#It would be neat if I can come back in a few years and read the thoughts of me-who-just-finished >:3

[absurdthirst]

Words Unspoken {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.4k

Warnings: Barter/trading, flirting, sexual tension, fingering, unprotected sex, cumming too quickly, oral sex (female and male receiving), soft moments, friends with benefits, cock riding, pregnancy scare, panic attacks, Joel is a little stubborn, suggestions of homophobia but Joel is just being stupid, estrangement, worry, comfort, canon events, heartbreak

Comments: The newcomer in town comes to your shop, hearing that you have coffee. Leading to trade and a years long relationship where so many words are left unspoken.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You look up from your needle and thread, the bell ringing above your tiny shop on Main Street. That’s when you see him walk in. You’ve heard about the newcomer. The man who is Tommy’s long lost brother who turned up with a teenage girl in tow. “Hey, can I help you?” You ask, setting the needle and thread down on the table. He’s handsome, you’ve heard he’s a little standoffish but you’ve found that most people who have been traveling on the road for years struggle to settle into the world that most thought was dead and buried.

The shop is neat, clean. Sometimes the contrast between the squalor of Boston and Jackson is stark. Everyone here craves normalcy, the life before, so badly it makes you feel like you’re in a dream. Except his dream never involved communism, like he loved to tease Tommy about. It really grates on his nerves when he ribs him about that. He shifts slightly, looking towards you. Reminding himself that he needs to be nice, not try to glower his way into getting what he wants. “Hi, uh, you’re the seamstress, right?” He asks, even though he’s in right store. “Sorry, stupid question.” He huffs in amusement to himself. “I heard you had coffee.”

You tilt your head in amusement. He seems nervous and you have no idea why. “Yeah. You have no idea how many clothes I’ve had to sew to get it. There was an empty grocery store one state over and this group would come and trade with us. Turns out needlework isn’t that great in the end of times so my hands have come in pretty handy. My mom taught me everything and - sorry, I’m rambling. Coffee. What, uh, what have you got to trade?” You ask, knowing how this works. Nothing is free, even in these times.

Joel winces, unsure if you would accept his trade, but he wants to try. “Uh, myself.” He admits, realizing his mistake when your eyes widen. “My work, I mean.” He clarifies, glancing around the shop. “I’m a - was - a contractor, before.” He bobbles his head. No one is really anything now, beyond a survivalist. Although you are still a seamstress, it appears. “Tommy said you needed some shelves, racks for your thread and sewing stuff.” He shrugs. “Figured I could build it for you, for some coffee beans.”

You snort, “you must be really desperate for coffee, huh?” You tease and he chuckles awkwardly, “used to have a cup every morning before the world went to shit.” You nod in understanding, stepping closer to him. You hold your hand out, “you have a deal, Mr. Miller. When would you like to start?” You ask and he squeezes your hand, his fingers are calloused and you can feel how strong he is. “Now, if you want.” He offers and you smile, “better get to it. Half now. Half when you’re done.” You promise, stepping away from him and you turn to make your way into the little kitchen at the back of your shop. You come back a few moments later with a small bag of coffee beans. “First payment.”

He takes the bag and he can’t resist lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply, groaning at the heavy, rich aroma of coffee beans. They are whole, so the richness will only get better once they are ground. “Best smell in the world.” He huffs when he notices you watching him with an amused smile.

“You’re a man of simple pleasure, Mr. Miller.” You chuckle and he shakes his head, “call me Joel.” You repeat his first name and insist he calls you by yours. “If you need anything fixed, just let me know.” You gesture to his clothes.

He nods, finding you pretty and charming, which makes him both relaxed and nervous at the same time. He sets the bag of coffee beans down and pulls out a little notebook and stubby pencil out of his jacket pocket, along with a measuring tape. “Do you have anything in particular in mind?” He asks, nodding towards the wall where fabric is haphazardly stacked.

You hum, walking over to the fabric. “Mostly display purposes. I can find all my shit when I need to but I want people to be able to come in and pick fabric and thread and buttons, you know.” You smile, “anything you can make would be better than what I have now.”

He nods seriously. “You need a thread display.” His brow furrows slightly as he bites his lip. “Boxes for the buttons.” He steps over and starts to measure as he talks. “Do you want cubbies for the fabric?” He asks. “Or shelves to stand them up?”

You bite your lip, watching him make some notes, “shelves. Nothing too fancy. Fabric is usually used or repurposed anyway.” You confess, “not like I have access to Michael’s or Joann’s.” You snort, “but I usually will find some fabrics when I do patrols.”

“You make quilts?” Joel asks, his back turned towards you. “Ellie, my- my Ellie, her birthday is coming up.” He tells you. “She’s got a bunch of old band t-shirts. A lot of them are falling apart, but she loves them.” He turns towards you. “Maybe you could turn them into a quilt?”

Your eyes widen and your heart melts at the request. He wants to get her a birthday present and you nod, unable to say no. “Absolutely. Sneak them out to me and I can get it done. When’s her birthday?” You ask and he tells you, “I’ll get it done by then.” You promise, knowing you want to see that soft look on his face again.

He smiles, happy to have secured a present that will thrill her. “She’s turning 14 this year.” He tells you. “So far, only teenage rebellion is that mouth of hers.” He snorts. “Cusses like a damn sailor.”

You snort, “oh yeah. I’ve heard. You’ve got your hands full there.” You pat his shoulder, “but everyone says you’re a good father.” You offer, making him soften a little more. “It’ll get worse. Teenage years are only just beginning. She’ll be screaming that she hates you but you shouldn’t take it to heart. You haven’t done anything, it’s just a rite of passage.”

He chuckles, knowing that it’s coming but he’s still looking forward to spending more time with Ellie. All he wants is for her to be happy. He’s done things, horrible things, so she can have this time, this life. The last thing he wants is for her to hate him. “I’ll get them to you.” He promises.

You smile, looking forward to seeing more of Joel as he builds your shelves and displays. He measures the wall and spends his time being exact. “I’ll, uh, let you know when I can come back and get everything up.” He promises and you nod, “of course. Coffee will be waiting.” You promise, “thanks for this, Joel. I’ll see you round.” He nods and puts his book away, “thanks for the coffee.” He murmurs, picking up the small bag and leaving your shop while you watch him go, already wondering when he will come back.

****

It takes Joel three days to build the display for the thread that he had envisioned. Traded for the supplies and spent hours in the garage to make sure that the spindles were right. The shelves are going to be built on site, but he wanted these already done so you could organize them, along with the button boxes he had built. Borrowing a wagon to cart everything over to your shop when he’s ready to install them.

You bite your lip as you watch Joel install the shelves. His muscles flexing under his t-shirt and you try to not act as hot and bothered as you are. He’s a handsome man, capable, and clearly a survivor. All traits that have had you daydreaming about him since he first came into your shop. “How’s that?” Joel asks, brushing his hands together as he steps back to admire the shelving. “It’s perfect.” You gasp, excited to put the fabric on display. “Thank you so much.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

He stumbles back only a step, hands automatically finding your waist to steady both of you. “You’re welcome.” He murmurs softly, letting you hug him and leaning into it slightly. He’s better about being more approachable, and he’s not going to turn down a hug from a woman as pretty as you are. “Definitely worth the coffee, huh?” He jokes.

You pull back for a moment, looking at him and you grin, “I don’t know, Miller. I think there’s one more thing you gotta do for the coffee.” You murmur, sliding your hands down his chest and he frowns, “are the shelves not good enough or-?” He asks and you shake your head. “The shelves are perfect. If you want more coffee…you can fuck me.” You say, biting your lip and praying he doesn’t reject you.

“You don’t have to-“ he starts to refuse you, to tell you that you don’t have to barter your body, until he sees the hopeful look in your eyes. Vulnerability and attraction warring in their depths and he realizes that you want him. The coffee is just a handy excuse to open up the possibility. “Anyone would be fuckin’ privileged to be in your bed.” He huffs quietly. “Are you sure you want me? It’s been a few years for me, and I’m not sure how good I’ll be.” His knees and back kill him on most days but he’ll go down swinging.

You chuckle, sliding your hand up to caress his neck. “Me too. I haven’t - no one has caught my eye here until you came along. You’re handsome, Joel. Shit, you’re really, uh, really hot, and I really want you to fuck me. Coffee or no coffee.” You promise, gaze flicking down to his lips. He swallows like he can’t believe what he’s hearing and you decide to make the next move, leaning in slowly to brush your lips against his.

The kiss is soft, intimate. He doesn’t deepen it right away. Absorbing the moment and letting you press closer. Learning how you fit against him as his arms slowly slide around your back. His cock twitches in his jeans when your tongue touches his lips, immediately opening and letting his own explore as the natural progression of the kiss happens.

He’s hesitant, which isn’t unexpected, but you know there’s a dominant lover beneath the surface. He likes to be in control. You cup his cheek, sliding your tongue against his, and you can’t stop the moan that you breathe into his mouth, pressing your chest into him while his hands tentatively slide down to your ass, dragging you even closer.

Your little moan is sexy, and he grunts as your breasts push against his chest. Tasting you, you had coffee earlier, as his tongue slowly slides against yours before he breaks away to kiss along your jaw. “Where’s your bedroom, honey?” He growls softly. “Woman like you deserves to be spread out.”

You reluctantly pull back, taking his hand in yours to guide him to the stairs. Up to your bedroom. The little apartment upstairs is small enough for you and he barely has a second to look at your couch before you pull him into your bedroom. You waste no time spinning around to press your lips to his again, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt to drag it over his head. He lets it drop to the floor and you work on his belt. In your rush, you accidentally rip one of the loops. “I’ll fix that for you.” You promise between kisses to his lips as you pull the belt free and toss it to the floor.

He chuckles against your lips. “Good thing I know a seamstress.” His own fingers start to work. Pulling your own shirt over your head and fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Still kissing you breathlessly as his own eagerness leads to a little haste.

He’s clumsy and fumbles but you don’t care. You’re out of practice too. You let your bra drop to the floor and he groans when your tits are exposed. His calloused hands immediately cupping them, and you tilt your head back, “God, Joel. Your hands. Watching you work - I’m so wet from just watching you.”

He smirks in pride, fingers twisting the hard tips of your nipples and pulls a sexy little whine out of you. Obviously enjoying a touch of roughness in your sex life. “Imagined my hands on you, honey?” He coos, pinching and tugging as he steers you back towards the bed. “How do they feel?”

“So goddamn good.” You moan and shift to lay down on your bed. You watch him as he reluctantly releases you, bending down to untie his boots and he stumbles as he pulls them off. You giggle, sliding your hand up to squeeze your own breast, and you look at him, “I want your hands on every inch of my body.”

That won’t be a problem for him. Joel loves to touch a lover. It’s been a long time, Tess was the last woman he had been with. His heart aches for a moment but he pushes that away, concentrating on you as he kicks away the jeans and underwear he was wearing and kneels on the bed to slide his hands up your spread legs. “Pretty body.” He hums, cock twitching. “What do you want first?” He asks, hand trailing over your thighs to brush through the curls covering your pussy.

Your eyes trail down to his cock, hardening and you lick your palm before wrapping your fingers around him. You slowly jerk him and he grunts, his fingers sliding through your folds. You whimper at the sensation. It’s been too long since you were touched. “I want your fingers inside me. Imagined it so many times when you were building the shelves. Wanna cum on them.”

He lays down beside you, letting you touch him while he learns how to make you gasp in pleasure as his fingers slide through your folds and press against your clit. He’s not a stranger to his needs, he doesn’t ignore them, but it’s been a long time since a hand other than his own has been wrapped around his cock. “Then I better make it good, right?” He teases as he slowly starts to press a finger inside you while he leans down to kiss along your shoulder up to your lips.

You moan when his finger pushes into you, another joining it on the next pump to stretch you out. "Fuck, Joel." You sigh when he kisses along your neck. Your lips meet his as you squeeze his cock, loving the way he hardens in your grip. "Knew those fingers would feel good." You murmur, flicking your tongue against his lips, licking his lower lip until his tongue meets yours in a combined groan.

He doesn’t rush this, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy. Loving how wet you are, getting wetter every time his finger curls up inside you. Another finger is added a few minutes later, pulling another moan out of you and you squeeze his cock roughly.

You spread your legs a little wider, chest heaving as you moan into his mouth when he curls his fingers. His wrist twisting so he can press his thumb to your clit. “Shit. Feel so good. Can’t imagine what this is gonna feel like inside me.” You murmur, pumping his cock and his lips kiss down your neck until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth.

Joel groans, not pulling away to answer you. You’ll find out soon enough, and he’ll be feeling your tight, hot walls around him. Hopefully he won’t embarrass himself by giving you a poor performance. His tongue flicks over your nipple and his teeth scrap over the sensitive bud, making you gasp again. He smirks and looks up at your face as he sucks.

Your eyes meet his, a lust filled, playful stare that has you clenching around his digits. “Fuck. You’re so - yes. Just like that.” You pant when he puts more pressure on your clit. “Yes, baby. Shit. Gonna make me cum like this.” You choke when he presses his fingers against the spongy spot inside you. “Shit. Yessss.” You hiss, walls squeezing his fingers as you cum for him.

Joel groans, pulling off your tit to watch you cum. “That’s it, that’s it honey, ride it out.” He coos, his voice gruff but soothing as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your pulsing pussy. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cummin’.” Your grip on his cock is loose, but he twitches against your palm, loving how your entire body shakes in pleasure for him.

You love his voice, love how he twitches in your palm, so you reach out to push his hand away. He grunts in protest but you push on his chest, "lay down. I wanna-" You cut yourself off when he lays on his back and you shift to kneel between his legs. Gripping his cock, you lean in to run your tongue along the underside of it. "You're thicker than I imagined, Miller...and I imagined this a lot." You confess, flicking your tongue over the slit where a bead of pre-cum threatens to slide down his reddened skin.

“Fuck.” He hisses, lifting his head to look down at where you are kneeling between his thighs. Your eyes fixed on him. “Fuck.” His head falls back, hitting your pillow as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. Blow jobs have always been rare, but this is overwhelming and your mouth has barely touched him. “You don’t- fuck, honey.” He groans, reaching down and cupping your cheek as you hum, his eyes closed in pleasure. “Goddamn.”

You smile as you pull off of him, wrapping your fingers around him, and you let your spit dribble down onto the head, aiding you as you start to pump him. "You really need to stop." He warns you in a growl, and you huff. "Fine. Next time I want you to cum in my mouth." You order, letting go of his cock to straddle him. You moan as his cock presses between your folds, the head leaking onto his belly. "Fuck. You're so hot." You murmur, starting to rock your hips to grind onto his cock.

Joel chokes out a laugh, a quiet, disbelieving thing as he grabs your hips. “Don’t know ‘bout that, but I know you want to ride my cock.” He pulls you forward, making you tip over towards him and his lips press against yours. “So ride me, and then I’ll fuck you.” He needs to be on top so he can pull out, but there’s no harm in letting you start out how you want.

You moan into his mouth, reaching back to grip his cock so you can position him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, lips smothering his groan as he stretches you out. "Fuck me." You mutter in disbelief of how good he feels. "I think that's what you're gonna do to me first." He chuckles and you nod, bracing your palms on his chest as you start to grind your hips.

Joel groans your name, slightly breathless as you roll your lips and your liquid hot walls squeeze him tight. “Fuck, honey.” His fingers dig into your hips, but he doesn’t try to guide you or change your slow grind. He loves it, needs you to keep it just this slow because his control is already slipping.

You whimper, loving how he feels like he’s in your guts right now. His calloused fingers squeezing your flesh, and you shift onto your knees, starting to bounce on his cock. “Oh fuck.” You throw your head back, “you feel so good.”

You look so beautiful, head tossed back and so unapologetically taking what you want. One hand slides up to cup your breast as you bounce on his cock. “Goddamn.” He hisses when your walls clench down around him. “Take what you want.” He encourages you, squeezing your tit.

You love it, love how those dark eyes watch you before flicking down to watch his cock disappear inside of you. "Fuck baby." You pant, switching back to grinding so you can rub your clit on the coarse hair at the base of his cock. "It's so good." You pant, "want you to take over. Fuck me like you want."

Joel hisses in pleasure and nods once. Lunging up as he wraps his arm around your body to flip you over onto your back. He doesn’t manage to stay inside you, but before you can even whine about it, he’s pushing back inside you and grinding deep with a moan.

You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles as he starts to push into you. "Feel so fucking good, baby. That's it." You pant, reaching up to squeeze his shoulders.

He braces his hands and sets his knees as he starts to rock into you. The sharp snaps of his hips are a little harder than he might have once wanted, but the way your legs press him urges him on. “Fuck.”

You caress his back, trying to touch every inch of skin you can. You moan when his lips find your neck, hot puffs of air on your skin between kisses and bites. "Fuck. I- shit." He curses and you can feel him twitch inside you. You lower your legs from his waist, "it's okay. It's okay." You promise, "cum for me. Wanna see it."

He had been trying to hold off, to last longer than the pitiful few minutes he had been inside you. “Fuck.” He groans, the buildup coming and not even thinking about something boring will stop it. His hips rock forward halfway before he’s scrambling back, pulling out of you and wrapping his hand around his cock to pump it. Holding onto your knee as he spurts ropes of his seed across your belly as he groans in frustration and pleasure.

You watch him with lust swirling in your eyes. "Fuck that's hot." You murmur, batting his hand away so you can slowly pump him through his orgasm. "So-sorry." He gasps out a moment later and you click your tongue. "Don't worry about it, Miller. You'll make it up to me." You know he will, he's not an asshole who's gonna be selfish every time.

He chuckles, aware that is true and he looks down at your cum covered body. “True.” He tilts his head to the side and glances down at your pussy, the curls damp and glistening with arousal and his seed. “Gonna make it up right now.”

You gasp when his tongue slides through your folds after he shifts to lay down on his belly. "Fuck!" You cry, tangling your fingers in his hair, "oh God that feels good." You lift your leg onto his shoulder as he sucks on your clit. "Won't take me long." You promise, already worked up from him fucking you.

He hums, not caring if you take a long time to cum. He has never minded eating a woman out, he loves it. Groaning as he tastes you, flicking his tongue against your clit before he takes it back into his mouth. Trying to devour you whole as he holds onto your thighs as they frame his head.

His jaw seems to engulf you and you pant, tilting your head back as he devours you. “Oh shit.” You pant, tugging on his hair as if he can get any closer. “Goddamn baby. You’d have every woman in Jackson lining up if they knew how good you ate pussy.” You confess breathlessly.

He chuckles into your folds, dark eyes watching your face as he sucks on your clit again, fingers digging the flesh of your thighs. He might leave bruises under your skin but he’s not even aware of how tight he’s holding onto you. Obsessed with hearing your breathless cry as he makes you cum again. You deserve it for even letting him in your bed. “Cum for me, honey.” He orders roughly before he dives back in with a frenzied desire to see you cum. 

His command is too good to deny. Your back arching as your thighs squeeze his head. His name is a garbled scream that escapes your lips as you soak his face. "Oh ohhh." You choke, stomach clenching as your orgasm rocks through you.

Joel laps up every drop, groaning into your pussy as he takes you through it. His tongue flicking against your clit just to have you shake and whimper more as you start to slowly drift back to reality after seeing the stars. He’s smug, proud that he could make you cum, even if he didn’t last as long as he wanted. If there’s a next time, he’ll make sure you cum all over his cock. One last kiss to your clit, he pulls back and rests his cheek on your thigh as he looks at you. “Make up for it?”

You giggle, nodding your head as you try to catch your breath. You run your fingers through his hair and smile softly, "more than made up for it." You promise and you lower your thighs from his shoulders. He shifts to lay down next to you, his cum now dry on your skin, and you turn your head to look at him. "my shower won't stay hot for more than a few minutes...any chance you can come over tomorrow and check it out?"

He smirks, his hand sliding up and down your side as he leans over you. “Think I can do that.” He agrees, tilting his head playfully. “Gotta earn that next batch of coffee.” He knows that this can’t be more than a passing fancy for you, he’s damaged and often sullen. Even his own brother calls him a grump on the best of days. Still, he will enjoy this while it lasts.

You hum, shifting off the bed after pecking his lips. "Flick one bean to get another." You joke and as you grab your panties and pull them up, walking into your bathroom to wash his cum from your skin. "You wanna get me those shirts and I'll start on Ellie's quilt?" You ask and he grunts as he sits on the edge of your bed. "Sure thing." You step back into your bedroom, robe wrapped around you, "and give me those jeans so I can fix your belt loop before you go." You smirk and he nods, "yes ma'am." You chuckle, "I have a feeling this is going to be the start of something very satisfying." You wink, picking his pants up and you don't redress as you take them to your sewing table. Joel watches you go, wondering when you'll be tired of him, but for now, he's going to enjoy every second.

****

Two Years Later:

Stepping into the shop, Joel flips the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ before twisting the lock. You aren’t in the front, making him frown as he looks around. The sewing shop has changed a lot in the past year, he had even managed to bring back a few mannequins from a deserted clothing store he had found on patrol. They are displaying some of the clothing you had repaired and were offering for trade. Calling your name, he shifts slightly and wonders if you are busy. “Where you at?”

You poke your head out from the kitchen, a grin appearing on your face as you walk towards your lover. You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him towards your face so you can kiss him. "Mmm, perfect timing. I just finished Ellie's present." You hum against his chin.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Joel hadn’t asked if you would make Ellie something, you had volunteered. “Uh, what are you making?” You had kept it a secret and he sniffs the air. “Cake?”

You nod, "yeah. Since Seth fucked up last year, I figured I'd take it into my own hands." You smile, "made sure I spelled her name right." You giggle, "was that - was that okay?" You ask, wanting to make sure you didn't overstep.

“That’s….great.” He smiles at you, hands squeezing your waist. “Not only do you have perfect hands for sewing, you bake.” He groans at the thought of a slice. “And it smells like it’s gonna be amazing.” He chuckles. “Maybe I’ll get a piece this year if Ellie doesn’t dive in headfirst.”

You chuckle, remembering the story of her digging straight in. "I also have perfect hands for something else." You murmur, smirking as you kiss his jaw, your fingers playing with the longer curls at the base of his head.

You haven’t gotten tired of him, much to his everlasting surprise. This thing between you is uncomplicated. Both of you use the other, for comfort, companionship, sex. You are friends, and had the end of the world not happened, it would have been labeled a friends with benefits thing, but Joel just calls it spending time together. “Yeah?” He hums as his already hardening cock grinds against your belly. “Needing a little distraction, huh?”

You nod, "to stop myself from licking the frosting bowl clean." You confess, bringing your fingers to his lips. "Still tastes so sweet." You hum when he immediately takes your digits into his mouth, swirling his tongue to sample the sweet taste. "Sweet but I know of something else that tastes sweeter." You smirk and cup his cheek with your damp fingers, "better come upstairs and eat it then."

He chuckles and slaps your ass when you turn around. “Good thing I already locked the door.” He tells you as you guide him towards the stairs again. The path is familiar, well known. He can't count the number of times he’s climbed these stairs to your bedroom. Now, he’s already pulling his flannel shirt out of his jeans, flicking open his belt. Watching your ass as you shake it in front of him playfully. “Goddamn, you look good in those jeans.”

You smirk, “thanks. Tailored them from a pair I found on patrol, left in a drawer.” You reveal, already pulling your shirt over your head. You’re hungry for Joel, and he does such a good job of making sure he never leaves your bed without satisfying you. Sure, others have asked you out - those who don’t see the way Joel looks at you - but you never say yes. You’re happy with what you have with Joel…even if it will never become anything more.

He grunts. “Next patrol, you should go with me.” He makes it sound casual, but he has talked to Tommy about limiting your runs and putting you with better people than you’ve been riding with. Worry starting to creep into his thoughts every time you go out. “Spend some time together outside the walls.” He adds, sweetening the offer.

You’re surprised by the offer, nodding your agreement. “Sure. I’d like that.” You murmur, turning to face him when you enter your bedroom. You pull him closer, working on unbuttoning his shirt. You huff in frustration when his lips press against your neck, ripping it open and buttons go flying. “I’ll put those back on before you go.” You promise.l, caressing his chest.

He laughs, body relaxing slightly at the way you are so eager. “You always do.” He teases, pushing your hands away and nodding to the bed. “Undress yourself and lay down.” He orders. “Need to have to wear something home today and can’t have you rippin’ all my clothes.”

You giggle, watching him as he pulls his belt free. “I just like giving you an excuse to come back here.” You confess, pulling your shirt over your head while he strips down. You toss your bra to the floor and unbutton your jeans just as he pushes his briefs down. “Never get tired of that.” You confess, eying his hardening cock.

He rolls his eyes, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it a few times, his grip loose. “Show me that pussy, honey.” He demands, eyes darkening as they roam over your body. “Want to see heaven.”

You shiver at his words, sweetened with that ghost of an accent, and you do as he says. Spreading your legs while your eyes watch him. Your cunt exposed to the cool air of the room, already wet with need for him. “Please Joel.” You whimper, sliding your hand down to rub your finger through your folds.

“Shiiiiit.” He twitches in his hand and lets go to kneel on the bed. “You want to ride?” He always asks, but you shake your head. “Good.” He winks at you as he grabs an ankle and drags you towards him. “I wanna be on top today.” He teases, using the same voice you use when you bounce on his cock.

“Fuck.” You pant, loving how he takes control, and you watch him as he positions his cock on your mound, the tip of him on your belly button. “Shit. Looks so big like that.” You confess, reaching down to rub your fingertip over the slit, gathering up the drop of pre-cum. He groans and slips back, slapping the head against your clit. “Joel. Don’t tease.” You whine, rocking your hips to try and push him inside you.

“Hush.” He chides, giving you a look that makes you pout at him. “You know I’m gonna take care of you.” He always does, even if he cums before you do. In his defense, it’s only happened a couple of times. “Somethin’s got you riled up and needy today.” He lifts your leg to his shoulder and lines up, sinking in slowly as he presses your leg back. “You good?”

Your mouth falls open, a silent nod as you take every inch he feeds into your pussy. “So fucking good.” You promise, sliding your hands up to cup your breasts. “Can feel you in my guts.” You tell him, eyes closing at the stretch.

He grunts as he bottoms out inside you, feeling your walls flutter around him. “Good thing you like that.” He pants, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours as he moves down to his elbows. “You’re still as tight as the first time I slid inside you.”

You moan as he pushes against a spot inside you only he can ever seem to find when he presses your knee into your chest. “Do kegels for you.” You tease and he snorts, “the fuck are those?” You smirk, “this.” You clench down around him, “and this.” You clench down in successive squeezes.

“Fuck…” Joel closes his eyes, biting his lip as he tries to control himself. “Yeah- those- keep fuckin’ doin’ those.” He pants out, nodding his head as you giggle. “Goddamn.”

You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to press your lips to his. He shifts, bracing his weight on his hand next to your head as your tongues meet. You never get tired of sex with him. It always feels good no matter how many times you do it.

Joel kisses you passionately, conveying things that he never says. Needs he never voices. He’s never really been a big word kind of man, he’s always believed actions are the measure of a man, so he shows you. Groaning into your mouth as he starts a steady and proven pace. One that makes you come apart for him, but lets him draw out his own end.

“Oh God.” You pant against his chin, “I love it. You always - shit - look after me.” You ramble a little as he works you up. His cock pushes deep as his weight presses your leg into your chest. He grunts, reaching for your other leg, mirroring the position, and you cry out at the new angle. “Oh shit. Yeah. Just like that baby. Shit. That’s - uh, that’s gonna make me cum. Don’t stop.”

Joel pants as he pushes deep. “Not gonna.” He huffs. “Cum for me and then I’m gonna cum on your ass.” He still pulls out, not trusting the chance of staying inside you. “Fuck, honey, cum for me.” Your pussy is pulsing around him and he can feel the way your legs are tensing. “Soak me, wanna feel it.”

You can’t deny him anything when he asks you like that. You pant, nodding frantically as you grip the pillow behind your head. “Oh fuckkkk.” You squeal, thighs shaking as you clamp down on his cock. Your eyes squeeze shut and you soak him while your toes curl behind his head.

He growls out your name, loving how wet you get. The gushing and squelching sound amplifying as he fucks you through it. Thrusting half a dozen more times until he’s pulling out of you and dropping your legs down to flip you over onto your stomach. You moan, pushing your ass up and he slides back into you with a rough thrust that has both of you groaning.

You’re still shaking from your orgasm as his hips hit your ass. Joel groans, looking down at the shaking flesh and his hand grabs your cheek. He slaps it and you moan, burying your face in the sheets. “Yes, baby. Do that again.” You plead and he chuckles, slapping your ass again. Your walls squeeze his cock when he does it and he smirks, “oh you like that.” You huff, “you know I do, asshole.”

He smirks as he slaps the other cheek again. You love when he’s a little rougher and he sometimes gives you that, although he prefers to be gentle with you. This is about giving each of you want you need from each other and right now, his hand connects with your ass again and again as he fucks you harder. “Cum again.”

You moan when he pushes deep, and you know his back must be hurting, but he is fucking you like it’s the last thing he will ever do. “Shit, baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna - fuck fuck fuck.” You rush out until you choke, clamping down on his cock again.

Joel groans, feeling his own orgasm rush over him and he’s pulling back quickly, hating that he couldn’t get another thrust in. Quickly jerking his cock as he grabs your ass and squeezes it. “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He growls, painting your ass and lower back with his spend. “Fuck.” He huffs when the waves slow down and he languidly pumps out the last spurts before he’s done. “Goddamn, it’s always so good.”

You hum, looking over your shoulder at him, “it’s why I keep you around.” You tease breathlessly. You flop your head onto the sheets, unable to move because of how hard he fucked you. He shuffles off your bed, reaching for the rag you keep for cleaning up and he wets it in the bathroom before gently wiping you clean. “Thanks babe.” You murmur, “I better get to work fixing your shirt.” You smirk, shifting to lay on your back and he lays down next to you so you swing your leg over his hips, caressing his chest.

“Gotta patrol tomorrow.” Joel tucks an arm behind his head and his other hand caresses your leg idly. “Wanna see if I can find a tool store within a hundred miles.” Construction has been booming in Jackson, fortification being made to the walls. All of it requires tools. “Want me to see if I can find any fabric stores?”

You hum, caressing his chest, "only if you see something. Don't go out of your way." You murmur, "oh and I made Ellie a new strap for her guitar." You smile, "and the cake of course."

“That’s perfect.” He promises, amazed that you had gone so far as to make something else for the girl he thought of like a daughter. “I hope she likes it. Spent a lot of time workin’ on it.”

"I still haven't heard you play. I know you're teaching her." You remember him telling you how he's teaching her the chords. He snorts, "you don't wanna hear me. I'm rusty." You roll your eyes, "humble as he is hot." You shift to sit up and look down at him. "One day?" You ask, hoping he will play for you. He stares at you for a moment, "one day." You nod, satisfied with that answer. You won't ever push Joel for more, that would push him away forever.

**** 

“You okay?” Joel glances behind him, watching as you settle in on your horse. The temperature is perfect so the jackets are already stowed and the sun is shining down on the two of you. It’s the first trip outside the walls together and he is a little worried that something will happen.

You look up at the sky, closing your eyes as the sun warms your face. “I’m good.” You open your eyes and look at him with a soft smile on your face. “You look good on a horse.” You tell him and he chuckles, “you think I look good in anything.” You hum, “because it’s true and I’m always right.” You tease and he opens his mouth to protest. “Nah ah ah, baby. Happy life, happy…end of the world lover slash friend not wife or even girlfriend.” You giggle, shifting on top of the horse.

He nearly chokes on his words, grunting as he turns back towards the road to look around. He doesn’t know if you want something like a label on this thing between you. It’s never seemed to be a priority. Something he had appreciated for awhile, now it just left him confused. “Whatever you say.” He settles on that for his answer and he can hear you roll your eyes behind him. “How far out have you gone on patrol?” He asks.

You nudge your horse to catch up with him, “relax, Miller. I’m just joking. We are - we are us.” You decide and he nods, “whatever you say.” He repeats and you snort, glancing at him before you focus on the road. “I’ve been pretty far. I, uh, I actually found something that you might want to show Ellie. I wanted to wait until we were out here and her birthday is next week.” You murmur, hoping he likes your idea.

He tilts his head, interested in what it could be. “Yeah?” He asks, smiling when you nod eagerly. “Show me.” He motions for you to take the lead. It’s pretty incredible how thoughtful you are to think of Ellie. You’re generous and kind, things that he tries to be. Especially now. He is slowly starting to heal. “Maria wanted to know if you wanted to come over for dinner.” She had basically demanded that Joel bring you or she would drag you there herself. “Next Friday.”

Your eyes widen and you turn to look at him but he’s staring ahead. “She’s thinkin’ about getting a new wardrobe.” He jokes and you snort, “yeah. We can go on a girl’s day to Sears.” You chuckle and he shakes his head, taking a moment until he asks, “well? You wanna come?” You nod, looking at him, “yeah. I do.” You respond, heart fluttering in your chest. “Come on. Keep up.” You nudge your horse and start to ride faster, showing him the place you’d found for Ellie. “Wait up.” He huffs, following you until you come to a stop. “What do you think?” You ask, grinning excitedly at him.

“Holy shit.” Joel is stunned, eyes wide as he stares up at the statue. “It’s-“ he looks over at you and then back at the sight in front of him. The giant t-Rex is honestly amazing to see still standing as the foliage hasn’t completely reclaimed the area. “It’s amazing. She’s gonna lose her shit.” He predicts with a grin.

“Oh there’s more.” You grin, “we made sure it was cleared out.” You nudge your horse and make your way through the brush until you’re outside the museum. “Come on. I’ll show you what’s really gonna blow her mind.” You grin, swinging off your horse to tie her up.

“Holy shit.” Even though Boston had plenty of museums, all of them were outside the quarantine zone. Any of them inside had long been stripped of any historical value, most often for personal gain. This looks untouched. His eyes are wide and he knows that she will lose her mind if she gets to spend a day here. “It’s clear?” He asks, wanting to be certain before you go in.

You nod, “we checked it last week.” You confirm, “so should still be clear unless any found their way in.” You doubt it but you always need to double check. You take his hand, guiding him to the door which is pulled open and you watch his expression as he takes in the sight of the museum. A glimpse into a place long deserted but preserved.

“I used to take Sarah to museums.” He tells you as he walks through the abandoned halls. Dusty, dirty glass still showcasing odes to history almost forgotten. Only talked about by those who still remember it or are learning about it. “There were some good ones. She loved the natural science sections.” He chuckles as he looks back at you. “Wished she lived in the time of the dinosaurs when she was younger.”

You smile, seeing his eyes glaze over like they always do when he talks about his daughter. “I wish I could’ve met her.” You murmur, reaching out to squeeze his hand and he squeezes back, brought back to you from memories of Sarah. “Ellie is obsessed with space which is perfect because-” You guide him into a hall where a planetarium is displayed above. “It works but it needs some WD40.” You smile and he nods, letting you guide him, “and this. I think she’s gonna lose her mind.” You gesture to the Apollo capsule.

“She’s gonna lose her mind?” He snorts as he steps closer, in awe of the capsule and the ingenuity it took to put man in outer space. “Yeah, this blows away the recording of the mission that I managed to find her.” He looks over at the displays of the suits and chuckles. “She’s gonna want to pretend she’s being launched into space.” He predicts, pulling you close and kissing your lips. “Thank you for this.” He hums. “She’s gonna love it. I love it.”

You grin, loving his praise and the thought of Ellie loving her present. "she can listen to the mission and be inside the capsule. I checked it out. Oh and there's a helmet in the display but I didn't want to break the glass. I wanted you both to see it as it would've been." You confess, "you wanna see inside? It's awesome." You open the capsule and crawl inside, "come on, baby." You gesture for him to come inside.

Joel drops his backpack and follows you inside, closing the door of the capsule and dropping down into one of the seats. “Surprisingly big.” He hums, although it would be considered cramped with more than two people inside. The sunlight streams in from the small window as he looks over at you. “She’s gonna need half a day to press all the buttons.” He grins at you. “Just like I know you did.” He knows you had to play around when you were in here and he flicks one of the switches just to say that he had.

You giggle, leaning back into the seat as you look up at the buttons. "It's insane to think people went to space in this. They must've been shitting themselves." You ponder and he snorts, "of course." You look at him, admiring the soft smile on his face and that look in his eyes that tells you how he feels even if he can't say it. "You reckon the astronauts that went to space fucked in these?" You ask, tilting your head.

“Women weren’t on missions until later.” He reminds you with a smirk. “Although I guess anything’s possible.” He looks up as if he was looking into the sky. “There was probably definitely fucking on the International Space Station.” He jokes. “Called it foreign relations.”

You snort, “well…we could have Jackson relations.” You tease, shifting out of the seat and you move fast to straddle him. “A different kind of blast off.” You smirk, caressing his chest as you lean in to kiss his jaw.

His furrowed brow quickly changes to one of surprise and then amusement as his lips curve and his hands find your ass. “Is that right?” He asks, grunting when your teeth nip his skin. His cock is already responding to you pressing against him, the subtle grind of your hips always getting him going. “It’s gonna have to be you doing the work.” He reminds you softly.

You nod in understanding, “I know, baby.” You murmur, kissing along to his ear and you bite down on his ear lobe, making him moan. You love how he groans and his fingers dig into your ass. “That’s it, baby.” You murmur, reaching down to unbutton his jeans, reaching in to pull his hardening cock from his pants.

You always know what to do, how to touch him. He loves that you are always so eager. There’s not been one time that he’s needed you that you have turned him away and he’s done the same. Neither of you starting now. “Take your pants off and sit on my cock, honey.” He coos gruffly.

You let go of his cock, shuffling back to unbutton your jeans and you curse as you hit your head on the top of the capsule as you try to shimmy your jeans down your thighs. When they are below your knees, you straddle him again and reach down to grip his cock. He grunts and slips his hand down to pull your panties aside. You position him at your entrance and slowly sink down onto him.

“Fuck.” Joel hisses quietly, twitching as you lower yourself down until your ass is pressed to his thighs. “So tight, so hot.” He praises softly, as if he was afraid someone would hear him. Not that it was possible with being so isolated. He grips your hips as rocks up into you slightly.

You whimper, rocking your hips down onto his cock. You love how he stretches you out, your head dropping to press your forehead to his. “Always feel so good. Never get tired of this.” You murmur, closing your eyes in bliss. “Wish you could stay inside me forever.”

Joel groans in agreement. “Shoulda gotten that snip done before the end of the world.” He hadn’t really thought about it before, but he lives in a world now where condoms are a rare luxury.

You hum in agreement, “how could you know condoms weren’t gonna be around because a - a fucking fungus took over the world?” You ask breathlessly, rocking down onto his cock. “But I do think about you. You cumming inside me.”

Joel groans, twitching inside of you violently, “me too.” He pants out. “I think about it when I’m jerking off. I can’t- I can’t think about it when I’m inside you.” He confesses. “I’ll cum too quickly.”

You nod in understanding, “I know baby. Fuck.” You murmur, still imagining how it would feel but you start to rock on his cock, “feel so good, baby. So damn good. No one has ever felt like this.”

You are the longest relationship he’s had, besides Tess. His heart aches for a moment and it makes his kiss a little more demanding, desperate. Reminding himself that he can’t change the past, he can’t bring anyone back, but he can show you how he appreciates you. His tongue slides into your mouth when you open up with a groan.

You slide your tongue against his, cupping his cheeks as you devour him while you ride his cock. Your pants and moans fill the tiny space and you slide your hands down to grip his shoulders. “Shit. Gonna make me cum already.” You pant, knowing he can hit just right inside of you to push you over the edge.

Joel groans, planting his feet at the bottom of the space capsule and rocks up into you. Taking over for a moment and swallowing your whine of pleasure when he hits that spot inside you that drives you crazy.

You whimper, “fuck, baby. I- shit. I’m gonna - oh fuck.” You pant, walls fluttering until you clamp down on him. “Shittt.” You hiss out as you shake above him. “Fuck.” You pant, collapsing against him.

You’ve stopped moving, but Joel just holds you. Panting with you as you shake on top of him. “You amaze me.” He murmurs softly, stroking your back.

His words make your heart clench with love but you daren’t utter those three words. You caress his cheeks, softly kissing him. “Lemme take care of you.” You murmur, shifting off his cock, and you awkwardly maneuver until you’re kneeling so you can take his cock into your mouth. You taste yourself on his skin and moan, your eyes meeting his.

He closes his eyes and groans out your name, hand reaching down and caressing your cheek. You know you don’t have to do this, but the fact that you want to always makes him light up. He loves that you want him so badly that you love to have him fall apart in your mouth. “Fuck.” He hisses, stomach clenching. “I can’t - I don’t deserve you.”

You pull off his cock, smirking as you pump him, "you definitely do." You argue and take him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you pump the base, pressing your tongue to the underside. You want him to cum down your throat. You want to see him fall apart.

You’re fucking good at sucking his cock. Sitting in the most surreal place he could ever be, with your lips wrapped around his dick like you are gonna suck him dry. “Fuck.” He hisses again, wondering again why him. Why had you chosen him? He’s so fucking lucky you haven’t realized you deserve better, so much more than he could ever give you. “Goddamn, gonna cum.” He growls out, fingers tightening on your jaw.

You hum around him, used to swallowing down all he has to offer, and your eyes water but you blink rapidly to watch him as he spills down your throat. His moan echoes off the metal walls of the capsule and you work him through it until his chest heaves. You pull off of him, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, and you offer him a smug smile, "Houston, we have liftoff." You tease, watching him try to catch his breath.

He chuckles breathlessly as he pulls you up and kisses you. Letting you settle onto his lap again for another moment. Both of you are quiet, breathing starting to return to normal as he closes his eyes. “You’re so good to me.” He murmurs after a moment. “You’ve made Ellie’s birthday perfect.” He hesitates for a moment. “Do you want to come with us?”

You nudge your nose against his, arms around his neck as you lean into him. You pull back for a moment, surprised at the request, and you caress the hair at the base of his neck. “I don’t want to invade on your time with her.” You murmur, “enjoy her birthday. She’ll be a moody teenager screaming at you before you know it.” You lean in to kiss his nose.

He appreciates that you would give him this time with her alone. Smiling softly as he wrinkles his nose. “Oh goody.” He huffs dryly. “Just what every dad wants.”

“Rite of passage, baby. Teenage girls have gotta have a ‘I hate my daddy’ phase. Next will be smoking and/or drinking along with the, uh, the sex.” You can feel him flinch beneath you. “She’s gotta grow up.” You remind him, “the best thing to can do is be there for her when she fucks up because she will.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to hope she just jumps into bed with the first boy to smile at her.” Joel grumbles, knowing that you’re right. You would know more about what teenage girls go through than he would. “Jesse keeps eyeing her. I think there might be something there.”

You chuckle, caressing his chest, “I think it’s more, uh, that she’s eying the ladies.” You reveal and he frowns, “she’s still figuring it all out.” He counters and you pat his chest, “I know you are from Texas and it wasn’t - but it’s okay. Just support her. No matter what.” You tell him and he nods, “shit. I’m so out of my depth.” He confesses and you cup his cheek, “I’m here for you. Both of you. However you want me.” You promise, “it’ll be okay.”

He hums softly, unable to vocalize how much that means to him. Instead, he holds you closer, leaning in and giving you several soft kisses. “I can’t tell her we had sex here.” He tells you dryly, making you laugh as he starts to chuckle. “She would be completely grossed out. She makes gagging noises whenever I come home smellin’ like you.”

You giggle, "is that when you've spent all day with your tongue inside my-?" He cuts you off with a groan of "don't" and you caress his cheek, "we can air it out." You promise, "cool place to check off the list of places we have had sex." You tease, "and she's gonna love this place for her birthday. You're a good father." You murmur, nudging your nose against his. "

He snorts, doubtful, but the pain of losing Sarah has been helped so much by having Ellie. The guilt he has carried isn’t gone, but he feels like he has been given a second chance. “Hopefully she likes it, I’m gonna walk here.” It’s not too far from the town, relatively speaking. “Give us time to talk and connect.”

You nod, caressing his chest until you pat it. "We better get moving." You groan as you shift to stand, awkwardly shimmying your jeans and panties back up your legs while he tucks his cock away. You inhale deeply once you're outside the space capsule and Joel rolls his neck. He glances around for a moment and takes your hand, guiding you back to your horses. Your heart flutters and you feel the words sitting on the tip of your tongue but you don't want to ruin a perfect day. You swallow the words back down and squeeze his hand, letting him guide you back home.

**** 

“Answer the door, answer the fuckin’ door.” Joel growls, banging on your door again. He would just walk in, but your shop is closed today, the front door locked to give you some privacy. Needing to talk to you, he grabs the door knobs and twists it again as if it would magically open for him.

You swing the door open, eyes wide as you see Joel standing there, his chest heaving. "What the fuck is going on? I was just taking a shower." Your skin is still wet, towel wrapped around you, and you can see he's upset. "Come in." You order, ushering him inside and off the street.

It’s pouring outside and he’s probably just as soaking wet as you are, maybe more. He had walked out of the house without a jacket, without anything. Furious and hurt, confused and needing to talk to you. “Ellie.” He spits out as he storms inside. “She’s lost her damn mind.” He growls as he starts to pace around the shop before you take his hand and drag him towards the stairs.

You guide him to your living room, letting go of his hand to grab him a towel to dry off. "Here baby. Sit. Talk to me. What happened? It's her birthday." You frown, reaching out to push his wet hair back from his face.

“I was bringing her her cake.” He huffs, rubbing his face and then his hair, but he’s more preoccupied by the argument he just had with Ellie. “She was- there was this girl. Says she’s 19, oldest fucking 19 year old I’ve ever seen.” He shakes his head. “She got a tattoo.” He stresses and says your name as he looks at you with horrified eyes. “Smoking pot too. All of it, all of it today.”

You snort, shaking your head, "she really went from zero to a hundred with teenage angst, huh?" You sigh, seeing the sadness and anger in his eyes. "She's growing up and I know that's hard to handle because she's not gonna need you as much, but it proves that you have been a good father to her. She is gonna act out and you freaking out will make her go even harder. I'm not saying you gotta understand it, baby, but you can't freak out. You gotta let her make her own mistakes." You caress his ear lobe, brushing his hair back, and you watch him clench his jaw.

“A tattoo?” He huffs and you nod when he looks at you, “goddamn.” He flings himself back on the sofa and covers his eyes. “Girls? I just- I thought-“ he doesn’t know what he was thinking, it had just caught him off guard. Even after you had hinted about it before. You had seen what he hadn’t or been unwilling to see. He sighs heavily, knowing he fucked up. “I was hoping she was gonna meet some guy, fall in love, get married….have babies.” His voice is soft, almost yearning. All the things that he never got to see Sarah do.

You reach for his hands, tangling your fingers with his, "she can still get married and you can walk her down the-" you wrinkle your nose, "nah. I can't see Ellie walking down the aisle." Joel chuckles in agreement and you continue, "she could adopt a kid like you have or hell, you never know what will happen, but she knows who she is and I certainly didn't know that at her age. She's - she's a strong girl, a fighter, and she likes girls. That's who she is and you love her no matter what because you are her father." You remind him, "and she loves you because you've been there for her since you met."

“Fuck.” Joel closes his eyes. “I fucked it up.” He admits. “I need to apologize to her. But I can’t now, she will just make a smart ass comment and completely ignore me.” She blows hot, so different from his own quiet, deep rage. Joel doesn’t shout until he has to, and Ellie’s first line of defense is shouting. “I hope she doesn’t fucking hate me.”

“It’ll be okay.” You promise, “let her cool down and I have her present ready. I found a pair of Converse. Cleaned them up and restitched them. You can take them for her, tell her it’s from you.” You offer, sliding your hand down to caress his neck.

“No, I can’t do that.” You always give Ellie such thoughtful gifts, he could never take that away from you. Even if she didn’t have any interest in learning to sew. She still slept under that quilt every night. “I just-“ he needed to talk, to have your reassurance or your slap upside the head, whatever was appropriate. “I needed you.” He admits softly.

You smile, “you have me. Always.” You promise, “whenever you need me, baby.” You reassure him, shifting to straddle him and you let the towel you have wrapped around you pool to the floor. “You can take what you need.”

That wasn’t what he meant, but he wants to be close to you. He grabs the back of your neck and drags you down for a desperate kiss. Groaning into your mouth as you immediately reach for his belt buckle.

You slide your tongue against his and reach in to pull his hard cock out. He’s always eager, even for a man of his age, and you squeeze him. “I’m yours. However you want me.” You promise as you start to pump him, wanting him to throb in your hand before you ride him.

“Fuck.” He hisses, hardening even more under your expert touch. “Bed.” He growls, wanting to touch all of you. His hand slaps your ass while the other cups your breast.

You huff but concede, letting go of his cock to shift off his lap. You make your way over to the bed, laying down to watch him as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Always so sexy.” You murmur, watching him as he stalks towards the bed.

He snorts softly and shakes his head. He’s old, getting older every year. Every morning he’s stiff and aching, wishing for some of those hydros he used to take to forget the sounds of his daughter dying. It’s strange….since saving Ellie, he hasn’t had them. Like he had completed the task he had failed at nearly twenty-five years ago. “You’re the one I should be saying that to.” He smirks as you wink at him. “Brazen.”

You snort and spread your legs for him to kneel between them. “Come here, baby.” You murmur, pulling him down towards you and he shifts his weight to his elbow before he reaches down to squeeze his cock in his hand. He slides it through your folds and you whimper when he starts to push into you.

He needs you, right now as a distraction, a comfort. You are always so goddamn good at giving him an outlet for his emotions. Even when he rarely shares them. He settles down on you, giving you his full weight as he pushes his arms under your back to gather you close. “Fuck.”

You caress his shoulders, sliding your hands down to his ass, "fuck me. Joel. I want you to forget all the bullshit and fuck me." You order, pushing him deeper with your palms on his skin.

He’s good at following your orders, smirking slowly as he rocks deeper into you. Right now, his mind is blank to everything but the way your pussy feels clenching around him. “Hard?” He asks, feeling like you want it rougher, but he wants to just make sure.

You nod, “harder.” You order, “want to feel you tomorrow.” You demand and he groans, grabbing your thigh to push it back towards your stomach. “That’s it. Shit.” You moan in pleasure, “always get so deep like this. Yes baby. Keep - keep fucking going.” You plead, moaning his name again when he grunts.

Joel’s dark eyes watch you, even as he starts to give you exactly what you are begging for. You once told him that he looked like a predator, like he was about to destroy you, but he’s watching to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Even when he’s rough, he never wants you to have true pain. Not by him, not from this. Joel hisses when you clench down around him after a sharp snap of his hips. “That’s it.” He growls.

You moan, loving how he pushes deep, his balls hitting your ass as he fucks you hard like you wanted. He always gives you what you want, “lemme - tell me if your back hurts.” You inform him, “I can - I can take over.” You offer, wanting him to enjoy himself.

He huffs, almost offended by the comment if it weren’t so true most of the time. “Back always hurts.” He grunts out, speeding up the pace as if he is proving a point to both of you.

You gasp as he pushes even deeper, wanting to show you that he can still fuck you hard and fast. “Oh shit, Miller. You’re - shit - you’re gonna make me - already. How?” You moan in surprise at how he’s worked you up and you know it’s just him. Your feelings for him that you keep to yourself.

He chuckles breathlessly, watching your eyes glaze over in pleasure as you take every thrust. Squealing out his name again and your nails dig into his arms. “Fuck.” He hisses, enjoying the flash of pain and focusing on making you cum. “Do it. Do it for me.”

You nod, mouth open as your walls clamp down on his cock. You cum within moments, his name mouthed instead of moaned, and you shake beneath him. “Oh fuckkkk” finally escapes your lips as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Joel groans your name, gritting his teeth and rocking his hips a little deeper as he works you through it. You’re soaking him, making his eyes slip closed in pleasure. “Fuck honey, you’re doing so good. So good to me.”

You grip his shoulders, nails leaving a trail of scratches, and you whimper, “wanna - wanna feel it. Just once. I tracked - it’s safe. Please. Wanna feel you cum inside me just one time.” You beg, wanting to feel the heat of his cum painting your walls. “Just this once. Please Joel. Fill me up.”

He shouldn’t, he fucking shouldn’t. Joel groans and rocks his hips even faster. The thrusts are harsh and sharp. Giving into your begging without even thinking about how wrong it is. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” His growl is low, almost feral as he feels himself start to cum. Pushing deep, he buries his cock and and floods your walls with his cum. “Fuck, honey.” Your name falls from his lips in a low groan, unable to even try to pull out because it feels so good.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, painting your walls, and the way he groans your name has another smaller orgasm rippling through you. You try to catch your breath, lost in the sensations, and your chest heaves while he presses kisses to your neck. “That was - yeah.” You finish lamely, biting back the words that are always on the tip of your tongue but you don’t want to scare him away from you.

Joel collapses on top of you, forehead pressed against yours as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t even explain how he feels right now, what is racing through his mind and heart. “Yeah.” He huffs finally, rolling off of you and pulling you against him.

All the unspoken words seem to hang heavy in the air but you don’t drag them down. You simply curl around Joel, breathing him in as you relax, and you feel him finally relax. You don’t need words, you can just be. 

**** 

You groan, resting your head on your toilet as you try to quell the nausea that seems to creep up your throat. You’ve been throwing up for a couple of days, exhausted, and you wonder if you have some kind of flu. It’s Ellie’s birthday today and you’re certain Joel will be doing something with her. It’s her 18th after all. They have been at odds and you hope today is the day they talk it out and put it aside. “Fuck.” You wipe your mouth, stumbling as you stand up from the toilet and when you flush it, you see the box of tampons. “Shit.” You murmur, trying to think back to when your period was. Usually you’re like clockwork but Joel has been finishing inside you more often than not since Ellie’s last birthday. “Shit.” You repeat, sitting down on the toilet seat. “I’m pregnant.” You groan, rubbing your eyes.

Joel sighs softly as he walks towards town, his hands shoved in his pockets. Ellie didn’t want to spend the day with him. Just awkwardly stared at him until he left her garage domain. He’s upset and he doesn’t know what to do. He sees your shop in the distance and there’s a little bit of brightness to his day. It takes him a few minutes and he opens the door. “Honey? You here?” He asks as he closes it behind him. He brought you some buttons and thread he had found, hoping that you would like them.

You wipe your eyes and set your toothbrush down before you go downstairs to see Joel standing in your shop. “Hey baby“ You offer shakily, “you doing okay?” You ask, noticing the way he looks tense and frustrated.

“No.” Joel sets the bag that he had hooked on his arm down on the counter. “But what’s new?” He had been in a mood, withdrawn, as it got closer to Ellie’s birthday and now today, it is just a bad day. Almost as bad as his own birthday.

You stare at him, unable to keep it to yourself when it’s such a shock and he’s already in a bad mood. “I’m pregnant.” You choke out, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I think - I haven’t had my period. I’m late and I’ve been throwing up.”

Joel freezes, eyes wide as he stares at you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, you can’t be pregnant.” He tells you, as if that will make it true. He thinks back to when Sarah’s mother told him that she was pregnant, the fear, the uncertainty that had festered with the undeniable hope that he could do better. “No!” He shouts, shoving the bag and contents off the counter as he sweeps his hands across the surface. He can’t be a father again. Not at his age. He's at the end of his life. Hell, Ellie isn’t even talking to him and Sarah….. His chest tightens and his vision starts to swim as he stumbles towards the door, needing to get air and not able to breathe.

Your heart pounds as you watch him panic. “It’s not like I did this on purpose.” You choke, “and last time I checked, you were just as eager to cum inside me, Miller.” You hiss, “and I know you are having issues with Ellie but don’t you - fuck.” You sob, curling your arms around yourself.

He hears you, but it sounds like you are underwater. Your voice is garbled and he can’t understand what you are saying but he hears the hurt in your tone. “I can’t-“ he struggles out, heart racing in his chest. He presses a hand to his heart as he tries to reach the door. “I can’t-“

Your eyes widen when you see the way his chest heaves. You step forward, reaching out to cup his cheeks, “it’s okay. You’re okay, baby. Just breathe.” You order, “you’re okay, baby.” You murmur, “breathe with me. Breathe. It’s okay.”

He sinks to his knees with you, gasping for air. “It- I’m almost fucking 60.” He chokes out, closing his eyes and hating how weak he is. “I- you- a baby?” He makes a sound of sorrow. “I’m sorry.” He opens his eyes and there is nothing but anguish in their depths as he looks at you, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “I’m sorry.”

You shush him, “it’s okay, baby. It’s okay baby.” You murmur, “just breathe. It’s okay baby.” You promise, “we will figure it out. I don’t know for sure. We don’t know.” You murmur, caressing his cheeks.

It takes him a few minutes before he can breathe normally. He takes a deep breath and sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I won’t live to see them grow up.” Hw whispers. “I won’t be able to protect you, and our baby.” He’s never shirked his responsibility. He didn’t when he was a young, single father to a baby girl and he won’t do it now that he’s old enough to know better. His eyes meet yours and he swallows harshly. “I’m sorry, honey.” He murmurs.

“I can protect us. I am capable. I just - I didn’t think- we’ve gone so many years without it happening and - shit. This is my fault. I told you to cum inside me.” You choke, kissing his cheeks, “I’m sorry. This is - shit.”

“No.” He frowns, shaking his head and pulls back to look at you seriously. “I’m a grown man, I knew the risks.” He admits, sighing softly as he pulls your hands into his. “I’m not mad at you.” He promises. “I’m mad at myself. All I ever do is the wrong thing.”

You shake your head, “no you don’t. You’re a good man. You’re a good father and I- I know this isn’t what we planned but we can do it. I can do it.” You promise, “I have to do it.” You choke, “it’s my responsibility.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Joel pulls you close and presses his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry honey.” He murmurs again, thinking about the trouble Maria had when she had Benji. “I’m gonna find a doctor. The best doctor I can.” He promises. “One that was a doctor before all this shit.” He will drag the doctor here by force if necessary.

You sigh, “it’s okay, baby. We will figure it out.” You promise, “we have a long way to go before the baby is here.” You murmur, “I - it’s okay. We will figure it out.” You promise, pecking his cheek.

You should be pissed off at him, kicking him out of your house and life, not comforting him. Not reassuring him. He moves to pull you into his arms. “I don’t deserve you.” He knows he owes you the truth about how he feels, but he can’t right now. It’s not the right time. Not after he had essentially blamed you for getting pregnant in your mind. It would ruin it. So he doesn’t say those little words that seem to come so goddamn hard for him. “Not at all.”

You sigh, caressing his cheek, “you do. You just don’t know it. Come on, lay down with me.” You take his hand, helping him stand and you guide him to your bedroom. “Rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

Joel sighs, his feet heavy, but he follows you dutifully. “You should come stay at the house sometimes.” He mentions. “There’s more room, you could have some space from the shop.”

You are surprised at his offer, nodding as you shift to lay down and he pulls you into his chest. You sniff, trying to calm your racing heart, and you wonder how you’re going to handle having a baby with a man who can’t even say he loves you. 

**** 

You don’t know how long you lay there for but you shift to kiss him, waking him up from your nap. “I gotta use the bathroom.” You shift off him, making your way into the bathroom to pee. Your eyes widen when you pull your pants down and see red. No cramping or sudden issues so you must’ve gotten your period. You come out to see Joel sitting on the edge of the bed and you bite your lip, “crisis averted. I got my period.”

Joel frowns as he looks at you, unsure if he’s relieved or disappointed to hear that. He nods, knowing that it’s for the best. He might have ten, fifteen years left in him. If he’s lucky. He doesn’t need to be having a baby, even if he wondered what a kid with you would look like. “That’s….” He pauses. “Good. Right?”

You nod, a little sad but it’s for the best. “Yeah. Looks like Ellie won’t be a big sister. Probably for the best.” You snort, sitting down next to him. You reach for his hand, squeezing it, “it’s for the best.” You reassure him, “so back to pulling out?” You tease.

He snorts, shaking his head in amusement that you can bounce back so quickly. “That’s if you let me back in your bed.” He tells you. “You might kick my ass out.”

“Never.” You promise, “no one has ever made me feel like you do.” You smirk, “I’d be an idiot to kick you out because of one pregnancy scare. We have been pretty lucky considering.” You sigh, turning your body to look at him. “I don’t want to step backwards because this scare happened. Let’s go back to how we were before today.”

He looks down at your hands, fingers threaded together and he squeezes softly. The trust you give him is overwhelming. “Back to how things were.” He agrees as he looks up at you again. Thinking about how the child you could have had together would have had your eyes.

**** 

Another year passes with you and Joel spending time together, the pregnancy scare buried away. “She’s still not talking to you?” You ask Joel, “why don’t you take her on patrol today?” You ask, knowing you’re supposed to go with him but you’ll give up your place if it makes Ellie happy.

“You think?” He takes a sip of his coffee, looking over at you, and contemplating. “She is 19.” He admits. “Most start patrolling at 18 but….” He had pulled strings and put his foot down with the council, a lot of them afraid he would slow down construction because he was pulling more patrols to protect her. “Yeah.” He nods. “I guess that could be good.”

You watch him sip his coffee, “she will be excited. You know all she wants is to be capable.” You tell him and he nods, “yeah. Maybe - maybe we can talk. It should be quiet out there today.” You smile, “exactly. Go with her. Oh and when you’re back, I repaired her band shirts.” You look over at the box that contains shirts she has ripped and worn to pieces but you’ve managed to rescue them.

“She will like that.” Joel smiles at you as he reaches out to caress your back. “Let me go talk to her about it. What are you going to do if she wants to go? Have a day to yourself where I’m not bothering you?” He knows there is a group of newcomers that just arrived and those first few days are hectic for you with trading and repairing clothes.

You chuckle, “I’ll probably have a nap. Touch myself thinking about this old guy who fucks me.” You tease, leaning in to softly kiss his jaw, “and have some snacks. You know, girl time.”

Joel snorts softly and shakes his head. Turning his head as he presses his lips to your briefly. “Girl time, huh?” He smirks slightly. “Sounds fun.”

You chuckle, “oh yeah. Gonna be real fun.” You joke and caress his cheek, “she’s gonna come around.” You murmur, “don’t sorry baby.” You want him to relax a little even if Ellie is giving him a hard time.

He sighs softly, leaning against you as he hopes that you are right. “Too good to me.” He murmurs again, believing that to be true. “I should go.” He huffs after a moment.

“Go. I’ll see you later.” You murmur, kissing him again and you watch him as he steps back, grabbing his jacket, and you sigh when he’s gone. You hope he and Ellie can find some middle ground during the patrol.

**** 

He knows you’ve heard. Everyone in Jackson has heard. The only thing that spreads faster than good news is bad news. And the death of a town member is bad news. His footsteps are heavy, not even able to go to your house, he’s dragged himself back to his own house. Slow steps up the porch, running a hand through his hair as he swallows harshly.

You make your way up the steps to his front door, knowing he must be beating himself up. You open the door that was left unlocked after he rushed inside. You close it behind you, making your way upstairs to find Joel sitting on the end of his bed, head hanging low. You walk towards him, standing in between his spread legs and you waste no time pulling him into your stomach so you can comfort him.

The sorrow he hides from everyone. The feelings that he bottles up, buries deep, it comes out. His hands slide around your body, pulling you closer as he gives into the pain. He hadn’t wanted to kill Eugene, he didn’t. But the risk was too great. Bringing someone infected too close to Jackson endangered every single person in that town. Ellie didn’t see that, wouldn’t see that. “I had to.” He chokes out.

You stroke your fingers through his hair, “I know, baby. I know.” You coo, needing to comfort him as he sobs into your shirt. “You did what you thought was best.” You murmur, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “She will understand with time. She has to.” You promise, “and you did the right thing.”

He tightens his grip on you, letting himself have this moment before he stuffs it down again. Shows an unconcerned face to the rest of the town. He knows you won’t even ask him for the details but you believe in him. You believe that he wouldn’t do anything just to be cruel. There was a reason, a good reason for why he hadn’t granted that last request.

You let him bury his face in your shirt, “it’s okay. Baby, it’s okay.” You murmur, waiting until he lifts his head to look at you and you lean down, cupping his cheeks to softly kiss him. “It’ll be okay.” You promise, “it’s gonna be okay.” You know why he did it and you know why Ellie is mad but you understand him.

“I don’t think it will be.” Joel admits softly, pulling back and looking up at you. “If you- could you stay tonight?” It’s been rare that you’ve spent the night together, even after all these years, but he doesn’t want to be alone.

You can’t deny him, stroking his cheek, “of course.” You murmur, rubbing his lower lip with your thumb. You have rarely spent a night in his arms and right now, it’s what you both need. “Lemme get you a cup of coffee.” You reach for his hand to squeeze it. “Maybe a splash of whiskey in it.”

“A lot of whiskey.” He murmurs after a second. He smiles softly to reassure you, knowing that you are trying to help. “I’m gonna take a shower.” He sighs. “Need one.”

You nod, “whiskey with a splash of coffee.” You chuckle, “got it. Now, go shower and I’ll make you something to eat. Knowing you, you didn’t eat before patrol today.” You huff, caressing his cheek. You step away from him and glance back for a moment. Making your way downstairs, your heart aches for the man who is just trying his best and Ellie can’t seem to see that. You prepare his coffee, whiskey, and a sandwich, setting them down on the kitchen table where his glasses lay next to a book on rescuing foundations. You snort and look up when he enters the kitchen, hair wet and wearing sweats. He looks soft and vulnerable. Things you would never normally associate with him.

He pauses in the doorway, a little unsure and hesitant. Not because you are here, but because of how well you just fit here. You have taken over and taken care of him. He rubs his hands on his sweats and steps forward, his feet bare on the kitchen floor. “Thanks.” He murmurs softly. “Did you fix yourself something to eat?”

You nod, your own sandwich in front of you. “I didn’t get to eat anything either.” You don’t practice what you preach. You watch him sit down and he looks at the food. “Thank you, honey.” You smile, pushing a napkin towards him. “Eat, Miller.” You order, “and there’s extra whiskey in the coffee.”

“Thanks.” He reaches for it, grateful that you understand that he’s not talkative right now. You pick up your sandwich and start to eat, letting him savor the burn of the liquor as it slides down his throat. You deserve so much praise, so much more than silence right now. But Joel doesn’t have the heart, or the words to talk. He can put on a front when he’s in town, but right now, he’s just weary.

You let him eat, seeing the tiredness in his eyes, and when he’s done, you take his plate and yours to wash them up. It’s early but you see he’s exhausted. “Go up to bed. I’ll be in there soon. I’ll borrow your shirt.” You murmur, rubbing his back, and he nods, making his way upstairs. You secure the house after cleaning the kitchen, and make your way upstairs. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed again and you pull one of his shirts from his drawer, a half finished wood work on top of the dresser. You know he had to move everything into his bedroom after Ellie took up residence in the garage so his bedroom has become his workshop. You take his shirt into the bathroom to clean up and change, coming back out to find him under the sheets. He holds them open and you eagerly slide under them, shifting closer to him until you’re snuggled into his chest. “Get some sleep.” You order, kissing the space above his heart.

He’s more appreciative than he could ever articulate. His arms wrapping around you while you hold him. Closing his eyes and letting the weight of the day settle. It’s not oppressive, like it should be. He’s not wallowing in despair and recriminations. Tommy understood, he could see it in his brother’s eyes. Even if he had always been the one to be a little more tenderhearted. Joel had been the protector, the one who had made the choices and sacrifices, taken the blame. He had understood it then too, he was tougher, meant to take that role. He wouldn’t change anything, he wouldn’t have let Eugene come back to Jackson. Just like he wouldn’t let the Fireflies kill Ellie. He kissed the top of your head and lets himself drift off to sleep.

**** 

You watch Joel push Seth down after he insulted Ellie and Dina, a sigh escaping your lips when Ellie tells him she doesn’t need his help, and you look at Maria. She raises her eyebrows and you stand up after Joel stumbles outside, “I better go after him.” You murmur and she nods, “see you next year.” You smile and rush into the cold air to follow Joel home. You know he’s spiraling. You find him standing out in the snow, chest tight as he struggles to breathe and you rush over to him, “breathe baby. It’s okay. It’s okay.” You murmur, stroking your fingers through his hair. “You’re okay.”

“It’s never gonna get better.” Joel gasps out, closing his eyes and wishing that he had said something, anything. Made her listen to reason, but he had just walked out. Embarrassed that she had told him in front of everyone that she didn’t need him.

You let him squeeze you, trying to ground himself, and you murmur to him, “she will come around. She will. She will forgive you at some point. She’s young. She doesn’t understand.” You reason, rubbing the back of his neck, “she will. Soon.”

He doubts it, but it helps him open his eyes again. “I’m gonna go home.” He murmurs softly. “You can stay, if you want.” He would never ask you to come with him if you wanted to socialize, but he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping you do come with him.

“Let’s go, baby.” You murmur, taking his hand to guide him back to his home. “You’ll be okay. It will be okay, baby.” You grip his hand tight and shiver as the cold air hits you. The snow is starting to fall again and you are shaking when you step onto his porch.

“I’m gonna- sit out here.” Joel tells you quietly, wanting to make sure that Ellie comes home safely. He sees you shivering and he immediately pulls his hand away from yours to rub your arms. “I’ll get the heater,” he offers, knowing that you would want to stay with him. You have so far.

“Can you- can you play me something?” You ask, knowing the guitar offers him an escape from the chaos that seizes his mind. He nods and you smile, reaching out to kiss the back of his hand. You squeeze it before you let it go. “Lemme go make you a coffee and I’ll be out in a sec.” You promise after he opens his door to grab the heater and his guitar.

Joel sets up the heater, angling it towards the seat you will be sitting in. Sitting down and plucking a few chords on the guitar to start tuning it more after replacing the broken strings.

You prepare the coffee, waiting for the water to boil for the french press after you grind up the beans and soon enough, you’re stepping outside to hand the coffee to Joel. “I gotta get mine.” You caress his cheek when he takes it, rocking on the porch, and you head back inside. When you come back towards the front door, you hear voices and look outside to see Ellie standing next to Joel. Deciding to give them some privacy, you step back into the kitchen.

You don’t come back outside, but Joel knows that you should have seen Ellie. He listens to her as she talks, obviously having come to the correct conclusions about what happened in St. Louis with the Fireflies. He doesn’t say a word, just nods when he is asked questions. Until it comes to the why. “Because I love you.” Joel choked out gruffly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “In a way you can’t understand.

You wait until you hear the garage door shut and you quietly close the front door behind you, finding Joel leaning against the railing. Your hand comes up to rub his back, “are you - is everything okay?” You ask, seeing the tears on his cheeks.

Joel licks his lips and nods. “Eventually.” He admits quietly, looking over at you and then back out at the front lawn. “She knows what I’ve done and I- I have to accept that.” He hasn’t told you about St. Louis, but he thinks you know already.

You had never heard him tell you the story but you’ve guessed that he saved her and killed a lot of people to do it. You understand why he did it. Ellie saved him from himself and he was selfish but any parent would’ve done the same thing. “She will come around.” You promise, “she loves you and she will forgive you. Just give her time.” You reach for his hand that’s resting on the ledge of the porch and you squeeze it in yours.

“Yeah.” He looks down at your hand on top of his and wishes tonight had gone like he had expected it to. He had hoped to dance with you, to show you how much you mean to him tonight. Finally putting into words what he has felt for years. Now, that moment has been ruined. Changed into this. Where Joel can’t verbalize what he thinks. “You’re gonna stay, right?” He asks. “Still gotta finish paying for the coffee.”

You snort, turning to wrap your arms around him, the heat from the porch keeping the chill off you and Joel’s body heat is even better. “Nearly paid it off, Miller.” You tease, tilting your head to kiss his jaw. “Come on, let’s get ready for bed. You have patrol in the morning.” You sigh and he nods, squeezing your waist. You smile, leaning back to look at him, “happy new year, baby.” He smiles, leaning in to softly kiss you, “happy new year, honey.”

**** 

The fire still burns, the blood that is covering the side of your face isn’t yours, but it’s dried and crusty as you work to clear the bodies and bring them to the fire burning in front of the fences. You have to concentrate on that, on the task at hand, because you are worried. Before the storm hit, they lost contact with Joel and Dina. Then the hoard attacked. Jackson had been fighting for its very lift and your shop had barely missed being burned down. Now, you keep looking towards the north, where Joel was supposed to be scouting, hoping to see him riding in, worried about what had happened and who had been lost while he was gone.

You look up when you hear the horses neigh, heart pounding with the need to see Joel and you frown when you only see Jesse, Dina, and Ellie. You run towards them, only to freeze when you see the bloodied sheet covered body being dragged. “No. No. Don’t tell me - Joel? He’s - no. He can’t be.” You choke before a wail escapes your lips when you see the look on Ellie’s face and you collapse to the ground, your sobs echoing off the buildings of Main Street.

Ellie chokes out your name, nearly falling off her horse and her eyes roll back in her head as she faints. Making Jesse shout for help as he scoops her up and Tommy rushes forward to see what is happening. Choking up and freezing when he sees the shroud covered body and he slowly kneels down beside you. “Joel.” He murmurs softly, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against him to let you cry.

"El-Ellie. Need to - to help - he- her." You can hardly breathe, gripping onto Tommy to keep grounded but he is choking on his tears until Maria arrives and takes his place. Her hands pull you close as Tommy lifts Ellie, stumbling as he takes her to the hospital. You push Maria away, crawling over to the shrouded body, your tears dropping onto the blood stained cloth as you touch it, knowing it's him underneath the material and your sobs are soul crushing.

Maria hates watching you mourn, her own sorrow softer, but she hadn’t been in love with Joel. She kneels next to you, her hand on your back while you untie the rope and pull the sheet away from his face. Sobs getting louder when you see the battered face of the man you love. “Don’t.” She murmurs softly. “He wouldn’t want you to remember him this way.” She draws the sheet back up.

You nod, heart breaking at how he’s been killed. Tortured and why? Who did this to him? Eventually you’re dragged away so they can untie Joel and carry his body to the ever growing morgue. “Come here.” Maria pulls you into her arms again, “let’s go. You need to sit down.” She says, taking you back to hers and Tommy’s house. 

**** 

You’re numb as you stare at the glass of whiskey, a blanket wrapped around you, and you’re still covered in blood. You can’t process what’s happened today. Your body seems to have shut down and you don’t even look up when Tommy appears in front of you.

Tommy looks up at Maria, his eyes expressive and he sighs as he kneels down in front of you. “Honey…” you wince when he uses Joel’s nickname for you, so he switches to your name. “Joel loved you. So fuckin’ much.”

You continue to stare at the glass, “he never - he didn’t tell me. He never said it. Neither did I.” You choke, regret threatening to drown you. “I should’ve told him. Just once. I had years to tell him.”

“You know how Joel is….was.” Tommy had told the stubborn son of a bitch to tell you, but he had been so insistent on making it right. Making it perfect for you. “He wasn’t a words guy, but he-“ his younger brother fights back tears of his own as he hands you a small box he had taken from Joel’s pocket. “He was waiting for the right time to give you this.”

Your watery eyes widen and you stare at the box, “what’s - he - I don’t-” Tommy gestures for you to open it and your shaking hands open the tiny box. “Oh my God.” You choke, seeing the diamond ring. It’s beautiful and you are shocked by it. You never imagined it. Never imagined that he’d want that. “He never - I knew he cared for me but I didn’t - when did he-?”

“He talked to me about it last summer.” Tommy admits softly. “Asked me if I thought he was crazy.” He snorts, smirking slightly as he recalls the conversation. “Told him he was insane not to marry you.” He pauses for a moment. “He was gonna ask you at the dance last night, but….” He had left to put Benji to sleep, but he had heard what happened. Figured he had put it off.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shakily take your ring out of the box. Twisting it in your fingers, you watch the diamond catch the light until you notice the engraving. “He, uh, engraved it himself.” Tommy confesses and you choke when you see “I love you” engraved into the metal. “Oh God.” You sob, struggling but finally you manage to slide the ring onto your finger. “I would’ve said yes. To him. A thousand times.” You murmur, “yes.”

“I know you would have.” Tommy murmurs softly, reaching out to take your right hand as you stare at the ring Joel had picked out for you, the symbol of the feeling that he could never find the words to express. “He was happy with you. Loved you with everything he had.” He reminds you. “Had loved you from the first bag of coffee he traded you for.”

You chuckle at the memory, “he really wanted coffee.” You joke softly and Tommy snorts, “he might have come to you for coffee but he kept coming back for you.” You squeeze his hand, “I don’t know how to live without him.” You confess softly and Tommy chokes, “neither do I. He’s always - he was always there to protect me. To take the blame whenever I fucked up and our dad wanted to beat me. He took the belt. He took it to protect me.” Tommy whispers like he’s a 13 year old boy.

Joel Miller didn’t talk about his feelings a lot. He could be chatty about thing, mostly related to his love of building things or fixing things. He loved his community, protected it. He loved Ellie, and wanted the best for her. He died protecting the girl that Ellie loved, keeping her from being hurt up in that lodge. It’s why he didn’t try to fight them. And he loved you, the evidence is on your finger, the inscription etched by hand, with love.

**** 

Years later, you lay in bed, chest heaving as you take your last breaths. Dina, Ellie, and JJ by your side and you close your eyes as you pass away. You open them to bright light, a familiar hand outstretched, and your eyes widen when your body moves smoothly, just like it did when you were younger. “Hey, honey.” His dark eyes come into focus and you smile, surging forward to wrap your arms around him, “Joel.” You choke, pressing your lips to his until a throat clears. Joel pulls back, turning his head, and he smiles when he says “this is Sarah.” The young girl smiles at you and says “Dad has told me so much about. I’m so happy to finally meet you.” Joel rubs your back as you say “I’m sorry I took so long.” He shakes his head, “you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Come, we’ll show you around.” You take his hand and let him guide you through the light, his ring sparking on your finger as you finally get to enjoy forever with the man you love.

​​

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[mingumis]

stupid idiot | kmg

he doesn’t care about anything, other than the slow, curling smile on your lips and the feeling of your soft fingertips, fluttering over the bruises on his knuckles. 

pairing: gryffindor kim mingyu x slytherin f!reader genre: fluff !! so much fluff! tags: little bit of blood, nothing graphic! just a load of mingyu in love being a dummy a/n: i was racing against the clock to finish this before midnight but it's still the sixth where i am, so happy birthday to our precious minguri who deserves the whole world and then some 🥹 wc: 3.0k

read mingyu and sparky's first fic here!

“I love her.”

“Oh, wonderful. You’ve finally figured it out.” 

Seokmin barely lifts his head from his desk, where he’s finishing up on a love letter to his own girlfriend, no doubt, based on the sheer amount of hearts he has scribbled onto the parchment. 

Mingyu scowls and has half a mind to march over and tear up the letter to shreds, but he actually likes the Hufflepuff that Seokmin has sickeningly dubbed his Lovey and he also knows that you have been friends with her since first year Astronomy class. 

You. Sparky. Right, there are more important matters at hand. 

“Well, then,” Seokmin pokes his tongue out in concentration as he carefully rolls up the paper and seals it with hot wax. “Enlighten me. What helped you get it into that thick skull of yours?” 

Mingyu drops his bag onto the floor and comes around to Seokmin’s side of their room, plopping himself onto the neatly made mattress. He holds out the stack of his returned and graded assignment, where the professor has notated a perfect grade in the top margin. 

His friend finally looks over to his offering, brow furrowing. “Con...gratulations? Dude, what?” 

Mingyu sighs, partly out of frustration, mostly out of defeat. “No, no,” he mumbles, rifling through the pages to land on the conclusion that he settled on that night in the library, with your help, “Just read this.” 

Seokmin gives him another dubious look but takes the essay into his hands and starts reading the words out loud. 

“To the average witch or wizard, this dilemma provides merely an opportunity to practice a simple Levicorpus spell. Being tied down to the tracks before an unstoppable force, seconds before certain death, is a trivial matter to those who hold the power to move the earth with a mere flourish of the wrist. 

“To Muggles, however, the decision and its outcomes cannot be easy. The choice of inaction might allow several people’s deaths but keep the blood off of one’s hands, while action condemns a single person to death but saves the greater many. To protect the life of a lover, one may have to grapple with the active choice of letting a stranger, a classmate, even a friend or multiple, die in their place. In the split second that exists between life and death, logic and ethics and morality fail, and all that remains is love.” 

Mingyu squirms a little as Seokmin’s voice lingers even after he finishes reading. It’s his heart, poured out onto the parchment in the neat, blocky handwriting that you’ve complimented him more than once before. His heart, that he hopes to be able to convey to you someday. It’s so obvious to him that he frowns when he notices Seokmin’s puzzled squint. 

“What?” 

“I’m still confused.”

He huffs loudly, yanking the paper back, and flops backwards onto Seokmin’s bed so that he doesn’t have to look at his friend as he declares, “I’m in love with Sparky, alright? Like, she’s my friend, but also, I think she’s incredible and smart and perfect and– I would let five people die if it means saving her!” Mingyu heaves a few quick breaths and receives no response, so he turns his head to the side, where Seokmin’s face has contorted into something crossed between a knowing grin and a disgusted gag. 

“Okay, wow. I could’ve done without the theatrics,” his friend quips, but there’s already an excited sparkle to his eyes. “Ooh, does this mean that we can go on double dates now? 

Mingyu’s heart flutters at the thought, before he realizes that he hasn’t even gone on a date with you, let alone asked you out, let alone confessed his feelings to you. Those should all come first, probably, before a double date with Seokmin and his Lovey. He turns over, shoving his face into the pillows and lamenting through a groan, “I haven’t even told her yet.”

Seokmin snorts, “Well, hop to it, Romeo.”

“Who the hell is Romeo?”

“You’ve got so much more to learn about the Muggle world, my young Padawan.”

“What is a ‘Padawan’?” 

–

You’re determined to make this extremely difficult for him, it seems. 

The first time Mingyu tries to talk to you, it’s a futile attempt to catch you as you leave your Arithmancy lecture. 

You’re traveling in a cluster within your newfound Slytherin protection squad, led by Jeonghan and flanked by Soonyoung and Jihoon. The arrangement had resulted, courtesy of Seungcheol, when Mingyu had shown up to practice late one too many times from walking you to classes to fend off the bullies. Fortunately, the three Slytherin upperclassmen had been all too happy to be given a reason to sneer at snot-nosed pureblood supremacists at the compensation rate of a Butterbeer per month. Unfortunately for Mingyu, they seem to take their jobs a bit too seriously, judging by the warning hiss that escapes Jeonghan’s gritted teeth as he approaches. 

“I’m her friend!” Mingyu protests, gaze leaping from Soonyoung, who grins, Jihoon, who shrugs, and you, who cackles into your scarf. “Also, I’m your friend!”

Jeonghan lifts a shoulder, eyes narrowing with scrutiny. “You are Seungcheol’s friend. We are, at best, classmates, and at worst, rivals on the pitch. Besides, we were told to make sure that Sparky gets to her classes in peace, without any distractions.” The Slytherin beater rakes his gaze up and down before his lips curl in disapproval. “You look like a distraction to me.” “Hear, hear!” Soonyoung pipes up, pointedly ignoring the scathing glare that Mingyu shoots his way. 

Jihoon leans into you, dipping to murmur something into your ear that makes you giggle. Giggle. 

Mingyu fears that he has unwittingly sent you straight into a den of tigers who have enlisted you as one of their own. As a last resort, he peeks his head around Jeonghan’s frame to you, pleading with a gaze that he hopes is pitiful enough for you to cave in.

You meet his eyes steadily, lips twitching into an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Gyu. We’re gonna be late to Divination. See you later?”

Dejected, Mingyu steps aside to let the group by, acting like he doesn’t see the way Jeonghan’s hardened glare eases into a languid smugness.

The next opportunity that he seizes comes in the library, during the midday tea and meditation session that you partake in with Minghao. 

Mingyu stalks his way over to the far corner where he knows he’ll find the two of you amidst the dusty stacks of Transfiguration textbooks. Sure enough, Minghao sits on a cushion on the floor, straight backed and eyes shut. You, however, have your knees to your chest and back against one of the shelves, with your nose buried into a book and sipping away at a giant mug. 

When Mingyu whistles a quick note to announce his arrival, you glance up in surprise, your eyebrows quirking curiously. Before you can say anything, the meditating Ravenclaw mutters, not even bothering to open his eyes, “Go away, Kim.” 

He startles, “How did you know it was me?”

“Of course it’s you. You’re the only one dumb enough to try and interrupt our meditation.” “Sparky’s not even meditating!” “Hey!” You growl, offended. He offers you an apologetic grin and notices you fight off your own. 

Minghao slides a single eye open, shooting the most threatening one-eyed glare he’s ever seen his way. “I know, but Sparky’s not distracting or annoying so she can stay. You, however.”

Mingyu sighs and tilts his head towards you, hoping that you’ll get the hint and follow him out of the library. Instead, you motion towards your book and tea with a sheepish shrug, leaving Mingyu to sulk. Just as he’s turning away to leave, he runs right into Wonwoo and Hansol, who have coincidentally arrived at the dark corner, matching in blue and bronze with empty mugs in hand. 

“Really?” He demands, twirling back around to Minghao, who has returned to his meditation again. 

Wonwoo rumbles out a laugh as he brushes past and takes up the cushion beside you, like it’s second nature. You pipe up a hello towards the older Ravenclaw, simpering when he pats your head to return the greeting. 

Mingyu’s stomach burns. 

Third time’s the charm, he tells himself, but the race for the Quidditch Cup ramps up and he’s being pulled into early-morning practices and late-night scrimmages. Mingyu swears he’s spent more time on a broom than on his own two legs for the past two weeks and seen more of Seungcheol, Seokmin, and Chan’s ugly mugs than your radiant face. It’s not right. 

The day of the tiebreaker Gryffindor-Slytherin match, the final chance they have for the title, they have to take breakfast before the rest of the students, so it’s a surprise when he sees you, shuffling into the Great Hall in your checkered pajama pants. You’re still rubbing sleep out of your eyes, but when you spot him, you march towards him with a conviction that doesn’t match your fuzzy slippers. 

“Mingyu.” You get right into business. “I overheard Hoon and his cronies last night, and they have something shady up their sleeves for the match today.” 

He blinks, hand halfway up in a wave, “Good morning to you too.” Mingyu finishes chewing on his mouthful of eggs as he contemplates your words. “What do you mean by ‘shady’?”

You come to sit on the bench across the table from him, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater, nipping at your lips nervously. “I’m not sure,” you mutter, wincing and leaning in closer when you notice the Slytherin Quidditch team stride into the Hall raucously, “I couldn’t get all of the words, but I feel weird. Like something bad’s going to happen.” 

Mingyu grins, shoveling more eggs and crooning through his chewing, “Aw, that's cute. Look, the Slytherins have been playing nasty for all of time. We’re used to them. But thanks for the head’s up, I appreciate it.”

A sleeved fist thumps against the wooden table, and he jumps at the dishes clattering against one another. Your forehead creases, the way that it does when you’re upset, and he falters, wondering if he’s said something wrong. 

“Just,” you seem like you force yourself to swallow down a million things you’d rather say, choosing to mutter out instead, “Be careful today, Mingyu. Please?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything for you, Sparks.”

–

Mingyu’s on fire today. 

He’s scored fifty points out of their hundred, Slytherin’s trailing back by thirty, and by the way Chan’s flitting here and there on the Snitch’s tail, the match is nearly theirs. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, victory already sweet on the tip of his tongue, he decides that today will be the day that he finally tells you that he loves you. 

As he chases the Quaffle past Seokmin, the Beater sends a particularly persistent Bludger off in the opposite direction. Mingyu flashes his friend a grateful grin and tucks into form neatly, getting ready to dive after the ball and add another goal to his name. The familiar lurch in his stomach as he drops heartens him for only a second, until he hears an unfamiliar whizzing by his ear. It only takes another passing moment to realize that the Snitch is right beside him, then another to understand that the force colliding straight into him is the SIytherin Seeker and that his broomstick has been knocked off kilter. 

Mingyu yelps, as he teeters from left to right on his seat. For a second, he’s able to grip his fingers around the handle firmly and he thinks that he’s going to be alright. Just as he lifts his head to find his bearings, another rush of green creeps up in his periphery and collides into his side. He fully loses his balance and topples over the side of his Firebolt, wind rushing up and around him violently as he hurtles towards the field. 

–

“Mingyu.”

He must’ve hit his head a bit too hard on the way down because when you appear through the flap of the medic’s tent, you’re glowing. An entourage of his friends follows closely behind, but he can only see you, making your approach towards him, brow furrowed and nose wrinkling. 

It looks like you might start crying. Mingyu has never seen you cry before, not even when you came quite close to it that one time that you received a less-than-perfect score on your Herbology practicum. He’ll be damned if he ends up being the cause behind your tears for something so trivial. 

“Sparky,” he soothes, reaching for you and wincing back when the motion earns him a twinge in his shoulder and a strict tut from the medic behind him. There’s a slight wobble to your mouth as you behold his battered state. Shit. He has to fix this right away, somehow. “Hey, I’m okay. Promise.” 

Blood from the cut that splits his bottom lip dribbles as he tries to speak, and Mingyu cringes a little at the taste of iron. Your gaze drops to his mouth and the crease in your forehead deepens. He’s thinking so hard to come up with something to say next, to ease your concern, to get rid of those tight anxious lines around your eyes, but you beat him to it. 

“Episkey.” 

His lip warms and then grows cold within a split second, and when he reaches up with his uninjured arm, the cut has faded, leaving only a smudge of blood against the back of his hand. Mingyu smiles dopily, pleased to have been on the receiving end of your spell, as warm and gentle as a sunshower. 

“Thanks–”

“I cannot believe you, Kim Mingyu.” You mutter, more to the ground than to him, but he can hear the strain in your throat as you try to keep the tears at bay. “I told you to be careful. I told you that they’re going to play dirty today.” There’s frustration, anger, fear in your voice, and despite his efforts to prevent it, a single tear falls from your lashes. 

Mingyu’s chest squeezes. His head, reeling as it is already, cannot keep up with his tongue, and before he realizes, he’s blabbing everything that’s been on his mind for days, everything that made him lose his concentration and fall in the first place. 

“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I love you, like, I like you so much that I’ve been trying to tell you, but my friends are such assholes sometimes and they made it so hard for me to talk to you. I’m sorry. I like you. I love you. Don’t cry, please.” 

Your face scrunches up entirely, which is the total opposite effect he was going for. Maybe he read the signs wrong, maybe you just see him as a good friend after all, maybe falling off of his broom in front of the entire student class in one of the most important matches for the Quidditch Cup has made him lose all potential chances he ever had with you. 

Mingyu withers as he quietly watches you work through his outburst. He watches as you hurriedly wipe at your teary eyes with quivering fists. He watches as you sniff loudly and stifle down the hiccups that have started up in your throat. He watches as you tilt your head back to blink rapidly at the lights overhead. He watches as you finally look straight at him since you’ve entered the tent, breath hitching ever so slightly as you dial up to say something. 

“You’re so ridiculous.” 

Yeah, he figured as much. Mingyu grimaces, desperately trying to swallow away the bitter taste that rises in his mouth, so that he can take this all in stride and pretend like he didn’t just bare his bleeding heart in front of not only you but his friends and the medic as well. He blinks hard, once, and when he can see again, you’ve come to a crouch before his chair, trembling hands grabbing at his, looking up at him with those pretty, albeit weepy, eyes.

“I love you too, stupid Gyu,” your voice tremors and escapes in a warble, as if you’re dazed to admit it out loud, “I’ve been in love with you since first year, stupid.” 

There’s an eruption of noise outside of the tent coming from the pitch and the bleachers, one of the Seekers must have caught the Snitch, but there’s nothing Mingyu can hear over the roaring in his ears. Blood rushes in every capillary in his head, it seems, as he feels rapid heat prickling up his neck, his cheeks, the damned tips of his ears.

He won’t ever admit it to anyone, but at this moment, he can’t be bothered to find out which of the teams outside has won the match. He doesn’t care that his stupidity might’ve singlehandedly yanked the Quidditch Cup from Gryffindor’s hands and placed it into Slytherin’s. He doesn’t care that Wonwoo and Minghao are standing just a few feet behind you, slapping Galleons into each other’s palms and snickering about it. 

He doesn’t care about anything, other than the slow, curling smile on your lips and the feeling of your soft fingertips, fluttering over the bruises on his knuckles. 

–

“And this year’s Inter-House Quidditch Cup goes to Gryffindor House!” 

The table explodes into cheers as Seungcheol lifts the trophy, gleaming and massive, above his head. Seokmin thumps Chan hard on the back until their youngest teammate chokes on his saliva and complains loudly. Mingyu throws his hands up as he celebrates, and immediately, his relocated shoulder twinges in protest. 

He cringes at the pain, gaze darting all the way across the Great Hall. At the Slytherin table which has broken out into jeers and hisses, his attention zeroes in on you, despite being flanked by a Jeonghan and Jihoon who look quite miffed about the loss. You’re already looking at him, eyes narrowed into slits. He knows you so well that he can imagine the disapproving click of your tongue, the way you would chide him for forgetting to keep his arm in its sling. 

Mingyu beams over what he hopes comes across as his most charming smile. He observes, and melts at, the way that your scowl barely lasts. Easy, open joy takes over your face, as you mouth out across four tables. 

Congrats, stupid.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Let The Rain Fall | Bucky Barnes x Autistic!Reader | Short Series - Part 4 of 4 - 2.5k

Bucky isn't the only person looking to talk to you after you rescue the jet. But you're feeling far from heroic. But Bucky's seen you struggle before, and he's going to help you again too.

Warnings: description of a meltdown, angst, workplace bullying, negative introspection, but also fluff, Bucky being the softest and the sweetest, and...a kiss!

A/N: thank you to everyone who has read along, I'm so glad I finally shared this fic with you all and I hope you enjoyed it :)

<- Part 3

Masterlist | Let the Rain Fall Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

The compound was calm again, the debris from the attack was being cleaned up by Stark’s crew and everyone was back to their day jobs as if nothing happened. But Bucky couldn’t move, couldn’t go back to the gym or paperwork, and just forget what he’d seen. 

“She was just standing there, Steve, controlling the jet, she saved them all - I- what happened? What is she?” 

Steve didn’t look up from the report he was reading, “I told you, she has her own skills.”

“What skills?” Bucky paced back across the room and in front of Steve’s eyeline. 

“Can you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.” Steve shuffled up slightly to accommodate Bucky on the sofa as well. “Stop. Pacing.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know, her envelope is sealed. You’ve managed to get more out of her than any of us combined. So, I’m sure she’ll tell you in her own time.” He looked up at Bucky pointedly before returning to his report. 

"You know, don't you?"

Steve ran a hand down his face and then back up, ruffling his normally neat hair.

"I do, if I tell you, will you promise to leave her alone?"

"Honestly? I won't lie to you... But I still need to know."

"To save you getting in trouble, opening people's files, I'll tell you what you've already seen. But then you have to leave her alone. I can't fight HR about you again."

Bucky sat down finally, watching the side of Steve's face.

"Telekenisis, that's what I heard when she joined." Steve went back to his paperwork, feeling the pressure of Bucky's stare before, turning to him. "Three years at Xavier's before graduating, she worked there for a while, then college, then here. To my knowledge she's only used her powers during emergencies, no field work, never requested it and always turned down our offers. She just likes being here, doing a normal job, and Stark likes having -" Steve paused, unsure of the word to use, "people with powers, on site, none combatant, just in case."

"She came out in the field with us though? Why?"

Steve laughed, pointedly looking Bucky up and down before slapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Why indeed. Now, keep it to yourself, don't go gettin' yourself in to trouble."

Despite Steve’s insistence that you were left alone, his orders didn’t trickle down to the other swat and tactical teams in the compound. 

For the rest of the week you found team leaders, colleagues and even a few other agencies dropping into your inbox and asking you to help. 

After a few days with no responses the Team B chief tactical officer even turned up at your door, banging on the wood and demanding to speak to you. 

“Come on Agent, you know you’d be valuable in the field -” she’d paused, waiting for you to answer. But your words were gone, your mind foggy, incapable of anything but sitting quietly and staring out of the windows.

You could see some trees waving in the distance and focused on the way the top branches danced together. The view wasn't as nice as the one from Bucky's apartment and you tried to tell yourself that's what you were missing, the view, and not the man himself who would surely distance himself from you after this ridiculous display.

Fresh tears poured as your sub-conscious continued to berate you internally.

“Don’t you think it’s selfish to keep your talent to yourself? Think how many people you could save!” 

You gave the Officer nothing, staying silent, the clouds slowly filled in behind the trees, drifting, drifting, your nails biting into your palms, shoulders bumping the chair as you rocked to and fro in time with the trees.

“Alright, think of how many people will die because you’re too fucking selfish and lazy to help them - have it your way, stay here behind a desk, let your fellow agents injure themselves needlessly doing work you should be doing.” 

With that the Team B Tactical Officer stormed off back down the corridor, and you burst into tears. 

“It’s not selfish,” you whispered to yourself, squeezing the blanket tighter around your shoulders, “it’s not selfish, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

Your corridor was quiet, as it always was. No sign if you were in or not apart from the muddy boots left outside of your door. Bucky heaved in a breath, preparing for you to send him away. He knocked and waited. 

Nothing. 

He knocked again. 

Nothing. 

“Look, I know you’re in there.”

“Go.” 

Your voice sounded broken, tired. 

"Just wanted to let you know we caught that guy, so…everything's safe for you to come out now."

"Okay."

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine.” 

Bucky sighed, “please just let me in, we don’t have to talk, just let me make sure you’re okay and then I’ll go.” 

The handle turned and the door cracked open almost imperceptibly. Bucky pushed it further, quickly stepping in and closing it behind him. You were very particular about your space, so he made sure to leave his coat and shoes by the door before slowly making his way to your living room. 

Like your office, your apartment was cosy and comfortable. He found you curled into an armchair by the window, your furniture the same Stark issued items that were in his own living space. But you’d made everything your own with cushions and throws, blankets neatly folded on every arm and a huge, plush rug demarcating the space. You looked small in the chair, a huge fluffy hoody pulled down over your knees, the hood up so you were just a pair of sad eyes, watching him from your personal den. 

“Hey, Doll.” Bucky gave you a weak smile, perching on the coffee table in front of you. It was littered with books and half full mugs of cold tea, multiple packets of your favourite biscuits, crumbs and ring marks where you’d run out of coasters. It wasn’t like you at all. 

He looked back at your doe eyes, red from crying, staring unblinking at a spot above his shoulder. If it was anyone else he’d think you were staring at his arm, but he knew better than that, you’d never stared at him like that, you weren’t even looking at him now. “Do you need to talk about anything?” He offered. 

Your eyes didn’t move from their fixed spot, but you shook your head from one side to the other, slowly. 

Bucky furrowed his brow in confusion. He’d never seen you like this. Since getting to know him he’d found you chatty and buoyant, excited to share things with him and even if you never looked at him for very long, you certainly didn’t stare vacantly through him. He always knew you were listening, despite your tendency to fiddle and fidget, because you asked him about things later, recalled the most minute details of his day, and it struck him how much he already missed talking to you. 

“Can I get anything for you?” You continued to stare, shrinking into yourself, but silent tears began to track down your cheeks. “I’m going to run you a bath, okay, and light some candles.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the tub, scrolling through playlists until he found one that seemed calming. He liked to use music to make himself feel better, relying on tunes from his childhood mostly, and while he wasn’t sure what you’d like he figured something upbeat and instrumental was probably a safe bet. 

When the bath was mostly full, bubbles spilling over the side and candles lit on the shelf, he went to collect you, expecting you to be in your robe or a towel. But you were still there, staring. 

He sat again and reached out, “your bath’s ready, Doll, do you want me to help get you in it?” 

“They could’ve died.” Your voice was a whisper, almost silent. 

“What?” 

“They could’ve died, if I did it wrong. I took a risk. I could’ve killed everyone. I shouldn’t. I promised.” Tears continued to flow and judging from the pinched line between your eyes you were beginning to get dehydrated.

He bent forward and scooped you into his arms, tucking you into his chest while he allowed your tears to pour out in sobs. Your whole body shook as he held you, rocking side to side and hushing gently in your ear. 

"I don't like doing it, I never controlled it right and it's too much pressure, Bucky, I just can't. Every time is like this - this - weight and-" you sighed, inhaling a shuddering breath, "it's just a lot of responsibility and I don't want it. I didn't ask for it, I just want to be me, in my office, with my paperwork, where I can't hurt anyone."

“No one was hurt, no one was hurt because you helped.” He soothed, “let’s get you in the bath, clean up your cheeks-” he pulled back, rubbing his vibranium thumb under the tears shimmering down your face, “you must be tired, you worked so hard.” 

“It wasn’t enough, I nearly dropped it.” 

“You did a wonderful job.” 

“It wasn’t good enough.” You replied, hotly, stumbling away from his embrace. 

“No one was hurt, you saved the pilot and the ground crew. What more could you have done?” 

“I could have put him down in a safer place, found the attacker, got to the airstrip faster, I could’ve been better. I should’ve been better. If I trained, if I was on a proper team…” You stalked to the bathroom, rubbing at your tear stained face. “This is- this is why I can't be an agent. I can't do this every time something happens, I can't feel this guilt that I should've done better and yet -” you sobbed, “they come here and, they tell me I'm selfish. Maybe they're right. But I can't put myself through this every. Single. Time. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it. I just wanted to be useful.”

“Doll,” Bucky's voice cracked. Is that really what you thought? That you had to be useful to be worth anything? “You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just want to help, no one has to be useful to be worthy you know and -"

“Thank you for the bath.” You mumbled, cutting him off and shutting the door with a slam. 

Bucky stared at the door and listened to the sound of you climbing into the bath. He’d been ready to help, he’d wanted to help. But he knew this was for the best and he was two strides towards the door, jacket in hand, when he stopped. 

You been angry when you finally went into the bathroom, but before then it wasn't anger. You’d been sad and withdrawn and he thought back to the lonely evenings he’d spent staring out of the windows after his first therapy sessions. The way everyone had left him alone to his thoughts and it had somehow been so much worse. How he'd turned his own anger in on himself, berating himself for what he should've done.

He paused, putting his jacket back and surveying the now dark room. Light, that’s what you needed, the soft light from your many table lamps. He lit a candle on the coffee table and fluffed up the pillows from your nest of an armchair. 

Taking a risk, he peered into your bedroom and, spotting your pyjamas on the bed, spread them out neatly along with a dressing gown and some soft socks. 

You’d be hot after your bath so he made sure there was a bottle of sparkling water in the fridge, and plenty of cocoa in the jar, in case you wanted something hot. 

Then he waited, trying not to listen to the soft sound of water moving over your body or the way you started to hum along with the song.

"You take as long as you need, okay? I'll be right here when you get out. If you need to talk, if you need to just sit. I'll be right here."

There was quiet, the water still, and then your voice floated out, "thank you…I'm sorry."

"Never had to be sorry to me, Doll, beaten myself up enough times to know you're feeling worse right now. I just want you to remember one thing okay?"

"Okay?"

"You're enough exactly as you are right now."

The water moved again, "thank you." You sighed the words on an outbreath and Bucky heard the faint plash of tears again.

He walked away, as much as he wanted to push the door open and wrap his arms around you, this wasn't the time. So he settled onto the sofa, ready to wait.

You had emerged from your bath to the sight of Bucky passed out on your sofa, a book half open in his lap.

The pyjamas he’d left for you on your bed were so comfortable and for a minute you’d bathed in their scent as deeply as you had your bath. But then you were craving something else, something more grounding than floating away in your thoughts again and suddenly all you could think about was Bucky.

You’d been so rude, slamming the door on him, and part of you dreaded seeing him again and facing up to your behaviour. So finding him asleep in your living room was certainly not what you expected. 

“Oh, hey Doll, sorry, must’ve passed out. You alright?” He blinked awake, pushing himself up again and you watched the way his long shirt  rumpled around his waist, exposing the slightest slither of skin before it was hidden again. 

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled, “you’ve been so kind and -” 

“I told you, nothing to apologise for,” he gave you a sleepy, lopsided smile and patted the cushion beside him, “come and get comfy, you want a snack?” 

You stared at him and watched the smile fall from his face. 

“I’ve overstayed my welcome, sorry.” 

He stood to go and your thoughts whirled, panicking, he can’t go, you needed him here, stay, stay, stay. Why wasn’t your mouth working? Stay! But nothing came out, you just carried on staring until - 

Your voice was broken, but your body wasn’t, and instead of asking him to stay you went careening into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to the worn material of his Henley. He smelt so good, warm and safe and your thoughts went quiet, your heart stopped racing. You sighed. 

Bucky looked down at you, one arm finding its way around your waist, the other cupping the back of your neck.

You looked up and his lips met yours, gentle, loving, understanding. He tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, his lips perfectly soft against your own.His hands flexed, holding you tighter, pressing into you and drawing you closer against his body.

“Stay,” your voice was swallowed by his kisses and he hummed his agreement, holding you tighter against him. You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. “It’s best -” you twirled his dog tags in your fingers, “if you’re really clear so I understand.” 

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me,” he smiled before finding your lips again. 

[prosypepper]

deadbeat, pt.2 - toji fushiguro

pt. 1

synopsis: still too stupid and selfish for anything good to happen.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: more angst, sort of comfort from the last part, more fighting, one (1) paragraph describing sex, toji breaks into your house, megumi is your baby, unneeded plot twist at the end, really bad writing again. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i really had not a clue for what to do as a part 2, so i stuck with canon events (kinda). i hope u like it :) please go read part 1 before reading this! it's at the top of the post! much love!!

masterlist

“megumi, stop running away from me!”

 footsteps patter against the grass as your 1-and-a-half-year-old son tries to escape you. you laugh and chase him for a little while before scooping him up in your arms. he babbles and whines, now unable to run freely, but you tell him you need to cook dinner.

a year and some months have passed since toji kicked you out. you haven’t looked back since. you’d bought a house after getting a new job, it has a beautiful back yard and enough space for you and megumi to grow freely.

the only traces of toji left in your life was the dingy wedding ring he bought – that now laid somewhere in your jewelry box – and your son, who looked just like his father. toji’s genes absolutely outshined yours in the boy. however, you were able to look at megumi with more love than anything else in this world, despite what his deadbeat father did to you.

at the end of each day, after megumi goes to sleep, you enjoy spending a few hours to yourself, watching whatever tv drama or reading a book. after you put megumi down for bed, you stay in the room for a few minutes to make sure he falls asleep, safe and sound. and when you make your way back to the living area, a scene is in front of you that stops you in your tracks.

toji.

toji’s sitting on your couch, somehow broken into your house, and he’s looking right into your eyes. you can’t move. you can’t speak. you can only stare at toji as the uncomfortable silence fills the air more and more.

“wh-,” you stutter, anything other than the small noise unable to come from your lips, and you begin to back away slowly.

something had changed with you. since you’d left toji, a certain fear grew in the back of your mind, because toji was a dangerous person, after all. you had prayed things would be left alone, because you and megumi were just fine by yourselves, and toji is the one that told you to get out. the once fearless person you were was no longer there.

and the person that scared you the most was sitting in your living room.

“hey,” toji says, cutting the anticipation in the air, “don’t back away from me.” his words stop you once more.

“toji,” you mutter, saying his name again, something toji had longed for, “why…are you here?” you ask him, shoulders beginning to relax.

“i wanted to see my wife.”

toji’s nerve immediately angers you. you weren’t his wife anymore when he kicked you and his own son out of his house. you weren’t his wife when he cheated on you that night, either. you haven’t been his wife for well over a year. the divorce hadn’t been finalized yet, and you soon know why, when your eyes trail down to the coffee table and see the neat stack of papers you had sent toji months ago.  

“i’m…i’m not your wife anymore, toji,” you sternly tell him, crossing your arms over your chest. the fear you once had quickly fades, now replaced with nothing but anger – the same anger you’ve had for toji since you left his apartment.

“i haven’t signed the papers yet,” toji retorts, “and i won’t.”

rage boils up in your chest at his words. and the audacity he has to break into your house and declare you as his wife pisses you off even more.

“get the hell out of my house, toji,” you demand, pointing a finger towards the door – just as he did to you.

toji only crosses his arms in return. he doesn’t budge.

you stomp over to toji, leaning down and grabbing the collar of his shirt in your fist, “you’re the one that left me, you bastard,” a new strength makes its way into your arm as you tug on his shirt, forcing him to stand up, dragging him towards the entrance of your home, “get the hell out of my house!” you try and throw toji towards the door, and he stumbles over his feet for a second before regaining his balance.

too many emotions are running through you for you to act rationally. tears sting your eyes as you watch toji stand there, looking at the ground, a cold expression across his features. one of his fists is balled up. veins pop out of his arm. you lean against the wall in the walkway leading to your door, slowly sliding down until you’re on the floor. you bring your knees to your chest. tears slide down your cheeks.

toji takes a step toward you and crouches down so he’s on the same level. he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, it’s the softest he’s touched you in a long time. you want to cower away from his touch, but all the feelings you tried so hard to push deep down — all the anger, all the sorrow, all the hurt, all the love — come rushing back into you at lightning speed.

toji’s dark pupils dilate as you look into them. he gives you once small look of vulnerability, something he hadn’t even done when you were married to him. he takes a thumb to wipe away one of the tears.

he’s sorry.

the words dare not come out of his mouth, but you can see, toji is sorry.

you break.

a small whimper leaves your lips, and you throw yourself into toji, wrapping your arms around his neck. his strong arms engulf you again.

“you…asshole,” you cry into his shoulder, tears coating the fabric of the shirt you almost ripped off of him. there are no smart remarks or retorts from the man, he knows, he just knows how much he hurt you.

the pain he put you through was inevitable.

as you continue your sobbing, a different cry comes out from down the hallway. toji’s head perks up at the wailing. it’s as if your baby knows exactly what is happening.

“it’s megumi,” you sigh into toji’s chest, quickly pushing the man off you. he stands up and helps you stand along with him. toji trails behind you as you enter megumi’s room.

there’s a look of unease on his face as he watches you pick your son up and hush him, whispering sweet words to him and combing his hair with your fingers. toji can see the resemblance to himself, how his child has the same eyes, same nose, same hair, even the same tiny eyebrows. he watches you bounce megumi on your hip, slowly settling the baby’s emotions, making him tired again in the process. as you cradle the almost asleep baby in your arms, you notice toji’s uncomfortable gawking.

“do you want to hold him?” you ask toji, voice still a little uneven when you talk to him. he hesitantly nods his head. you hold the slumbering baby out, coaching toji on the most adequate way to hold the boy.

it’s a sight to see, toji holding his mini-me, bolstering the baby in his arms. toji gives you a proud look, like, “i’m actually doing it!” but of course, his emotions go no further than the look on his face. he is content holding his son in his arms, he could stay that way forever, he thinks. his scarred lips curl into a frown when you tell him he needs to put megumi back down to sleep, but begrudgingly, he hands the boy back to you to settle him in his crib.

you and toji make your way into the kitchen, a much bigger space than what was in his apartment. the conversation you tried to outrun by crying and being angry is no longer able to be looked over. toji is left in the room with you, just you. toji sits in one of the chairs at the small dining table, you lean against the counter, across the room from him. awkward silence takes up the space between you.

“why are you here, toji?” you ask the man, stirring a spoon around in a mug of whichever tea you like best.

toji rests his elbows on the back of the chair, looking everywhere but at you, ��i…just wanted to see you and the baby,” he weakly admits, although, you aren’t sure if you can trust his words. inside your heart, you so desperately want him to be telling you the truth, but he hasn’t earned your trust, he hasn’t done anything to do so.

you focus your attention on the cup of tea, still furiously stirring away, as toji gets up from the chair and slowly steps towards you. it feels like hours pass as he walks over, but eventually, he’s close and trapping you against the counter. an unsteady hand sets the mug down behind you, careful not to spill the hot substance on the either of you, and you stare toji right in the eyes, seeing a tiny look of lust.

after all the time that had passed, toji could no longer peel away the emotions he felt for you. he could no longer cover them up, remain cold, and stay mean. he needed you like this. he needed that person that took a chance on him, and he knows that no one else ever will be as courageous as you were when you asked him for his number that day.

toji leans in, and presses his lips to yours, giving you a light kiss that you hadn’t had in so, so long. you close your eyelids at the contact. once again, you wrap your arms around his neck, fully embracing the contact with him – god, you missed him. you missed your husband.

his hands find their way to your waist, he’s feeling you up and down, taking his time to touch all the crevices he remembers so well. intimacy. toji couldn’t find that with anyone else but you. it doesn’t take long for things to lead up, and toji’s carrying you to the bedroom, softly laying you down on the bed as you two rip each other’s clothes off.

toji makes love to you that night. it’s not fucking, or just sex, it’s a deep connection this time, so close, so cherished. more sentimental than all the months he spent with you beforehand. his hands are all over you, his eyes never leave your face, he makes sure it feels the best for you and him. hours and hours pass by, and the whole encounter feels like a moment, a dream, something so unreal that toji thought he could never have.

you fall asleep nestled in toji’s arms, the both of you naked and sweaty, and loved. a satisfying conclusion to the night. he waits for you to doze off first, and he watches the rise and fall of your chest as you so easily fall into a slumber, next to him.

maybe it wouldn’t be a good thing later down the line, maybe allowing him back into your life will end up being a mistake again. you aren’t sure if he will even be there by the time the sun rises. toji isn’t sure this will stay permanent, his thoughts of running away cloud his brain as he watches his wife sleep next to him, so peacefully. he doesn’t know how long he will stay.

but, neither one of you really care.

toji’s eyes shoot open at the familiar sobbing of a baby. he sits straight up, covered in sweat, as if a nightmare had just ensued.

the bed is empty, he’s alone…and he remembers he’s been alone. you’ve been gone, for many months now, gone in a way you’re unable to return from.

it wasn’t a nightmare, no.

it was all a dream.

[stangalina]

I want to read a fic where Arthur discovers that Merlin is Emrys, but the conflicting feelings of affection for Merlin and hatred for magic cause him to misunderstand the nature of Emrys' existence.

His brain rationalises the situation in the only way it can, and comes to the understanding that Merlin and Emrys are two separate people living in the same body. That Emrys is living WITHIN Merlin without Merlin's knowledge.

Which, if that were true, would actually be a smart move on the sorcerer's part. Arthur would not, will not, and will NEVER execute Merlin. He's also around Arthur all day everyday, so that means he's close by to get whatever he wants or needs from the king. This only further convinces Arthur that he's correct.

He is not correct, of course. But since he's Arthur, he doesn't communicate what he has "learned" with Merlin. He doesn't want to tell his clearly unaware manservant that he's got an all powerful sorcerer buried in his brain. And he certainly doesn't want to tell anyone else out of fear it'll lead to Merlin's death. So he keeps it to himself, like an idiot, and operates every day under the assumption that Merlin is possessed by the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.

Meanwhile, Merlin is thriving. Sure it had been terrifying for Arthur to first learn about the prophecy via a loose lipped druid on the verge of death, and THEN witness Merlin using his magic in order for the thing that killed the druid to not also kill Arthur, but the reveal had gone over shockingly well all things considered.

He did get a whole week of complete silence from Arthur, followed by a few more days of being stared at in a thoroughly unsettling manner, but after that everything went back to normal. Better than normal, in fact!

It was clear that Arthur was incredibly uncomfortable with his magic, which was understandable. Arthur may be a good man, but his quality of character didn't magically erase the prejudices and experiences that had been hammered into his head over and over since he was a child. The way he seemed to be coping with it was by pretending that nothing had happened at all, which was just fine as far as Merlin was concerned.

Gaius disagreed. But what did Gaius know? Healthy communication? Don't need it.

Merlin didn't use his magic around Arthur on the day to day, even though he could be sure he wouldn't get executed for it anymore. He didn't want to make Arthur uncomfortable, so he went along with the unspoken plan of pretending that nothing had happened. Resuming the exact same routines and behaviours that he'd been doing for years now. Gradually, Arthur relaxed. Well, as much as Arthur Pendragon can relax. And life resumed as normal.

Except for one little detail.

Sometimes, Arthur would call him Emrys. Not all the time, and certainly not when people were around to hear or see. But sometimes.

When he needed help. When he needed magical help.

An enchantment on a courtier, an artifact found buried under a house, a monster wreaking havoc on a town, or a hoard of bandits descending upon the two of them in the woods. A tome, a necklace, a potion, a poison, a cure.

If Arthur called him Merlin, he wanted his manservant. If Arthur called him Emrys, he wanted his sorcerer. It was a neat little system, Merlin thought. A sort of code, just for the two of them.

Of course, this equilibrium can only exist for so long before something slips and shit gets messy. But that's all part of the fun!

[whizzing-fizzbee]

XOXO, Anonymous

Sebastian Sallow x F!OC

Rating: Explicit/MDNI (smut, profanity); all characters are 18+ Words: 6,323 Tags: friends to lovers, Valentine's Day, love letters, misunderstandings, mutual pining, angst, fluff, Seb is extra stupid in this one

Summary: Sebastian Sallow has been hopelessly in love with Annalisa Lark since the day they met during fifth year. So when he discovers a love letter to Ominis seemingly sent from her, he begins a downward spiral. Once the truth comes out, he'll realize actions sometimes speak louder than words.

Notes: This one's split into two parts in case you want to skip the smut. Part I is angst and fluff. Part II is smut. All characters are 18-year-old seventh years. MC in this one is a Ravenclaw named Annalisa Lark.

Read on AO3 or both parts below the cut.

Part I

Sebastian Sallow trudged into his dormitory, exhausted after a particularly grueling quidditch practice. The room was empty, presumably because all his roommates were already elbow-deep in their dinners. 

Sebastian would have gone straight to the Great Hall to join them, but he’d been neglecting a Potions essay that was due in the morning. He just needed to grab a book and he’d head to the library for a few hours of writing.

Except Sebastian’s Potions book was nowhere to be found. He cursed under his breath as he realized he’d left it in the locker room. With no desire to make the trek all the way back to the quidditch pitch, Sebastian decided he’d merely borrow Ominis’ book. Surely Ominis had completed the essay ages ago.

The book sat on the desk next to Ominis’ bed, resting on its back atop a neat stack of parchment. Sebastian picked it up and moved to gather some parchment and quills of his own when a folded sheet slipped from the book’s pages. It fluttered to the floor and landed face-up, open, as if its contents were meant to be seen.

Typically, Sebastian wouldn’t dare read his friend’s mail. He would never willingly violate Ominis’ trust, not after it had taken him two years to regain it after the events of fifth year. But a few choice words scrawled on the parchment caught Sebastian’s eye as he bent down to retrieve it. He paused, his hand hovering above the letter until he finally gathered the nerve to pick it up and read it.

His tired pout morphed into a full-fledged frown.

Dearest Ominis,

Your last letter made me smile. You have such a way with words that I always find myself re-reading your letters over and over again. I hope they never stop, even if we can one day be together.

Speaking of, have you given any further thought to discussing our potential relationship with Sebastian? I know you’re worried it could sever your friendship, but please don’t. He cares about both of us far too much, and I truly believe he merely wants to see us happy.

I love you, Ominis. I love you, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t. After everything that happened to me during fifth year, I’ve realized life is far too short to be separated from the ones we love.

Please give what I said some more consideration. See you soon.

XOXO, A.

It took a moment for Sebastian to realize his hands were shaking. His palms were sweating and his stomach churned. He couldn’t even pinpoint which emotion had taken charge of his body – disbelief, surely, but what about the betrayal? And the pain… my god, the pain. It slammed through Sebastian’s chest, knocking the wind from his lungs.

He read it again. Call him a masochist, but he had to be sure he understood correctly. He prayed his eyes had somehow managed to trick him, that it had all been a projection of his own deepest fears, or perhaps some cruel prank Ominis cooked up.

But Ominis wasn’t a prankster. And he would never joke about something as complex as Sebastian’s feelings – not when it came to her. Or so he thought. 

Sebastian had loved Annalisa Lark since the day she absolutely dismantled him during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. She was stunning to him in every sense of the word, and while their friendship was sometimes turbulent, Sebastian flocked to her like children to candy. He’d never admit to it, though. The only person who seemed to understand was Ominis.

But now, it seemed Ominis understood more than he’d let on. Sebastian stilled himself, the letter still in his hand. Had his best friend really stolen the love of his life? Perhaps that was a bit dramatic. She wasn’t Sebastian’s to steal. He was certain she didn’t even have those kinds of feelings for him. Still, surely Ominis knew about that unspoken gentlemen’s rule about not romancing your best friend’s love interest.

Sebastian’s shock shifted to fury. His conniption swelled as he mulled the situation over. His best friend had swooped in on her. The one and only girl he couldn’t bear to lose. 

He had to toss the letter aside to stop himself from crumpling it into a ball. Knives clouded his vision. He could choke Ominis until the life left his eyes. She said she loved him. She told Ominis the only words that could likely save Sebastian from a tragic demise.

And worst of all, they’d kept their romance a secret from him. They didn’t deem him worthy of sharing their secret. They thought it’d be easier to keep him out of their equation. He wasn’t meant to be a part of their secret society. 

Sebastian sank onto his bed, his gaze wavering in and out of focus. He didn’t know what to do. Should he storm down to the Great Hall and demand answers from them? Should he keep quiet and pretend he didn’t know? Should he make a last-ditch effort love declaration in hopes of stealing Annalisa back to her rightful place?

All of those options made sense in Sebastian’s mind, but Sebastian Sallow rarely made sense when it came to the most important matters of the heart.

Dinner and Potions essays be damned, Sebastian decided to retreat to the Undercroft.

---

“Sebastian! There you are.” 

For the first time in nearly three years, Sebastian was dismayed to find Annalisa in the Undercroft. She was curled up on a sofa she’d conjured during their fifth year, a book open across her lap.

Even from where he stood, Sebastian could see it was a romance novel. She was always reading those, as if she enjoyed the escapism into a world of longing stares and declarations of desire. She didn’t know she was living inside one of those novels; though this one was currently creeping toward an angst-ridden, tragic ending as far as Sebastian was concerned. The trope of his life was morphing from secret pining to the one that got away.

“There you are,” Sebastian replied. It was their routine greeting, a symbol of their bond since they were fifteen. Even in crisis, he wouldn’t stray from it. He needed its familiarity. 

“Where’ve you been?” Annalisa asked curiously as she shifted to one side of the sofa to make room for him.

“Quidditch practice.”

“Did you eat? I didn’t see you at dinner. I have some apples in my bag.”

Sebastian shook his head as he took the other half of the sofa. His posture betrayed him. He typically slouched into his seat, his knees parted while his hands absentmindedly twirled his wand. But tonight, he was rigid, his spine far too stiff and straight to fool her. “I’m not hungry.”

Annalisa frowned, her book now forgotten as she set it aside. “Since when have you ever turned down a meal?” she demanded with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian lied.

Annalisa scowled at him. “Sebastian Edward Sallow, do not play with me.”

Sebastian nearly barked a laugh at the irony of it all. If anything, she was the one playing with him; sneaking around behind his back with his own best friend, penning him passionate love letters while Sebastian had been none the wiser. 

He wanted to be disgusted with her, to lash out and demand answers. He wanted her to know how hurt he was by her decision to omit him from such a significant portion of her life. Even if she didn’t choose him, she could have at least filled him in on her stirring new romance – especially since it involved their mutual best friend.

But Sebastian could never be repulsed by her, even if he felt slighted. She was too much of all the good things Sebastian admired in life – a stunning little spitfire compressed into five feet of fearless conviction. She was compassionate and complex; she didn’t view the world in black and white the way so many others preferred to. She understood the frayed seams between good and evil and light and darkness. 

That realization was the moment Sebastian was certain he loved her. She stood by him after Solomon’s death and offered him unwavering support, because she knew the nuances of right and wrong. She had blood on her hands, too. The difference in their bloodshed was hers was an effort to quell darkness; Sebastian’s bloodshed had embraced it.

Still, Annalisa understood Sebastian at a level that transcended mere friendship, and because of that, Sebastian had grown certain she was his soulmate. But now, he wasn’t sure he knew her at all.

“Sebastian…” Annalisa was still peering at him expectantly. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insisted, his tense posture still exposing his discomfort. “I’m just exhausted, is all. 

Annalisa opened her mouth, fully prepared to interrogate him into a confession, but the entrance to the Undercroft clanged open again, revealing Ominis’ arrival. Sebastian stiffened even more.

“Ominis!” Annalisa greeted. “Sebastian here was just about to tell me why he’s so moody.”

“Sebastian, moody? I can’t imagine,” came Ominis’ dry reply.

Sebastian was in no mood for teasing remarks. Not when he was the third wheel to the two people he thought he trusted most. His irritation surged, and before he could suppress it, he was on his feet.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then, yeah?” he snapped. 

“Sebastian, what-” 

Sebastian brushed past a stunned Ominis and sulked from the Undercroft.

---

Sebastian hated Valentine’s Day. What a stupid, sordid excuse of a holiday, he thought. He slouched over his corner of the Slytherin table in the Great Hall as he watched his classmates exchange jovial greetings and giggles over romantic gifts. It was positively nauseating. The arrival of Ominis taking the seat across from him didn’t sweeten the day.

“Brooding in the corner on Valentine’s Day,” Ominis mused. “How very cliche of you.” Sebastian didn’t reply. Ominis sighed and set his stack of books on the table between them. “Going to share with the class what’s had you so bent out of shape?”

Again, no reply. Ominis was no stranger to Sebastian’s tempestuous moods. They always became particularly stormy when Annalisa was inundated with attention from their classmates. Today, she sat at the Ravenclaw table with a short stack of valentines and an assortment of sweets surrounding her. Truthfully, Sebastian could cope with that – he’d witnessed their classmates’ attempts to court Annalisa on countless occasions. He was used to that. He wasn’t used to the nauseating knowledge that his own best friend was the one who had secured her heart, and in secret nonetheless. 

“Alright, mate,” Ominis sighed as he gathered his books again and stood. “But Cupid’s arrow isn’t going to find you while you’re commiserating by your lonesome self in a corner.”

As he retreated toward the doors of the Great Hall, Sebastian considered chucking a potato at his head. But something else stole his attention.

Another letter. Ominis must have left it accidentally in his haste to flee Sebastian’s orbit of agony. Sebastian snatched it off the table immediately, took a quick glance around the Great Hall, and read.

Dearest Ominis,

Happy Valentine’s Day, love! Thank you for the gorgeous flowers. They look positively stunning at my bedside. I look forward to gazing at them as the last thing I’ll see before I fall asleep. You are always the last thing on my mind at night anyway.

I am so looking forward to seeing you tonight. I hope it will be just as special for you as it is for me. See you at 7:00.

XOXO, A.

The edges of the parchment curled inward as Sebastian’s hands shook. They had a secret date planned for the night. They were going to have a romantic night together and neither of them felt any obligation to tell him. Their friendship was no longer a trio. They were a pair, plus one, single fool.

Sebastian crumpled the letter and stashed it in his pocket. He prayed Cupid would choke on a pumpkin pasty.

---

Sebastian’s sour mood didn’t stop there. It devolved by the afternoon, until all who crossed his path were at risk of a terrible lashing. 

Finally, Annalisa found him pouting beneath the Transfiguration Courtyard fountain.

“Sebastian,” she said sternly, her green eyes drilling him with impatience. “What is the matter with you? Ominis says you’re positively insufferable. What has happened?”

Of course Ominis called him that. Ominis was a treasonous, back-stabbing traitor who was too cowardly to even admit he was in love. If Sebastian had Annalisa, he’d tell the whole world, and would burn it down if anyone dared to question him.

“Ominis knows exactly what he’s done,” Sebastian snapped. 

“Clearly not,” Annalisa challenged him. “All we know is something has you upset. Stop isolating yourself and tell us. Tell me, at the very least.”

How rich. She was begging him to tell her, when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about her new little love affair.

“Tell you what,” Sebastian said, rising to his feet as he gazed at her with a pointed stare. “I’ll tell you my secret when you tell me yours.”

Annalisa blinked at him. “Secret? Sebastian, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

Sebastian slipped past her to head inside the castle in search of someplace more secluded. “Then neither do I.”

He wasn’t proud of his prickly behavior. It was reminiscent of his fifth year, when his obsession with curing Anne’s curse pushed him into a manic state, void of any logic. He wasn’t that far gone now, but he certainly was allowing his emotions to control him.

Fine. If Ominis and Annalisa were so into writing silly little love letters, he’d do the same.

Sebastian retreated to his dormitory, where he was relieved to find himself alone. He sat at his desk with two blank sheets of parchment in front of him.

Ominis,

It has come to my attention that you have entered into a romantic partnership with Annalisa. To say that I feel betrayed and slighted is an understatement. I thought you were aware of my feelings regarding our mutual friend and would use better judgment. It’s clear the two of you have chosen each other over me, so consider this my resignation from our friendship.

Sebastian E. Sallow

He snatched the parchment up and crushed it in his hand. This was meant to be a deeply personal declaration of deception and distress, not a polite invitation for afternoon tea.

He tried again.

Ominis– 

I know your secret. Consider this the final fallen pillar of our friendship.

See you in hell, Sebastian

Much better. One down, one to go. But the second one wasn’t as simple. 

Sebastian was certain he could be romantic, right? He’d been on his fair share of dates, had plenty of experience with girls. In truth, he had his pick of most girls at Hogwarts. Sure, he didn’t have the family name and wealth that Ominis had to offer, but he had a bright future as an early acceptance into the Ministry of Magic’s Auror program. He was charming and intelligent, charismatic enough to sway most people he encountered to his side.

Surely he could pen one simple love letter. But for as silver-tongued as he was when it came to getting himself out of trouble or convincing his classmates to help him with various endeavors, Sebastian had no idea how to tell a girl he loved her.

He sat glued to that spot for a good hour until the reject pile of letters not good enough for Annalisa’s eyes had formed a small stack on the desktop. No words could convey what he felt for her. No words were pretty or poignant enough. 

Annalisa,

I know you’re in love with Ominis and I don’t want to stand in the way of the happiness you deserve. But if there’s any chance I could ever compete for your heart, please know that I won’t go down without a fight.

I’ve loved you since that first day in Hecat’s class. I know I haven’t made life easy on you, but loving you’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. 

Tell me I have even the slightest shot at being yours and I promise you’ll always have my full effort.

Forever yours, Sebastian

It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best he could manage. He wasn’t meant to craft eloquent prose like Annalisa’s favorite romance novels. Because this was real, not a fictional work intended to entertain the masses, and Sebastian wanted to be sure she knew that. This was his brutal honesty, raw and real.

He sighed as he decided these two letters would have to do. He pocketed Annalisa’s and placed the other on Ominis’ nightstand before slinking off to the kitchens to eat dinner in solitude.

By the time he was finished, his pocket watch indicated it was 6:30. Ominis and Annalisa would be heading off to their date soon, likely at some romantic restaurant where they could cozy up to one another away from prying eyes. Sebastian couldn’t stand to picture it.

He had originally planned to send Annalisa’s letter via owl, but impulse control was never Sebastian’s strength. So in an act of desperation, he trekked up to Ravenclaw Tower and lingered outside the common room.

In a serendipitous act of fate, Samantha Dale was just returning from dinner.

“Samantha,” Sebastian breathed in relief. The Ravenclaw stopped in her tracks and lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here? Meeting Annalisa?”

“Oh, er, yes. Except I was hoping to surprise her,” Sebastian said, hoping he was convincing.

“Ooh, are you finally taking her on a date?” Samantha squealed. “It’s about time.”

“Oh. Um, yeah, but it’s a surprise. Can you let me into the common room?”

“Of course, right this way.” Samantha led Sebastian inside and gestured toward the girls’ dormitories. “Pretty sure you’ve been up here before, yes? You remember the way?”

Sebastian nodded and thanked Samantha, who continued into the common room. He strode hastily toward Annalisa’s dorm, praying she’d still be there. He knocked gently and felt his stomach contort at the sound of her voice inviting the visitor inside.

“Sebastian?” Annalisa blinked as he creaked the door open. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

Sebastian was more confused than her. She was wearing pajamas and she sat up in bed, cozied beneath the covers with a book open. She certainly did not appear to be preparing for a romantic date.

“What are you doing here?” Sebastian asked stupidly. Annalisa snorted.

“Sebastian, I live here.”

“But… you have a date.”

“I do? That’s news to me.”

That’s when Sebastian also realized there were no flowers on her nightstand. What was going on? Was this some sort of prank? A bizarre dream – perhaps an astral projection? He felt sick.

“But… but you and Ominis…”

Annalisa tilted her head, perplexed by the entire interaction as her eyes narrowed in concern. “Ominis? What does he have to do with this? Sebastian, what is going on? You’ve been acting so strange lately.”

“I…” Sebastian’s entire frame deflated, his shoulders slumping forward and his knees threatening to buckle. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Annalisa motioned for him to sit on the side of the bed. She watched him carefully as he did so, his hands resting atop his knees. He looked exhausted. 

“What’s this date you were talking about?” Annalisa asked as she tossed her book aside.

Sebastian sighed. There was no recovering from this. Even if he wanted to get out of this, to sweet talk her with some excuse, he knew he’d only leave with despair in his heart. “I thought you and Ominis had a date,” he said.

Annalisa looked like he’d slapped her. “You’re not serious.”

“I saw the letters. Your letters.”

“What letters?”

“The ones you wrote to Ominis.”

Annalisa felt dizzy, which was alarming because she was certain Sebastian was the one who’d gone loopy. “I didn’t write Ominis any letters,” she said. “Why would I? I see him every day. I don’t need to write him.”

Sebastian’s chest constricted. A flush crept from his neck into his cheeks. His lungs screamed for air. He didn’t understand.

“You’re not dating Ominis?”

“What?!”

Oh no. Had he really gotten it all wrong? How? He’d seen the letters with his own eyes. It all added up in his head. Had he really let himself spiral into an episode of assumptions and self-doubt? 

“Sebastian,” Annalisa continued, her voice a breath of laughter and perplexion. “What the fuck are you on about? Who told you I was dating Ominis?”

“No one told me. I accidentally saw letters written to him – love letters.”

Annalisa was clearly intrigued, another indication that she had nothing to do with said letters. “Love letters? To Ominis? From whom? And what made you think they were from me?”

“I only saw two of them, but they were both signed by the initial A,” Sebastian explained. “And one of them talked about a date tonight.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t me,” Annalisa laughed. “This book is my hot date for the night.”

“But then, who…” 

Annalisa giggled, her eyes glinting with a facetious, knowing smile. “Sebastian, come on,” she said. “Think.”

“But I don’t-”

“Anne!” Annalisa continued.

“Anne?”

Sebastian froze as all the mental pieces shifted in his brain. Merlin. It made perfect sense – more sense than Ominis and Annalisa.

“You mean Ominis and Anne are in love?”

“Yes, silly,” Annalisa snorted. “Anyone with two eyes can see it.”

“But Ominis has two eyes and can’t s-”

“Sebastian, that’s beside the point.”

“Right, sorry. But… you knew? About them?”

“Not for sure,” Annalisa said. “But it’s always been pretty obvious that those two love each other. They share everything and they really only trust each other… they’d do anything for each other. Of course they’re in love.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa stared at him with exasperated eyes. “You really thought I’d date Ominis?”

“I mean, the two of you adore each other.”

“Yes, because we’re great friends. Surely you know we’d never consider each other romantically.”

“I didn’t think so, but then I saw those letters and… I just thought maybe I’d overlooked something between you two,” Sebastian explained.

“Well, you thought wrong,” Annalisa said. “Obviously I’m not on a hot date with our mutual friend. I didn’t have a date tonight, so I’m enjoying a cozy night in.”

“Oh.”

Annalisa’s brow furrowed as her gaze locked in on the folded parchment in Sebastian’s hand. “What’s that?”

Sebastian swallowed. There was no going back, he reminded himself. But this wasn’t how he wanted to tell her. He wanted to woo her with melodic words and grand gestures symbolic of his feelings. He wanted to make a case for himself she couldn’t refuse.

But if he had to convince her to love him, it wasn’t the right kind of reciprocation anyway. Still, his nerves were getting the best of him. 

“It’s nothing, spare bit of parchment,” he tried to say with a shrug. Annalisa shot him a look. 

“What is it?” she demanded. 

Sebastian frantically scanned his brain for the right words. He only had one shot at this. He had to get it right. 

“It’s a letter.”

“One of Anne’s letters to Ominis?”

“No. A letter from me to you.”

Annalisa tilted her head quizzically. “What do you mean? Why? What does it say?”

Sebastian averted his gaze, his eyes on the parchment in his hands. “Before I hand this to you, before I allow you to read it,” he started. “I want you to know that it was a result of a severe misunderstanding. When I thought you were in love with Ominis… I felt like I was going mental.”

“Is that why you stormed out of the Undercroft and have been sulking so much?”

“Yes.”

“Sebastian, why didn’t you just say something to us?”

“Because I thought you were trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“To avoid my wrath, apparently. Judging from the letters, it sounds like Anne wants me to know but Ominis is afraid to tell me.”

Annalisa’s lips curved in another knowing smile. “To be fair, I can’t say I blame him,” she said. “This is your sister we’re talking about here.”

“I know, but if there’s anyone I do trust to date my sister, it’s Ominis. He’s the only person I’d trust with her.”

“Well then, it sounds like you both have been making some inaccurate assumptions,” Annalisa mused. 

“I suppose so.” Sebastian raked a hand through his hair. “Look, when I thought you and Ominis were together, I didn’t handle it well, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Sebastian,” Annalisa laughed. “I just don’t understand why it had you so upset.”

“Because I don’t handle jealousy well,” Sebastian answered.

“Jealousy? Sebastian, don’t tell me you’re struggling to find a girlfriend. You-”

It was a good thing Sebastian was absolutely smitten with Annalisa, because for as brilliant as she truly was, she could be quite dense when it came to personal matters of the heart. “I thought Ominis had taken the only person I’m interested in,” Sebastian cut in. He maintained his gaze on the parchment, terrified to watch as the understanding settled within Annalisa. 

“Sebastian,” she breathed.

“Here,” Sebastian said as he extended his arm to offer her the letter. “Now you can have this.”

Annalisa reached tentatively for the letter, as if she knew reading it would change everything. Sebastian didn’t look as he listened to her unfold it. The room fell silent as her eyes scanned his penmanship. When he heard her inhale sharply, Sebastian considered flinging himself out the window.

He wasn’t prepared for her reaction. He had long accepted the reality that she could never possibly love him mutually. She might love him as a close friend, but she’d never understand the magnitude of her presence in his life. She was more than his shoulder to lean on and partner in crime; she was the gravity that grounded Sebastian to this world. If he lost her, he’d lose the anchor that kept the sea of dysphoria from sweeping him away again.

Sebastian decided he’d start by apologizing. He’d tell her he never meant to jeopardize their bond. He hadn’t even meant to fall for her. But he wasn’t sorry for loving her. It was the most genuine emotion he had. 

Then he’d assure Annalisa that their friendship didn’t have to change. He was determined to maintain it. He’d fight every one of his emotions tooth and nail for her. She had to understand that he’d never expect anything more from her than the privilege to merely be a part of her life.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa breathed. He finally turned to look at her and was stunned to see tears welling in her eyes. “Sebastian, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not really a casual topic for dinner discussion.”

“Sebastian, really.” Annalisa sniffed. “You should have told me.”

“I’m sorry.” Sebastian averted his gaze again, riddled by guilt and fear. He fiddled with a loose thread on the blanket while both seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Sebastian,” Annalisa repeated. She slipped from beneath the covers to sit next to him. Sebastian fought desperately to think about anything other than the way her silk pajamas clung to her body. “Sebastian, look at me.”

He exhaled slowly as he turned to face her, awaiting his fateful sentence. He assumed she’d let him down gently, tell him they were better off as friends. She was far too kind to raise her voice at him, though she was also fiery enough that she might slap him.

Instead, she threw her arms around him. Sebastian’s lungs deflated as he stilled, stunned by her sudden embrace. 

“Sebastian, you fool. You know I love you too,” she mumbled, her words muffled against his neck. It ignited a new heat that coursed through his limbs. He swallowed as her words clashed with the feeling of her soft lips against his skin. It was a staggering juxtaposition of sweet relief and untamed desire.

She loved him? Had he really managed to overlook that major detail in his life? Had there been signs? Sebastian blinked in disbelief. He'd orchestrated his fair share of stupid events, but this one took first place.

Annalisa closed her eyes as she continued to cling to Sebastian. “You really thought I was in love with Ominis?”

“Ominis is brilliant,” Sebastian offered with a shrug. “Girls seem to like that whole polished and proper thing he has going on.”

Annalisa snorted against his neck and Sebastian couldn’t help but smile in spite of his nerves. “Sebastian, when have I ever been the prim and proper type?” she murmured. The more she spoke and the more her lips buzzed vibrations across his skin, the more Sebastian squirmed.

“That’s true,” he answered, forcing his words until they sounded steady. “You do seem to have a proclivity for chaos and dramatics.”

Annalisa drew away just far enough to peer upward at him with a pointed gaze. Her green eyes gleamed with coquetry. “It’s not like I go looking for chaos,” she huffed. “It just seems to find me… sort of way you found me. Sometimes it’s good to attract chaos.”

“Are you calling me chaotic?”

“Are you denying it?”

Sebastian chuckled. “No. Can’t deny that.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you so tense?”

“Because I just confessed to being in love with you and now you’re pressed up against me.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Oh. Oh.

“I… don’t know.” 

Annalisa offered him a bemused smirk. “Boy, Seb, between that letter and all of this, you sure have a way with words,” she teased. “Lucky for you, you won me over years ago.”

“Years?”

Annalisa rolled her eyes, her impatience evident. “Yes, years,” she said matter-of-factly. “Which is why you should have told me.”

“You could have told me!”

“And ruin the absolute spectacle of you making a fool of yourself because of a couple love letters to Ominis? Never.”

That was enough talking, enough words for one day. Sebastian had spelled it all out, albeit rather awkwardly, but the swell inside his chest made it all worth it. He finally kissed her, which told her more than any stupid letter ever could.

Part II (Smut warning)

“Sebastian,” Annalisa whimpered. “Sebastian, please.”

Her hands were presently tangled in Sebastian’s hair as her legs were tossed over his shoulders. 

Annalisa was quickly learning that Sebastian may not always have a way with words, but he was certainly skilled with his tongue. His letter to her lay on the floor, having fluttered off the bed amid the frenzy of hungry hands and greedy kisses.

“Sebastian, don’t stop,” Annalisa begged as his tongue pressed patterns over her clit. He hummed in response, certain he’d go mad by the way she begged him for more. Her whimpering pleas, the taste of her arousal and the aftermath of their declarations of love had Sebastian teetering on the edge of an insanity that could only be stoked by adoration.

Sebastian’s tongue traced tiny heart shapes across her clit until Annalisa’s thighs tensed and the pitch of her moans spiked. “Oh fuck, Sebastian!” she cried as her nerve endings seared with pleasure. Her back arched off the bed and her fingers tugged at Sebastian’s hair until her orgasm subsided, leaving her chest heaving and her entrance soaked.

Sebastian, still stunned by the day’s revelations, sat back on his heels to admire her. She wasn’t in love with Ominis – his own sister was. But he’d wrap his mind around that part of the story later. The part that mattered now was Annalisa had been his the entire time, and she was eager to prove it to him. After he kissed her for that first time, she had practically climbed into his lap until they were tearing their clothes off.

Once she had caught her breath, Annalisa sat up to pull Sebastian into a long kiss. “Stand up,” she ordered. 

Sebastian blinked. He was enthralled by this bossy new side of her. Of course, one doesn’t save the world from a goblin rebellion by being a timid pushover, but Sebastian hadn’t anticipated this level of dominance from her. It made his cock twitch desperately.

He obliged and scrambled to his feet, holding his breath as he watched Annalisa fall to her knees on the floor in front of him. She took him into her mouth and tightened her lips around his shaft. Sebastian had to lean one hand on the back of her desk chair to support his weight. The suction pulling against his cock was dizzying.

“My god,” he groaned as he gazed downward to watch her work. Her hands snaked their way to the backs of his thighs, fingers pressing into his flesh as she used only her mouth to make him moan. 

Annalisa’s lips released their vice grip to make way for her tongue. She dragged it from the base of Sebastian’s cock upward, over and around the tip, leaving it slick with saliva. Sebastian whimpered at the sight of it. 

“Annalisa, please,” he begged. “Let me have you.”

Annalisa nodded in understanding and rose to her feet to pull Sebastian into a kiss. She nudged him backward to guide him toward the desk chair. 

“Sit,” she commanded. Sebastian obeyed and dropped into a seated position. Annalisa climbed over him, hands clutching his shoulders as she lowered herself. She held her breath, astounded that her quiet Valentine’s Day was ending in such a way. Much better than any of her romance novels.

Sebastian’s fingers dug into her waist as he felt his cock make contact with her entrance. He tensed as she sank slowly, a low whine escaping her throat as she stretched around him. “Sebastian, you’re big,” she whimpered.

“Take it easy,” Sebastian said gently, though every nerve ending in his body was electrified. The scorching heat surrounding his cock was surreal.

Annalisa lifted herself and dipped downward again. The friction made both of their breaths hitch. Sebastian fought to control his body’s response while Annalisa found a steady pace, her cunt gliding over his cock until the room echoed with the sounds of their slick union.

“I love you,” Annalisa whispered, her eyes meeting Sebastian’s as she studied his expression to ensure he was content. 

“I love you too,” Sebastian growled, his hands still pressing into her sides. He marveled at her; the way her full breasts bounced, her cheeks flushed, and her tight walls embraced him. He was desperate to feel her release. He had to know how she’d feel when she collapsed on top of him, her thighs shaking and cunt swollen from the intrusion of his cock.

Annalisa’s eyes fell shut as she worked, her hips rising and grinding as she rested her palms flat against Sebastian’s chest. The chair creaked beneath them. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Sebastian breathed.

She rocked her hips and let out a sharp moan as Sebastian’s cock speared her soft, sensitive spot. “Oh, right there,” she groaned. She repeated the motion, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she lost herself in the sensation stimulating her core. “Sebastian, I’m close.”

Poor Sebastian was hanging on for dear life. His mind was presently reviewing spell patterns he’d learned in Charms class to divert his attention. He didn’t find himself in such a drastic dilemma very often, but this was pure desperation.

Annalisa slammed herself hard down onto him, driving the depths of her walls around Sebastian’s cock until she could feel the familiar flutters. She squeezed and rocked until her walls gave way to her climax, throbbing with relief as she wailed and threw her head back. She collapsed her full weight into Sebastian’s lap, allowing the tip of his cock to settle deep inside her until the final twitches of her cunt evoked his orgasm. He swore as he gripped her hips and spilled within her, earning one final moan from her.

The room’s erotic echoes were replaced with their recovering breaths. Annalisa slumped against Sebastian, her body exhausted from bouncing on top of him, and her head hazy.

Sebastian was utterly spent. His forehead rested against Annalisa’s bare shoulder as the weight of the day’s overwhelming epiphanies settled within him.

Things had taken a turn for the better; a monumental shift in events that he never could have predicted. He felt foolish and guilty for his presumptive behavior, but elated that, finally, for once, things had worked in his favor.

Annalisa was watching him with soft eyes. “Alright?” she asked. Sebastian grinned, his hands tracing light lines up and down the small of her back.

“Alright,” he answered. “Just… thinking about how mental this day was.”

“Only because you’re mental,” Annalisa said as she climbed off him and began fetching her pajamas from the floor.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I owe you and Ominis an apol-” He froze, his eyes widening until Annalisa drew back in alarm.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Ominis,” Sebastian said hastily as he scrambled to his feet and began redressing. “I- I wrote him a letter too. I have to go. I have to get rid of it before he sees it.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad.”

Sebastian flashed her an apologetic grin as he buttoned his shirt. “I might have told him we were no longer friends and to go to hell.”

“Sebastian!”

“In my defense, it was all for you, love.”

“It was downright foolish.”

“I know. Apologies, love. I’ll just go fetch and destroy it and then I’ll come right back, yeah?”

Annalisa sighed and crawled back into bed. “Yes, alright. I’ll be here.” 

Sebastian pressed a kiss to her forehead and sprinted back to the Slytherin dungeons.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[11queensupreme11]

OKAY HERE A FEW MORE DESCRIPTIONS!!!!!

sebastian, a percades baby. percy named him after one of ariel's loyal friend 💖💖💖💖

I DO NOT HAVE HIS DOMAINS YET!!! but thx to the appearance, he gives me a lot of vampiric butler vibes tbh lol

but anyway, he's hades son but one would think of him as hades' manager, butler, and secretary all in one what with how orderly he is. he's almost like what hermes is to zeus, but sebby is soooo much more intense about it lol.

he's super strict about everything, no-nonsense, stick-up-his-ass kinda personality tbh. everything must be spic and span and perfect to the nth degree. backs must be straight, hair must be neat, excellent manners must be done, and appearances must be perfect.

like the rest of his family (except for percy tbh) he is introverted. like. VERY introverted. but while the others just simply prefer to be solitary and will still interact if necessary/just to be nice, sebby will HATE IT. he does not like interacting with anyone outside of his family. his family is all he tolerates and even then they stretch his tolerance thin 😭😭😭

he does not like talking to people and when he does, he's super rude and standoffish. you would automatically think that he personally hates your guts, but no ur just annoying him with your presence 💔

when he's not by his father's side, he's with nemokles and trying to get his useless ass out of bed 💀💀💀 he does not tolerate nemokles' pathetic behavior and WILL whoop his ass if he continues to bedrot all day. at least read a goddamn book or something 😠

his mother isn't exactly the epitome of elegance so he DOES try and stick by her side during public outings just to make sure she doesn't do something to embarrass herself, but omg this poor boy cannot take it. his mother cannot sit still, can't stay in one place, and when people are around, she can never shut up. he's a god but even he can't handle her extrovertedness. he has no idea how she has such a huge social battery but the poor kid's already drained after standing by for one conversation 💀

GROVER!!!!! first born poki baby!!!! he's the god of nature, wildlife, fire, and destruction

despite who his daddy is, grover is a very tranquil and wise god with a very neutral, almost passive outlook in everything, which is evident in his domains. his domains are very contradicting: nature and destruction, wildlife and fire??? those are like oil and water lmao

but that's how life works. nature blossoms and then gets destroyed, either by natural means or by humans. he doesn't care regardless. he sees the beauty in nature and destruction, in life and death.

so he is definitely NOT anti-human like his daddy is. unlike other nature deities who absolutely DO hate humans because of their destruction towards nature, he is very indifferent to them. he's the god of destruction after all!

his mother lowkey has mixed feelings over it lmao. on one hand, he doesn't have a weird hate boner for humanity, yaaaay! on the other hand.... baby, you really don't care about pollution, even a lil bit?? 🥺🥺

he prefers his solitude, even from his family at times so he tends to fuck off from the palace to go on nature retreats and then may come back after a year or two lmao. he's just a Chill Dude tbh. he DOES however, message his mother daily just so she wouldn't worry 💖💖💖

arktomenes! a perollo baby. i only have him down as the god of strength but i'll add more..... later once i actually think of more domains for him 💀💀💀

another gentle giant like grover! (btw, grover is 9'0" tall and arktomenes is 8'5" 😃)

despite his terrifying appearance (he is very Big), he's actually one of the kindest kids out of all the percy babies!!! he's just...... shy. very very VERY shy 💀 and also very bad at confrontation (not as bad as nemokles at least)

he is the type to stammer and stutter when caught off guard. he will hide his 8'5" tall ass behind his 5'10" mother because he's too nervous to talk to someone. he'll be too anxious to go up to the front counter and ask for another burger cuz he asked for no pickles but ended up with pickles 💀💀💀💀💀💀

he is also an incest freak LMAO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

this man is dying, he can NOT handle these feelings, he literally feels like he's about to explode. not because he's ashamed to be attracted to his mother, but because he's too fucking SHY 😭

when he realized he was in love with his mother, his awkwardness increased by 10000%. he can't look at her in the eye anymore without blushing like crazy. his stutters sometimes when he speaks to her. his voice even CRACKS sometimes 😭 he is so fucking flustered. every time he has to talk to his mother, he'd twiddle his fingers hopelessly and avert his gaze while hunched over like a nervous, overgrown puppy

he is a boyfailure 💖 (not as bad as nemokles tho)

sharzumel!!!!! a beelcy baby!!!!! this lil guy is the god of spiders, souls, and death. pretty intense domains for a lil kid lol

anyway, he has the appearance of a nine month old infant lmao 😂😂😂😂

his personality is basically exactly what you would expect from a baby: bratty, whiny, needy, and just extremely emotional. cuz well.... he's a baby 💀

"queen! you said that all beelcy kids are evil, so is this lil guy evil too???"

I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!

sharzumel won't be as bad as his other siblings at least! and by that, i mean, while the others are consciously choosing to do bad, sharzumel's bad deeds are mostly the result of out-of-control temper tantrums typical of a baby's (just... deadlier) and hunger, so it can still be SOMEWHAT excusable 😭😭😭

somewhat 😭

if you're not his mommy or daddy, do not approach him when he's hungry or having a temper tantrum. he WILL kill you 💀

also, because he's a baby, he cannot speak properly. the most coherent words he can say are "mama" and "dada", but he mostly says "mama" 💖

vorvexion! another beelcy baby and this is the one named after anthonius hehe. he's the god of lies, strategy, manipulation, and knowledge.

i think i said a long time ago that luke would be the smartest of the beelcy babies, BUT I CHANGED MY MIND! it will be vorvexion, and luke is a very close second

anyway, he is lowkey his father's favorite child, which is ironic considering he was named after his father's love rival 😂😂😂

why is he the favorite? because even though beelzebub is no longer suicidal thanks to the power of the ✨percussy✨, he continues to do his unethical experiments. this time, it's just for funsies 💀💀 and vorvexion is his lil helper!!!!!

vorvexion enjoys doing experiments with his father! he has even led his own extremely deranged, jaw-droppingly horrific and sadistic experiments while beelzebub acted as an assistant solely because he wanted to see what his kid would cook up. and beelzebub was VERY impressed 😃👍 he's proud of his boy: "hey look at this monstrosity my son made 🙂 *sics it on innocent ppl as they scream in horror*"

father son bonding! how beautiful! 💖

vorvexion is a quiet kid, almost stoic really, who rarely talks up until you start asking him about his experiments. then he becomes a blabbermouth and just can't. sit. still. it becomes very clear how he's percy's kid solely because of how much he acts like a puppy being asked if he wants to go on walkies 😂

he'd excitedly show ppl his notes and all the data he collected in lab notebooks. he's running around trying to look for more of his notes just to show you, etc. he lights up like a puppy when he talks about the things he loves and it'd be sooooo cute if he weren't talking about cutting ppl open 😭

he shows it to his mother too, rambling happily about the latest experiment they did together. percy's smiling but she's lowkey dying inside cuz this shit is HORRIFYING....... but her son's happy and this is like the ONE TIME her husband is willingly bonding with one of their kids 😭😭😭😭

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

A quiet neighborhood - Chapter 1

Pairing: Neighbor!Dave York x f!reader Words count: 5137 Rating: + 18, MDNI

Series Summary: In a quiet neighborhood where nothing exciting ever happens, your neighbor Dave is definitely a guy who catches your eye. What could he be hiding under his perfect exterior?

Chapter 1: We start to enter this neighborhood and the trouble begins 👀

Tags: POV second person, reader is female with female genitalia, wears dresses, has hair that can be tied up in a bun/ponytail, no other description is given, she doesn’t blush. smut, angst, kissing, dirty thoughts, infidelity, kinda Desperate Housewifes coded (uh, don’t judge, I love it), easter eggs in secondary character’s names (so you can have fun guessing which series/film they come from 👀), neighborhood dynamics, Carol, Molly and Alice are there. Mention of food, alcohol consumption, some reader's thoughts marked in italics and I think it's all for now. A/N: Here we are! I'm so nervous to post the first chapter of this story! I take it for granted now but: English is not my first language, I tried to proofread as best as I could so I hope there aren't too many mistakes. I don't have a beta, so it's all my fault, sorry. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist, thanks to anyone who reads, I really hope you like it 🥹

And of course let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are so much appreciated and they literally keep me going and try even harder! If you want to give me some advice, go ahead! ♥️

AQN - Masterlist

Your neighborhood is a quiet place. 

 White picket fences, well-kept gardens, plenty of block parties to attend, everyone knows each other and nothing ever happens. 

As a child, when you stayed at your grandmother's house who lived here, you didn't have the exact perception of how unusual and picturesque it was, like something out of a postcard.

It just made you feel safe and there were lots of kids to play with, so it was always that special place you hoped to live when you grew up. You lived a short distance away, with your parents, your grandmother would often pick you up after school and you would stay at her house until your parents got off work. You could say that you spent more time here than you did in your actual home. So when your grandmother died and left you this house, it was a natural choice for you to move here.

If you were asked who your most peculiar neighbor is, you would definitely answer Dave York. He is unlike any of the other men who live near you, messy, careless, jovial and chatty, peaceful men who are friendly with everyone. Dave is not like that, he is rather mysterious and reserved, to begin with. He is very affectionate and present with his daughters, of course, nice with his wife, but with strangers he limits himself to a politeness of circumstance, he speaks only as much as necessary, you have never understood whether it is due to shyness or a general aversion to people.

Dave is composed, precise, neat almost in a manic way in his appearance. 

He’s been living here for while, he moved here with his family a couple of years after you, and yet you've never figured out precisely what his job is, he told everyone he was a CEO for a company and no one felt compelled to investigate further, the neighborhood gossip preferred to focus on other, more juicy topics and so it remained a vague piece of information, which no one cares about. It certainly allows him to earn a lot of money considering the standard of living he leads.

It always takes you a while to wake up in the morning and you love to spend a few minutes on the porch sipping your coffee, you love that quiet moment before a hubbub of children being dropped off at school, cars pulling out of the driveway, the neighborhood waking up and getting back to life. Dave gets out particularly early so he ended up becoming part of your morning routine.

He doesn't even see you as he rushes out to go to work and you like it that way. 

He walks out of his perfect house, with a perfect garden, gets into his perfect car with his briefcase, perfectly shaved, combed, shirt and pants perfectly pressed, understated and elegant tie, shiny shoes on which not a speck of dust ever seems to have settled. You've always wondered what's underneath. 

He lives right across the street from you, so you can often see him from your window and you linger to look at him more than you'd like to admit.

You see him out early Sunday morning for a run, black sweatpants and white T-shirt, then mowing the lawn with his T-shirt slightly sweaty from running and his hair a little disheveled. 

At lunchtime you catch a glimpse of him sitting at the table in the living room, located in front of a large window with his family as Carol serves the Sunday meal. She, too, is similar in some ways. She is refined, never vulgar, has a lovely tone of voice, she’s kind and friendly to everyone, and bakes crazy desserts. She once brought you muffins to thank you for lending her a package of sugar she had forgotten to buy and they were the best you had ever tasted. And his daughters? Polite, respectful, always adorably dressed, little princesses of manners. But it is he, above all, who arouses your interest. He draws you inexplicably, for as long as you have lived here there has always been in you curiosity to find out if he has some flaw, if there is something that stirs him inside. 

And then, of course, he’s incredibly handsome, probably the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

The first time you saw them at a block party you immediately noticed him, he stood out from all the others men. Black hair, aquiline nose, deep brown piercing eyes, plushy lips, broad shoulders, narrow waist, he wore a suit without looking either old-fashioned or snobbish, just gorgeous. You welcomed him, Carol and their kids to the neighborhood and then went back to your friends to sip margaritas and gossip. You couldn't take your eyes off him though; he was like a magnet that kept attracting your gaze.

There's nothing wrong with admiring someone from afar, is there? you tell yourself when you feel your cheeks warming up for him.

You always liked his confident but never cocky demeanor, his gestures are always measured and graceful, at parties when he talks to someone and is next to his wife he holds an arm around her waist never conveying a sense of possession but rather of protection and care. It bugs you to admit that this is exactly what you would like too.

_________________________

This morning you had to wake up earlier than usual, your boss called a meeting through an email you never wanted to receive, usually when he does it is to complain about something, which makes you want to stay in bed and call in sick. No time for Davewatching, you can't if you care about keeping your job and continuing to live in this nice neighborhood across the street from him.

You jumped into the shower grumbling, washing your hair in a hurry because you were obviously already late, and when you got out of the shower you discovered that your hair dryer was no longer working. Certainly not the best way to start the day. You cursed, fumbling in the bathroom cabinet drawer looking for a hair tie, tied your hair up in a high topknot, and sighed as you looked in the mirror to the image of a messed up you.

You couldn't do much about it, so you thought you'd put on your favorite office outfit to make yourself feel better, a dark gray skirt and jacket that you bought about a year ago. Money well spent, this suit hugs all the right spots on your body, making you feel elegant and professional, with a hint of sexiness. You feel confident. You pull it out of the closet and lay it on the bed, then look for a pair of tights to match. You rummage through your drawer and pull out at least five pairs, realizing they are all laddered. How on earth is that possible? Nothing is going right this morning. You huff, forcing yourself to wear hold-ups. Not your favorite thing to wear to work, they are certainly sexy but sitting 8 hours at your desk with silicone squeezing your thigh? No thanks. Yet this morning you have no choice.

You gather up your papers and stuff them into your bag, grab a cup of coffee adding a little milk foam that you quickly froth with a small electric milk frother, you drink it right away almost burning your tongue and then step out into your driveway heading for your car practically running, the heels you've been wearing clicking noisily on the pavement. 

You get into the car and start it, or at least try to, because it won't work. You bring a hand to your eyebrows, cursing again “Oh fuck! You gotta be kidding me!”. Your boss will have your head served on a silver platter this morning.

You get out and open the hood, to your lay eyes there seems to be nothing wrong, no smoke or other visible signs, so you think it's the battery.

You curse and get back in the car, searching your bag for your phone, your nerves are on edge when you hear light tapping on the window. You jump in your seat in fright, and when you turn around you see Dave on the other side. Great, you think. Just the situation I was hoping he'd see me in, stressed, messy, basically on the verge of tears.

You roll down the window and he asks: “You need help?” 

“Oh don't worry, I don't want to bother you, I can manage on my own,” you stammer, trying to pull yourself together. 

“The car won't start?” his voice is quite reassuring, aloof as it is.

“Yes but really, no problem, I'll call a uber.”

“Don’t be silly, let me give you a ride” you hear an amused undertone now, maybe because of your ridiculous face, you feel so inadequate and stupid in front of him, surely he thinks you're a train wreck and wants to do charity work by rescuing you as an abandoned kitten on the street corner.

You look down and see the lace of your stockings peeking out from the hem of your skirt that had ridden up too high when you sat in the car. You hastily pull down your skirt, wondering in a panic if he had noticed it too.

Your gaze reluctantly returns to him, feeling your cheeks heat up, and he seems unperturbed as he repeats, “Come on, if we don’t hurry we’ll both end up late.”

“Okay...” you whisper "well..thanks"

You get out of your car, finishing to adjust your skirt taking advantage of the fact that he has his back to you, as you awkwardly follow him across the street.

You get into his shiny expensive car almost in awe, smelling his car freshener, obviously something fancy because he’s too sophisticated to settle for something you can find at the drugstore for $2. 

It’s as clean as if it had never been used, the leather seat welcomes you, there is not a crumb or anything, this man has two little daughters and his car is immaculate.

You’ve never sat so stiff in your life, clutching your bag to your chest as if it would contaminate the car’s floor mat if you dared to put it down. 

He looks at you and urges “Seatbelt, please” and you hurry up to reply awkwardly “Oh. Yes. Of course.” and you see something shine in his eyes, a suppressed laugh, a tiny crack that disappears immediately.

You resign yourself to lay the bag at your feet and put the seat belt on, pulling it slowly, almost reverently, you feel his gaze on you and you are afraid of making another fool of yourself.

He starts the car and drives off, as you drive away from your neighborhood you try to calm down and regain control of yourself. He's just giving you a ride; there's no reason to be so jittery.

You give him directions to your office, trying to disguise your excitement as much as possible; usually you can get along just fine with anyone, but today you feel like a schoolgirl on her first experience.

You watch his profile surreptitiously as you tell him to turn right, and then left, lingering on his sculpted cheekbone, his long eyelashes, his perfectly drawn lips.

He’s so incredibly attractive your eyes almost can’t take it and so well dressed as usual, in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and a burgundy tie with dark blue dots. 

You are almost there and a little bit sorry, you didn't feel like going to work already but now you want to sit in this car next to him until the end of the day.

When he asks you which building your office is, it takes you a few seconds too long to answer, “Oh, this one, on the right.” because you're so enthralled admiring his confidence behind the wheel.

Not only can he drive in gears, but his driving is safe, without wavering, and when he parks in front of your office you notice how he maneuvers with his open hand on the steering wheel. Sexy. You are impressed. You wonder if there is anything this man can't do.

You turn to him and whisper a thank you in a breathy voice. He looks at you and you feel his gorgeous brown eyes penetrate all the way into your soul as he replies, “Happy to help. Do you have someone who can drive you back?“

”Yes, thank you, I'll ask my coworker,” you lie, knowing that you will almost certainly have to take a bus or cab, but you don't want to give him any more trouble. 

“Okay, well, have a good day” 

“Thanks, you too”

Oh wait, there’s something…” he says, reaching your face with his hand and brushing dangerously close to your mouth with his thumb “here” He licks the tip of his finger and looks at you with his usual unflappable expression as you realize you have ridden in his car with milk foam at the corner of your mouth “you’re good now” he whispers and you would like to sink into the seat and disappear forever.

You get out of the car and walk toward the office entrance, feeling his eyes on your back, when you reach the door you turn and wave to him. He is still there, pulling up to the curb, and he gestures back to you. His car speeds away into city traffic a second later.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself before pushing open the door to your office and entering. 

_________________________

“Hey” you hear coming from above you as you are pulling with all your might at a plant that you don't even know where it came from and that is infesting your cyclamen flower bed. You look up and Dave is standing in front of you in your front garden, wearing the usual white T-shirt and black sweatpants he wears every Sunday for jogging. “Oh. Hi,” you say, passing the back of your hand over your forehead and then shielding your eyes from the sun to see him better. 

“So did you solve the car?” 

“Yes, thank you so much for your help” that feeling of being back in middle school when you had a crush on your classmate Josh comes alive again inside you. 

“Good. Was it the battery?” 

”That's right. I had to change it. 300 bucks! Fuck, I'll be damned.” You blather on without thinking that maybe you're not so close to each other to let yourself swear in front of him. 

Dave chuckles, even his laugh is polite and discreet but you can see a cheeky little light in his eyes along with a lovely dimple on his cheek that makes your face heated up.

"I know, they're expensive”

“Yeah, but what else could I do, I don't understand anything about cars, I’m better with plants” you chuckle trying to contain your nervousness.

“They are very beautiful,” he notes, moving his gaze from you to the cyclamens and then back to you, staring. He seems to want to say something more, his lips are half open out held, like everything about him.

“Thank you” There is a lull where you don't know what to say or what to do because he keeps looking at you with his big brown eyes that make you melt and then you ask the first thing that comes to mind "Um, are you and Carol coming to the Horowitz party next week?"

“I think so, she told me about it the other night. Will you be there?” you could almost tell you hear a hopeful tone in his voice, but you're brought back down to earth in an instant by your own inner voice. 

Stop doing this, he’s married you idiot. 

“Yes, of course.” you nod, smiling. 

He smiles back at you, “Well, I have to go now I'm glad you worked it out. If you need anything else however you can find me across the street.” 

You watch him walk away toward his home as you feel that something, at least in a very slight part, has changed between you. He is warmer, friendlier, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you enter the house to wash your hands. You feel like floating and when you look in the bathroom mirror you see it.

The most gigantic of smiles spread across your face, your eyes twinkling.

You are beyond redemption, a complete mess.

_________________________

“Carol loves that brand”

You are at the mall, standing in front of a storefront window that is too expensive for your pocket, gazing at a pair of black leather pumps.  You turn around and see him. Dazzling in a black turtleneck and gray pants, black belt and leather lace-ups, he looks like something out of a fashion magazine. You would almost find him irritating if it weren't for the fact that by now you have to admit to yourself, you have a terrible crush on him. 

Molly and Alice greet you with a smile echoing their father “yes, that's right, mommy loves them”

You smile at the girls “I can imagine. Your mom dresses so well, doesn't she?”  And they look at you proudly nodding “she does” 

“I want to be like her when I grow up” Alice adds in her little bird voice. 

“Oh that's so sweet, I'm sure your mom will be very proud, of both of you. ” you tell her gently. 

Dave is silent and smiles softly, watching his little princesses behave with you. “Well, we've gotta go, we're going to be late for the movie” he says right back, looking a little embarrassed but as usual you think your imagination is really flying awkwardly by now. 

“Oh, what are you going to see?” you ask, always looking at the girls to trick your mind. You don't have to think about him, he's a married man, what's wrong with you. 

“Daddy's taking us to see The Little Mermaid!” Molly announces to you with her eyes shining ‘that's my favorite!’ 

“The multiplex at this mall shows old animated movies in one of their theaters on Sunday afternoons,” Dave explains ”the girls love going there.”

"Oh wonderful!" you reply "well, have fun then"

They're about to leave when Dave turns around and tells you "you should buy them anyway" You stand for a moment interjected "the shoes, I mean. They would look good on you”.

You stand dumbfounded, feeling that tingle spread through your lower abdomen again. You don't reply, but you watch them walk off into the crowd, Molly and Alice each to one side of their dad shaking his hand, Dave in the center with his beautiful hair, his broad shoulders highlighted by his sweater, a delicious butt swaddled beautifully in his gray pants, as soon as they disappear around the corner you go into the store and buy shoes. Even if they are too expensive and if your credit card could talk it would ask you if you are completely crazy. This is the measure of how screwed you are. You can't wait to wear them to the Horowitz party. 

——————————

The Horowitz house is one of the most luxurious in the neighborhood; high ceilings, marble floors, expensive furniture all over the place, chandeliers and silverware, these people are filthy rich. You used to tutor their daughter, Gretchen, a snooty little princess who grew up in bamboozlement and thought she could boss you around. Somehow you managed to win her over eventually, and since you seemed to be the only one in the neighborhood who could tame her the right way, her parents paid you good money.

At the time you had just graduated and were trying to find a job so that money came in handy. 

You say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz and jump into the fray, it's packed everywhere, and your neighbors certainly aren't begging to take advantage of the lavish buffet served poolside.

You see Gretchen in the corner flirting with a waiter and smile, shaking your head, she’s only 18 and already so flirty and cheeky with boys, at her age you just felt like an awkward and inexperienced potato with no sense of fashion and no idea how to talk with boys, you're thankful that adolescence is long over for you. Two of your neighbors, Jane and Gabrielle, are gossiping about Edie's skimpy dress and the new boyfriend she brought to the party after divorcing her husband just two months ago. They wave at you and you sit with them on poolside loungers, they’re some of your dearest friends in the neighborhood. 

“Where are Rafael and Carlos?” you ask, looking for their husbands.

Gabrielle waves her hand and says, “over there talking football with Hank.”

You’re the only one of your friends left single, after breaking up with Jesse two years ago, you decided to focus on your career. You got a promotion last year, but still no husband in sight.

You suggest to go to the bar to have a drink and they both agree. 

There is soft music wafting around, classical, very elegant like the overall tone of the party. It looks more like a wedding reception than a block party, but you know that if the Horowitz don't make it big they're not happy. You approach the bar, a nice drink will solve your nervousness as you try not to stumble and end up in the pool because of your brand new high heels, clinging to Jane’s arm.

Of course she laughs at you “honey, those shoes are gorgeous but don’t you think they’re a bit impractical for a pool party?” 

“Hey! You were the one who told me I needed to freshen up my wardrobe and wear heels more often!” You reprimand as Jane and Gabi laugh.

You've been waiting to wear them at this party all week, even doing some tests at home to make sure they don't give you blisters. 

They're the highest heels you've ever owned and yes, they’re not comfortable, especially to walk on the grass and around a slippery surface like the poolside but tonight when you looked at yourself, swaddled in a little black dress and these shoes, you've never looked so pretty. Your bank account has been severely undermined but you think it was worth it. And even though it would be lo the last thing you should want, you can't wait for him to see you.

You put on your favorite underwear underneath,  just to have that extra boost of confidence. 

You feel good, just as good as you have felt in months, and all it took was for him to notice you. You should probably feel ridiculous, but because he took away the apathy you've been feeling lately, you decide you won't. Not this time. And when you see him walk into the garden, black slacks and white shirt, no tie, the last two buttons left open, he is breathtakingly handsome.

The only thing that matters is the instant when his eyes meet yours, and they are not cold and distant, but it is as if they are smiling, sparkling with a light you have never seen in them before. 

You've kept your wild fantasy at bay until now, but you're sure that in the midst of all these people he's been watching you. 

You feel proud and beautiful until you see her.

Of course Carol is by his side, holding his arm and smiling radiantly in her cream cocktail dress.

And suddenly it all comes crashing down on you, how could you not consider that she would be here, with him, his rightful wife. She wouldn't have been missed. Yet you were so busy trying to look the best you could that you buried her in the corner of your mind, just totally ignored her until this moment. You grab the martini you ordered and down it in one gulp. 

“Hey! Take it easy, honey!” Jane says to you, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you?” 

She’s never seen you drink like that, you’ve never actually drunk like that, maybe just after Jesse left you, but it didn’t last long anyway. You shrug and smile at her. “Oh come on, it’s a party! And I don’t have to drive.”

Rafael and Carlos come over to greet you and you're left alone for a moment while the four of them go to inspect the buffet.

You try to distract yourself engaging old Mrs Threadgoode in a conversation you don't care about about the hedge bordering your houses, but out of the corner of your eye you see them approaching, her always at his side, as they make the rounds of greetings. You even try to blend taking the old lady by the arm and continuing to babble as you move behind a huge vase next to the appetizer table, hoping they won't notice you until you hear Carol's pretty voice behind you. You turn around, thinking you are doomed, as if she can read your thoughts, but there is absolutely nothing in her gaze but courtesy and grace, as usual.

It makes you even more nervous that her husband has been your constant thought for two weeks and she does not suspect in the least. 

You greet her, trying to swallow your senseless resentment, but when you place your eyes on him you feel that tingle again, that warmth invading you from head to toe, while his gaze is as enveloping and sensual as it has ever been. “You look great,” he tells you, and Carol immediately echoes him, ”oh yes, you look so beautiful today!” You say thank you, chat for a couple more minutes, and then excuse yourself by saying you need to go to the restroom. The whole time you were standing in front of him he was just staring at you, his gaze went down to your ankles noticing your brand new shoes, and you can swear you saw his mouth bend into a smile, almost imperceptible.

You still feel stupid for wasting the whole afternoon dolling yourself up for a married man.

You cross the hallway to the bathroom and see Gretchen again, deep in conversation with the same waiter, she’s leaning against the wall, running a hand over his chest covered by a white shirt and giggling coquettishly. She looks up and sees you, “Hey there! How are you?”

“All good, hun, how are you?”you reply. 

“I’m great! We need to talk later!” she shrieks at your back as you hurry toward the restroom door. You lock yourself inside in an instant and lean your hands against the sink, sighing. What the hell had gotten into you, what did you think you were doing? 

You take a couple more deep breaths and try to downplay “okay, let's just calm down, there's nothing a couple more martinis can't fix” You look in the mirror and say to yourself “now you go out, enjoy the party with your friends, then you go home and forget about this whole thing. Enough of this crap” you whisper it in a low voice. You have just finished the sentence when you hear a knock at the door. “I'm done, just a second,” you say loudly.

You don't expect the voice you hear coming from the other side “It's Dave” 

You pull your ear to the door to make sure you get it right and ask “who?”

 “Dave. Open up” Your heart skips a beat and your hand trembles on the door knob as you are unsure what to do. “What do you want?“

”To talk. Come on, open up.” 

You don't understand what you should talk about, there is nothing to discuss, nothing happened “I'm going out now,” you mumble, check your makeup quickly and pull the handle determined to avoid  him and go back to the garden to find your friends.

You make to leave but Dave pushes you back inside the bathroom “Wait a minute” You are incredulous as you look at his enigmatic smile “What is it?” 

“You bought the shoes” You don't know what he is getting at “So what?” 

“I was right. They fit you well” He smiles at you and you feel a knot in your stomach 

‘Did you need to lock yourself in the bathroom to tell me that?’ you raise an eyebrow wryly. 

The situation is so absurd that you even pluck up the courage to answer him in kind. 

“Actually, no. But to do this...yes” He leans over you and encircles your face with one hand ‘You’re so damn perfect tonight’ he whispers, before placing his lips on yours. 

You open your eyes wide as if you've been hit by a gunshot, not expecting anything like this. 

His mouth is soft and inviting, his tongue moving lightly against your lips, and you let it in, savoring a warm and delicious whiff of whiskey, losing yourself in his flavor, feeling his hands tighten on your hips. Before you know it, he has pushed you against the marble walls, caging you into his body and continuing to lick into your mouth like a thirsty man in the middle of the desert, unleashing an unprecedented storm inside you. You moan into his mouth as your arms wrap around his back and your hips thrust against his in a silent but desperate plea for attention.

Your bodies blend perfectly, it feels like one of those wet dreams you keep having at night in the privacy of your room. Him naked on top of you covering your skin with kisses that descend over your breasts grazing your nipples and then over your belly to your pussy. Him pounding you senseless as you whine and scratch his back with your fingernails feeling so full of his cock. 

He suddenly pulls back and reality collapses on you again waking you up from the stupor you've fallen into. He smiles at you again “I just wanted to tell you this,” his hand caresses your neck, his eyes fix on your breasts accentuated by the cleavage of your dress just for a moment and as he arrived he disappears behind the door again going back to mingling among the people. 

He didn't even leave you time to talk, left you standing there like a fool, wondering what the hell it all means. What does he want from you? What is going to happen from now on? Your head is empty, you brush your lips still feeling his latent taste. If you were asked who is the most peculiar man in your neighborhood, you would surely say Dave York. You would also say that he is a total threat to your heart. 

Tag list: @aurorawritestoescape @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @thundermartini @harriedandharassed @syd-djarin @penascigarette @joelalorian @pedrostories @sunnytuliptime let me know if you want to be added or removed and I'll do it right away.

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Parker Part 2

Summary: where Professor Parker makes a deal with trouble, in order to get them to stay in class.

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: 18+ Only! Smut, professor x student relationship (college age of course!), oral f!receiving, praise kink, angst

A/N- I am sorry this took so long to actually do, but yeah, after that recent talk show look (you know the one I’m talking about, if not I reblogged it a few posts back) I just knew I needed to go back to this. Anyway, enjoy.

Ps @sincericida it’s been a while since part one so would you mind reblogging to help find the original masses, who knows who’s usernames are still the same or working.

You weren’t going to continue taking his course. You had every intention of going straight to the Dean asking to change. Sure you had been eagerly awaiting this course ever since you’d first read about, it well over a year ago, when you were thinking about where you wanted to study after you graduated. The way Professor Parker focused on Multiversal Theory, using Physics of Matter to provide proof for his theories, it was a truly riveting subject. But now, after all this. There was no way you could stay in his class, listening to him talk for 12-15 hours a week, knowing he’d buried his head between your legs, made you cum again and again… no you couldn’t do it. That would just be self induced torture, no? Because there was also no way he’d fuck you until you saw stars again, would he? No, there was no way. Then how come you were now sat on top of his desk, your legs spread, panties dropped to the floor between you as he once again ate your pussy like he was a man starved?

He had stopped you as you went to leave, trying to blend in and leave amongst the crowd. “Hold it Miss Y/L/N.” Fuck! You thought you were gonna get away with it.

There was silence as you waited, arms folded- guarded- as the last couple of students left with small smiles and waved their goodbyes to the Professor. Professor, uhhh the reminder of the name he’d given you last night now felt very different.

“Don’t go.” He said as he moved back towards his desk and began shifting things around. “I know that look. Don’t change course.” You couldn’t meet his eyes. You kept quiet with your eyes to the ground as you watched him come back around the front of the desk, his ankles crossing over in front of him as he leant back on the desk. “Last nights on me, I’m sorry,” he admitted and it finally forced you to meet his eyes as he continued to speak. “But it shouldn’t mean you have to change course.”

You didn’t know what he expected you to say. You didn’t know how else to respond either, a now slightly less uncomfortable silence falling between you. He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Well you certainly chose the right name to introduce yourself with… trouble.”

“You’re one to talk… Professor.” You said, finally finding your voice and the corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile.

“Okay, you have me there. But in all fairness, I’m not expecting to find new students in clubs.” He mused, both a chastising, yet naughty glimmer of admiration in his eye.

“You can blame my room mate for that one. You can also blame her for pushing me on you.” You chuffed as the memory from the night before came back to you.

He frowned as if remembering too. “Quite literally if I remember correctly.” He joked and it made your tummy flip.

You fell quiet again, your eyes quickly shooting back to looking at his feet instead of his face, as the feeling of your crush overwhelmed you and your previous dilemma returned.

As if he could see the conflict in your mind for himself, he stepped closer, forcing your attention back on him as he said, “What have I got to do to convince you to stay in this class?” He asked honestly, but he was too close to you. His smell was intoxicating. His gaze penetrating. His eyes were so soft and earnest, you just wanted to melt into them. His curls were too neat in the light of day and you just wanted to run your hands through them until they were fluffy and soft and messy again, just like they had been when you had left him in bed and snuck out this morning.

Your breathing caught in your chest as he reached out his hand to you, his warm fingers coming into contact with the smallest patch of bare skin on your arm where your cardigan had slipped down. It sent a shiver down your spine and you knew he had felt it.

He pulled his hand away again hesitantly and you reached to pull your cardigan back up onto your shoulder to cover yourself up again protectively. “I can’t.” You said gently, the two words breaking you and you knew you had to walk away before it was too late- before anything else could happen and make this hurt anymore.

You had taken two steps towards the door when you felt his hand reach for your wrist to pull you back. When you met his eyes you were met with conflict, it was plain on his face now as he looked you up and down fully in the light of day. His gaze finally fell to the floor and he released your wrist to rub at his face as he sighed. “Uhhhh you weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna cause me a whole load of trouble,” he muttered to himself and all you could do was frown, your fingers picking at the pages the notebook in your fingers, as you tried to work out what thoughts were going through his head.

He sighed again as he looked to the ceiling as if trying to talk himself out of whatever idea had placed itself into his head. “Fuck,” he groaned quietly and the next thing you knew he was marching towards the door.

You watched him closely, your heart in your mouth as he pulled down the blind and there was a faint click as he locked the door. You only just about had time to realise what he was doing before he marched back over to you, his hands reaching out to hold either side of your face as he brought his lips to yours.

The touch instantly made you ache between your legs, your knees wobbling slightly as you took a sudden deep breath in through your nose as if his kiss alone allowed you to breathe freely again. There was a loud slap as the book in your hands hit the linoleum floor, but neither of you flinched as your reached your fingers up into his hair, messing up his curls and pulling him closer.

As his arm moved down to snake around your lower back, pulling you in closer to him, you could feel every contour of his body. Could feel the pressure building behind his pants zipper.

You opened your mouth up to him more and felt him waste no time, as he licked inside your mouth, pulling a desperate and wanton moan from between your lips. He grunted slightly in response, his forehead pushing into yours desperately as he forced himself to break off the passionate kiss for just a moment. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked. “You know you won’t be able to say anything to anyone.” He said, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. “But I’m not letting you transfer out of this class, okay?” He said strongly.

You felt dizzy. Your eyes struggled to focus on him. From his kiss to his questions- far too many to answer in a short amount of time- you just wanted to feel his lips on yours again. Wanted to feel his fingers everywhere. Last night had been the best night of your life so far and he was dangling that feeling in front of you like a poisoned apple on a string- and you so wanted to bite.

“Come on, Trouble, I need you to answer me,” he said, somewhat desperately and it made you wonder, maybe he wanted this just as much as you did. At first you thought this might just be a ruse to get you to stay, but maybe it was more than that.

“Yes,” you sighed breathlessly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I understand. I’ll stay. I won’t tell anyone, just please-“ you hesitated a second as you heard the rest of the sentence you wanted to say play out in your head and worked up the courage to say it- but you figured you’d come this far and already given yourself a nickname to live up to so why not say it- “promise me you’ll do that thing with your tongue again.” You sighed out breathlessly and a devilish gleam twinkled in his eye as he let out a small chuckle and shook his head gently against yours.

“Trouble,” he sighed. “Which thing?” He asked, playing along with you, but you were sure he already knew, so kept quiet as his gaze on you grew hungrier. He gave you a wolfish grin as he shook his head again. “When? Now?” He asked and you nibbled at your lip in anticipation.

He sighed again and rolled his eyes, his fingers reaching for yours as he began to pull you slowly around the back of his desk, backing you up until the backs of your thighs were pressing into the wood.

“It’s a good thing you wore a skirt for your first day of my class then, isn’t it?” He teased, his fingers tracing up your bare skin, slowly inching underneath the skirt and sending a shiver up your spine. He didn’t stop their journey until he reached your underwear, his fingers hooking into the elastic at your hips and slowly dragging them back down your legs at an agonising pace, until they reached your knees and he let them drop to the floor, ready for you to step out of them.

As you did so, he slowly encouraged you to sit back on top of his desk, his hands reaching back to lift up your skirt and reveal yourself to him, his eyes not leaving yours, as he slowly lowered himself onto his knees on the floor before you. Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed as his lips turned to graze the inside of your knee, the barely there touch of his mouth on your skin enough to send an overwhelming rush of arousal to your core. As he gradually kissed his way up your inner thigh, your fingers gripping the papers on his desk to ground. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this. You were about to enter into a secret affair with your professor like this was an episode of Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars.

But as his tongue finally moved up to swipe through your sex, you really didn’t care. If it meant you got to experience the bliss this man was able to drag from you on a regular basis, you didn’t care about anything. As he continued lick at your folds, his tongue sucking your clit into his mouth every few swipes, building you up at an agonising pace, you fought with all your might to keep your moans quiet, biting down on your lower lip with a strangled sigh as your sensitivity bloomed and the pressure between your legs grew tighter.

You allowed yourself one low shaky sigh as his tongue pushed deep inside you, teasing you agonisingly and you gripped the edges of his desk as you grew desperately close to your release. “Good girl,” he praised, as he took his mouth back away from you for just a second, before sliding two of his fingers gently inside you and sucking your clit back between his lips.

“Oh, shit.” You hissed, as his words and tone sent another flutter of arousal and sensitivity between your lips and you finally realised how much trouble you were really in. But it was too late, you’d already taken a bite from the tainted apple, the poison was already coursing through your blood and it felt far too good to run away.

His fingers gripped tighter to your thighs as they began to shake, your climax so desperate to come flooding out, but the tension of needing to be quiet made it unbearable. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as you tried to keep yourself grounded and in control, the coil deep in your pelvis ready to expload and you felt his fingers slip out of you, his hands moving to hold you down firmly onto the desk as he took one last swipe at the sensitive apex between your legs. Your eyes squeezed shut, your legs clamping tightly around his face as it all came crashing down, the tiniest desperate squeak escaping from between your lips before you swallowed the need to cry out back down, instead panting your way through your climax until you could feel your body beginning to cool and calm again.

Slowly you relaxed your thighs and you heard a faint breathy chuckle of satisfaction fall from his lips as he rubbed soothingly at your bare legs again, before moving back, his hand casually moving to wipe away the mess on his face.

As he finally stood back up, his tongue lapping up the last of your juices from his lips, you saw him bunch up your panties, that he’d picked up off the floor, and wrap them tightly in his fingers before sliding them into his pocket.

“Hey, I need those back.” You said to him indignantly, a slight panic in your chest at the thought of having to walk back out of the classroom with nothing on under your skirt.

“New rule.” He said, standing up straight as he looked over your flushed form, still sitting on top of his desk as he leaned in closer. “Your panties end up on my classroom floor, I get to keep hold of them.” You were sure his words had just sent another wave of arousal back down between your legs, but you fought to ignore it, the thought of walking out of here panty-less, still more pressing, especially if this was going to be a regular thing- you’d be out of underwear before the semester was out and there was no way your student budget was gonna stretch to new underwear every other week.

You were about to protest the fact as you pushed yourself off the desk, your hand reaching out to snatch your underwear back from his pocket, but he swerved out the way before you could so much as even make the slightest bit of contact. “Uh, uh, uh,” he said, holding his finger up to me, that devilish smirk back in the corner of his mouth. “You can have them back, as long as you get good grades on your essays.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you let out a breathy little scoff. “So do we have a deal, trouble?” He asked patiently.

You rolled your eyes again as you conceded, “Yeah,” you sighed, “we have a deal.”

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Overlock Stitch Part 2/?

Summary:

Viktor is just trying his best to survive his years as a student at the academy when a girl studying textiles suddenly begs him to let her tailor his uniform. She is right, it doesn't fit, but he isn't in the business of accepting charity from strangers. "Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?" Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. He wonders if her cheeks hurt.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader

Word Count: 5,311

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She manages to shove her embarrassment down long enough to get the photos taken, organising them into a neat stack and then leaving them on her worktable for later. Viktor has gone back to not talking very much at all, wordlessly adjusting his stance for her photos but otherwise just peering down at her quietly. His eyes are coolly intelligent and piercing, she has to avoid making eye contact or she completely looses her focus.

Her hands shake when she picks up her pins, sticking a few into the pincushion on her wrist for easier access, "I'll start with your shirt, if that's alright."

Viktor nods and continues watching intently as she takes a tentative step forward and reaches for his wrist. She notices his knuckles tighten when her fingers brush against him, but she tries her best to ignore it. The cuffs on his shirt are a touch too long, so she exhales an even breath out through her nose and folds the fabric of his sleeve up under itself so she can raise the cuff and pin along the seam-line.

Her voice shakes, but talking makes her feel less nervous, "It's best to make all the alterations against the existing seam, that way no one can tell you've had any tailoring done at all." she grabs a few more pins from her pincushion and works to adjust the loose fabric around his elbow, "That's why most of my classmates prefer to do design work, because if you're a good tailor, no one will ever notice you."

Viktor hums at that, it's a pleasant sound. Oddly warm.

Since he doesn't seem to mind her talking, she keeps doing it, "The forearm of your shirt fits pretty well, but the upper arm will need some work. Just-" her brow furrows as she pins along the seam all the way up his arm, "Just try to stay still, I haven't um, I haven't had much of a chance to do alterations on a person."

"Ah, I am a test subject, then?"

She isn't sure if that was supposed to be a joke, but it makes her laugh and she lets it, "I suppose so? Most of the other students I've done work for only ask for cosmetic alterations, minor, usually. I've had plenty of practice on mannequins though, so just don't breathe and it'll be fine."

This time Viktor laughs, a gentle chuckle the rises up and out from his chest. Hearing it is like an achievement in and of itself and she can't help the shy smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Hey, no laughing either or you'll get a pin in the ribs."

He exhales an amused breath and then says, "Yes, of course, my apologies."

She moves onto his second arm, feeling much more confident this time. Part of her wants to express just how grateful she is that Viktor even agreed to meeting with her today, but anxiety churning in her gut worries about coming on too strong, too desperate. So she keeps her mouth shut, adjusting his cuff and then pinning up the length of his arm the same as the previous.

"There." She says, quietly admiring her own handiwork, "Much better already. Um, I will need you to hop down from the platform for just a moment, I won't be able to reach your shoulders while you're up there."

As before, Viktor follows her directions quickly and without complaint, she does notice the way he braces his cane on the floor before stepping down and tries her best to avert her eyes when his brows draw together in what is clearly a wince of pain. She resists the urge to apologise again, because she gets the sense he doesn't like when she does that, even though the word sorry escapes her more often than breath does. Like it's perpetually waiting in her lungs.

"Thank you." She says instead, which is marginally better. Viktor just nods in response.

Her heart jumps a little when she steps towards him again, assessing his waistcoat first. It's too long, and loose around his chest. It will need quite a bit of work, and presuming the shirt underneath is the same size, it will need just about the same amount. She hums, eyeing the upward jut of his left shoulder, debating if she can account for his uneven stance when pinning just to save herself from having to ask any invasive questions. In the end, she decides against it, getting the job done properly will be worth the momentary embarrassment. No matter how much her hands shake at the thought.

"I'll need your shoulders at neutral when I'm pinning, or it will end up wonky." She begins shakily, wringing her hands together. Then, with trepidation she adds, "will you be alright to stand without your cane for a few minutes?"

Viktor tilts his head back and forth, weighing the question before giving her a curt nod.

"Okay!" She says, relieved that he didn't seem at all offended by her question and reaching out to take the cane from him.

The moment her fingers brush against it, Viktor yanks back from her, every muscle in his body tensing, his eyes fiery and jaw set in a challenging line. The inhale and exhale of his breath is sharp, a furious punch of his chest and the grip he has on the cane turns his knuckles white.

She has no idea how to break the thick and painful silence, her hand still half raised in the air because she is worried that even lowering it back to her side might seem like a threat. Her mouth opens and closes, as she tries to figure out what she has done wrong, what to say or do to fix this. The arch of his brow is dangerous, threatening, but with her eyes locked to his in a frozen panic, she can't help but notice how pretty their colour is. Even if the intensity of his gaze makes her nearly want to turn and run from the room.

"Never take it from me." He hisses between gritted teeth, "You Pilties think that you can just take whatever you want whenever you want, but you cannot ever take this from me, do you understand? Never."

Her heart thumps wildly in her chest and she suddenly remembers yesterday when he asked if she thought he was dangerous. He is all sharp angles, looming over her with a posture that screams violence. But he doesn't move, he just keeps on staring at her and maybe because she takes the time to look, she thinks that she sees something like fear hiding behind his eyes.

She takes a deep breath and tries to keep her voice even when she says, "I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry."

He doesn't offer false platitudes, doesn't tell her that it's fine, or that she doesn't need to apologise. Doesn't insinuate that there will be no harm done so long as she offers him a favour in return for his silence, instead he bites a quick, "Do not do that again." and it's equal parts refreshing and terrifying.

"Yes, I won't. I'm sorry"

The tension leaves his shoulders a little, but she can tell he is still wound tight, "Go get the stool." He says quickly, inclining his head towards the tall stool by Eliza's project. She does as asked, bringing it over and placing it next to him. He leans the cane against it, well within arm's reach. It's only now, when the intensity in the room has begun to dissipate, that she realises exactly what she did when she snatched his cane from him. It's not just an object, it is his mobility and she had just tried to take it away without permission.

She picks at her cuticles, once again getting the sense that a plethora of apologies will not have the desired effect, not matter how desperately she wants to let them loose. Instead she takes a deep breath in through her nose and endeavours to prove that she is at least capable of not making the same mistake twice, "Is it alright if I get back to doing the alterations?" she asks quietly, adding on a quick, "You can leave if you want, I'd understand if you did."

"No. I'd rather you finish what you started." Viktor answers, short sharp and polite enough but no politer.

Relief rushes through her, not an irreparable mistake, then. She's so glad. Even though she offered for him to leave, she has no idea what she would have done if he had. So she doesn't bother wasting time on hypotheticals, instead she clamps a couple of pins between her teeth and positions herself on top of the platform behind Viktor to get a better look at his waistcoat, "Stay still, just like before." she slurs around the pins in her mouth, quickly working to adjust the seams across the width of his shoulders. He needs a good inch removed before the hemline sits at the appropriate spot on his hips and she is quick to pin both sides evenly.

"Much better." She says quietly to herself, "Would you mind taking your waistcoat off now? Then I can pin your shirt and you'll be free to stand with your cane again."

He doesn't reply, just starts carefully removing the garment, being sure not to poke himself with any of the pins on the sleeves of his shirt. When removed, Viktor hangs the waistcoat on the same stool where his cane is resting and then returns to standing straight.

"You're okay to keep standing a little longer, right?" She ventures cautiously, "You aren't in any pain?"

Viktor scoffs, "I am always in some degree of pain." one of his hands waves through the air in a vague gesture, "Though if it ever becomes noteworthy, I will be sure to inform you."

A hot lick of shame travels up the length of her spine and she can't help wondering why she had even asked such a stupid question. Her mouth begins to form the shape the word sorry-

"I would prefer you did not apologise." Viktor says before she gets the chance, "If you were to apologise for all the things wrong with me we would be here all day."

"Oh." Is all she is able to say. She doesn't much like his assertion that there is something wrong with him, multiple somethings, even, but she can't even begin to formulate a sentence that could properly convey that without making things worse somehow. So she doesn't bother trying, "I won't then."

Viktor nods once, "Good."

She wordlessly begins pinning the excess fabric on his shirt. His shoulders are quite broad, at least proportionally, it's honestly a shame that he has been walking around in such an ill-fitting uniform for so long. She tries not to think about it too much, but even now she can tell that he will look quite captivating in properly tailored garments.

It's only when she steps back down from the platform and returns to his front that she realises how much of a relief it was standing behind him. Viktor's eyes unsettle her with their summer-gold brilliance. His gaze is so sharp and intelligent that it feels like her insides are being slowly unspooled anytime she gains enough confidence to meet it.

"Okay, your shoulders are all done." She says quietly.

Viktor quickly grabs his cane again, settling into what is clearly a more comfortable stance. She doesn't talk much when she works on pinning the sides of his shirt, only once to ask him to put his waistcoat back on so she can pin that too. Then twice to make sure he stays still while she pins up the side of his ribcage. As close as she is standing, she can hear the rasp of his breath in his chest, the way it shudders out from him on each exhale. She really isn't used to tailoring clothes for strangers, her hands shake from the proximity and her heart thunders in her chest when she accidentally brushes her knuckles against the side of his waist.

"Sorry." She mutters before she can stop it.

Viktor sounds tired when he replies, "Please just be careful."

"O-Of course, sorry"

"And stop apologising."

She flinches, "Yes, sorry-"

Viktor says her name, it's the first time he has done it, she half thought he may have forgotten what it was. She pauses in the middle of adjusting his waistline, peering up at him. They are very close to each-other, so close that she can see how well bitten his lips are, notice the length of his eyelashes.

"You are like a frightened little mouse, has anyone ever told you that before?" He asks.

She feels her cheeks flushing, "Y-Yes, though never so kindly."

Viktor hums, she is close enough that she hears the sound rumble through his chest, "Are you nearly finished?"

"Oh! Yes! Nearly!" She quickly returns her hands to task, "Just a pin or two on this side and then I can move onto your trousers."

The quiet returns like a blanket, the silence awkward and heavy. She feels the urge to break it, to talk aloud to herself just to fill the void with something. She doesn't instead she just chews on her lower lip as she finishes adjusting the seams under Viktor's left arm.

"Done?" He asks.

She nods, "Yes, thank you. Would you mind hopping back up onto the platform? Just so I don't have to lay down on the floor to get at your ankles."

Mercifully, that makes Viktor smile, just a little. It's barely a tug at the corners of his mouth, but she drinks it down anyway. He doesn't offer a response, though, just returns to his spot on the platform and watches her intently as she grabs a few more pins and sticks them into her pincushion.

"Your trousers do seem especially loose." Now that his waistcoat sits at the right spot she can see his belt tugged tightly around his hips to keep them from falling down, "Could you take your belt off? I'll start there."

Viktor seems apprehensive at first, but then does as asked. He lays the belt over the seat of the stool he was resting his cane against before. Without the belt, the waistband of the trousers gape almost wide open, many many inches of extra fabric. She tries not to think too much about how slim his hips are, swallowing thickly as she begins to adjust the sides and back of the waistband so it will at least stay up.

Nervously, she starts talking, "Um, technically, the uniform trousers should be worn with braces, not a belt. We should have a couple laying around in the back of the workshop, we have a lot of abandoned accessories." She sucks in a breath as she pins the right side of his trousers tight, the base of her palm brushing against his protruding hipbone, "They probably won't be the right colour, but so long as you don't take off your waistcoat no one will notice."

Viktor scoffs, lifting his right arm to give her more space at his hip, "And what would I owe you?"

She peers up at him, he has his head turned away from her, his jaw tight, "Nothing! I promise! People just leave them behind and don't come back for them, we even have a couple from the theatre department that they don't need anymore." she exhales an uneven breath and starts working to adjust the seams down the side of his thigh, "And I suppose if someone does notice, I can just tell them I lost it, it wouldn't be a big deal."

Viktor doesn't respond for a long time, she makes it all the way down to his knee before he does, "I suppose I will take them, then."

She lets out a relieved sigh, "That's good. I'm glad."

He stays quiet again while she pins down the rest of his leg. She does note that he favours the left one, so she is very careful when manipulating the fabric on his right. He shifts uncomfortably once or twice, but doesn't tell her to stop and he did promise to tell her if his pain was noteworthy, so all she can do is take him at his word and assume that he is fine. When she is at his ankles, she quickly grabs her low stool and places it at the edge of the platform to make the last few pins a bit easier.

She eyes the tight fabric at his calves, now that the seams have been adjusted, chewing on her lower lip when she realises that an idea has struck and there is no way to tell if it is a good one or a bad one. Inserting the last pin at the cuff on his right leg, she inhales a deep breath and forces herself to remember why she is here.

"Do you have trouble getting your trousers on and off?" She blurts before she can regret it.

Viktor glares down at her, "Excuse me?"

She panics, "The ankles of your trousers will be much tighter when I finish the alterations, if you already struggle to get them on and off, it will be far more difficult now and- and I think I have something I can do to help. If that's okay?"

"I agreed to let you tailor my uniform." Viktor says firmly, "Nothing more."

Her pulse rushes, the words just keep coming, "I just want to help, I promise! My father lost an arm in a skirmish seven years ago and I started modifying his clothing for him, first just for appearances and then eventually for convenience, to make it easier for him to undress on his own." She explains, hoping that her reasoning will make more sense to him now, that he will understand that she isn't trying to mock him or pity him.

Viktor scowls, and it is not the reaction she was expecting, "A skirmish." He bites, his posture suddenly looming and sharp all over again, "Your father must be an enforcer, then."

She can hear the sound of her own heart beating in her ears, her throat turns dry as she peers up at him from the floor, trying to meet the roiling gold fury in his eyes. A familiar lie dances on the tip of her tongue, years of practice make it difficult to ignore, but because he isn't from here, because he doesn't offer candy-coated lies, maybe just because he is Viktor, she finds herself for once telling the truth.

"A skirmish with an enforcer." She corrects, and the words feel clunky and uncomfortable in her mouth.

For a beat they just stare at each other, Viktor eyes are suddenly wide and vulnerable, darting frantically across her face as if something in her appearance will make it all make sense. Her hands tremble where they are still gripping the fabric of his trousers and she can almost hear the echo of her heartbeat reverberating through the room. It's a weight off her shoulders, to have told someone, after years of lying and pretending. She isn't sure Viktor understands the significance of it, but she hopes he does.

Viktor's mouth opens and closes a few times, struggling to find his words. Eventually, he says, "Your father, he's…" the words from the undercity go unsaid, but the weight of them still hangs oppressive in there air, she feels like she might choke on them.

"Yes." She answers, averting her eyes, "Y-You can't tell anyone, you know what the people here are like, they'll eat me alive and I'm not-" not brave like you are, she thinks, but that feels far too bold, far too personal, "I just want to finish my studies in peace." Is what she says instead.

~~~

Peering down at her now, Viktor realises that everything begins to make sense. The way she cowers like a mouse as if the world itself is a cat out to get her, the way she desperately tries and fails to fit in, the fact that she dared to speak to him at all, even if it looks like she is preparing to bolt every time she does it.

"Have you even been to Zaun?" He asks, though it is more of a test than a question.

Her brow creases and he expects her to answer what's Zaun? but instead she just says, "No, at least not since I've been old enough to remember."

It was an easy test, but even still, Viktor hadn't really expected her to pass it, "We are not similar at all then, are we?"

She looks thoughtful, for a moment, chewing on her lower lip, "Not in present company, no." she inclines her head to the door, "Out there though, we might as well be neighbours. The line they draw it's-"

"Definitive." He finishes for her, "You are either on one side or the other, Pilties are not big fans of grey area. At least, not when it comes to Zaun."

The expression she offers him next is half a smile, half a wince, "Yeah, they aren't"

Viktor isn't sure how he is supposed to feel about her, part of him rushes upward from somewhere deep in his stomach, desperate to fall to his knees and plead for her to show him something, anything that reminds him of home, to let her shaking hands sink into his chest and hold his heart tightly between them. The other part, the intelligent part, the part he actually has control over, begs him to not break his composure. She isn't like him, not really. Her breath is even and clear, her lungs expand and recede in great, nervous gulps that his own would stutter and rattle the whole way through. Aside from her nervous disposition, unkempt hair and overall mousy appearance, there is nothing that truly others her from the other topsiders. That makes the third part of him, the loudest part, want to bare his teeth, to grab her by the throat and shake her for daring to share his heritage but nothing else, for having working lungs and working legs, for having anything to hide behind.

"Viktor?" She whispers quietly, her brows pinched together in what he can only interpret in concern.

He makes a choice then, a middle ground. Gripping tightly to the handle of his cane, he asks, "What kind of, help were you offering, exactly?"

She brightens just a little, he really only notices it in her eyes, the way they shine.

"I can alter the inseam of your trousers for you, so that you can undo them at the ankle." She jumps from her stool and moves quickly over to her worktable, digging quickly through an open sewing kit, "I have snap fasteners, they're easier to undo than buttons and I can very easily hide them in your inseam, no one would ever see them, but it should make things easier for you."

She steps back over to him, slowly and holds out a small metal tin. Inside Viktor can see a collection of small rings, various pieces that must combine together to make the fastener.

"Show me." Viktor finds himself responding, pushing the tin back towards her, "Where would they go?"

She blinks at him again, a nervous little smile tugging at her lips that makes him feel slightly better, "Y-Yes! Of course!" She crouches down and reaches out with a finger, running it gently up the inside of his right leg, stopping halfway up his calf. His skin prickles at the sensation, even through the fabric of his trousers, "So it would be from the cuff up to here, I'll loosen the seam on the outside of the leg to offer more space on the inside, unpick the inseam and add a series of snap fasteners the whole way up. They just snap shut, and all you should need to do to undo them is tug on either side of the fabric." She grabs the inside of his trousers, tugging quickly twice, "Just like that."

Even loose as they are, it has been a struggle to work his leg in and out the ankles of the trousers. Especially now that the weather has turned cold. He shifts his foot slightly, feeling how tight the tailoring will leave the garment and feels a familiar angry ache building in his gut, picturing himself struggling into his own clothes every morning. He peers down at her again, at her wide, expectant eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, with nerves or with something else, her poorly styled hair coming loose from it's up-do and strands of it are hanging loose around her face. Nothing in her expression is mocking, or pitying, if anything she looks hopeful.

"Would it…take much longer?" He asks.

Her smile is back in full force, the one that makes her mouth seem too big for her face, the achingly bright one, "Not at all! Maybe an extra hour at most."

Viktor darts his eyes to the clock on the wall, he would like to get some studying done today, "If I return before sunset, would it be finished?"

"Yes, yes! Absolutely it would." She lets out a laugh that sounds nearly exhilarated, "Thank you so much for trusting me, it means- well, I guess it means everything."

It might just have been so long since he has seen someone so passionate about what they do, but a smile tugs at the corner of Viktor mouth, unbidden, "Now, now. I never agreed, did I?"

Her mouth snaps shut, eyes widening.

He laughs and puts a stop to her fretting before it starts, "Don't worry, I was just teasing, you have my permission."

She laughs now, loudly, inelegantly. It's only halfway through her fit that she catches herself, hiding her mouth behind a hand, "Sorry. Sorry. I'm just so relieved." she takes a deep breath, holding a hand to her chest to calm down, "Thank you again, I mean it."

Viktor shrugs, "Eh, I did not really do anything."

She snorts then and Viktor finds himself enamoured by it, "You let me do some actual alterations for once, it's important to me at least." Then, as if remembering something, her eyebrows jump, "Oh! just a second." She darts back over to the sewing kit and returns with what Viktor recognises as a seam-ripper, "I'll quickly undo the inseam on your trousers now, that way it will be easier for you to take them off before you leave."

She returns to her stool, shuffling forward so she can more easily get her hands between his legs. Viktor turns his head to the side, finding the proximity easier to deal with if he doesn't have to actually look at her. He's already learned that she talks when she is nervous, so he isn't surprised when she starts speaking again, but oddly, he finds he doesn't mind it much at all.

"I started using the snap fasteners for my father, because they are much easier for him to do up and undo with only one arm. My mother used to help him with his clothes, and she didn't mind doing it, but his independence meant a lot to him and I wanted to help."

Curiosity gets the better of him and Viktor asks, "Did he tell you much about the undercity?"

"A lot, actually." He feels her moving to pick some stitches further up his leg, "I think he misses it, but he hasn't had much of a chance to go back. My mother works and I'm studying here, it just, makes it easier if we don't really talk about it."

Viktor feels himself bristle at that, the angry part of him that is always so loud rears its ugly head again, "Do you have no pride in your heritage?" he spits, and only half regrets it.

She laughs bitterly, inclining her head towards the door again, "Not nearly enough to make it worthwhile facing all of them "

Viktor scoffs, "You're a coward, then."

"I know" She replies quietly, "and you aren't."

Viktor is surprised how much he likes that assertion. He has heard from a few misguided, well meaning topsiders how brave he is for being here, but the meaning is different. How brave he must be, they say, to live the way he has for so long, how fucking brave he is to walk around with a limp and a cane, how hard his life must have been.

That is not what she is saying and he knows it. How brave you are, she says, to put up with all this Piltie, obfuscating, bullshit, day after day. How brave you are to not have already ripped their throats out with your teeth, to not have set this entire building on fire. That is what she thinks he is brave for and that feels good.

"All done." She says softly, unpicking the last stitch, "Just, um, just be careful not to tear it, or poke yourself with any of the pins." she gestures to a section of the room closed off by a curtain, "You can change in there and just leave the uniform with me on the way out."

~~~

She watches silently as Viktor walks to the changing room, grabbing his bag on the way and slinging it over his shoulder. Once he is out of sight, she takes a long, deep breath in through her nose and tries to calm her breathing. This could have gone better, but it could also have gone a lot worse. She sighs, peering shyly at the curtain Viktor is changing behind. One day she will be able to give something back, re-open her father's shop, do something that matters something more than frivolities, more than lace and silk.

Quietly, she starts tidying her leftover pins and returning them to her workbench. Then she removes the canvas cover from her sewing machine, it's much fancier than the one she has at home, not as loud as she works the pedal. She had gotten so used to the way her father's old machine would stick, how it would sometimes catch and tangle on loose threads. This newer thing, she keeps waiting for it to bite her, for it to realise she is different the same way her classmates did so quickly.

Her head snaps at the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and the sight of Viktor emerging in something other than his uniform. Whatever he is wearing clearly wasn't purchased in Piltover, it's mostly brown and green, with a few purple touches here and there. More importantly than any of that, other than the trousers being a few inches too short, it fits him perfectly. Her eyes dart to the narrow dip of his waist, the broad stretch of his shoulders. She had been right, he is captivating.

All she can do is watch as he steps back over to her, holding out the neatly folded pile of his uniform, "Just before sunset, yes?" he clarifies.

She swallows, taking the pile from him, "Y-Yes, that's right. I'll be here."

"Alright." Viktor leans down just a little, enough that his eyes meet hers, "Then I will see you later, Myšičko"

Her heart thunders behind her ribs and she clutches his uniform tightly to her chest, watching as he turns on his heel and heads back out the door, desperate to ask what he had just called her, but too shocked to get the words out.

The door clicks shut behind him and she hopes not just to see him later, but to see him again and again and again.

[chanelrolls]

PART III. caleb's series

n. it's advisable to read all parts of the series. cw: pseudocest

“the sound of leaving”

you, 8 | caleb, 10

eight-year-old you had learned that some goodbyes weren’t loud.

they didn’t always come with slammed doors or tearful hugs. sometimes, they happened in inches, like when caleb stopped picking you up after school and it was the driver instead, or when he stopped sitting on the couch beside you after dinner and started staying up late, locked away in his room with books and papers filled with words you couldn’t read.

“aviation prep,” mama said once, while folding laundry. “he’s busy now.

busy. the word felt like a fence with no gate, like a wall too tall to peek over.

still, every thursday afternoon, you made sure to be in the same place: curled up on the arm of the couch by the window, arms tucked beneath your chin, your cheek pressed to the cool glass. it was always the best hour. when the sunlight came slanting in at just the right angle, spilling golden light across your dollhouses, your scattered crayons, your pillows arranged like tiny islands across the floor.

you told yourself you were just resting. but really, some small and hopeful part of you was waiting. waiting for caleb to walk in, to sit beside you again, let you braid one side of his hair while he doodled clouds and tiny airplanes in your notebooks. you could still remember the way he used to hum sometimes under his breath, and how you’d giggle every time he messed up a drawing and turned it into something silly, like a whale with wings or a cat in a pilot’s cap.

but he didn’t come.

not even once this week.

so that thursday, you did something brave. you wrote him a note.

it took three tries. the first one had too many scratched-out words, and a bunny that looked more like a sad potato. the second one had smudges and tears where your hand slipped. the third one, though, was clean. neat. you took your time.

> dear caleb,

i miss you.

if you are not too busy flying your books, can you come play with me again?

i saved your favorite pillow.

love,

(your pipsqueak)

you placed it carefully on his door, right under the knob, and pressed a shiny star sticker on it to make sure he’d see it. just one. the gold kind that sparkled when the hallway light hit it right.

then you waited.

and waited.

evening settled over the house, soft and slow. the sun already disappeared. the hallway stayed quiet, but the door never opened.

you went to bed with your face turned toward the wall, the soft part of your pillow soaked warm under your cheek, blinking fast and hard, trying not to let anything spill out.

the next morning, caleb didn’t say much. but when it was time for school, he was waiting by the door.

he hadn’t walked you in weeks.

you looked up at him, squinting a little under the weight of your backpack. it was too big for your shoulders, so it bounced when you walked. “did you get my letter?”

he didn’t speak right away. just looked ahead, then down at you.

his hand reached out, warm and familiar, and he ruffled your hair, gently.

“yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “i got it.”

you frowned a little. “you didn’t write back.”

his mouth tugged at the corner, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “i... didn’t know how.”

you didn’t say anything after that. not for a few steps. you both walked in silence, your shadows stretched long on the sidewalk ahead of you.

then you whispered, “but if i wrote another one, it would just say… come play with me again.”

he stopped walking.

“after your class,” you added quickly, glancing up at him. “you don’t have to talk. just sit with me. like before.”

he looked at you like you were something fragile and faraway and precious all at once, like a puzzle he wasn’t sure how to finish anymore. his face also looked older now. it scared you sometimes, how fast people could change without ever leaving.

but then he smiled. not the big one, the showy one he gave to adults or teachers. this one was softer, the kind that felt like a secret. the kind he used to give only to you.

“okay, pipsqueak.”

you didn’t say anything after that. you just reached up and took his hand. his fingers were warm and calloused, but they curled gently around yours.

you held it all the way to the school gates.

and that afternoon, he kept his promise.

he sat beside you on the floor by the window, cross-legged and quiet, the sunlight pooling around both of you. you showed him your newest drawing, a plane with bunny ears, and he laughed.

you braided one side of his hair, and he didn’t stop you.

and for a little while, it was just like before.

but deep down, somewhere in your little heart, you already knew... sometimes people leave long before their feet even step out the door.

[bi-bats]

for the prompt ask game— 41 for JayTim?

Oh gosh. A year and a half later 😂 hi Livvy!! Thank you for the ask 💚

I found a bunch of these drabble prompts when I was organizing my WIP folder and some of them were almost finished - since you write like your hand is on fire, I wanted to come back with your prompt first. You're an incredible writer and the way you just go for it is inspiring, so thank you for sharing your works. And in return, here's an answer to your prompt:

41 - "You did all this for me?"

You can read it here on Ao3 or below the cut here on tumblr. Thanks for waiting so patiently 💚

Tim’s bag drops to the floor with a thunk. If he could be, he would probably be worried about whether or not he just broke the screen of his laptop, but he doesn’t have it in him. He’s had a long fucking day.

His pile of shoes are lined up by the wall, neat and tidy, and it’s not a surprise. It’s a signature move of Jason’s. But the tornado that his living room had been — well, it looks like another tornado spun through in reverse and put everything back where it belongs. It smells incredible, too — sweet and salty and cheesy and oh — grilled cheese and tomato soup.

There are blankets and pillows piled high on the couch and the TV has his favorite episode of the Next Generation pulled up — the one where Q loses his powers and tries to join Starfleet — and the lights are dimmer than he remembers, some of the harsh white bulbs swapped out for warmer yellow ones. He’s surprised how much more comfortable it makes his space. 

All of this is surprising, actually. But the most surprising thing is that in front of a steaming pot on his stove and a plate with two grilled cheeses on it, Jason is standing there, looking like Alfred just caught him sneaking into the manor. 

“Shit,” Jason says, but it doesn’t seem like he quite meant to say it. 

Tim raises an eyebrow and Jason’s cheeks flush. That panicked look doesn’t go away.

“You’re home early,” Jason says, like that clears anything up.

Tim opens his mouth to answer, because his body seems to know he should do that. His brain hasn’t quite caught up, though, so he just sort of stands there with his mouth open while Jason’s blush spreads down his neck.

By the time he manages to get his brain to start working again, Jason has stopped blinking at him and started moving. The only reason he doesn’t make it out the door is because Tim grabs his arm when he tries to walk past him. 

“You… did all this for me?”

Jason’s eyes latch onto the door like maybe if he focuses hard enough, he’ll find himself on the other side of it. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Jason says, and it sounds like he’s been repeating that one to himself for a while.

“You swapped out my lightbulbs.” 

“They were white LED bulbs. It was oppressive.” 

“I know, I complained about it a few weeks ago.” 

A muscle in the side of Jason’s jaw pulses. He still won’t look at Tim. 

Shit. Shit. 

“We need to talk,” Tim declares, because he knows what happens after this if they don’t . 

Jason disappears for a little while, with a hastily written and thinly veiled excuse for pulling away. He answers Tim’s messages, but he can’t take calls, and then eventually Tim stops messaging, because he wants to give him space if he needs it. And then one day, Tim’s swinging over a street or sneaking through a building or catching his breath after a fight, and he spots a glint of red. And even though he knows he should know better, even though it isn’t the first or fifth or fifteenth time this has happened, even though his gut clenches with something angry — his heart beats a little faster in his chest. 

And a few days later, he inevitably flicks on the lights in his apartment and sees that his shoes are lined up by the wall. Or he pulls into one of his garages and finds Jason’s bike parked in his spot. Or he turns a corner and nearly slams into Jason’s chest, has to wrestle his anger with one fist and his excitement with the other, while Jason snickers and he tries to get his heart to stop pounding.

And then Jason makes it up to him. 

Then things are good for a while. Easy. Everything is backup in the field and tech projects — Jason’s always got something that could use a little work, something with low enough stakes that it doesn’t keep him awake but high enough importance that it isn’t a waste of time — and showering the grime off together and wringing an orgasm out of each other, and then eventually it’s waking up next to each other and home cooked meals and waiting to watch the new episode of whatever they’re watching and all the things that would make Jason run if Tim called it what it was: domestic. 

But he doesn’t have to call it that, because inevitably they run into something too domestic for Jason’s comfort anyways, and suddenly Tim’s throwing out spoiled vegetables and piling paperwork all over the counters and chucking his shoes into a pile at the door again.

And that’s what’s about to happen, unless Tim forces some words past the knot in his throat.

“We don’t need to talk,” Jason says.

“Can we?” 

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not asking to talk because it’s a big deal, Jason.” 

“Then why do we need to talk?” 

Tim grits his teeth. He knows what Jason’s doing. Trying to wind him up, piss him off. Get him to snap at him so they can have a fight and call it, and then Tim won’t even try to get in touch with him while he fucks off to wherever he really goes when he’s decided he doesn’t want to play house anymore, and then he’ll come back in a few weeks, once there are lines for him to cross again. 

“Because we never talk about it. We never talk about anything!” 

“It’s—” 

Tim interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you say it’s not a big deal one more time, I’m going to make it a big deal. So if you don’t want that, bite back your snarky asshole attitude for one goddamn second, please.” 

He hears a little frustrated-resigned huff and opens his eyes, looking around the apartment. This is… it’s a love letter, isn’t it? Jason is all acts of service, Tim knows that, and he doesn’t say anything because if Jason knew he’d noticed, he would have stopped. 

Tim’s eyes lock on the steam floating off the pot on the stove, and he makes himself say something he’s thought about saying a million times, but never really considered admitting. 

God, he hopes he’s right.

“I fucking hate it when you leave,” he mutters.

The muscles of Jason’s bicep tense under his fingers, and he sees Jason freeze from the corner of his eye. His heart starts pounding harder with every word tumbling out of his mouth. 

“I just… I like pissing you off with my inability to cook and I like getting annoyed when you flaunt your height over me and I really like fucking you, and I really, really like spending time with you.”

He spots Jason’s throat working from the corner of his eye, feels his own face heating up.

“It’s just frustrating! Because then you turn back up and we start fucking around again and it takes forever for things to go back to normal, and then they finally do for just long enough that I think maybe I don’t have to worry about you disappearing again, until one day you do something that gives you cold feet, and you run off again. And I just… I really don’t want that day to be today.”

Tim finally forces his eyes off the tomato soup and onto Jason’s, his gut clenching tight with uncertainty.

He was expecting to see panic, considering Jason’s been looking panicked since he walked in, but he wasn’t expecting to see fear, and shit, maybe he did miscalculate somewhere. 

“I’m just tired of you playing with my feelings,” he mumbles, already bracing himself to hear what he didn’t want to hear. His eyes skate back to the pot — at least he’ll have some solid comfort food for the night of wallowing he’s about to have.

“I—” Jason starts, his voice cracking on the word. He has to swallow before trying again. “I’m not playing with your feelings.” 

At the look on Tim’s face, Jason keeps talking. “Nonono, I didn’t mean — fuck. I’m listening. I just didn’t know you had feelings. Not like — not at all ! Just. You know. Like that. For — me?” he says like a question, his eyes seeking confirmation in Tim’s. 

Tim flushes.

“Look, if you want to do the fucking around thing and that’s it, then fine. We can do that. But if you’re going to do stuff like this, I can’t… I really need you to be clear with me about what you want. Please.” 

There are only so many seconds of silence he can bear staring at the pot of soup, so he lets his eyes skip back to Jason’s, finding them wide and scared and so goddamn green. His throat keeps working, like he’s trying to get some words out, and god, Tim was stupid for trying to get Jason to talk to him. If he’s ready to talk about something, he’s fine with communicating, but if you beat him to the punch? 

The pounding of his heart marks the passing time as they stare at each other, as the fear pools in Jason’s eyes, as the vice of his jaw clicks tighter shut, and finally, Tim can’t take it anymore. 

“Look, I’ll make this easy for you. Thank you for doing all this for me, it’s… it’s really kind. I’m going to pour myself some of that soup and turn on that episode of Star Trek, and if you want to join me, I would really like that, but I am going to read into it that this is not just fucking. And if you’re not comfortable with that, if you want to go, you can go ahead, and we can keep fucking around if you want, but stuff like this has to stop. We’re either fucking, or we’re more, and I can’t keep guessing. It’s not fair. So I’m going to let go of your arm, and you… do whatever you want,” Tim sighs, not quite sure that he managed not to sound bitter about the last few words. 

What’s the point of even saying them? Jason always does whatever he wants. 

Tim lets go of his arm, watches Jason’s pupils dilate as he feels the cool air against his fingers. Then he steps around him and pushes up his sleeves as he heads to the stove. 

A cacophony of thoughts whirs in his head too loud for him to pick any one of them out as he ladles his Campbell's into the bowl Jason pulled out. He can barely hear the sound of Jason’s tight, shallow breathing, and even though he hasn’t looked, he knows Jason hasn’t moved. 

Wait , he thinks as he picks up the plate and brings his food to the living room. Wait , he thinks as he kicks up his feet onto the coffee table and tracks down the remote. Wait and see , he thinks as he clicks play and picks up a grilled cheese. 

The sounds of the Enterprise filter in through the speakers, and Tim makes it a little quieter. He picks up his sandwich and is about to dip it into the soup when he hears it — the creak of the linoleum floor of his kitchen. 

His breath catches as he listens, hearing sharpening until as he waits to find out if he’s about to hear the front door or not. 

That’s not what he hears. What he hears is Jason’s footsteps getting closer, and the sound of his breathing, shallow and quick. He comes around the couch and hesitates, his gaze palpable on Tim. 

Tim keeps waiting, refusing to let himself react one way or the other. Jason could still turn around and leave, after all. So Tim holds the sandwich and stares at the screen and waits, and waits, and waits, until the show has made it to the goddamn intro and he can’t take it anymore. 

He drops the sandwich back on the plate and grabs the remote, pauses, and turns to Jason. 

“Look, I’m not asking for—” and then he stops, because the look on Jason’s face isn’t what he was expecting. He doesn’t look panicked anymore. He doesn’t look frightened, or awkward. 

No, the look on his face is a mixture of determination and longing and — there’s something else he can’t place.

“Tim,” Jason says, and his voice is thick and gruff and low, heavy with something that Tim’s never heard in it before.

“Yeah?” His collar is too tight and his feet are hot and he’s gripping the remote too tightly and Jason is staring at him, intensity rippling out of his gaze.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Tim’s gut seizes, all the nerves he’s been trying to ignore suddenly reaching up and grasping tight around his stomach. Of course, he thinks. Of course, of course, of course, you absolute moron. Who wouldn’t?

His mouth opens to say yes, and it snares on something in his throat. It’s funny, how even though he just demanded the same thing of Jason, even though he can see how much Jason cares for him in all the things he does, he can’t get the words out.

The last thing in Jason’s expression falls into place; it’s suspicion. And suddenly it clicks — Jason’s been putting love in everything he does. It’s in the shoes and it’s in the sandwich and it’s in the fucking sheets. 

And Tim doesn’t know how to do that. He doesn’t know how to write his feelings into the moments of a day. He doesn’t know how to scatter the evidence, the proof, for Jason to find. He doesn’t know how to cook it into a sandwich, how to wipe the counters with it, how to make the bed with it. 

He swallows and holds Jason’s gaze. 

“Yes. I want you to stay.”

There’s a brief moment where even though Tim knows he’s right to admit it — he couldn’t give you an exact calculation but he knows he wouldn’t take the risk if it wasn’t well over 90% in his favor — his gut still clenches again, his brain screaming that he fucked up and Jason’s going to leave after all and it’ll be all his fault that he lost the one thing in his life that made things easier — 

And then Jason’s stepping forward. He drops down onto the couch, right next to Tim, gravity displacing the cushion and making him bounce slightly. Jason reaches to pluck the remote from his hands, but he grimaces once he’s holding it. 

“Ugh, you got it all greasy.” He stands again, reaches across the table for a paper towel, and wipes it off. Then he presses play and drops it back on the couch next to him as Picard’s speech floats between them. His arm falls behind Tim’s shoulders and he stares at the screen, watching the intro scene that they’ve seen over a hundred times like it’s brand new. 

“Stop staring at me,” Jason says without looking away from the screen. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, his eyes shifting to the screen. “Are you… staying?” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jason asks, lifting his hand up in a little ‘see?’ gesture, before he drops it back on Tim’s shoulder. 

Relief floods through him, the tension in his muscles relaxing as he melts into the couch, into Jason’s hold.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jason says, and Tim knows that out of the two of them, he isn’t the one that Jason’s trying to convince.

“Okay,” Tim agrees, forcing himself not to grin like an idiot. But he feels pleased, content, relaxed in a way he hasn’t in months, since before the first time Jason left. 

He leans into Jason’s shoulder and tucks himself into the space there, letting Jason wrap around him. 

“Did you buy wonder bread for this?” Tim asks, right before he picks up a sandwich half and swipes it through the soup, takes a bite. It’s crispy and buttery and warm and it tastes like comfort. His eyes water, and he tells himself nostalgia has nothing to do with it. The food’s just hot.

“And Kraft slices.”

A short, sharp laugh squeezes past the lump in Tim’s throat, easing it a little. “Wow, you do like me.” 

“Shut up,” Jason says, blush creeping down his neck, and now Tim can’t help grinning like an idiot. “ You like me .”

“Of course I do. Look at all this,” Tim says, waving around the apartment at all the things Jason did. “You swapped out my lightbulbs. You bought me that cheese you hate because you know I like it. You do that thing with your tongue. You’re boyfriend material.” 

Now Jason’s blushing all the way up to his ears, and Tim grins wide.

“It’s not cheese, it’s cheese product , ” Jason says, and Tim lets it go. They can worry about the labels another night. Jason probably still needs some time to think before he’s ready to talk about it, and that’s fine — Tim will wait.

“You’re not even a little curious about the tongue thing that I’m referring to?” 

“No. Maybe. No, we’re still on the cheese product,” Jason says, but he’s smirking, because he does, in fact, know exactly what thing Tim’s referring to. 

“It’s delicious.”

“It’s nostalgic. There’s a difference,” Jason argues, rekindling their argument from last week. He grins, his gaze going soft when Tim lets out an exasperated sigh and launches into the same speech as he did last time, and yeah, as long as Jason keeps looking at him like that, Tim’s happy to wait.

[celli-ohs]

Show Must Go On

pairing: secret softie!park jongseong x reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: When you told the waitress to give your compliments to the chef, you didn't expect the chef to come out and thank you personally, and you really didn't expect the chef to be your classmate Park Jongseong. Realizing how bad this could be, he has you keep it a secret. That shouldn't be too hard for you to do he thinks, but you're full of surprises- and slip-ups.

before you read: character profiles | sunghoon series

warnings: language, loser enhypen

word count: 2.7k

tag list (open): @ancnymcnzjy @melancholy-z @lamin143 @soobinbunnie5 @benny1989fredd @bbsantc

note: part 2 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Entry 001: 22/05/24

Believe it or not, but Park Jongseong wakes up at 5 am every morning, and has done so for the past three years of his life. His friends would have a fit if they heard that, as he was notoriously known for running late to class every single day.

His teachers wouldn’t believe him either, as Mr. Lee himself has chased Jongseong down one too many times for trying to sneak into first period half an hour late by hopping the side gate.

(Riki’s stupid April Fool’s prank had him up at 3 am, his dad thought he was going crazy for how early he was up that day.)

But it wasn’t like he was doing crimes or wasting time before school. No, Jongseong was busy working his ass off at the restaurant his family owned, prepping the kitchen before they opened at 7:30 am sharp.

“Fresh eggs are beautiful, aren’t they?” His mother smiles as Jongseong helps his father carry in the mounds of cartons of eggs the delivery driver just dropped off. She’s holding one of the brown eggs, admiring its color.

“They are,” He nods with a gentle smile. She chuckles and ruffles his bed hair. “Let’s go, we still need to wash and chop the cabbage for kimchi.” She tells him, and he follows her deeper into the kitchen.

Jongseong’s mornings were usually pretty peaceful. He and his parents prepare the restaurant for a long day ahead: making a fresh batch of kimchi to ferment, restocking ingredients, cleaning and pre-cutting meat, washing any leftover dishes, tidying up the restaurant- you name it, he’s done it.

He took pride in knowing he’s able to help and create not only delicious meals, but an enjoyable atmosphere for people to eat in.

“You better hurry, you still need to get ready for school.” His mother urges. They’d returned home to eat their own breakfast. Jongseong shovels his food down his throat (his mom made him scrambled soft tofu and eggs over rice).

“And didn’t you say you’ve still got some Biology homework to finish?” His dad asks, washing a plate.

His eyes widened. He did have a page left in his workbook. Crap.

“Gotta go bye!” Jongseong swallows the rest of his food, downing his drink in seconds before placing his dishes in the sink. “Don’t forget to brush your hair!” he hears his mother call, before he dashes upstairs to his bedroom.

15 minutes later Jongseong showered, changed out of his dirty work clothes into his school uniform, and is now struggling to blow dry his hair while simultaneously brushing his teeth.

He checks the clock, it’s 7:42. He had 18 minutes to get to school. If he ran, he could catch up to the guys, and maybe convince Jaeyun to help him with the last page of his Biology homework during lunch.

He rinses his mouth, and runs back to his room to stuff his books and binder into his bag. At the front door, he trips on his way out while slipping on his shoes.

Jongseong runs across the street, barging into the already bustling restaurant. He waves to a few regulars who greet him cheerily. “Mom?” He leans against the counter, calling out for her.

“I’m here! I made you lunch too,” She holds up the neat looking container, and he happily places it into his bag. “Have a good day at school alright? Don’t be late, I don’t know if I can handle another call from the office about you being tardy,” She warns him.

“Thanks, I’ll be fine,” He assures her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His mother nods, and pats his head. “Be safe, I love you.” She gives him a hug and kisses his cheek. Feeling embarrassed, he blushes, reeling back (he’d wipe his cheek if it weren’t for the fact he knows his mom would complain).

“Okay, see you later,” He grins, walking out.

“Bye son!” His dad cheers, sticking his head out from the kitchen window. Jongseong laughs before ducking out back onto the street.

He dashes down the road, running through smaller streets and alleys as fast as he can. His watch reads 7:50, he’s gonna need to speed it up. Jongseong decided to take a shortcut, sprinting through a park to save him some time.

“Hiya mister!” One of the little kids shouts as he goes down the slide. Jongseong chuckles and gives him a big wave as he darts past.

Going back on the main road, Jongseong decides to climb a fence and he’s happy to see on the other side a group of familiar boys, walking leisurely a few meters ahead. Perfect.

Jongseong leaps, landing a bit roughly, not bothering to dust himself off before jogging over to join his friends.

“Thought you’d never show,” Sunoo greets. “You need to stop sleeping in,” Sunghoon lectures. Instead of arguing, he just nods, rolling his eyes.

“Where’s Jungwon?” He asks, looking at the group to realize his best friend was nowhere to be found.

“What do you mean?” Heeseung looks at him, confused. “Jongseong has been late all week, he doesn’t know.” Riki answers.

“Remember Jungwon's president now? He has to come to school early,” Jaeyun fills him in, as they enter school through the front doors. With a groan, Jongseong nods, he’d forgotten about that.

Elections were last Friday, and two days ago on Monday, the results were posted. Jongseong had lost the position he wanted as Treasurer.

While initially upset, Jongseong saw the silver lining of it all. He had no idea how he would be able to juggle being on the student body council, and help his parents with the restaurant (on top of his grades… yikes).

Jungwon on the other hand, had miraculously won the position as Student Body President, his biggest fears coming true.

“They won’t even let me pass it off to Euijoo,” Jungwon sighs as he calls Jongseong a few nights ago. “I don’t even want to be president, Euijoo does! This has to be rigged, my speech was horrible. I literally told people to not vote for me!”

“So do we actually know if the votes were rigged?” Jongseong follows Jaeyun to his classroom. “Dude, Jungwon’s super popular. He’s friendly to everyone, funny, good looking, and down to earth. Who wouldn’t vote for him?”

“He’s like a breath of fresh air compared to all the uptight and strict past presidents” Sunghoon pops into the conversation. “Or at least that’s what my girlfriend told me.” He shrugs. “Oh geez, here we go again,” Jaeyun rolls his eyes.

Ever since Sunghoon got a girlfriend, he’s been insufferable. They’ve been dating for a total of one week and Sunghoon has made it very very apparent that he believes he’s the chosen one.

Before Sunghoon can argue, his girlfriend arrives, tackling the boy in a hug and distracting him for his friends. “Anyways” Jongseong clears his throat. “Jayeun, think you could help me finish my Biology homework at lunch?” The other boy eyes him, looking uninterested. “Do I have to?”

Jongseong huffs. “I’ll buy you a Yakult.” Jaeyun looks tempted. “Buy two and I’ll help.” Jongseong gives in, sighing with a nod while his friend smirks triumphantly. The warning bell rings and Jongseong begins to depart back to his class.

“And make sure they’re nice and cold!” Jaeyun calls out. Jongseong doesn’t even turn around as he gives him a thumbs up.

“Can’t you just do the entire thing for me?” Jongseong whines. “Not unless you buy me one more Yakult.” Jaeyun teases. Like hell he’d pay for another tiny overpriced yogurt cup, even if it was supposed to be good for you.

“Give me that,” He swipes his workbook back, trying to focus while Jaeyun laughs at him.

“Biology isn’t that hard,” Riki says as he takes a bite of his food. “Remind us again what’s your rank in your class?” Jongseong asks as he scribbles down an answer. Riki goes quiet, mumbling obscenities as Sunoo cackles at him. “He’s like five away from last,”

Someone suddenly throws their tray down onto the table, catching everyone by surprise.

“Look who finally arrived!” Riki’s mood flips and he graciously stands to bow, hands pointing to the empty spot beside him. “Your seat, your majesty!”

Jungwon doesn’t look the least bit excited as he sits down.

“Hey, we saw you on the intercom this morning! Good job on the announcements,” Heeseung smiles. “Thanks.” Jungwon’s eye twitches.

“That was so funny,” Riki begins to laugh. “Dude, Riki C and I were gonna piss our pants.”

Jungwon’s eyes turn sharp, he suddenly grabs Riki by the collar, scaring everyone at the table.

“I know where you live Nishimura, I will hunt you down and personally make your life a living hell. Your sister told me you still sleep with your baby blanket. Don’t test me.” Jungwon growls, and Jongseong has to step in and pull him away.

“Okay, calm down prez, you’ve got an entire cafeteria watching you.” He reminds his best friend. (Riki clutches his throat as he moves to sit next to Heeseung. The senior comforts him, petting his hair and whispering soothing words.)

Jungwon settles, now moping as he picks at his food. “If I have to sit through one more boring ass meeting, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m going crazy.” Jongseong eyes him as he finishes his workbook, stuffing it into his bag and pulling out the lunch his mom packed.

“Looks like I dodged a bullet,” He jokes, only to receive a glare from Jungwon. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t stress out too much,” Heeseung says. “If you want, I can ask my sister to help you out. She’s the new secretary.”

Not only Jungwon, but the entire table, is silent as they stare at Heeseung for a total of seven seconds.

“Your sister is Lee Yunah?!” Jungwon hisses, voice lowering as he mentions the girl’s name.

“Yeah,” Heeseung frowns. “You guys didn’t know? Everyone says we look alike.”

But no one seemed to hear him, everyone was confused how someone so nice, friendly, and popular as Lee Yunah, was related to… well, Heeseung.

“I sit across from her in class, we talk all the time, she’s never mentioned you were her brother.” Sunoo looks shocked.

“I don’t know, we don’t really interact at school since we’re in different grades, so maybe that’s why?” Heeseung shrugs, continuing to eat his food.

That was definitely not the reason why.

“I think I can talk to her myself,” Jungwon mumbles. Heeseung doesn’t seem bothered.

“Hey!” Jaeyun suddenly speaks up. “I don’t have practice today, you guys wanna go to the arcade after school?”

Heeseung looks ecstatic at this. “Sure! I’d love to go!” Riki also looks more cheerful.

“Yeah, can my girlfriend come?” Sunghoon asks. “Eh, why not? She’s probably better at games than you anyways.” Jaeyun snickers while Sunghoon glares.

“Well I can’t, I’ve got to paint my tree.” Sunoo sighs. “Paint your what?” Jongseong swears he heard him wrong. “My tree costume. You guys do remember I'm Tree number two in the musical, right? We’re doing Wizard of Oz.”

“Oh really? I just thought you just really liked plants all of a sudden.” Riki admits and Sunoo rolls his eyes.

“Well, I’ve got another meeting after school. So I can’t. We’re gonna discuss appropriate and inappropriate ways to wear our uniforms.” Jungwon looks distressed.

“What about you Jongseong? Wanna go?” Jaeyun looks hopeful at him.

Jongseong’s lips grow into a thin line as he winces. “Can’t. I’ve got baseball.” He lies.

The other boys (minus Jungwon) groan in unison. “Your baseball league is crazy, practice every day, including weekends?!” Jaeyun exclaims.

“We haven’t been to any of your games, you never invite us.” Sunghoon complains. “And when you do, we’re always busy or the game gets canceled.” Sunoo points out.

“I bet you it’s because he’s so bad he keeps getting benched. Doesn’t want us to watch him sit all day.” Riki chuckles. Jongseong doesn’t do anything but sigh.

“Sorry, but they’re really strict. Maybe one of these days you'll see me play.” He feigns sadness.

“Quick question, which arcade are we going to?” Heeseung asks. As the boys turn their attention back to their afternoon plans, Jongseong glances at his best friend.

Jungwon looks at him disapprovingly.

He wonders for how much longer he can keep this little lie up.

He’s chopping up some scallions when his mom bursts into the kitchen.

“Son! I thought I told you to go home and finish your homework?” She places her hands on her hips.

“I already finished my homework.” Jongseong fibs.

“Really? Or are you just lying so you can help out tonight?” She eyes him.

“Okay I didn’t.” He tells the truth. His mother does not seem happy with that. “But you and dad need help. Chef Jiyoung has already left, and Chaeyoung and Minjoon are off. I can cook while you and dad serve. Plus my homework isn’t that hard, I can do it before I go to bed.”

His mom sighs, mumbling something about how he stresses her out sometimes. Jongseong has a feeling he’s about to be lectured.

“You’re such a good kid, you know that?” She surprises him by ruffling his hair. His worries subsided.

“And you’re a good mom.” He tells her, feeling shy. “Here’s table 6’s order.” He hands her the plate of food before she can get sappy with him. As she walks out to serve the food, his mother wears the biggest smile.

Jongseong continues his shift, cooking every meal his family throws at him with ease. He always loved to cook. It first started out from just watching his parents, it fascinated him how simple ingredients could become the best meal he’s ever eaten.

When he got older, he began to help around the kitchen. Jongseong found it fun to learn the process of each dish, and enjoyed it even more when the food came out delicious.

Now he’s a master in the kitchen, whipping out dishes without as much as a glance at the recipe. His dad would even argue Jongseong was a better cook than him now.

It’s the end of the night, and Jongseong is cleaning up the kitchen when his parents come in chuckling.

“Son! You’ll never guess what happened. Your dream came true!” His dad chortles. Jongseong looks at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“Remember when you told us you’d always wanted to go out and personally thank a customer for enjoying your food like they do in the movies? Well, it’s happened! A lovely young lady wanted us to give her compliments to the chef, you!” His mother beams.

Jongseong stands there, baffled. He’d told his parents that silly dream when he was eight years old after watching Ratatouille for the first time.

“That’s cool.” He nods. “You should go out there, say thanks. She was very sweet.” His mom encourages.

“Uh, I don’t think so, that’s-“ “Oh son please! She’s the last customer of the night, there’s no one else out there. Don’t be embarrassed.” His dad pushes.

“Plus, she’s very pretty! You should be excited such a pretty girl enjoyed your cooking.” His mom acts as if that’s the biggest accomplishment he’s ever achieved.

His parents look at him eagerly, and Jongseong gives in, sighing as he unties his apron. “Fine, but I’m never doing this again.” He grumbles, much to his parents' delight.

He brushes himself off, running a hand through his hair as he steps out to the front. He spots the person sitting in the booth, their back facing him.

With a deep breath, he approaches.

“Hi, I heard you really enjoyed your meal. I wanted to thank you, I’m the chef.” He states, as he walks over, trying his best to sound joyful. “Is there anything I can do to-“

“Jongseong..? You work here?” The person interrupts.

He finally looks and Jongseong immediately realizes he’s fucked up, since the person he’s just walked up to was you, L/n Y/n, the new Student Body Treasurer.

Why is he screwed? That's because EN-High students aren’t allowed to have jobs, and you’ve caught him red-handed.

Jongseong’s life was ruined the moment he saw you.

Entry 002: 23/05/24

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[libraryofloveletters]

The Art Of Wrapping

Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: uncle lew lew, he's so bad at wrapping gifts that even Roscoe is judging, some playful teasing, too many gift to count and a nice family night in.

Word Count: 597

Author's Note: it's not a lewis blurb with roscoe or his niece and nephew soooo also uncle lew lew is so special to meeeee

--

As he does every year, the house is filled with shopping bags and Lewis struggles to wrap all of his gifts. This year, he has a secret weapon; you.

Per usual, Lewis has gone overboard with the gifts.

It was his love language, he was a big gift giver and when the holidays rolled around he went into overdrive. You and Lewis were friends long before you became a couple, which meant you were well aware of his holiday predicament.

Not a big shocker when you see the living room floor covered in shopping bags, wrapping paper, gift bags and tissue paper. Lewis was sitting in the middle, trying to wrap what looked to be a lego set in wrapping paper.

You smiled, setting your purse on the couch. "You okay?" You asked your boyfriend and he huffs, leaning back onto the couch as he looks at you.

"This is so difficult."

"I take it your assistant is not much help?" You sat next to him and Lewis looks over to see Roscoe fast asleep next to the fireplace, a few quiet snores coming from the pup.

"No help at all, knocked out as soon as I sat down."

You laughed, pulling the wrapping paper in front of you and resetting the lego box on the paper. "It should not be this hard to wrap a gift," Lewis mumbles, watching as you carefully cut the paper, tucking the edging and taping them.

"How can you drive a Formula One car but not be able to wrap a gift?" You glanced at him, wrapping the red ribbon around the box, tying it into a neat bow.

Lewis rolls his eyes playfully, writing his nephew's name on the top left corner of the paper. "Thank you." He sets the gift on the couch, reaching over for the 6 more bags that were waiting.

"We're gonna be here a while, aren't we?" You look over at him, Lewis takes the gifts out of the shopping bags one by one. "Yeah, we are."

You and Lewis sit there for nearly 2 hours wrapping gifts in wrapping papers, bags, boxes and everything in between. You'd wrap and Lewis would hand you the tape and ribbons and write the names on the boxes and bags.

At some point, the couch was full and you two had finished the final present. Half of it would be dropped off to his sister's place for the kids and the rest would be shared as the days to Christmas went on.

"Do you think it's too late to drop them off now?" He asks, and you shrug. "Don't the kids have school in the morning?"

"Yeah but it's only 7:30, they should be up."

It's like you could read his mind, "I'll get Roscoe, put the bags in the car."

The two of you load yourselves into the car, Roscoe in the backseat and all the bags in the trunk before Lewis drives the two of you over to your sister's place. The kids were still wide awake when you and Lewis arrived while Roscoe made himself comfortable on his auntie's couch, while you two brought in the numerous bags that you had tried to fit into the trunk.

You watch the kids unwrap their presents, your hours of hard work scattered across the living room floor in the span of 15 minutes. The kids hugged both you and their uncle, thanking you for the gifts as they started to sort through their stuff.

"You really need to learn how to wrap presents," you whispered to your boyfriend, leaning into his side as you two watched Roscoe play with the kids and the wrapping paper on the floor.

Lewis laughs, kissing your head. "Next year."

[sunny374940]

I will be waiting with open arms

Do you remember when I said I made myself sad with a story about Emmrich dying? Guess what I've finished? I made myself cry and now I am making this fic everyone's problem.

Emmrich dies at the age of ninety seven and Rook, who is seventy two now, receives one last letter from his love.

Cw: major character death (offscreen, not described)

Hello, @mercars-musings I am here to deal emotional damage

(Next up is Pining 2.0 Emmrich's POV, starring Davrin and Assan as wingmen, because I need the sad to go away)

Here on ao3

Edit: here is part 2

And here are my other stories

There was a knock on the door and Rook dragged himself out of his armchair with a sigh. The chair next to his own was glaringly empty and he felt his eyes sting with more tears, so he wiped them away and went to see just who had decided to bother him right after the funeral.

“GREETINGS, ROOK,” Vorgoth said as the door opened.

“Hi, Vorgoth. Is everything alright?”

They’d met at the service, so why would he come to visit him at home?

“THIS IS FOR YOU.”

Vorgoth was handing him an envelope and the neat handwriting on it was unmistakably Emmrich’s. Rook stared at it, at a loss for words, and when he looked up, Vorgoth was gone. There was a single word on the envelope - Rook. He opened it and took out the letter, noticing that the paper was crinkled in a few places, letters smudged as if waterstained. His legs were suddenly very weak and he felt that he should sit back down before he read it, so he settled back into the armchair.

9th of Parvulis, 9:94 Dragon

My darling Rook,

I have entrusted this letter into Vorgoth’s care, to be delivered to you after my funeral. I hope you can forgive an old man's wish to have one last goodbye.

I can feel the span of my days drawing to a close at last. I have lived a long life, longer than most, and even though a better half of it was spent waiting for you to come into it, I wouldn’t exchange the time we had together for anything.

I have made peace with my demise, as should you, my dear. I'm sure you are frowning right now, disagreeing with me, but it is true. Those fears that plagued me are long buried in the past, overshadowed by the joy of having lived my life to the fullest. With you. For what would eternity be without you there? Death seems a small price to pay for what you've given me.

As I look out the window at the yellowing leaves of our cherry tree, I find myself thinking back to the day you married me. You looked so beautiful with the flowers in your hair and I was the happiest man in the world. As I am even now. I am honored beyond words that you chose to take me as your husband and stay with me for all those years, even as I grew old (I can see you bristling at the word, but ninety seven years is hardly young, by my count).

I’d never expected such happiness to find its way to me, yet here I am, blessed with a family that has grown so much since the time it was just the two of us and Manfred. First little Elanora, and what a wonderful woman she has grown into!

And I still cannot believe that I got to have not just children, but a grandchild as well. Rupert (do you remember how I cried, when Ellie chose the name?) has grown so much. It feels impossible that he is already fifteen and well on his way to becoming a man. I am actually waiting for him to come visit as I write this and I hope to hide away the tears before the boy arrives. I don't need to ask you to take care of them, for I know you will.

I love you, Rook. I love you, I love you, I love you. I have told you every day and yet it doesn't feel like enough.

Please, do not spend too long mourning me. Live out your days, take joy in our family and know that you were the brightest light of my life.

Goodbye, darling, may we meet again in the afterlife. I will be waiting for you with open arms. And do visit the Memorial Gardens in the meantime, I will be there in spirit.

Forever yours,

Emmrich

Rook's hands were shaking, making the paper flutter in his grip. The tears started falling, landing on the letter and he quickly set it down on the side table, terrified of destroying Emmrich’s last words to him.

He was crying, ugly heaving sobs were tearing their way out of him and he couldn't stop himself. He buried his face in his hands. He hadn't cried like this at the funeral, couldn't allow himself to, but now the weight of it all was coming down on him. After what felt like hours the tears dried up and he was staring numbly ahead. Distantly, he heard footsteps coming closer.

“Dad?”

Ellie's hand was on his back, the gesture so similar to how Emmrich used to touch him that he choked back another sob.

“Hi, bug,” he whispered, and this once she didn't reprimand him for using her childhood nickname.

There were tears streaming down her face as well and he opened his arms for her. She climbed into his lap, draping her arms around his neck and he was young again and she was five years old, crying over a skinned knee. But this time the wound ran deeper and they held each other through the tears.

“I miss him so much,” she sobbed against his shoulder. “It felt like he would be here forever and now he's gone. I hate it!”

“I know, El. I hate it too,” he said, stroking her back in soothing circles, much like he had seen Emmrich do so many times before and why did everything have to remind him of Emmrich when he was gone!

But weren't the memories just the thing? He knew that Emmrich would say that they should take comfort in the memories they had of him, of the life they shared, instead of mourning what they could no longer have. He sighed and even Ellie's sobs were finally quieting down.

“Hey, bug?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna come with me to the Memorial Gardens? I could tell you again about how me and you daddy met.”

“I'd love that, dad.”

She smiled at him and the world slowly began setting itself right again.