. so good." a dumb smile is splayed across your face as your body is finally relaxed.

_ "I'm glad gorgeous," he replies with a chuckle while lowering your legs carefully, "so, did this help you relax?"

_ "What do you mean?" you're still on cloud nine and your mind is too fuzy to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

_ "No, never mind," he runs a hand through the loose strands framing his handsome face, "I just worry sometimes when you overwhelm yourself with work or other things." and for some reason, it feels as if he regrets his original statement and is trying to make light of the situation, perhaps because he's the one who's been troubled lately, and deep down he knows that it's affecting you in the worst of ways.

He means well though, obviously he does, and you know he's truly worried about you, but somehow you find his words irritating.

How can he act oblivious when he's the reason why you've been a mess lately? If anything, he actually owes you some answers.

Your smile is suddenly replaced with a frown, and you sigh out frustratedly as you carefully stand up on shaky legs and push your way past him in order to fetch your panties, "I should be the one telling you this."

He doesn't reply, and instead keeps his attention on you as he awaits an explanation.

_ "Shouta, isn't there anything you want to tell me?" you ask him calmly, eyes full of longing and a tinge of pain.

You didn't have to say anything more for him to understand your request, and you just stand there patiently waiting to hear his answer.

He walks up to you, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes looking everywhere but you, and it reminds you of the day he visited your shop for the first time, because that day too, he was shy and a bit awkward, just like he is right now.

_ "It's not a big deal I promise." he feigns a smile as he answers, but you can see right through him, whatever happened that day -a couple of weeks ago- must have been a huge deal and it is clearly still affecting him.

He can deny it all he wants, but he's been distressed lately and it tortures you to witness, and what hurts you even more is that despite it all, he is still the same loving and caring man you've always known, and that night he visited you -a few weeks ago- was the first and only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you.

He heaves in defeat and you watch with frightened eyes as his head hangs low and his voice comes out, but nothing could ever have prepared you for what he has to say.

_ "Eri, she's.."

Your heart sinks as you're expecting the worst, this is about Eri, but what can it be? Is she ill? Did something bad happen at school? It can't be, you see her all the time and talk to her on the phone almost daily, and she is as bright and cheerful as she's always been, so what is it then?

_ "What about Eri? Shouta tell me quick, please." you grip onto his arms tightly and shake him as your patience was wearing thin already.

_ "Her mom is back, and she wants her."

No really, nothing could ever have prepared you for what he had to say..

_ "How could she.. after all these years." you know all too well that it isn't your place to comment on the subject, this thing in particular does not concern you at all, it is a family matter that has existed way before you even came along, but for God's sake you're unable to contain your anguish.

You know what these two mean to each other, to him, Eri isn't just his daughter, she's his whole life and everything in his existence revolves around her, and to her, he's the only family she has ever known and loved. Nothing's fair about this.

_ "It will be okay, I'm sure it will be fine, yeah." and it's a weird smile he's showing, one you're not used to seeing from him.

who is he even trying to convince?

_ "But Shouta what about this is fine?"

_ "I have to believe that it is! Or else I'll go insane!" his hands are shaking and his voice is cracking now, as he's barely standing on his own two feet.

He has never been this way in front of you before and it kills you to witness.

You feel useless and hate yourself for triggering him this way, this isn't what he needs..

Oh right.. this isn't what he needs right now, not a reminder of this catastrophe but rather a reassurance, a sliver of hope, a moment to forget. It's precisely why he hasn't told you about it until you've brought it up a bit earlier.

_ "The man who took care of her all by himself for years, who raised her well and gave her all his love, who was both parents, is the same man standing right in front of me," it's all clear now and you know precisely what needs be done as you gently grasp on to his trembling hands, "you know what? It will be fine, Eri belongs with you and no power can change it, and I truly believe that."

He's speechless listening to you speak, lips parted and expression finally relaxing, this is indeed what he's been looking for, just a little peace of mind.

He pulls you to his chest and engulfs you tightly, so tightly in fact that you're left breathless in his strong arms.

His shoulders shake and a stream of hot liquid falls from his face to wet your own as he finally bares his all, and you stand there like a pillar for him to lean on, listening as he breaks down in your embrace.

To be continued..

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thisloveislikeabattle · 8 months

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SandRay is just AkkAyan spelled differently

I've lost count of the number of rewatches I've done of The Eclipse since watching it six months ago for the very first time, but once Only Friends started airing I haven't done any rewatch, just because all my thoughts these past weeks have been obsessively about Sand and Ray

BUT yesterday I found myself watching it again after months and when I got to episode 11 it hit me: SandRay's dynamic when it comes to taking care of each other is the same as AkkAyan's but backwards.

Let me explain, I was watching this specific scene

And this thought came into my mind: "If in The Eclipse it's Khaotung's character that takes care of First's character, especially when it comes to emotional needs, in Only Friends it's actually the opposite with First's character taking care of Khaotung's character"

Since then I haven't been able to stop noticing all the ways Ayan and Sand mirror each other when caring for their partners

Ayan looked at Akk, and saw something extraordinary. He saw this beautiful broken boy, who was hurting so much and doing it all wrong, he saw him holding on to a very thin thread just on the verge of letting go. Ayan saw all the love Akk needed, and despite being very broken himself, he never ever let go of him.

Akk did bad things and said awful stuff and pushed Aye away time and time again, and still Aye stayed right were he was and held him up every time Akk hit the ground.

Showed him how despite all his flaws, all his mistakes, he was still someone worthy of love.

And so throughout their journey Ayan gave his heart and soul, took all the love he could muster and stood firm by Akk's side, no matter what.

Ayan made no excuses for Akk's behavior, held him accountable, called him out when he was doing something wrong and at the same time offered Akk all the support he needed to get out of that bad place because he knew how necessary it was to have a support system.

And isn't that exactly what Sand has been doing with Ray ever since he first saw him, left alone, drunk as hell, getting into his car without any concern for his life?

Just like Ayan, Sand has found this special fragile boy who needs lots and lots of love. And where Akk wanted acceptance and to be good for others, Ray only wants to be loved and to be someone's priority for once in his life.

Even the little things Sand does for Ray. And yes, we joke about Ray being Sand's spoiled princess, but before Sand came into Ray's life, did anyone ever treat him with this much care and affection? No.

Lighting up his cigarettes, cooking for him, helping him with his helmet, driving him around, changing his dirty clothes when Ray is too passed out to care, going after him no matter what Ray said or did, shaving him...

Yes, Sand is a natural caregiver and perhaps acts of service are his love language, but to me the point is that Sand is able to see the full potential Ray could reach.

Sand knows how precious he truly is; with patience and love and care, with someone by his side ready to fight the battle with him, someone who will not give up on him, Ray may one day be able to blossom into this wonderful person that he is capable of being.

Until that moment comes, Sand will be there for him like no one ever has before. Because Sand looks at Ray and sees someone worth fighting for, someone worthy of love.

And yes, I am aware that Ayan and Sand are very different characters, they are at different points and have different expectations when it comes to relationships.

Even the way they handle things when it comes to love is different: Ayan is very much open and ready and unafraid to communicate what he wants from Akk, while Sand is emotionally constipated, with his walls all up, still falling hard but refusing to admit it even to himself.

Yet the way Ayan and Sand care for their loved ones appears to me as the very same.

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waitmyturtles · 6 months

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BLUBBERING SPOILERS BELOW FOR I FEEL YOU LINGER IN THE AIR, EPISODE 12/FINALE:

YEAH. SO. YEAH. SO!

This can't be meta. I don't think I can conjure it. Just blather. I'll try to be sensible. First, a little housekeeping before we start the meeting:

We know there will be a special episode (the preview looks..... LIKE A GODDAMN HOLIDAY GIFT, GAAAAHHH).

Peeps are going back and forth on a second season, and while it seems that Nonkul Chanon blurted it out during the final episode fan meeting (lol you cute, Nonkul), Tee Bundit is rolling back a bit, *likely* due to funding. But seeing social media going absolutely INSANE over this ending, I can't imagine that Dee Hup will have any issue with finding the moolah for a second season -- especially after that after-credits scene, WITH HORSES, WITH MUSTACHES, WITH TATTOOS, WITH ARMOR, the whole thang. Tee let that shit hang all out like that. Warrior-era Thailand, let's m'fing go. That was a hell of a lead into a second season that may not happen, come awn.

Alright, with that out of the way:

I didn't think a show would top Moonlight Chicken for me this year, but IFYLITA is my top new drama of the year (with the HEAVY CAVEAT that I have not seen La Pluie yet -- that's for either after my Old GMMTV Challenge, or just making sure I watch it before year's end).

Part of the reason why I lost my gatdamn mind last week on episode 11 is that Tee Bundit did not interfere with any damn nonsense last week -- he let the episode's story unwind without any noise. He let the emotion roll.

The same light touch (or rather, a lack of interference) happened here, BUT: there was a LOT more happening firstly by way of closing some loops that were open, moving to new loops, and shedding more depth into Jom and Yai's final moments together

We got closure on Yai's dad, who was grumpily like, uhhh, I dunno what happened in my life, but yeah, daughter Eaung Peang, you go have a good life with Maey, crotchety crotch. I think that's the best we could get from politically involved dads of 1928 Chiang Mai. (EP AND MAEY SWINGING THEIR HANDS WHILE WALKING AWAY -- SAAAHHSHAY FROM ALL THAT, LADIES, SASHAY.) It looks like EP's herbal abortion left her safe -- thank goodness. We didn't see James or Ming this episode.

For loops that weren't closed, I'm not complaining, because we got an explanation for how Jom's beloved ones will repeat in his reincarnated futures and pasts, through the explanation of the northern Thai ceremony of having 32 blessings reinstated to you after illness or misfortune (THREE CHEERS for @blmpff for capturing screenshots of this explanation!). (AND THE WHITE THREAD, PEEPS, THE WHITE THREAD, I'm coming back to this in a second.) If we do get a season 2, then I will not be colored surprised if we see Ming and James in different roles. (And, yes. Your bitch here has relaxed on Pat's shooter, finally. My nose was trained on James being a colonialist interferer, but he did good last episode.)

But this episode belonged, of course, to Yai and Jom, their final moments together in 1928 Chiang Mai, saying the slow farewell as Jom slowly disappeared in front of Yai's eyes.

LORD. WHEWWWWWWWWWWWWW. The lacy fabric with which Yai used to cover the mirrors so that Jom wouldn't see himself fade away. The empathy of that. The scene where we heard their lovemaking over the flashbacks montage. WHEW. WHOA. (I did say, to my friend @shortpplfedup, something something Jom started really fading away after that intimate scene and something something had the ontology cough cough outta him, ANYWAY.)

The way that Yai pitched forward when Jom finally disappeared.

AND I MOTHERFUCKING SCREAMED WHEN JOM AND MUSTACHIOED YAI WERE ABOUT TO TOUCH INTO THE WATER AGAIN, AND THEN THE DIVER EMT WAS LIKE, BLOOP I'M HERE AND OH, JOM, YOU'RE ALIVE IN 2023. I yelped in the deli, shit. The way Jom was silently screaming in the water for Yai.

And, so. In the "present" day (present dimension, really), Jom survived that CRAAAAZY car accident (LIKE! WHAT?! He flew out of the car into the water, bros! The magic of fiction, anyway.)

He.......he holds space for Ohm?! Looking BACK on that scene, AFTER we get the explanation of the 32 blessings, we realize: despite Ohm's infidelity and his promise to a new woman, Ohm is still important in Jom's life -- he's still a beloved presence, as he did mean something, for a long time, to Jom. Of course, modern Jom did NOT let a moment to shade Ohm pass him by, oh no. But wasn't that interesting to note? That Jom's dimensions would allow Ohm to be in those dimensions -- that Ohm would be reincarnated through Jom's 32 blessings (at least in the past direction).

You know what I also loved about seeing Jom in his present-day apartment, with the present-day Jeed, Ohm, and Khaimuk (aka Fong Kaew). I LOVED WHAT THAT CASTING, THE SHIFTING OF THE CHARACTERS AND CHARACTERIZATIONS, SAID ABOUT JOM'S PERSPECTIVE OF EQUITY IN 1928 AND 2023.

Jeed is NOT Khun Eaung Peang. Jeed is ALL SASS. But Jeed is YOUNGER than Jom. Jom, in 2023, is P'Jom, with the honorific. Present-day Jom can smack his little sister's head in jest. Jeed can be OUT and SAFE and have a crush on her girl friend, safely, and can ask for her brother's support, OPENLY.

Jom never stopped being Jom, whether it was 2023 pre-accident, 1928, or 2023 post-accident. Jom is comfortable in his own skin, and wants happiness AND EQUITY for the people he loves around him. I love that the casting and characterizations of the incarnations of the characters reflect Jom's state of mind that all people are equal and the same, no matter a fancy honorific or a royally appointed residence.

I screamed at @shortpplfedup when I saw Jom wearing the white thread in bed during the thunderstorm. I stopped, rewound, and saw he was wearing the white thread in the water scene with Warrior Yai. The white thread never left his wrist -- he still has his blessings intact.

And, and, and, back to the house of Palanthip in 2023. Who's the lady of the house? This lady knows Jom's the only one who can open that chest. The chest opens, the drawings are there, THE PICTURE OF THEIR PARTY, AND THE LETTER FROM YAI TO JOM, THE LETTER, THE TEARS, AKSLKDF, AND, AND, AND --

Oh my god, I was crying, y'all. Shit. Just our confident dude, striding in, asking Jom, sweetheart, why are you crying. And Jom jumping into Yai's arms.

I was shaking my head. I mean. I love that we learned that Yai actually HAD HIS OWN BLESSINGS CEREMONY because he was so lost after Jom's departure. WE LEARNED ABOUT THE REST OF YAI'S LIFE. We know, now, that the Yai of 1928 yearned for Jom for the rest of his life. So much so that, at the twilight of the life of 20th-century Yai, that he had the good mind to leave Jom a letter, to let Jom know that his life was a good life, because Jom had been in it. To let Jom know that Yai's love had never faded away.

AND THEN THAT YAI CAME BACK TO JOM.

Jom, dude, you're a good dude, for these good people to be coming back to you, in dimension after dimension. That monk was right.

I told you this was just blathering; I can try to put some sensible thoughts together in a few days, but the structure of this story, the empathy of this story, the way this story was leveraged by drama and romance and HOPE. I mean. This series was utterly fantastic.

I know there's the lifelong debate of whether or not BLs "count" as queer media, and in many, many instances, they do. But since I've had the disappointment of Only Friends and GMMTV on my mind lately, I had to note, mentally, particularly during the lovemaking scene, and during the closure of this episode, that Tee really fucking handed it to anyone who criticizes BL as a not-as-sophisticated drama genre.

And you know what? I also wanna say that Tee fucking handed it to GMMTV as well. I am so DAMN glad this series was airing when Only Friends was airing. While Only Friends sat on the opportunity to present progressive ideas on queer love and queer community, IFYLITA ROLLED right into it.

(I'll ask @lurkingshan to fact-check me on the following:) Because this series was a historical drama with a queer romance centering it, I think Tee Bundit could feel free from the chains of BL tropes and expectations to do something truly singular. I felt that what I was watching was cinematic, it was moving, it was strikingly emotional, particularly because I felt that this show was showing me something that transcended any viewer's expectations of what we should be watching, as opposed to, say, a BL set in an office like Tee's Step By Step. Where that show fumbled was in the show itself not knowing if it was a workplace drama or a BL-centric romance.

IFYLITA knew what it was: a historical drama, certainly centering romance, but also balancing conversations about equity and wealth disparities across eras. With that uncomplicated centering, I think Tee Bundit made an absolutely BRILLIANT show, and it fucking WORKED.

I will scream to anyone who'll hear me. If you haven't watched I Feel You Linger In The Air yet, do it, PLEASE PLEASE. Y'all know I am an Aof Noppharnach girlie for life, and I LIVE FOR MOONLIGHT CHICKEN, I DO, I DO, all of my Asian references in MLC and the food and everything, god I loved that show, but --

IFYLITA was a cinematic masterpiece. Full stop. All hail @neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan for telling me to keep with it after my Step By Step-PTSD. This show was worth every last minute I spent watching and writing on it.

Season 2, Warrior Yai, let's get him a better mustache -- let's FUCKING GO, BABIES.

P.S. BRIGHT AND NONKUL FOR LIFE, FOR LIFE!!!!!!! THE ACTING!!!!!! MY GOD!!!!!

#i feel you linger in the air #ifylita #best show of the year #tee bundit #bright rapheephong #nonkul chanon #i feel you linger in the air meta #ifylita meta

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