#but HES GONE HOME FOR EASTER

[swordfaery]

bought a fuckton of like. cow milk bcos i wanted to make scones n you need milk to make scones. it goes off considerably faster than like. the soy milk and oat milk im used to drinking + it comes in a bigger bottle. i have like four days to drink a litre of milk im desparately chugging tea that is always too milky bcos for some reason a splash of cow milk has more milk than oat milk and it tastes of milk and im literally gonna go to tesco n buy some fucking cereal at this rate idk what to do it doesnt taste nice either

[roses-red-and-pink]

@matcha-latte-vibes your daily dose of Queso

[familyofpaladins]

Plans have been derailed TWICE in the last three days and I want to s c r e a m

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | angus tully x reader

sequel to 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, won't really make much sense without reading that!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | holiday break can only last so long, but angus wants this to be more than a fling-- and you, as much as you want to deny it, already know it's more than a fling. the question remains if either one of you will admit it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ only!!), age gap (not huge but angus is 18 and the reader is just out of college), semi-public sex, breeding kink, very inappropriate activities in a church, secret relationship, a wee bit of angst and fluff at the end!

part 3 coming soon!

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go back,” he groaned, dropping his head defeatedly into the crook of your neck.  “I never wanna go back to that horrible fucking school.”

“I guess you’ll just see me at Easter break then, huh?” you purred, grazing your teeth over his ear.

“You know, if sex with you keeps lining up with the Catholic calendar, it’s gonna give me a complex or something,” he noticed.

“Oh, I can do better than that,” you beamed.  “Next time you see me at Mass, I won’t be wearing any panties.  And you’ll be the only other one who knows.”

He perked up again, balancing himself over you with bent arms against the mattress.  “I swear, you’re a dream come true.  A really fucked up dream I had after seeing a porno mag or something.”

You laughed, but it was cut off with him pulling you into another kiss— sweet and slow, with both of you smiling against each other.  With your limbs tangled together under the sheets, you melted together into your bed; and no, none of it really seemed real yet.  Every time this happened, you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you were hooking up with Angus Tully.  Frankly, you were sort of trying not to think about it, at least not too much.  If you really tried, you could look at his face and see the little kid you babysat all those years ago, and it just made you feel sort of awful about it… yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Your smile fell into a gasp when he started to kiss your neck, his hands guiding your back as it arched slightly.  When he pressed his body against yours, you felt him getting hard against your leg, and you groaned softly.

“Fuck, Angus, again?” you whined.  “We already went twice—”

“I’m leaving in two days,” he explained, “I need you as many times as I can get away with it.”

You wanted to protest, say something about how sore you were or about how he needed to leave and go back home before someone noticed he was gone— but his slender fingers were already diving between your legs and making you just moan instead.

“See?  You’re wet already,” he noticed with a playful mockery to his tone.  “I’ve gotta take care of you, baby…”

Oh, you couldn’t stand it when he talked like that— when he made you feel so vulnerable to him, so paradoxically submissive.  When this started a couple weeks back, it was the other way around: you were the cool, older woman with all the power.  You told him what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige, never questioning you— he was obedient, basically.  But once you’d had a few more encounters, he realized that you wanted him just as badly… that he could make you desperate, if he wanted.  Once he’d had the smallest taste of control, he was suddenly a changed man; now, he loved to tease and taunt you, see how far he could push you, even once he made you beg— and you expected you’d never get to live that down. 

He watched your face with a mischievous smile as he slowly slid two fingers into you, watching the way you winced and then relaxed.  “I’ll be careful,” he promised, “I know you’re all sensitive still… thought you might wake up the whole house with that last one.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed, remembering how he’d had to cover your mouth with his hand when he made you come.  These were issues you hadn’t considered much before, since you spent most of the year living in a dorm where you didn’t really care if anyone heard what you were up to.  Staying in your parents’ house again— and secretly fucking their friends’ son in your childhood bedroom— posed new challenges to say the least.

You gasped when his fingers curled inside you, rubbing that spot that made everything clench for a moment.  “Mm,” he observed encouragingly, “like that?”

“Yes,” you hissed under your breath.  Just when you began to let your eyes fall shut, they shot open when he added a third finger inside you.  “Fuck!” 

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he scolded, “you can fit three fingers just fine— my cock’s bigger than all that anyways.”

He twisted the fingers inside you as your hips rocked, shivers running over your skin.  “Yeah, but still— fuck, it’s a lot…”

“You take it just fine,” he assured.  “You take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Sh-shut up,” you whimpered, and he laughed softly.

“You’re so good for me,” he continued anyways, making you bite your lip in hopes he wouldn’t notice his effect on you.  Whenever he said stuff like that, you just wanted to ask him who the fuck he thought he was— it made you want to shove him off of you and pin him down, remind him of his place.  But you never did, because letting him take control always felt so damn good…

His head dipped down a bit under the covers— and his lips latched onto one of your nipples, making you gasp and grab his hair with one of your hands.  “Oh god— yes,” you praised, shuddering a bit as he suckled hard on the bud.

He moaned around it, his free hand holding the other breast and keeping you down even when your back longed to arch deeper.  “You get so wet when I do this,” he noticed as he pulled away briefly, moving to suck the other for a moment as his fingers gently pumped into you.  When he pushed them in all the way to the knuckle, at the same time that his tongue swirled around your nipple just right, your patience finally gave in.

“Just fuck me,” you begged, tugging harder on his curls as you felt him smile against your skin.  “God, I just— fuck—”

He pulled away from your breast with a pop and a grin.  “Just ask nicely, baby, and I’m all yours.”

“I know you want to, just fuck me,” you growled, but he shook his head and you clenched your jaw.

“You can say it,” he encouraged, “just use the magic word.”

You rolled your eyes, hating the juvenile way of describing it, but his fingers were still moving inside you and you just needed it too bad— “Please,” you breathed.  “Please fuck me.”

“There you go,” he praised, slowly pulling his drenched fingers out of you and moving his hips to line up with yours instead.  He was so hard; you were almost impressed with his resolve, though at the moment you were mostly just annoyed with it.  “Look up at me,” he demanded, making you meet his gaze before he pushed himself inside you.

It was almost too intense, looking right into his eyes as he thrust into you carefully— you bit your lip, watching the heavy sigh of relief leave him as he filled you.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his eyes scanning all over your face and watching your expression change as he pressed his cock as deep as possible.  “You’re fucking perfect.”

You didn’t really believe that, but you at least would concede that this moment was perfect.

You held tighter onto him, legs wrapping around his hips, as he leaned in closer and moaned against your neck.  “How am I supposed to leave when you feel this fucking good?” he groaned lowly, and you felt yourself already beginning to pulse inside as you moved closer to the edge.  “I feel good too, right?”

Poor thing— if only he knew that it was his own fault you withheld praise, just because he sounded too precious when he asked you for reassurance like that.  He was really fucking talkative, way more than you expected; sometimes you thought if you didn’t say anything, he’d just go off on these wild tangents about how bad he needs you.  “You feel good,” you replied, trying to keep it a little vague so he’d ask for more.

“How good?” he asked with a grin, and you smiled, too, because he was wonderfully predictable sometimes.

“So good,” you cooed, “so fucking good that I’m gonna come way too fast.”

“Hey, that’s my thing,” he joked.  His stamina had definitely increased a lot in just a few encounters, but he still had a habit of coming quickly if you got him a bit too riled up.  Not that you really minded… it was still cute, after all, and he usually made it up to you one way or another.

He picked up his pace, letting out a low moan against your ear.  “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he ordered, panting with each quick thrust.

“Fuck, Angus, I want you come,” you replied, whispering against his ear.  “I want you to fill me—”

“Fuck…”

“And put all your come so deep in me—”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined again.  “I’m so fucking close.”

You whined, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling your chest get tighter as you moved closer to the edge.

“Tell me you want me to breed you,” he added; okay, so much for predictable…

“Wh-what?” you choked, feeling suddenly hot all over.  “Angus, I—”

“I know, you won’t,” he soothed, “it’s just, you know, pretend… just say you want it, please.”

You swallowed but nodded, holding on tighter to the back of his neck.  “I… I want you to get me pregnant.”

“God, yes,” he whined through his teeth, fucking you faster.

“I-I want you to fill me up so I can have a baby,” you continued in a whisper, and he moaned again as his grip on your hips tightened.  You could hardly believe what you were saying, nor that he had asked you to say it, and yet it made the most wonderfully bizarre feeling stir inside you— strangest of all, it was turning you on.  “F-fuck, Angus, I’m gonna come.”

“You’re gonna come with me?” he pressed, sighing when you nodded.  “Fuck, let’s do it— we’ll come together.  That’ll definitely get you pregnant.”

“Jesus, Angus,” you hissed, “what are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t get you hot, thinking about it?” he challenged.  “Thinking about us making a baby right now?  Imagining how good it would feel to let me breed you and make you a mommy?”

“Sh-shut the fuck up,” you grunted, but you were already trying to hold it back.

“God, you want it so bad,” he noticed— how was he only this perceptive in these sorts of situations?  “You want me to come in you and knock you up, I can tell.  You’re gonna come just thinking about it.”

Even though it wasn’t really just thinking about it— it was him fucking you deep and fast and hard after a whole night of making love— you were forced to bite your lip and nod.

“C’mon, baby, I wanna feel it again,” he purred.  “Feels so fucking perfect when you come around me— you’re mine, aren’t you?”

Your heart jumped and your eyes shut tight.  “God,” you groaned in frustration, but he just smiled and held you tighter.

“It’s okay,” he cooed, “nobody has to know, it’s just me— you’re mine, right?  Say it.  Say you’re mine.”

You whined when it hit you— and nothing had ever hit you quite like that.  Tensing up inside, pulsing uncontrollably, you felt the weight on your chest lift and you dug your nails into his shoulders as he fucked you through it.  “Fuck!  I-I’m yours!” you blurted out, unable to stop it when you were drowning in your ecstasy like that.

He swore against your ear, and gave you hardly one more thrust before falling over the edge himself, groaning weakly as his body sank down onto yours.

You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t force you to address any of what you’d just said; he looked so exhausted that you almost wanted to let him fall asleep here if it meant avoiding that conversation.  But it was just like him to only give you about ten seconds of silence before running his mouth again.

He started by just sitting up enough to kiss you on the cheek, then the lips, then the side of your forehead when you turned away.  “That was so hot,” he announced, still catching his breath, as he grinned down at you.

“That was… different,” you admitted as you hoped your embarrassment wouldn’t show on your face.  “You weren’t serious, right?  I mean, you know I’m on the pill—”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured, “it’s just, I don’t know, a fantasy.”

You raised an eyebrow as you looked at him.  “Respectfully, I thought it was more of a nightmare— you know, it’s kinda worst-case-scenario here.”

“No, no, I know— that’s why it’s fun,” he explained.  “‘Cause it’s, like, bad.  Well, not bad, but… scary.  In a good way!  Like a rollercoaster or something.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, “just like a rollercoaster.  That’s why the maternity ward at the hospital looks so much like Six Flags.”

“You know what I mean,” he laughed.  “It’s just… if it actually happened it would be a huge fucking deal… but just imagining it, just for fun I mean, it makes my heart race.  See?”

He picked up one of your hands and put it on his neck, pressing your fingers into his pulse so you could feel its rapidness.  “Fair enough,” you shrugged, “you sure scared the crap out of me for a second.”

“You liked it,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose.  “You like being mine, too.”

Even if you could’ve hid the reaction on your face somehow, the way your weak muscles still found the energy to clench around his softening cock gave you away; he purred as he smiled, kissing you more tenderly on the lips this time.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered to you.

“I probably look like a mess,” you laughed quietly, “I don’t even want to know what my hair looks like after a night like this.”

“Yeah, that’s how I like you, though— you look pretty all fucked up,” he explained.

You glanced over as he moved to bury his face in your neck again, only to see the slightest blue glow in the window: the early light just before dawn.  “Angus, it’s almost morning,” you noticed.  “You need to go.”

“Not yet,” he begged, hugging you tighter.  “I bet I can make you come again—”

“No,” you snapped, “if your parents find out you snuck out— and if anyone knows you came here—”

“Baby, c’mon,” he pouted, “I’ll be quick, nobody’s gonna know—”

“I swear to god, Angus—”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed, “then just kiss me before I go.”

He held your cheek and turned your face to his, and you kissed him; you hated these kisses, the ones that felt like goodbye.  They were amazing, of course, but they always broke your heart.

“I’ll see you later?” he assumed.

“You’ll see me on Sunday,” you replied.

“Nooo, I can’t wait that long,” he whined.

“Yes you can,” you breathed.  “Now get up, please, before I have to literally kick you out.”

“Fine,” he relented, climbing off of you and searching the floor for his boxers and t-shirt.

“I still can’t believe you ran here without even putting a coat on,” you remembered, “it’s below freezing out.”

“Whatever, it’s not even a block to my house,” he rolled his eyes.

“Mr. Lindy across the street takes out the trash insanely early in the morning— what if he sees you running back to your house in the snow without any fucking clothes on?!” 

“He was young once, right?  He’ll understand,” Angus laughed.

“I’m hoping he doesn’t understand,” you groaned, “‘cause if he figures it out and tells my parents—”

“I know,” he breathed, slipping on his shoes and leaning over the bed to kiss you quickly.  “It’ll be fine, okay?”

“Okay,” you smiled back.

There was a brief pause before Angus dropped his arms down against his sides, hitting his legs; “Well, I… guess I’ll see you at Mass,” he announced.

“That’s gotta be the weirdest thing to say after hooking up with somebody,” you decided.

“I couldn’t think of anything else!” he defended.  “I’m about to jump out your window, it’s already a pretty weird transition.”

“Okay, first of all, please don’t jump,” you replied, “but fair enough.  I’ll see you at Mass.”

He hesitated, suddenly giving you one more kiss— one that lingered a little more— before opening your window and beginning to climb out.

~

Mass was certainly a lot more interesting when you kept feeling Angus’ eyes on you.  His family had been just barely on time for the service, so you hadn’t been able to talk to him before it started; you could tell he was dying to know if you’d gone through with it.

You tugged on the bottom of your dress as you adjusted yourself in the pew; it was definitely a weird feeling, and you couldn’t stop worrying that someone, somehow, would see up your skirt and get an eyeful.  The anxiety of it was oddly arousing, though— it made you understand a bit better what Angus had said about the whole scary in a good way thing.

When you occasionally spared a glance at him, you noticed that Angus still looked a little underslept; you’d both been up all night just a couple days ago, but the difference was that your parents didn’t really mind if you spent most of the next day in your room, so you’d had a chance to catch up— Angus’ parents were more determined to make use of his time off from school, and had him doing all kinds of chores and activities on Saturday that prevented him from getting more than a quick nap here and there.

And they’d tugged him out of bed bright and early for church today, so he was probably still feeling the effects of an all-nighter.  That said, he certainly didn’t seem lacking in energy at the moment— he kept wringing his hands, constantly glancing at you, so noticeably that his mom lightly smacked him on the shoulder when she noticed it.

But you were looking across the aisle at him, too.  If for no other reason than how cute he looked in his shirt and tie.

After the service, as everyone mingled around coffee and donuts, Angus made a beeline towards you— you’d kind of hoped he would be a little more subtle.

“Hey,” he greeted, and you just nodded at him with a smirk.  “It’s been too long.”

He glanced at all the people passing by, stepping closer to you to let someone walk past but never moving back; he waited until no one was too close before he spoke again in a lower voice.

“Are you really not wearing any…?” he asked, an extra sparkle in his eye and a mischievous smile on his face.  His smile dropped a bit when you nodded, though, and his eyes raked over you in the most intoxicating, lascivious way.  You were sure you’d never had someone look at you like that, like they’d give anything to devour you right then— and with no panties to hold it, you felt your arousal slicken where your thighs rubbed together.

He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder, making sure no one was looking over at him as he adjusted his corduroys awkwardly; you licked your lips, a little too flattered by the effect you had on him.

“That’s, um, that’s…” he mumbled, tripping over his words.  “That’s really… yeah.”

“Really what?” you challenged as you bit your lip briefly, moving closer to him and all but batting your eyes up at him.

“It’s really fucking sexy,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” you cooed.  “I think it’s sexy that you think it’s sexy.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about—” he began.

“I know,” you sighed, “me too.”

“I wasn’t even tired that day— I was wired, actually,” he laughed quietly.  “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart’s pace picked up a bit, and you glanced away briefly.  “I, um… I thought about you, too.

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can go,” he whispered.  “It’s a big place— everyone’s here, if we just… found an empty room—”

“Jesus, Angus— in a church?!” you hissed.

“Come on,” he begged, “I don’t know when we’ll get a chance again— and I’m leaving tomorrow— and I want you so bad—”

“Shh,” you warned him, making sure no one was nearby again.  “We’ll figure something out— just not here.  It’s too risky.”

“But I need you now,” he insisted, voice lower and darker as he stepped just a bit closer to you.  “It won’t take us long— I mean, it definitely won’t take me long, after spending the last two days thinking about you.”

You crossed your arms, looking down at the floor, and you felt him lean in over you.  “Please, baby?” he whispered under his breath.

Releting, you took a glance at the crowd and made sure nobody was looking in your direction.  “You go find an empty room in the east wing.  I’ll talk to a few people— so it doesn’t look like we’re going together— and I’ll come find you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Great,” he beamed.  “Uh, which way is east again?”

You pointed him in the right direction and watched him bound away, sighing to yourself as you re-entered the crowd.  You got a lot of questions about your plan now that you finished your degree— and you found yourself repeating the same stock answer about how your graduate program didn’t start until the fall so you had the spring and summer to stay home.  Even though you knew you needed to kill some time to look less suspicious, you found yourself glancing constantly towards the east wing, getting more and more impatient for your chance to slip away as unnoticed as possible.

As the crowd was clearing out and nearly everyone’s attention was turned onto somebody’s new baby, you took the opportunity to disappear into the dark hallway.  As you peered around the doors, you saw Angus peeking out at you through one of the little windows; the door opened, and you slipped into an abandoned Sunday school classroom, barely having time to gingerly shut the door behind you before you felt his lips on your neck and his hand sliding up your thigh.

“That took forever,” he complained, and before you could remind him it had hardly been five minutes, his fingers were exploring between your legs.  “Fuck, what’re you so wet for?” he teased, and you groaned as you pulled him closer by his pants and hopped up to sit on the low bookshelf nearby.

“Just hurry up,” you hissed, “we need to get this over with before somebody finds us here.”

He opened his fly quickly, but struggled slightly to free himself from the confines of his trousers; you hummed a bit when he got it out, pressing it against you right away as you moved your hips up.

Thrusting into you all at once, you both sighed slowly; you took hold of his shoulders, he grabbed onto your hips, and instantly he began to fuck into you impatiently.

“God, you’re so tight,” he hissed against your ear.  “Touch yourself— I want you to come, too.”

You reached between your bodies to put a few fingers on your clit, rubbing fast in hopes that you could catch up with him.

“Do you always do what you’re told?” he mocked playfully.

“I think the fact that we’re doing this right after church proves that I don’t,” you replied.

“Guess you only do what I tell you to,” he shrugged, which really made you want to talk back, but you couldn’t because you were trying not to moan too loudly.

He moved faster inside you, and something about the angle of sitting up on the shelf was making him hit just the right spot— or maybe you were sensitive from the exhilarating fear of getting caught.

“What if I got you pregnant here?” he purred, making you arch your back slightly.  “Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Tully,” you breathed, struggling not to let your voice come out all whiny and weak.

“Knocked up at St. Mary’s… it’s what God would want, right?”

“Do you never shut up?” you hissed.

“No,” he smirked, “you’re cute when you’re ticked off at me.”

His eyes met yours, and you felt a strange emotion stir in your chest: you bit your lip, willing yourself to tear away from his gaze, but you found it impossible somehow.

One of his hands moved from your hip up to your chest, palming at you through your dress.  You tensed up inside, making him wince a bit, and you couldn’t believe how close you were already.

“Oh god, baby, m’gonna come,” you whimpered, moving your hand even faster over your clit; he groaned in approval, leaning in to kiss all along your neck.

“Come for me,” he pleaded, “I’m so fucking close— please come, fuck—”

“R-right there,” you gasped, gripping his shoulder tighter— actually, that wasn’t the only place you were gripping him tighter.  He was struggling to maintain the pace of his thrusts, in fact, with how hard your walls were bearing down on him.  “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Not too loud,” he warned you, and you bit hard on your own lip to suppress your moan: it stayed in your throat instead, and you heard him gasp as he heard and felt you reaching your peak.  He had to take his hand off your chest and put it on the bookshelf under you to help keep you upright, and he looked down between your bodies to watch himself give you a few final thrusts.

He stopped suddenly, whimpering slightly as he buried himself in you as deep as he could go; you sighed and laid back on the bookshelf again, having to tilt your head to avoid a figurine of some prophet or saint that you had absolutely no interest in identifying at the moment.

Angus took a moment to catch his breath, before looking back over his shoulder and through the door’s window to make sure no one was in the hallway.  He pulled his cock out of you carefully and did his best to fit it back into his pants.  As you felt a warm oozing feeling between your legs, your face began to heat up.

“Maybe I didn’t think this through,” you realized.

“What?” he mumbled.

“I’m gonna have to go out there with nothing on under my dress, with your come leaking out of me.”

He bit his lip.

“It’s not sexy, Angus!  It’s very inconvenient!” you frowned.

“It’s both,” he insisted.  “It’s very much both.”

~

Though you did get another chance to see Angus before he left, it wasn’t that sort of rendezvous, unfortunately.  Although, just sitting and talking with him was wonderful, too— in an entirely different way.  See, that was the thing that scared you most, even more than how badly you’d come to crave his touch: how happy you felt just being with him.

He was funny, and weird, and seemed to think your stories from college were fascinating; he was well-read, especially for a high school student, and you two could chat about your favorite books— a hobby most of your classmates in college found too nerdy to sympathize with.  

It probably looked totally wholesome from the outside: two childhood friends catching up while they were back home for a while.  And you, you probably looked normal and cool on the outside— you were trying to, at least.  But inside, you were terrified.  You wanted it to be like what Angus said— scary, in a good way, like a rollercoaster— but you were starting to just feel sick.  You know, like an actual rollercoaster would…

“Everyone there is so… dumb,” Angus decided as he leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.

“That can’t be true, it’s a good school,” you tried to encourage him.

“I mean, maybe they could be smart, but they act like morons,” he clarified.  “They hate me, too, and I don’t even really know why.”

“Probably because they can sense that you think they’re all morons,” you suggested; and he looked over at you, as if he’d genuinely never thought of that before.

But instead of addressing that, he sat up again and changed the subject.  “My parents probably want me to go back and, like, put my trunk in the car and stuff…”

“Right,” you nodded, “you should go.”

“Yeah— b-but, listen, um, before I do…” he trailed off, leaning a little closer to you on the couch.  “I wanted to, you know, talk.  About something.”

“We’ve been talking for half an hour,” you noticed.

“Right, uh— I meant something specific,” he explained, his cheeks seeming to get a little bit more pink.  “I… I won’t be back until spring break, you know…”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising an eyebrow as you wondered what he was getting at.

“And, you know, we’ve been having such a great time,” he went on, and your heart twisted.  You’d heard this spiel before: the things are so good now, why do we need to put a label on it? why can’t we just have fun talk.  The you’re great, but not good enough for more than this talk.  You decided to jump in and spare him before he said anything too… honest.

“I get it,” you promised, and he looked at you nervously.  “We’re gonna be too far apart for too long— and you shouldn’t, you know, feel like you’re tied down to anything.  It’s okay— I didn’t think I was, like, your girlfriend or anything.”

“R-right,” he coughed, looking away and putting his hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, that’s— that’s what I was gonna say.  I knew you’d understand.”

You smiled, wishing you weren’t always so goddamn understanding.  “But it was fun— a good way to kill time over the break, for sure.”

“Yeah,” he agreed alongside a thin laugh.  “I… I think I’ll always owe you, for being my first time and all.”

“Well, you’ve certainly spent your first two weeks of not being a virgin pretty well,” you snorted.  “I had a good time.  We’ll call it even.”

“And… when I come back?” he pressed.  “Maybe we can, I dunno… maybe we can do it again.”

You grinned and tilted your head.  “Yeah, I like that idea.”

“But can I still call you?” he asked nervously.

“Of course!” you beamed.  “You’ll have to tell me if you get any good books assigned this semester.”

“Yeah, I doubt it,” he scoffed, but his smile lifted just a bit.

“I can come see you off, if you want,” you offered, “but it might make your mom suspect something…”

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, “I wish you weren’t, but you are— but I’ll call first thing when I get there!”

You smiled, and he gave you a hug before he left; and he promised to call again, though you’d believed him the first time.  And the next time you stayed up all night with Angus, it was on the phone— he snuck out of bed with a bag of quarters, and told you the phone was free so you wouldn’t feel bad, and talked to you about everything he could possibly think of.

Except, you didn’t quite make it all night: you fell asleep at some point, while he was talking about his English paper… not that he could blame you.

And for some reason, one that even he himself couldn’t quite explain, he kept feeding the phone quarters and listening to you sleep; he didn’t hang up until it was nearly morning and he had to sneak back into his room.

[series masterlist here]

[thesummerpetrichor]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓼: 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸

Stepdad!Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1979 and it's the summer after graduation. You want to make the most of the vacation, but going to shady dance bars is a lot harder now that your new stepfather works for the DEA.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, cops and raids, stepdad trope and all that comes with, minor DUBCON, big juicy age gap [reader is 18/19 when she meets Javi, Javi is in his mid 40s], reader wears a dress, petnames, mommy issues ™ , alcohol consumption, mean!brat tamer!dom!Javi then soft!Javi, brat!reader, rough sex, “virginity” loss & minor mention of blood, sex in the woods on the hood of Javi’s car, mentions of F masturbation, some reader x oc, Javi gives reader her first orgasm, major size kink [Javi is bigger than the reader, can rough house with her], degradation, dumbification, reader is insanely horny, satanic levels of dirty talk, finger sucking, choking, spanking [with a belt and hand] , a few slaps [as always], fingering, unprotected P in V [be better!!], creampie. Let me know if I missed anything 🫶

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I am impossibly excited for this stepdad trilogy. This is part 1/3 so it’s only 1/3 the fun and debauchery. Few Easter eggs thrown in.. see if you can spot em 🤭.This is set up after the events of season 2 and before the events of season 3, in a year where Javi is taking a break before Cali, but feel free to imagine otherwise. Enjoy!!

Masterlist

​​Once I had a love and it was a gas

Soon turned out had a heart of glass

Seemed like the real thing, only to find

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

Once I had a love and it was divine

Soon found out I was losing my mind

It seemed like the real thing, but I was so blind

Mucho mistrust, love's gone behind

You stood at the entrance, one foot tapping restlessly on the wooden floorboards. In an effort to keep your head down you fiddled aimlessly with the clasp on your watch, knowing full well you weren’t going to be paying attention to anything but the time that flashed on its face. An older, blonde woman came stomping onto the patio, swinging the wooden door behind you so hard on her way the rattle it produced when it slammed shut knocked the flimsy “BAR” sign right off. You jumped, then took another step away from the establishment.  

You could almost feel the bass of the engine thrumming in your chest as it got closer. The tires crunched against the gravel as it neared. You still couldn’t see it. You hoped it was her. 

It wasn’t long before a red convertible was nearing, the number plate sending a shaky, relieved sigh hurtling past your lips. Agitated, drunk and anxiety ridden, you ran towards and then jumped into Lorrain’s car– hoping and praying the ride would give you a beat to sober up. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d had to sneak back into your room well past midnight. It was so much of a habit you could sell a course on how to accomplish it with the utmost skill and precision. What was rare, however, was having to perform the task while shaken up so severely. The side of your small, once welcoming home seemed more alien than ever, your bedroom looking far higher off the ground than you remembered. 

Nevertheless, a few missteps and about 10 minutes later you stumbled through your open window, quickly stripping to your underwear and shoving your dirty, alcohol laced clothes under your bed. You cursed your “parents” at the fact that you still needed to do this shit like a fucking highschooler. 

The sound of feet padding towards your bedroom door startled you, and you jumped to pull on your sleep shorts before what you knew was your stepdad coming up the stairs. 

You hoped and prayed he hadn't caught wind of the way you screamed when your foot missed the ledge below your window, or worse, that his partner hadn’t given him a call to inform him of the familiar face he saw at the shack that night. 

No matter how many times you liked to imagine he would bend you over his knee and discipline you, how many times you imagined it was him with his hand under your skirt or head between your legs as some clumsy 20 year old rutted against your thigh, you knew full well if Javier actually ever caught your antics, the consequences were going to be a whole lot less ideal than that. 

As you jumped under the covers you recalled the way Agent Steve Murphy had cocked his head at you back at the bar. The way your stepfather’s partner had squinted his eyes at you in confusion, doing a double take at your skimpy outfit, short dress and boots, the way the men at the bar had their hands all over you. 

You prayed it wasn’t too late before you turned your head away, that it wasn’t too late before you swiftly moved out of that bar, before he could be sure it was you he was seeing. 

Because if he was, there would be absolute hell to pay. 

—

One summer, when you were maybe eight or nine, you developed an absurd obsession with riding your bike up the slope that led away from your small town. Eventually, the uphill roads veered away, twisting and turning into a thousand different rocky paths that converged at one point only a few hundred metres from the large sign that welcomed people into the town. The singular, welcoming road led straight into the woods. Back then, it seemed endless, providing a warm, hospitable buffer for the hills that loomed over the town with a somewhat protective intimidation. Like the woods were watching over your every move. 

Everyday, for three months, you’d bust out your front door at 18:00 on the dot and make the journey uphill. Exhaustively pushing your bike past that sign and into what was nature's much welcome respite from your mothers neglectful cruelty. You collected rocks by the stream that ran through those woods, leaves and flowers to keep in your room. It was like they were magic. Like they wanted to get to know you, be your friend. The trees formed a canopy over you, like they wanted to shield you from the winds and the setting sun, and most importantly from the town below. 

One day you remember hearing some rustling coming from up the stream. You didn't think much of it, must have been a deer or something of the sort. You continued foraging for little flowers and rocks, that was until you came across something that didn't really belong. A piece of white lace. It looked new, but dirty, there was cotton under half of it. It seemed like it was part of a dress. Someone must have lost it up there. You didn't investigate. Things were calm and quiet again as usual, but it wasn't long before the rustling from upstream got louder, just slightly, and you heard the clatter of a metal rod to the ground, followed by a heavier, louder thud. 

You turned on your heel and away from the stream, it took you four minutes to find the welcome sign to your town again. By 19:00 you were home. 

You never went back to the woods again. That August your mother informed you you were going to school in the city. 

— 

To say you were unhappy to come home from boarding school to the news your mother was marrying a cop would be an understatement, and while you tried not to be too judgy and give him a chance, to say you were surprised when he turned out to be a complete authoritarian would be an even bigger understatement. 

You knew of Agent Peña, he was somewhat of a local celebrity. You’d seen him on your summers home since you were sixteen- picking up beers at the convenience store, smoking cigarettes outside the petrol station. You and your friends would often drool over him, wait for him to show up at a neighbourhood barbeque, or catch him taking a walk around the block. 

Eventually, you grew up, and outgrew your little hallway crush on the, now, mostly tiresome Agent Peña. Because soon you weren't sixteen. And his holier than thou, saviour complex, and affinity for order only made you roll your eyes. In fact he was quite annoying. He made little effort to contribute to the community, still riding his high from his days in Colombia. 

You wondered why those people revered him like he was taking bullets for your town. 

You were absolutely flabbergasted when you found out your mother was marrying him. At first, a little bit jealous for the teenager who once fawned over him, but quickly more concerned for the fact that he was actually someone who you’d have to interact with, and not just a piece of eye candy you could appreciate out and about. 

Hell, he was becoming family, and your stepfather no less. It was torturous. You did not need another person to worry about in your home. 

“So.. What’re you studying?” He crossed his left leg over the right, and asked you. His hand reached out to receive the glass of whiskey your mother poured him. He hadn’t been in your house for ten minutes and you already couldn’t stand his guts. Besides the fact that he was a cop, he had this air about him… what exactly, you weren’t quite sure. A superficial, macho exterior that felt like a bigger slap in the face than the fact that he was sitting on the nice, upholstered, expensive, armchair your father had paid for. 

Unsurprisingly, Agent Peña often indulged you in riveting conversation about the dangers of indulging in alcohol and drugs at a young age as he puffed on his cigarette, and lectured you, in what you knew as truly your mothers fashion, about how young people these days didn't know a thing, and that they must always respect and follow the lead of their elders. 

Much like mother dear, he paid little attention to you other than to reprimand you for whatever it was you weren’t doing correctly; for when you didn’t do the dishes on time, or were staying out too late, as if it was any of his business to even begin with. He seemed to really enjoy the protective dad role. It fit in well with the rest of his pathetic persona. 

No wonder they got along.

You remember almost gagging when he boasted about the college you were set to attend, one arm slung across your shoulder, at the party your aunt threw for your graduation. Like he had absolutely anything to do with it. You excused yourself partly to avoid the embarrassment and partly to roll your eyes. A small part of you enjoyed his proud boasting, but you were not ready to unpack that yet. 

In the time the couple weren’t circle jerking about their views, you were lucky enough to be the recipient of snide comments that were so obviously meant for your late father. To his credit Javier Peña didn’t involve himself in the conversation. You couldn’t say the same for a lot of your mother’s previous lovers. 

Since you were ten years old you had been making your own decisions, doing what you wanted and living on your terms. To return to your home for the summer after graduation, now 18, and have to abide by someone else’s meaningless regulations, was a rather harsh slap in the face. Not to mention this someone had been in your life all of two months, and really enjoyed acting like he knew anything about you, or your family. 

Sometimes, when you’d climb down the stairs of that quaint suburban home, the home that once belonged to your family, in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water or a snack, you’d see him sitting out on the porch, hunched over a whole bunch of shit you couldn’t bother caring about, with his ashtray dangerously close to all that flammable paper. 

His shirt stretched deliciously over his back, his hand reaching out to ash his cigarette every once in a while. You were glad he was infuriating, had he not been such a prick it might have revived the little bit of a crush you had on him. 

Sometimes you felt a little bit bad for rolling your eyes at him, or shutting down his attempts to initiate group plans. If you were being honest you were surprised when he didn’t blow up at you for talking back or being rude– that was when your mother wasn’t around. When she was, he didn’t have to. She would jump at any chance to start a fight. You were even more surprised when Javier tried to diffuse the situation. 

You figured soon enough that perhaps the Javier Peña you met a few months prior was putting quite the show on for his overbearing, obnoxious lover. Of course, you were sure he hardly saw her that way. He was perhaps a lot smarter than you gave him credit for. 

Javier often chided your mother when you spoke back to her, rather unexpectedly calling out her bad parenting and the behaviour she “modelled” for you when you were a child. You overheard them argue after a big blowout, from your room. It upset you that he was even getting involved. He tried to talk to you about it later, but that was the last thing you wanted to do. 

Obviously, you knew your hatred of them both had something to do with your psychologically deprived childhood, but it baffled you how neither of them, especially wannabe father of the year Javier Peña, didn’t realised your isolated anger would perhaps be diminished if they stopped trying to meddle in your life, the one neither of them seemed to care about unless something about it upset them. 

If he really cared about your wellbeing he’d take his wife and get the fuck out of your life. You were an adult, one that wasn’t going to listen to anyone, especially not the mother who packed you away all those years ago, and her hypocritical, infuriating husband. 

Thats why, despite having almost gotten caught and having your ass handed to you less than forty eight hours prior, you were back at the shack, drink in hand, stupidly forgetting exactly what had you scrambling to get out there in the first place. 

Who could have even blamed you? Your mother had been especially annoying that particular morning, and Javier and his buddies had colonised the house for a barbeque in the afternoon. In what even you recognised as somewhat juvenile rebelion, you decided the universe owed you some fun after having to endure their patronising, senseless chit chat all day. 

It wasn’t even that late, but you were already feeling it, the effects of the countless drinks you had downed over the course of the few hours you had been dancing at the bar. Nothing unusual in that, men often offered to buy you drinks, handsome ones at that, and you didn’t have the money to live extravagantly. Besides, if you weren’t going to use your charm what was it even there for? 

Was it Timmy? Tommy? You couldn't even recall his name by the time he was tossing you onto the counter in the bar’s bathroom. To be honest you couldn’t really figure out much of your surroundings, letting yourself get lost in the delicate, dizzy, tipsy haze as his hands slipped under your skirt to squeeze at your thighs. Your regular drunk hookup, or rather someone you disappointingly rolled around with till he finished and left you to roll your hips against your pillow wishing your hands were your Stepfather’s. 

His lips brushed your neck, sloppily planting kisses up and down your skin, nipping at your collar bones as he pushed himself between your legs. You closed your eyes and imagined he was Javier. The thought made you moan and you reached for his collar to pull him closer. He didn't smell like Javi, wasn't as big, his chest wasn’t as firm, his arms didn't envelop you like Javi’s did. 

You felt him swell against you, and you pushed against him, mind once again drifting to Javier standing at the grill in your backyard. His white linen shirt unbuttoned far too low, rolled up sleeves drawing your eyes to his forearms. He’d had a hand on his hip, a sliver of skin right above the band of his shorts just barely visible. 

He smiled at you, and you had worried he’d caught you staring. You revelled in the image. You recalled how he leaned against the edge of the pool with the afternoon sun beating down on his golden skin. You imagined his hands moving under your bra to squeeze your breast. 

You were rather embarrassingly enjoying the little montage of your stepdad that was playing in your head. You had almost forgotten it was tommy, or timmy rolling his hips against yours. If a loud, wall rattling thud hadn’t interrupted you, you would've enjoyed your little delusion even longer. 

To say you were startled was an understatement, you practically leaped right off the counter. Unable to really gather your bearings in time, you barely registered timmy, or tommy, scrambling to fix his shirt, you yourself rushing to cover up and fix the top of your dress. 

From the corner of your eye you caught a hand grab him by the shoulder and shove him towards the door, dragging him out of the bathroom and towards a building commotion outside. You heard people yelling, but couldn’t really make out what was going on. 

When you looked up and found Javier looking dead at you, instead of your little fling, you damn near collapsed. He looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack. In a second he was shutting the door behind him, and flicking the lock. You would’ve ran, but its not like you could go anywhere, besides, hed gotten a good look at your face gawking at him, like a fucking moron. 

It was over. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” you hopped off the counter and tumbled into his chest.  He took you by the arm and dragged you right to the back of the bathroom, you struggled to remain on your feet but he didn’t really care. Much of your dizziness was thanks to your new found anxiety and had little to do with the vodka you’d been downing all night. This was definitely not an ideal situation. His grip on your arm tightened, and made you wince. You liked the sting, not so much the rest of the whole ordeal. “This where you’ve been fuckin’ going?” he seethed, coming close enough that your noses almost touched, he shook you lightly by the arm as he spoke. 

You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he pulled you closer. “None of your fucking business.” Sure, you weren’t on your best behaviour, but did he really think he could boss you around? 

“Sure as hell’s my fucking business.” he took a look behind him, then turned back to you and leaned closer. “‘DEA agent’s step daughter dancing at illegal drug club’ sure gonna make a sweet headline.” His fingers dug into your flesh. Only then did it hit you why exactly he was in your dingy shack to begin with. You heard Timmy arguing with someone outside. You felt your palms become impossibly clammier. 

“Just fucking turn me in then, asshole.” you got closer, and you were sure he could smell the vodka off your breath. You wished that sounded as courageous and bold out loud as it did in your head. His eyes jumped to your lips, and he rolled them, huffing in frustration. You felt your own eyes burn, and your vision became blurry. You didn't want to cry in front of that bastard. You looked away. 

“To whom? Myself” his thumb smoothed over your skin, and his grip lightened. “Not gonna arrest you, fuckin’ idiot.” he rolled his eyes, then dropped your arm to put his hands on his hips. He looked down and sighed, massaging his temple and then glancing behind him again. 

“Riskin it all for that fuckin’ looser?” He let out a half hearted laugh, looking somehow both disappointed and smug. You wanted to punch him in the face. You would have, if he didnt happen to be the only thing between you and one dozen other narcs outside. 

He glanced at the ground for a second, then back at you and fixed the strap of your top that had slipped down your shoulder. “Get in the car.” he pointed behind you, and you looked in the direction to see a small, open window. 

“Know you're good at climbing outta windows.” you felt your cheeks heat so much they burned. Your heart hadn’t really recovered from his big, surprise entry yet. You couldn't stand to look at his frustrated, let down face. 

Javi cocked his head and raised his brows, whispering a strained “go”. You had no choice, you turned away from him and towards the window. 

—

“Where are we going?”

He didn't look away from the road ahead. Hand gripping the steering wheel with a renewed annoyance. “Better stop asking questions before s’ too late brat.” You opened your mouth to speak, but quickly shut it right back up again. You decided it was probably a lot smarter to just shut up and not bother him any longer– regardless of the thousand questions and worries you had swimming in your head. 

If you were lucky, he was going to drive the both of you right off a cliff, because if your mother caught any wind of what you had been doing, your plans for going to college, and living out of your house would fly right out the window. Not to mention the torture that would insue when she demanded to know your whereabouts all day everyday for the rest of the foreseeable future. 

“Don't want ya hangin’ round the countryside, in these barns, nothing good happens in there.” he looked over you momentarily, 

“Oh what? Are the cows joining in on the drug trade?” 

“Newspaper boys, going missin’. Found him in the lake, about two miles from here.” you pressed your lips together. 

The car ride thus passed in a painful, tense silence. Javier was clearly unhappy with the whole situation, but had decided not to immediately blow up in your face? Everything about that unsettled you. He was so shocked he seemed to be in denial. You'd much prefer if he just yelled at you and got it over with. 

What else was there to do? Surely he wasn’t going to turn you over to the cops, he had his chance to do that already. However Javier never missed a chance to reprimand you, maybe he wanted to get a few words in before ruining your future. 

You wouldn’t put it past him anyway. 

The empty streets gave way to a narrow, winding road that cut through the woods. The familiar landscape of your small town faded away, replaced by shadowy silhouettes of trees that loomed closer and closer to the edge of the road. The headlights pierced the darkness, illuminating the dense foliage– closing in around you. The road twisted and turned, each bend bringing you deeper into the night, and further away from any civilisation. 

Beginning to zone out, you kept your eyes ahead, now unable to recognise left from right, and importantly, exactly how far out from town you had come.  It wasn’t long before the “farwell, drive safe” sign that stood at the edge of the woods was swiftly moving past your right shoulder. A pit was quick to form in your stomach, the lowered window by Javi’s side let the cool breeze in. It wrapped around you and made you shiver. The smell of the woods soon overcame you. 

Eventually,the car came to a stop in a small clearing. You watched Javi, but he paid no attention to you. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of branches swaying in the wind. In the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoed through the trees. You felt like a child about to be reprimanded after getting in trouble at school. You could hear the ticking of the cooling engine, each sound amplified in the stillness of the night. The dark woods pressed in on you. 

After what felt like an eternity, he opened his door, stepping out and gesturing for you to do the same with his head. Still absolutely clueless about what exactly he was doing, you decided just to follow along. He wasn’t going to actually kill you or anything. Probably just wanted to scare you. He had always thought he was a lot more scary than he actually was. At least that's what your brain was telling you. Your heart had other plans. 

You watched from inside as Javi began to cross in front of you, for a good three seconds he stood directly ahead of you, facing you in the beams of the headlights. The sight made you shiver. He took a step out of the light. Taking a long deep breath to psych yourself up, after a short moment you opened your door. Javi placed his arm on the top of said door, leaning against it to watch you get out. 

You almost tripped, but Javi caught you by the arm and manhandled you to the front of his truck. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, and when he turned you to face the hood it blinded you. 

The scrape of your shoes against the damp soil, the crunch of the leaves– it was pretty much all you could really register. The moon shone bright, shining through the trees, but your eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness. “These woods are fucking haunted.” A bug landed on the side of your face and you jumped, shaking your head and swatting it away. Javier laughed behind you and you rolled your eyes. “Ghosts the least of your worries right now, bunny .” 

“Fuckin gross.” He shook you by the arm, his voice now a tad bit more annoyed than it was a little earlier. “Oh really?” He pushed you against the hood of his car, your back now facing it. You couldn’t see his eyes, any part of his face at all, you could barely see anything. You wondered how he moved so confidently in the dark. He must have practice. 

“I ain’t sneakin’ out to be a slut every night.” His hands moved to grab your waist and your heart jumped. You swallowed, feeling more defiant yet sceptical by the second. “Sorry you’re not getting any, but it's not my fault, dirty old man.” Before you could even gauge his reaction your head was snapping to the side, a sharp burn spreading across your cheek as Javier’s hand made contact with your skin. 

“I'm not getting any?” he laughed, then took your face between his fingers and squeezed your cheeks together. You winced, and your vision got blurry. You felt your panties dampen embarrassingly. “I ain't the one lettin’ stupid boys rub up on me, bunny.” He shook your face gently, voice so seething and cruel you whimpered, somehow more desperate for him than you were before. 

“Desperate little slut.” He grabbed you by the shoulders and flipped you around, and promptly told you to “shut that whore mouth” when you screamed that he could fuck right off. His fingers left tender spots all over your arms and waist, and you winced when he manhandled you into bending over the hood of his car. 

He placed a hand on your back to press you down, the other held your waist in a death grip and you felt him press up against your ass. Your dress had ridden up, and surely left little to the imagination. The denim of his jeans rubbed against your upper thighs, and the tips of your shoes barely scraped the ground with how far up the hood of the car he had thrown you. You whimpered and he shushed you with a hand squeezing around your throat from behind. 

You knew you had to be unjustifiably wet by this point. You felt yourself throb when Javi put his hands under your dress and grabbed the waistband of your panties. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt his bulge through the fabric. 

The jingle of his belt sent a shiver down your spine, every hair on the back of your neck standing up at attention. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, still undecided about how exactly you felt about this entirely new development. 

Your heart jumped when he ran the leather across your skin, slowly, perhaps to catch you off guard when he finally struck you with it. You lurched forward, the pain so sharp a tear was quick to roll down your cheek. He struck you again, holding you down with his other hand. The sound of each slash, and your whines that followed echoed in the distance. 

“Think you’re fuckin cute, don’t you.” It was horribly embarrassing to be bent over the hood of his car, both palms on holding you up as best they could whilst he landed spank after spank on your bare ass. “Like bein a wild child?” Your scream echoed in the woods when his belt made sharp contact with your flesh. Your knees buckled but Javier's hand on your waist held you up before it was retreating to land another slap on your ass. Tears were dampening the neckline of your dress already, rolling down your neck and rendering you a bigger mess with every sharp spank of his belt. 

“Yeah? You get off on all those men touchin’ ya? Like being passed around like a cheap whore?” He gripped your hips so tight you didn’t even bother trying to wiggle out of his hold. “Should take ya to the office sometime, hand ya off to Steve, let him have some fun with you.”

You shook your head at that, there was only one man in the DEA offices you wanted, and unfortunately it wasn’t anybody that could actually be with. You clenched your thighs. 

“Knew you were a fuckin’ nasty little girl.” He wedged his hand between them, pushing them apart and slightly spreading your thighs. His fingers rubbed over your clothed cunt, your panties now damp from all that had ensued. You shivered, then pushed back against his digits. 

His fingers found your clit and you moaned. “Did ya cum?” he asked, referring to your little escapade at the bar. Suddenly, you were a whole lot less bold than you were a few moments ago, it wasn’t ideal to admit what you were going to, and it seemed almost impossible without sounding rather pathetic. 

He stopped moving his fingers and pinched the inside of your thigh. “Answer me.” You whispered a “no” bracing yourself for whatever embarrassing comment Javier was going to throw back at you in response. “Huh.. No one fucked this tight little snatch before? Savin’ yourself for me?” he ruminated on the thought, sounding far more pleased than you would have desired. He wasn’t exactly right, but he definitely wasn’t wrong either. 

When you remained quiet he leant beside your ear, lips ghosting the skin on your neck. “Hmm, that right? “Wish it was me instead of that stupid boy?” You groaned at his smug voice, then when his fingers slid under your panties and between your dripping folds. “Wished his finger’s were mine tonight, didnt you?” He cursed under his breath at how wet you were. “How many times d’you cum dreamin’ bout your stepdaddy fuckin your tight lil pussy…” 

“Haven’t” You pressed your face against the metal of his car, cheeks on fire at your admission. He remained silent behind you for a beat, then gently lifted you to press your back to his chest with a hand around your throat. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss against your neck, and the hand that was between your legs slid under your dress to plam your tit through your bra. “Ever?” 

You gasped as he pulled it down, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You shook your head and pressed back against his hard cock. The buckle of his belt dug into your skin and you could almost feel the sting against your ass once again. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, hand returning between your legs. 

He rubbed your clit in slow circles and then pushed two fingers into your entrance. “Full of surprises, aren't ya?” you gasped at the stretch, his fingers were surely far bigger than your own, or any others that had been anywhere near your pussy.  “don't blame ya’ bunny , nothing like the real thing, huh?” 

You bit your lip harder to keep from moaning, already far closer to finishing than you had ever been before, especially when he stroked your walls, mercifully scissoring you open in an uncharacteristic show of thoughtfulness. 

“So fuckin’ wet, bunny .” he curled his digits, reaching that sweet spot inside you as he thumbed your clit. You pushed back against him, feeling yourself continue to gush around his hand. “Gonna slide right in at this rate.” 

He yanked your panties down with so much force you heard a few stitches rip in the silence. Javier groaned, and you leaned back against him when his hand moved away from your pussy to slide his hard cock between your thighs, his hips flush against yours. He squeezed your tit in his palm as he pulled back a little, sliding against your swollen cunt again. 

You felt your arousal smear against your thighs. He muttered a strained “Can’t wait much longer, bunny” . You, yourself thought you might have gone crazy if he waited longer. He pulled his hips back again, notching the head at your entrance and pushing in in a single, slow thrust. 

You winced and then moaned, body unable to adjust to the sheer size of him so quickly, yet still hungry for more. You hadn’t felt quite so full ever before, you could feel his cock deep inside you. Your hand covered his on your chest and you mewled and whimpered when he moved his hips, replicating the sharp thrust again, and then again. 

It wasn’t long before he was pushing you back down against the hood of his car to get a better grip on your hips. He twisted your wrist as you reached out for him, holding both in one large palm as he found a steady rhythm. The almost unbearable stretch slowly melted away into a delicious, burning need, and in only a few moments you were pressing back against him, pleading for him to pick up his pace. 

“You rub your pretty little cunt thinking ‘bout my cock splitting you open?” You moaned a “yes” every part of your body now hot with need as he kept fucking into your warm, wet, heat. 

“How?” When you didn't answer he landed a spank to your ass, this time with his hand, and right over the spot his belt had left its sting on not so long ago. You yelped and surged forward. His hand on your hip pulled you back. You pulled yourself up, craving the heat of his chest against your back. 

“On my- oooh” your palm landed over his, fingers wrapping around one of his larger ones as you cut yourself off with a moan “On my pillow.” The memory made you throb harder, and the hand that was holding Javiers guided it away from your hip and closer to the cut of your thigh, craving the feel of his fingers on your clit. 

He squeezed the flesh of your thigh and chuckled, hot breath fanning against your now sweaty skin. “Thought as much. My little slut. Knew I heard ya..” he took your earlobe between his teeth for a moment, nipped and then licked a stripe up your neck “tryna make yourself cum. Couldn't figure it out yourself huh?” 

You shook your head. “horny little girl, need me to do everything for ya.” You had indeed, countless times rather ashamedly. The thought that he’d possibly heard you long enough for it to be a problem, had likely fucked your mother at the thought, wishing it was you under him in her stead was a thought that would live in your head for all eternity. 

He kissed your cheek, then pushed you back down. “S’why ya keep spreading your legs for the whole world huh?” He put a palm on the middle of your back, holding you down as he continued to thrust inside you. “Chasin’ cock all day long.”

“Can’t help this whore cunt huh? So desperate to cum.” holding yourself up on your forarms you raised your head, turning back to get a look at him fucking into your desperate pussy. 

“Knew it the moment I fuckin’ saw you. Dumb slut got nothing to her name besides this sweet pussy. No one taught ya any manners, how to be a good little girl.” His thumb brushed over the cut of your jaw, fingers squeezing your cheeks. His index and middle fingers swiped your lips, and they instinctively parted to let him push them in. You sucked and drooled around his digits, doing little to contain your moans as he continued to fuck you from behind. The taste of your arousal sat heady on your tongue. “Always knew ya wanted it, stupid little slut.”

“Runnin that whore mouth all day like you're payin’ for the house.” his hips snapped towards yours, his cock buried deep inside you. “But it aint your house, bunny .” With the way your tits were pressing against the smooth metallic finish of his stupid pickup truck you were sure they were going to leave a mark. 

You released his fingers with a pop, and he grabbed you by the hips and flipped you around, hurriedly tossing you onto the hood of his car till your feet were also planted firmly above the bumper. Before you could even register the movement he was slipping back inside you, you felt yourself pulse around his cock. You hoped and prayed no one was remotely near, your wailes and whines loud enough to travel far into the distance. 

“Get that in your fuckin’ head” He tapped his index gently against your temple and you nodded, frantically pleading yes after yes. You felt him throb inside you, each drag of his cock building the tension in your belly. You felt your pussy squeeze around him, and you wiggled your hips closer to chase the feeling. 

Your head turned side to side, your whole body buzzing at the heat between your legs. You don't think you’d ever felt anything like it. Sure, it felt good to touch yourself, but this, the feeling of his cock inside you, against your wet walls, it was entirely different. 

The tension only built in your hips, your skin erupting in goosebumps as you hurtled closer and closer to the edge. Your palms squeezed your breasts, seeking purchase on any part of your body. 

You lay your back down completely, watching the light hit him right in the face, falling against his features to create sharp lines of contrast. You’d take a good long look at him on top of you to save for later, but he was quickly pressing his lips to yours and your eyes fluttered shut. 

The weight of his body on top of yours was enough to make you cum on your own, but the feeling of his lips was what really did it. For how rough and quick he was splitting you open, his mouth moved gently against yours, his warm tongue parting your lips and gliding into your mouth. You moaned against him and he bit your lip, sensing how close you were. 

“Wanna see that face when you cum for me.”  his palm tilted your face upwards, and while the rest of his fingers continued to squeeze around your neck his thumb slipped between your parted lips. Instinctively, you closed your mouth around him, drooling and moaning around his thumb when he hit the sweet spot inside you over and over. Your pussy clenched around his cock and you tried to whimper his name. You felt another word bubble in your throat but you closed your lips around his digit to push it away. Your eyes fluttered shut at the intensity. 

“Cum for me, lil bunny” his words made you tumble over the edge, your cunt squeezing and gushing around his cock, your back arching off the hood of his car. His fingers squeezed around your neck, holding your face in place so he could get a good look at your eyes rolling back into your head. 

It was like a blackout, your ears rang so loud and your lips loosened around his thumb, going slack as you rode out your high. You felt him throb inside you at the sight. You felt the ache deep inside you, all the pleasure bursting in a single climactic second. Your lips fell slack around his fingers, whole body twitching at the sensation. 

Your climax set him off, and it wasn't long before he was burying himself inside your hot heat. His cock pulsed against your wet walls, painting your insides with his spend. He groaned and squeezed around your neck just a little harder. You sucked his thumb gently and heard him curse under his breath. You tried to keep your fluttering eyes on his face, watching intently as the aftershocks subsided and Javier's brows knit closer with his final few thrusts. 

After a few moments he stilled inside you, taking a moment to catch his breath. He pulled his thumb from your warm mouth to brush your bottom lip, then let his own lips take their place. You felt him pull out and you winced at the burn. He put both your legs up on his shoulders and leaned between your legs. 

You watched as his head disappeared between your legs to place a kiss to your inner thigh, and pull your panties back up your hips. You reached for him and he pulled you up to his chest. “Gotta clean up a lil bit, bunny..” he fixed your dress and lifted you off the hood and into his arms. “Ain’t nothing to worry about.” You already knew your painties were ruined for good with a red stain by that point. 

You rested your forearms on his shoulders, quite liking being held in his arms. “Knew you were always to much of a fucking perv to be a good cop.” He smacked your ass again for good measure and placed you on the ground. “You aint’ too much of a slut to fuck your stepdaddy aint it?” 

He stepped aside and you watched him do up his belt again, walking towards the driver's side of the car. You looked behind you and towards the expanse of the woods. The trees rustled, and you heard, presumably, the same owl hoot from the distance. A small crackle in the foliage had you swiftly walking to the passenger side and yanking open the door. You hopped inside and slammed it behind you. 

Javier was reaching in the glove box to stash away his gun. “Please” You swallowed, looking towards him. “Please just don’t tell her. She's going to have a freak out.”

Javi glanced at you momentarily, then murmured a dismissive “yeah yeah” as he started up the engine. That wasn't good enough for you. “Please, she’ll give me hell, I can’t deal with it.” You shook your head, then shifted in your seat. He muttered another “yeah”, checking his pockets for the keys to your front door. God forbid they slipped out while he was fucking your brains out. 

You turned towards him in your seat, both hands on the centre console. “Please.” Javier grabbed the keys, hooked them to his belt loop and dropped his head in a sigh. He turned towards you, taking a moment to reach over and buckle you into your seat. 

“‘Ain’t gonna tell, so stop askin’ before I change my mind.” He knew he didn’t need to ask you to keep your mouth shut– perhaps the most humiliating part of this all. 

“Okay.. yeah..”  The headlights flashed as you began your journey back home, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. You sank back, twisting in Javi’s direction, now curled up in the seat. His eyes remained on the road ahead. “Don’t do this shit again.” 

“Just wanted some adventure.” your voice grew thick, and you yawned. “Next time ya want adventure watch a fuckin’ hitchcock film or something.” He reached out a hand to cup your cheek, engulfed it and patted it gently. 

”Ain't always gonna be there to save your ass, bunny.” 

— 

PART II

In between

What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine

Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind

If I fear I'm losing you. it's just no good

You teasing like you do

Eeek! Hope you enjoyed!! I’m very excited for this series, and I hope you are too! Please let me know what you think! Thank you to everyone who interacts with my work! Your comments and reblogs keep me writing 💗🐝

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (15/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, panic attack, anxiety, mafia stuff, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She left.

Although he promised himself it would never happen, she was gone.

He spent the first half hour after he woke up in a state of complete hysteria, sitting on the sofa with his face hidden in his hands, crying, crying and crying, unable to calm down.

He was sure she would forgive him this time too.

That she would understand.

However, some part of him knew that the life he was forcing her into must have been unbearable: he himself would not have been able to wait for her every night, not knowing if she was safe, if she would return, if she was alive.

He would have gone mad in her place.

So all that was left to him was weeping and despair, in which he sank completely. Then came a wave of denial: the thought that she would never have done this to him, that perhaps she had only gone out to the shop and would return soon, that he was worried for no reason.

After a few hours, he began to panic.

What if she had done something to herself?

What if she jumped off some bridge, slit her veins again, what if her dead body was found in the woods?

Hundreds of terrifying scenarios whirled through his head so, in an act of desperation, he took his phone out of his pocket and called her, just wanting to hear that she was alive, that she had simply returned to Daemon's house and he didn't need to fear for her life.

She didn't answer, however, causing him to wail like an animal, once again falling into hysteria.

After all, she wouldn't just leave, it wasn't her way.

She would leave a letter, any word of explanation, so that he wouldn't worry and would know what to do next.

He searched the whole flat, looking into all its various nooks and crannies, but was disappointed to find nothing.

Instead, he noticed that her shoes, backpack and charger were gone.

Some part of him wanted to call Rhaenyra, to ask if she was home, but what if she wasn't?

What if they just all panicked thinking something had happened to her because of him?

Where else could she go?

And then it dawned on him.

His hand went quickly to the pocket of his trousers and he exaled heavily, closing his eyes in relief at the thought that the keys to the house by the sea were not in it.

Of course that's where she ran away, he thought tenderly.

Where it had all started.

She needed solitude, peace and quiet.

But was she safe, had she not done anything to herself?

He decided he had to write to her.

He walked around the flat all day with his phone in his hand, constantly checking to see if she had written him back, but she hadn't. He fought with himself like an animal, at the same time wanting to respect that she wanted to think things through without him and fearing that she was there alone and terrified, not knowing what to do.

One second he was deciding that he would drive to her, and the next he was recognising that he couldn't, that she had to reach out to him on her own.

He promised her that he would let her go.

At night he could not sleep, lying on the bed with Vhagar, feeling anxious and afraid, so he spent long hours thinking about what would change their situation.

How could he at the same time give her more room to act and decide, while not endangering her? How could he bring her into this disgusting world and avoid her becoming a simple target?

And then he remembered her father.

Of what he wanted to do.

He stood up quickly, opening the cupboard in which he kept the documents, and began to look through them one by one, feeling his heart pounding like mad with excitement. After a while, he found what he wanted: the title deeds to the premises that had originally belonged to Harwin Strong.

He looked through each one and ran his hand over his face, analysing everything: he'd had a problem with them from the start because the staff who had stayed there were very reluctant to deal drugs: until recently this had frustrated him and he'd contemplated using force on them, but now he decided it was a perfect fit.

They were clean.

He could pass it on to her.

Her collateral, her key to his world, the means by which she could be his partner – ownership would make her a player on the chessboard protected on two sides – by him and Daemon – so no one would dare take away what he had given her.

He knew that, although her stepfather was furious with them, he would never attack her of his own accord – moreover, this decision of his could alleviate the entire conflict between them.

In the morning, he was pacing around his flat, feeling the need to drive to her, to reveal to her that he had a solution for them, something that would make her feel more independent, that would allow her to accompany him to his various meetings, being an equal member of them and not just his chick.

She still gave no sign of life, however, and he began to fear more and more that this meant the worst.

That it was too late.

She hadn't written back.

He decided in an act of desperation that he couldn't wait any longer and had to see her, so he drove to where he hoped never to appear again, which was his family home.

His mother made big eyes at the sight of him.

"– Aemond – I am so happy –"

"I need the keys to the house by the sea. I know there is a spare pair in the house. I lost mine." He said indifferently, pretending that he felt no pain at the sight of her sad eyes, that he did not suffer at the thought that he had been a disappointment to her.

That he had abandoned her.

He didn't want that, but he couldn't go back.

Alicent nodded as if his words broke her and disappeared behind the door, returning a moment later with a bunch of keys which she handed to him, looking at him expectantly.

"Are you happy with her?" She asked.

He looked at her for a moment, feeling that if he opened his mouth he would cry.

So he kept silent.

Yes, he thought.

Only with her.

He nodded his head.

His mother smiled, as if relieved, which made him want to sob even more.

I have failed her and perhaps it is too late.

I have not been able to protect her.

I thought it would be easier.

"I'm glad. Give her my warm regards."

Driving his car to the sea, all he could think about was that he would surely find her body in a bathtub filled with water and her blood, pale and cold.

That she had escaped her suffering in the only way she could, by returning to the only place where she felt safe and happy.

To that summer.

By the time he arrived, night was all around him, the thunder of the storm and the sound of the rain making him anxious – he swallowed hard, seeing that no light was on in any of the windows.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, his steps heavy and slow.

He thought he wasn't ready for this.

He wasn't ready to lose her one last time, forever.

He quietly put the key in the lock and turned it – the door opened in front of him, and when he closed it behind him he was relieved to find that he couldn't smell the rottenness.

There was hope in his heart that perhaps she was alive.

Perhaps she longed to be alone, nothing more.

He moved slowly upstairs, looking first into the bathroom and breathed a loud sigh to see that it was empty – he then moved to her room, but there too everything looked untouched.

He thought, moved, that she was in his room.

Where she felt safe.

He had the feeling that his mind stopped functioning when his hand reached for the door handle and pressed it – when it opened in front of him with a quiet creak, his heart stopped, and he noticed that, indeed, the sheets on his bed were scattered in disarray.

She was here, he thought in disbelief.

But where was she now?

And then he heard it.

A quiet rustling.

God, she was under the bed.

He moved slowly towards her, feeling that his whole body was quivering, seeing himself, then, eight years ago, as if their story had come full circle.

As if everything was heading to this moment.

He knelt down and leaned in, meeting the terrified, sad gaze of her big eyes under the bedframe, her lips clenched into a thin line of fear, her face red with tears.

His heart broke.

"– Rhaenys – oh, baby –" He muttered in a cracking voice, reaching out his hand to her, and she immediately crawled towards him, falling right into the embrace of his longing arms.

He closed his eyes, cuddling her into himself as if he wanted her to melt into one with him, pressing his face against her fragrant hair, her soft, warm, familiar flesh, feeling her whole body tremble, whooping from crying.

"– I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I didn’t know what to do –" She wailed in despair, barely getting any words out, her small hands clenched helplessly on his leather jacket.

He shushed her, stroking her hair and her back, feeling relief, feeling peace, feeling warmth because she was with him, because she was alive, because she hadn't run away, only was lost just like him.

He understood her, understood what she needed and how scared she was.

"– no – it’s okay – I found you, little one – you’re safe now –" He whispered and smiled under his breath when she nodded.

She didn't push him away, she wasn't angry that he had found her, that he had come – on the contrary, he knew that she was actually waiting for him, that she needed him, and he was there for her, for his sweet little girl.

He rose with her, holding her in his arms, and lay down in bed with her, exactly as he had done then, that night. Pulling off his jacket and shoes, he looked at her with a tenderness and gentleness of which he had not suspected himself, her rosy, pretty face, her glistening lips parted in a deep breath.

He leaned down, laying back beside her, and touched her cheek uncertainly, not wanting to frighten her, to make her think he would try to close her mouth with sex and intimacy as usual, making her feel safe only to leave her again the next morning.

No.

This time he had a plan.

For the first time in his life, he felt he knew what to do.

She'd barely sighed when his lips, moist and swollen with longing, pressed against hers in a sweet, lazy kiss – they caressed each other with the quiet clicks of their saliva, sinking again and again into each other's bodies, a shiver running down his spine as her soft hand ran through his hair and down his neck.

God, how he loved her, he thought, feeling his heart flutter in his chest with joy.

"– I love you –" She whispered into his mouth, and he sighed, feeling his cock swell all over and pulse at her words in his trousers, because he craved just that, just those words, the reassurance that, like him, she would never be able to give up what they had. "– that's all I know –"

He wasn't sure they'd ever had such slow, tender, sweet, vulnerable sex together – it seemed to him that her body was melting under his fingers, her plump lips parted sweetly against his slick tongue, their arms holding them close, their foreheads pressed together.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

When he felt her again, when he broke deep into her soft, warm, moist flesh again, nothing but helpless, boyish moans and grunts left his throat – her closeness, the sensation of her fleshy walls enveloping his erection thrusting into her greedily again and again was something craved, beloved, meant only for him.

For the first time, he didn't think about what his lover thought of him.

Did she think he had done a good job?

Did he look good in this position?

Were his noises manly?

Did he last long enough?

Did she perceive him as strong?

He simply made love to her, and she, her hands, her mouth, her cunt, her wonderful, sweet body gave herself completely to him, allowing him to fill her with his release with a sigh of relief.

"I know how to fix this, baby. Do you trust me?" He asked her quietly when it was all over, when their bodies lay entwined together in a tender embrace, his hand stroking her head pressed against his chest, right where she belonged.

By his side, always by his side.

He heard her swallow hard, surprised, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

They were one.

For eight years they had lasted as broken halves of a whole.

But no more.

"What do you mean?" She whispered uncertainly, trailing her fingers down his back, and he swallowed hard, thinking this was the moment.

"I will give you back the premises that belonged to your father."

Silence.

She'll think it's an idiotic idea.

That it didn't make sense.

She will walk away.

"What?"

"Before Larys took over their entire family business, your father had three establishments: Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle’s Nest Hotel. He got to the point, wanting to get as far away from drug smuggling as possible, that the people working there were reluctant to go back to their old ways. Larys forced them to do so, but most of the best workers fled to my grandfather or Daemon. I didn’t know for a long time what to do with these places, but now I think I should just pass them on to you. That will make you able to take part in some of our conversations as an associate, like Baratheon does, for example. I will assign you some of my men to protect you. Some of them are tired and want peace and quiet for themselves and their families. Your presence, the fact that you are with me and at the same time you are Daemon’s daughter gives us the assurance that you will not be attacked from any side."

He mumbled out, feeling like he'd lost his breath in his lungs, throwing out everything he'd been thinking about while she wasn't by his side.

He felt her whole body freeze.

She was in shock.

"What about Jace? Luke? He was their father too." She mumbled, and he snorted, smiling involuntarily.

They had no say in the matter.

There was nothing they could do.

"I don't give a shit about them."

She swallowed hard and lifted her head to look at him – he sighed seeing that her gaze was both terrified and warm at the same time, full of the affection he craved so much.

"I won't have to store your drugs or sell them?" She muttered, and he shook his head quickly.

God, she was really considering it.

"No. You'll just be giving us cover for our meetings from time to time. Nothing illegal that would burden you." He mumbled in a trembling voice, a pleading look asking her to trust him this one last time, to let him fix everything, set it on the right track.

"You'll really do it?" She asked, and he involuntarily licked his lower lip, nodding.

"Yes. Yes, if you come home with me. We'll go to the notary tomorrow, make it official." He said in excitement, feeling his heart pounding like crazy in his chest in euphoria.

She lowered her gaze, sighing heavily, for some reason sad again.

"After all, none of them will want to listen to me. They won't respect me. I'm just a little girl, what do I know about their tough world?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders, and he shook his head.

"I'll help you. Just like you helped me with my studies. I will teach you everything. They'll respect you, first for the sake of me and your two fathers, and then for the sake of you when they realise you'll protect them and not drag them into this shit." He said with a certainty that amazed him, her eyes glazed over with tears.

She wanted to believe him, he knew that.

She wanted it to work.

She wanted to be with him.

"Shall we try?" He mumbled, waiting for her reaction like a sentence.

And she nodded her head.

She nodded her head.

She snuggled into him and he closed his eyes, feeling the tears of relief burning under his eyelids, thinking that he loved her harder than he ever had in his life.

She had always, always been on his side.

"I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

And she believed him.

They spent the night sleeping in an embrace so tight that he smiled with amusement – as soon as he turned on the bed, tired of one position her small body immediately followed him, her fingers clenching on his back, demanding his tender, safe hold in which he closed her happily again and again.

She slept with her face snuggled into his chest and neck, her legs entwined with his, their hands holding them close.

They were home.

They were home because they were together.

After they woke up, writhing in each other's embrace for a long time, they showered together.

"– ah – mghmm –" She mumbled, her face pressed against the wall, leaning forward, her hips bucked towards him while he opened her up again and again on his erection, swollen from the morning, begging for hours to be fulfilled.

"– what a sight –" He exhaled, looking at her throbbing slit from which his semen was leaking, lazily rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her sweet, warm flesh.

One of his hands gripped her waist to keep her from falling over, while the other rested on the tiles above her head for balance, the pleasantly warm water washing over their bodies like rain.

Like God forgiving them of all their sins.

"– I love you –" He whispered as if it was the most perverted, ungodly thing he could say to her right now, listening to the loud, quick slaps of their naked, wet bodies against each other, feeling her fleshy cunt squeeze his hard length tighter, sucking it inside her with his throaty groan.

"– I love you too –" She mewled, moaning louder and louder, aroused by how shamelessly exposed she was to him, that he was watching what he was doing to her, that he was bursting into her body, and she couldn't help it.

She was his.

"– f-fuck – mmm –" He sighed as his peak came down on him like an epiphany and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he felt her plump walls begin to clench around his manhood in her sweet fulfilment.

He looked at her again, wanting to see it, his fat, throbbing cock deep inside her as he filled her with his seed.

She was so innocent.

"– what I'm doing to you is so wonderfully wrong – I could fuck you all day long –" He exhaled, panting heavily along with her, stroking affectionately her chubby, smooth buttocks. She moaned at his words, closing her eyes as if she felt his words in every nook and cranny of her body, her hot core clamped tight around his half-soft manhood.

"– yes –" She mumbled, reaching her hand towards his, as if she wanted him to understand that he could embody his desire into reality.

He smiled tenderly at the sight, at her reaction, sliding out of her gently with her sigh of relief and watched as a trickle of his spend dripped down her thigh.

"– uncle and niece, huh –" He hummed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her upwards, her wet back and buttocks slapping against his body, his lips sinking into her moist, soft neck. She just murmured, embracing his arms, tilting her head back, relaxed and at ease.

She looked up at him at last, her gaze clouded with hot affection, her lips parted sweetly in a deep breath.

"– Hades and Persephone –"

As promised, straight from there they drove to the notary – he didn't want her to think that he was deceiving her again, and that the change in their lives would happen at some unknown time – it was to happen here and now, immediately, and she was to feel that he was telling the truth.

He went to the man who handled the documentation of all the premises that belonged to him – Ned Tully was an elderly man who liked to walk around in big jumpers and tracksuits, however, his gigantic office could tell that he was certainly not a poor man.

He just didn't give a shit about anything and wasn't afraid of the police, which was exactly what he needed.

His Rhaenys followed him inside, glancing at him uncertainly with her big, bright eyes, and he stroked her back with his palm.

"Come." He hummed, pointing to one of the armchairs facing the large oak desk behind which Tully sat, who slid a packet of cigarettes towards him.

He took one out and put it in his mouth, and Tully leaned over and lit it with his lighter.

"What brings you here, boy?" He asked lowly.

He'd always addressed him this way, but it didn't bother him – he didn't do it with a sneer and he was extremely professional, even though he didn't look like it.

He took a drag and let the smoke out through his nose, spreading himself out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to transfer my three properties, three businesses to another person. To my niece." He said calmly – Tully's gaze fled sideways to her small, tense figure.

"Daemon's daughter. Well, well. The world is small. Are you sure you want to do this? Once you sign the papers, it will be too late." He said, and he nodded.

"What properties are involved?" He asked, and he took another drag, tilting his head back, releasing the smoke with his mouth towards the ceiling.

"Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle's Nest Hotel." He recited from memory, feeling a strange calm, a conviction that he had done the right thing.

The notary prepared a set of documents and, after making sure he hadn't changed his mind, he and his niece signed a piece of paper after a piece of paper and then locked everything up in a folder.

"I will take care of the tax issue myself. Calculate for me how much I will have to pay." He said to him, and Tully nodded.

"What?" She muttered, looking at him horrified, his hand closed on hers.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Hm? It's okay." He whispered, her eyes glazed with tears, her lower lip trembling.

He tried to restrain himself, and he knew she did too, but they had to stop in the woods to find an outlet for their emotions locked in the car, her body warm and willing, welcoming him easily inside, her arms cuddling him between her bare breasts.

He sighed heavily as he came inside her at last, tracing his fingers over her chest and murmured contentedly.

"They're getting bigger. Fuller. From caressing them for sure." He hummed, amused, placing a sweet, lingering kiss on her breast only to clamp his lips on her nipple again a moment later.

He heard her swallow quietly, her hand running through his hair.

"Let's go home." She whispered.

Vhagar was euphoric at the sight of her – she squealed and barked at the same time, running around her and jumping on her, distraught that she was suddenly gone.

The truth was that his dog had become accustomed to not being alone even when he was out and she didn't like the fact that it had changed.

"– there, there – I missed you too –" She laughed, kneeling on the floor, embracing her thick, furry neck, letting her big tongue lick all over her face.

As they ate the pizza they'd quickly ordered, they leaned over the binders full of documents, which they began to look through together.

"You've got the entire history of each establishment here. The owners, the employees, their contracts, invoices for goods, electricity and gas bills." He explained, flipping through page after page. "And the income and tally each month by the accountant. Each of these places earns more than it spends. I've hired marketing people and refurbished some rooms in Eagle's Nest that needed it most."

"That's a lot." She muttered, clearly overwhelmed by the amount of information she had to absorb.

"Don't be afraid. For the first few months, you will simply deal with it with me. You'll be involved in talking to staff and accountants. I will introduce you, I won't throw you in at the deep end. If something goes wrong, I will be beside you to help you fix it." He said, clasping his fingers in her hand, and she nodded, looking at him hopefully.

"Thank you, Aemond. I mean it." She whispered, and he swallowed hard, wondering if he had ever heard that from anyone.

Thank you.

Neither his father nor Otto had ever thanked him.

Not really.

They felt that what he was doing was due to them, that they were doing him a favour by allowing him to earn crores without, in their view, much effort.

They had come to all this through their hard work, not him.

He stroked her soft cheek and kissed her forehead with a quiet click, feeling a pleasant warmth in his heart.

She always knew how to appreciate him.

To say what he longed to hear.

To give him what he needed.

Over the next few days, they mainly went through the documents he kept at home, as well as at each of these places. His staff looked at them in surprise, as he rarely came in his own person, however, he did not want to say what had happened for the time being so as not to cause panic.

He knew that some of them would be unhappy with the change thinking that he had placed her in such a high position despite the fact that she could do nothing, because she was his whore.

Because he had fulfilled her whim.

He had to make them respect her, make them want to listen to her.

They didn't even know she was what they needed.

"Let's go to the supermarket. We don't have anything left to eat." He said and she nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You do the shopping, I have to go to the pharmacy." She replied lightly, turning her head away. He looked at her, surprised, then back at the road.

"Are you feeling unwell?" He asked, and she swallowed hard.

"No, but… I've been quite stressed lately. With how much I still have to learn. I'm thinking of getting some herbs to drink, some melissa or something." She muttered, and he nodded with understanding, placing his hand on her knee.

"Okay, baby."

As they agreed, he did the shopping, planning to make tomato soup, remembering how he loved it when he was a small child, and met her at the car.

"Did you buy everything you wanted?" He asked, putting the shopping bags in the boot, and she nodded and smiled, something in her gaze that he didn't like.

She was tense.

He knew that she was apprehensive about meeting the staff for the first time – she had insisted that he let her do it alone, but he was afraid that those people would then surround her and bite her, and she would feel even worse.

On the other hand, he knew that they would be calm in his presence and not object, but perhaps they would hate her behind her back.

He didn't want that.

He was not sure if he should start the subject, so he finally gave up and just got into the car and she did the same.

He tried to get out of her what she had bought, but all she said was that it was tea and that she would brew it for herself when they got back.

He didn't know why, but he felt anxious.

When they got home, as soon as she pulled off her shoes she locked herself in the toilet.

With her rucksack.

Perhaps she was suddenly surprised by her period?

He decided that this was certainly the case and took the shopping bags into the kitchen, unpacking them one by one, listening for any strange sounds.

He put the water on for the soup and prepared everything to cook it, glancing constantly at the door in the corridor behind which the light was on.

"Are you all right? Do you have a stomach ache?" He called out, feeling his heart hit harder in his chest.

"I'm fine." She muttered in a cracking voice making him put the glass bottle of tomato puree down on the table and walk in that direction.

"Rhaenys? What's going on? You're acting strange, I don't like it." He said, but was answered by silence.

Fuck.

He slammed his fist against the door, feeling adrenaline and fear bubbling through his veins, the sight of her in a tub full of blood making it difficult for him to catch his breath.

"Rhaenys, if you don't open it, I'm going to break down the fucking door." He growled and swallowed hard when the door opened suddenly and he saw her face red with emotion.

What was that all about?

He wanted to ask about it, but she held out her hand towards him with a small, bright, long object with what looked like a small glass window with pink stripes.

"– what is it? –" He mumbled, wrinkling his eyebrows in concern, taking it from her, watching it between his fingers trembling with nerves.

"– it's a pregnancy test –"

He looked at her, feeling his heart stop suddenly – she was smiling, her gaze warm, full of everything he wanted so much.

"– no way –" He said and she laughed, so lightly and sweetly that he just grabbed her in his arms and lifted her high, smiling like a moron, feeling tears under his eyelids for some reason.

"– baby – oh my fucking God – show me this little belly –" He muttered, lifting her Tshirt higher, leaning down to place a few lingering, loud, sticky kisses on her bare skin.

As he set her down on the ground he burst out crying, for neither his body nor his mind could deal with what he felt otherwise: the girl he loved was pregnant, and she was happy about it despite the fucked-up situation they were in, wanting to create something with him that he had always dreamed of so much.

His own family.

She hugged him, letting him bury his face in her neck, whooping his tears while smiling broadly, his hands clenched on the back of her Tshirt.

"– I'm so happy – God, baby, this is wonderful, wonderful news –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, returning to crying, feeling that he was unable to control what was happening to his body.

"Will you come with me to the gynaecologist?" She asked softly, stroking his back, and he nodded quickly, excited, looking at her with big eyes.

"Yes, of course. Now?" He asked, ready to drive her anywhere and do whatever she needed, his hand involuntarily sliding down to her lower abdomen, stroking it as if she was hiding a treasure inside.

Her fingers stroked his palm as she laughed.

"No. No one will take us in today anyway. But tomorrow, yes." She said with a smile, bubbling with energy, joy and contentment, the look in her eyes warm and bright.

"Okay. Okay." He said, and she squealed as he picked her up again, this time walking with her towards the kitchenette, wanting to finish dinner.

If up until now he thought he was crazy about her and about her being close, he would now describe it as an obsession.

She had to be close because he had to touch her, embrace her, feel her, kiss her – in the evening, once they were in bed, he didn't know what to do – he wanted to fall asleep at the same time with his face snuggled between her breasts, in his favourite place in the world, only to change his mind a moment later, pull the duvet off her and place his cheek on her stomach, stroking her lower abdomen with his palm.

"Mmm." He heard her hum in her sleep, in a natural, affectionate gesture combing her fingers through his short hair, he, however, was in too much euphoria.

I love you, he thought, looking down at her belly, running his fingertips over her bare skin.

I love you and your mum.

He fell asleep in the morning only to be woken by her alarm clock three hours later – he had forced her to make an appointment as soon as possible, so they were due to turn up at the doctor's surgery at seven in the morning. His niece was semi-conscious, asleep in his car, he, however, felt fresh and rested, keeping his hand clasped over hers.

He realised that he was happy.

Truly happy.

He was ashamed to be sitting next to her, lying on the couch, watching as a man in a white lab coat sat beside her in a chair in front of a small screen, wandering a special ultrasound machine over her abdomen, covered in some sticky green gel, and he felt tears under his eyelids, his knee popping all over in a nervous reflex.

"It's true, miss, you are pregnant. You can see it, right here." He said, pointing his finger at a small bright dot on the screen the size of a needle head, and he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying full of relief.

He wanted this so badly.

"Do you want to leave and calm down?" The doctor asked him, and he shook his head.

"I'll print you pictures."

A little dot.

A little dot that was going to be a little man in nine months.

He thought about this as he lay in bed, looking at the few pictures the doctor had printed for them. His niece lay next to him, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in his arm, resting after having to wake up early.

Will it be a boy or a girl?

It doesn't matter, he will love each one equally.

The baby's room, toys, cot, pram, sleepwear will have to be organised.

So many things to do and so little time.

Nine months.

He put the photo aside and slid his free hand down to her belly, stroking it softly, her murmur of contentment made him lean over and kiss the top of her head.

"– shhh – sleep –"

When she woke up he suggested they take a walk with Vhagar and she eagerly agreed.

The fresh air would certainly do both her and their baby good, he thought.

They were both bubbling with energy and optimism.

"I want to tell my mother about this." She said as they walked through the park, and he threw her a quick, horrified look.

"I don't know if it's a good idea. What if they report us? What we did is illegal." He mumbled.

He was slowly beginning to forget that their relationship was incestuous.

He wondered if, if he confirmed his paternity at the Registry Office so that his child could bear his name, someone would realise that something was wrong.

She glanced at him in disbelief, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"It will be her grandchild. She won't, she certainly won't. She's angry with us, but… I can't imagine we'll hide it from everyone. After all, it will start to show eventually." She said, and he swallowed hard, realising that she was right.

Either way, it would eventually come out.

They decided to kill two birds with one stone – he called his mother and she called hers and they both arranged to meet at the same place and time – in one of the cafés not far from their flat.

Sitting at one of the tables by the window, they held hands – her gaze, despite his horror and feeling that it was a mistake, told him that they had done the right thing.

His lamp in the dark room.

Thanks to her, he knew where to go and why.

Alicent and Rhaenyra bumped into each other in the entrance – their gazes expressed shock, discomfort and confusion. Alicent spotted them sitting in the distance, and Rhaenyra followed her gaze and pressed her lips together, lowering her head.

That was it.

They both finally walked over to the table and sat down next to each other reluctantly, trying not to look at each other.

"Can you tell me what this is supposed to mean?" Her mother asked her, and his niece twisted restlessly in her chair.

He lowered his gaze, feeling ashamed but proud at the same time, his fingers tightened on hers.

We are going to have a baby.

"I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandmothers. It's already decided." She said in a trembling voice, leaving them with no illusions about her decision.

Rhaenyra and Alicent drew in a loud breath and averted their gazes. Rhaenyra pressed her lips together and shook her head with tears in her eyes, while Alicent hid her face in her hands, drawing in air loudly.

There was a long, awkward silence.

He looked at his niece in pain, seeing the tears running down her cheeks, and stroked the delicate skin of her wrist with his thumb – he knew that she felt what he felt, that she was simultaneously afraid and ashamed of what they had done, on the other hand unable to imagine that they could have done otherwise.

"And now what? Hm?" Rhaenyra asked in a breaking voice, impatient and desperate.

"We will raise our child and have a wedding. A church wedding. I'm working on it."

"What?" Alicent mumbled, as if she had just woken up from some terrible dream, looking at everyone around her as if she thought she had overheard herself.

"A dispensation and appropriate payment is required for this, but I will sort it out. Everything will be as it should be." He said, looking at his mother, her brown eyes big and red from tears, her lips parted in disbelief.

"What do you want to hear? Congratulations?" Rhaenyra asked, shaking her head.

"I want my child to be able to count on her two grandmothers as well as the rest of our family, but I do not expect it. I thought you deserved to hear it from us." Said his Rhaenys, trying to calm herself.

Rhaenyra burst into sobs, as if something inside her had finally snapped, burying his face in her hand – he saw his mother tighten her fingers on her hand lying on the table, and his half-sister did not push her away.

He pressed his lips together, refusing to let his own tears run down his cheeks, hearing only sighs and sobs, a sense of shame and grief rising in the air, suffocating them all.

Finally, his mother wiped her nose and took a breath, closing her eyes.

"Since there is no turning back and you have made your decision, there is nothing more we can do. This child, if born, will not be guilty of anything and deserves our love and yours. I would not forgive myself if I were not present in my own grandchild's life because of my beliefs." She said, and he lowered his gaze and nodded, feeling like a little boy again.

Rhaenyra took her hand from her grasp and sighed, sitting for a moment with her eyes closed, as if thinking about something.

"I have heard…I have heard that you have passed on to my daughter the premises that previously belonged to Harwin." She said, finally looking up at him with her bright, piercing eyes.

"I did."

Rhaenyra stared at him, pain, grief, sadness and hundreds of other emotions in her gaze that must have just ripped her heart apart.

"Do you love my daughter?" She asked with emphasis on each word, as if she wanted him to understand exactly what the purpose of her question was.

He swallowed hard, looking at her with a blank stare.

"I've loved her for as long as I can remember. Since that holidays at the seaside. It didn't hurt me then that you ran off with Luke. I didn't give a shit about any of you. What hurt me was that you took her with you." He whispered in breaking voice, feeling a single, lonely, heavy tear run down his face.

Him crying that night in hospital, after the operation, when his mother told him that his niece had returned home.

They hadn't even said goodbye to each other.

Rhaenyra's lips pressed together in a thin line, her eyes glazed over, her brow arching in an expression of distress at the memory of those events.

"Will you take care of her? And my grandchild?" She asked, and he felt his throat squeeze so tightly that he had trouble catching his breath.

"Yes."

She nodded, as if accepting something, all around them the conversations of others, the waiters walking by, the smell of coffee, tea and cakes. Rhaenyra looked at him finally and forced herself to smile, in which, however, he saw a hint of sincerity.

Some kind of relief, a conviction that things would be what they were meant to be.

"Make her happy."

[pupkashi]

gojo satoru masterlist !

* fluff ^ angst

— all for my angel boy <3

main masterlist

* boyfriend!gojo hcs

* rainy evenings

in which gojo gets himself caught in the rain

* christmas cuddles

gojo finds his place in the universe

* arcades

arcades are scams, he knows, but dammit gojo will win you that prize

* flowers

gojo is a self-certified flower enthusiast

* periods

gojo is an angel on earth when you get your period

* sugar rush ride

gojo loves sugar, and you’re too sweet to resist

* priorities

gojo has his priorities straight: you’ll always be the most important

* rough day

gojo will always cheer you up after a rough day

* mornings

satoru loves mornings with you

* egg hunting

gojo’s never been easter egg hunting, you decide it’s time for the famous bunny to pay him a visit

* sunday love

sundays with gojo are slow and sweet

* grocery shopping headcanons

*^ jealousy, jealousy

the worst part of dating gojo? how often he gets hit on

* movie night

satoru gojo has developed a new weakness: romcoms

* migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

* picnics

in which mother nature decides picnics are no good without a little rain

* after like

you and satoru say the L word

* my you

gojo learns he loves stargazing

* titles

in which gojo realizes you truly see him

* going to an observatory

* costume parties

* a scenic drive with him

* time

gojo will always make sure you’re taken care of

*^ hugs

“can i hug you? you look like you could do with it”

* sweet nothing

gojo always finds himself running home to you

* clean linen

gojo’s second favorite smell is your laundry detergent

* untitled

the last person you expect to patch you up is gojo satoru, so why are you knocking on his door?

* azul

when you think of love, you think of the color blue

* oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

* pretty boy

gojo has to let you know how much you mean to him

* sick

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

* scrapbooks

satoru isn’t a sentimental person, until he is

*^ nightmares

satoru has nightmares, but also long as you’re by his side he knows he’ll be okay

* easy

loving is easy when it’s gojo satoru

*^ scars

gojo learns to love the scars on his body

*^ arguments

arguments are never nice, but at least they help you grow

* birthmarks

even in his past lives, satoru was always loved

* pizza time!

or the one time satoru tries to make pizza from scratch and is effectively banned from ever trying again

* mistletoe-go

satoru comes up with a new Christmas tradition

* new year, new superstition

whoever said wearing red on new years brought love was onto something

* kisses

satoru always makes sure your lips are well kissed

* volví a nacer

gojo feels life start anew now that you’re by his side

* f1 racer!satoru hc’s

* to love is to linger

* cereal, soup and other deep questions

* “what do you think you’d be doing if we never met?”

* “you’re bleeding!” “I was trying to cut the tomatoes!”

* “i have a meeting in an hour! get out of the bathroom!”

* “you’re my everything”

* "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

* going to the fair hcs

* collegebf!satoru

* study buddy!satoru

* birthday special <3

* satoru loves yapping [to you]

* drabble #1

* drabble #2

* drabble #3

* drabble #4

* drabble #5

* drabble #6

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* drabble #41

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* drabble #44

[zepskies]

Take Me Home - Part 7

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: For everyone who has Easter plans tomorrow (Happy Easter!), I decided to release this part a bit early. And yes, we’re at that part of the season 3 plotline…

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Major angst, survival situations, violence, hurt/comfort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 7: On the Edge of a Knife

Beau returned home that night with a large pizza for Carla and Emily. He’d already eaten with you an hour ago, but true to his legendary appetite, he still found room for a slice of pepperoni. They got comfortable around the fire out in front of his trailer.

“What held you up?” Carla asked.

Beau sighed and first wiped a bit of sauce from his face with a napkin. He admitted there was an altercation between you and your ex-boyfriend, Michael Hadley. Beau happened to be there in time to settle things down and help patch you up after you fell through a glass coffee table.

“Oh my God. Is she okay?” Emily asked. Beau noted her concern with a smile.

“She’s fine. Some minor cuts and bruises,” he said. “But I had to encourage the guy to leave town. If he’s got any sense, he’ll get gone.”

Emily looked relieved at that. Then she eyed him with a suspicious smile.

“And you just happened to be in the neighborhood?” she asked slyly, voicing the thought that Carla hadn’t wanted to.

Both women watched him closely, but Carla knew the tell-tale signs of Beau covering his embarrassment, giving his daughter a wry look.

“All right, smart Alec. Why don’t you break out the extra sheets I got in the trailer? We’ll set up the bed and the couch.”

“If you can call that glorified bench a couch,” Emily muttered with a grin. 

“Ey!” Beau called after her, though he watched her go in amusement.

After a couple more hours of chatting and catching up, showers taken and plates washed, Emily headed for bed. The adults stayed up for a while, bundled in warm coats as they sat together by the fire.

Beau remembered what Emily told him days ago; that he hadn’t needed to be a perfect man for his wife and daughter. They’d just needed him to be a bit more honest about what he was going through, to let them in. After what happened today with you, your patience and understanding with him…he was beginning to get what she meant.

“I’m really thankful for you helping us,” Carla said. It unearthed him out of his own head.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod.

Admittedly, he was still a bit distracted. Besides how he left things with you (which still made heat crawl up the back of his neck), he still had Avery and that stolen money to worry about. Otherwise known as the reason Carla and Emily would have to cram themselves in his little trailer.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Carla prodded, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

“I just got a bad feeling about all this,” he confessed. “It’s like in Houston with Randy.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You can’t go there.”

“It’s too late,” he replied. “‘Cause it feels the same. Like something’s…something is comin’, and I’m powerless to stop it.”

“Randy’s death was not your fault,” she reminded him. Just like you had.

Beau looked over at her with a humorless quirk of his lips.

“We both know that’s not true. He was my partner and I let him down. And then…then I wasn’t there for you, or Emily. I don’t blame you for leaving me.”

Carla couldn’t help it, but a part deep inside her had been regretting that choice. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She managed to blink and keep them at bay, though she let out a shaky breath.

“Well, you’re here for us now,” she said. And yet, she could’ve predicted his next words like clockwork.

“It don’t make up for the way I checked out,” he said.

Carla licked her dry lips and swallowed down the emotion clogging her throat. She didn’t cry often. She could have an ironclad grip on her emotions when she needed to.

It was part of what made her a good lawyer. She knew Beau had sometimes gotten frustrated with that aspect of her personality in the past, because he was the opposite.

The man kept a good lid on things for his job, but at heart, he was driven by his passion, his anger, his love, and right now, his bone-deep guilt and shame.

She knew he’d been drowning in it for a year and hadn’t known how to pull him out. Every time he pushed her away, it had hurt her, hardened her, making her will to try again less and less. So she left him. 

It was the choice she made, and she knew she had to live with it. Just like marrying Avery.

Carla laid a hand on Beau’s over his knee. She made sure he looked her in the eyes when she said this.

“I forgive you. For all of that, okay?” she said. After a moment, he nodded. This time, she felt like he actually heard her.

“But I’m telling you, this thing with Avery…this isn’t over by a long shot,” he told her. “I’m not saying that to scare you. You understand that?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, even though those tears from earlier were working their way down her face. She wiped them away hastily.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you two,” Beau said, in a firm, reassuring tone.

It worked, and it didn’t. Carla nodded again. “I know.”

He sighed through his nose and squeezed her hand. His gaze shifted away, back to the bonfire dancing in front of them. His eyes stung at both the smoke, and the emotion rising in his chest. He steeled himself.

“Carla, I’ll always love you…”

She smiled slightly, brushing the remaining tears from her cheek.

“Though I sense a but coming,” she said.

When she said your name in question, Beau glanced back over at her and nodded. Carla had been his first real love, besides Daisy Harlow in the eleventh grade.

But you were unexpected. How quickly, how deeply you’d gotten under his skin was too hard to ignore. And at this point, he didn’t want to.

Meanwhile, Carla stared at her ex-husband in bemusement. She slipped her hand from his and folded hers back in her lap.

“What’s she like?” she asked. Half of her was genuinely curious. The other half would rather not hear his answer, but she supposed it was only fair. She was the one who moved on first.

Still, the flicker of Beau’s soft smile stung, just a little.

“She’s special,” he said. “Resilient, like you. And smart to boot. You know she’s a college professor?”

“Yeah, Emily told me,” Carla said. 

Beau’s smile dimmed when he noted the resignation in her voice. She gave him a knowing look. 

“I have no right to complain,” she said. “And you deserve to be happy too, Beau.”    

He considered that with a nod. He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but for your sake…he would try.

“Can you promise me something?” Carla asked. 

“Name it,” he said.

“I know Avery is in this thing deep. He lied to me and he created this mess. Even when this is over, I don’t know what’s going to happen between us. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but please, look out for him,” she implored. Beau uttered a wry chuckle and rubbed at his chin.

“He is in this deep. And he’s being stubborn about it,” he said. “I might not be able to help him walk it back, but I will try.”  

Carla released another sigh and nodded in response. She supposed that was the best she could hope for. 

A few days later, you walked up and down the grocery store aisles with a basket in one hand and your phone against your ear with the other.

“Okay, I’ve got all manners of junk food and chick-flick movie watching snacks, including Reese’s cups, ice cream, frozen pizzas, and no less than three bottles of wine,” you said. “Am I missing anything?”

“I don’t think so, hun. That sounds very comprehensive,” Denise replied.

She was at work, and you were still getting ready for the fall semester. It was only a little over a month away, which meant you were excited, and also nervous.

You had five classes on your roster. You’d also visited Carroll College yesterday to set up your office with all your books, both textbooks and your favorites in fiction and non-fiction (but mostly fiction). Much Ado About Nothing was front and center in the Shakespeare section of your shelf.

You also wanted to at least try and relax for the rest of your summer. Denise was all too willing to help. You’d always had a good relationship with your aunt, albeit distant, since you’d lived in different states.

Living so close now just made you realize how much you two had in common. It was nice to find a friend in her, not just someone who would try to mother you in your own mother’s absence. 

“Yes! Good. Then get ready to brainstorm what movies we’re gonna watch tonight, and in what order,” you said.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t already have a color-coded checklist,” Denise quipped.

You laughed. Yes, she knew you too well. “Okay, maybe I do, but you still get a vote.”

You turned a corner in the aisles and nearly ran right into Carla, who was pushing a cart. You both jolted in surprise and recognition.

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry,” you said, at the same time she said, “Sorry, I…”

You two did the polite, nervous laughter people did when put in awkward situations. You noticed all the food she had in her cart—enough to feed a family of three for the week.

“Yeah, finally getting around to doing a grocery run,” she said. “Beau’s trailer leaves much to be desired in the form of amenities, so…”

You adopted a more amused smile. “Yeah, he’s not much of a cook, is he?”

“Do frozen fish sticks count?” Carla remarked.

“Only if there’s expired tartar sauce, according to Emily,” you joked. The two of you shared a laugh that was a little more genuine. You chatted for a couple minutes more before you parted with amiable handwaving. Then you realized that your aunt was still hanging on the line.

You sighed and put your phone back up to your ear. “Hey, sorry.”

“Was that who I think it was?” Denise asked. She was probably trying to be cryptic, if Emily was in the room with her.

“Indeed, it was. Doing a nice family-sized grocery run,” you whispered back, to make sure you weren’t overheard. You brought your basket of junk to one of the checkout lines.

“When was the last time you heard from him?” Denise asked. She must’ve heard the heaviness in your voice. You both knew exactly who “him” was code for. Beau friggin’ Arlen.

“Not since we said goodbye last week,” you replied. And the memory of that kiss had been torturing you for days. It had also been the fuel of many…late nights with yourself.

Speaking of which, need some more AA batteries, you thought with a warm blush.

“Okay, forget candy. We should get cheesecake,” Denise proposed.

You smiled. “You know what, that’s a damn good idea. Definitely cheesecake.”

You hopped out of line to do just that. You knew it probably wouldn’t be as good as Chicago made, but you went over to the bakery side of the store and hunted for the most good-looking cheesecake you could find.

“Hey, if you want, stop by here later,” your aunt said. “Em is here. We’ll grab lunch, make it a real girls’ day.”

“Sure,” you agreed. You hadn’t seen Emily in a week or so either. “Where are you thinking? I’ve been wanting to try that Indian place down the street from your office.”

“Sounds good to me. Come over after you drop those groceries off at home.”

“Okay, will do. I’ll see you guys soon!” you said. 

Beau knew that he was going to be working straight through lunch. What he, Jenny, and Cassie had discovered in the past 24 hours was deeply unsettling. 

Not only was Walter Sunny Barnes’s son, but Paige was alive. She’d been found in the foyer of Sunny’s home, brandishing a knife, convinced the married couple were in it together on her kidnapping. Sunny claimed she’d had no idea her husband had taken the poor girl and kept her in a shack for days.

According to Paige’s testimony, Buck Barnes had tried to kill her. And since she was alive, it meant Walter had lied in confessing to her murder. It was also likely that he hadn’t killed Mary or Luke either.

That wasn’t even the worst of Beau’s headache.

He rubbed his face in frustration after getting off the phone with Carla. Thanks to this whole business of Avery’s stolen cryptocurrency, she was being followed. 

Fuckin’ hell, Beau thought. The next time he saw Avery, it had better be with handcuffs, or he was going to start working on his punch list for real. Instead, Beau grabbed his cell and called his daughter.

“Hey, Dad,” she answered on the third ring.

“Hey, honey. You doin’ all right? You good?” he asked. Maybe he was coming on a little strong, but worry was a living thing inside his gut.

“Yeah, totally. Just doing some research…but guess who’s coming to have lunch with us later?” she asked.

Her tone was leading him somewhere, and Beau thought he knew the destination. His lips curved with a half-smile. When he guessed your name, Emily confirmed.

“You’re welcome to join us. If, you know, you wanted to,” she teased.

Beau’s smile twisted with disbelief. Was his daughter trying to set him up? And better yet, it seemed like she liked you well enough to do it. While the thought warmed him, his smile dimmed.

“Wish I could, but uh, I got a lot of work here to do. I’m just…checking up on ya, like dads do,” he said.

As much as he wanted to see you (and he really, really did), he wasn’t lying. He needed to follow up on the man who’d trailed Carla to the drycleaners this morning. And he already had Jenny and Poppernak looking into finding Buck Barnes. He’d fled the scene after Paige and Sunny were picked up at the Barnes residence.

“Well, okay, consider me checked. We can talk later if you want,” Emily said. She sounded a bit disappointed. Beau felt guilty for that, but he’d make it up to her tonight. Maybe he’d bring home some takeout so Carla didn’t have to cook again in his tiny kitchenette.

“All right, honey. If not, I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “Just…don’t go anywhere by yourself, okay? Make sure Denise or Cassie’s with you. Matter of fact, I’ll pick you up from there today.”

“Yeah sure,” she said. Though he didn’t think she really heard the warning in his voice.

“‘Kay. Bye, Dad.”

She hung up, leaving Beau still feeling off-balanced. Until news came in from a fellow officer: while Paige had been brought to the hospital, Sunny Barnes had been brought into the station for questioning about her husband.

“Sorry I’m so late. I started cleaning my apartment and lost track of time,” you said, walking into the office of Dewell & Hoyt. Denise and Emily waved at you from their respective desks.

“That’s okay. We’ve been busy here,” Denise said. You looked at the large pinboard on the wall filled with news clippings and pieces of evidence. Bleeding Heart Killer, read many of the subject lines.

“Ech. Still working on this?” you asked.

“Unfortunately,” said Denise. She grabbed up her purse and went over to kiss your cheek in greeting. “But we might’ve gotten a huge break on it. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

“Get back? Where’re you going?” you asked.

“To get the food! I already placed the orders,” she said, patting your arm. “I’ll be right back.”

You gave her a narrowed look. “I was going to pay for it—”

“No need!” Denise sing-songed on her way out of the office. It had you smiling, shaking your head. You looked over at Emily and tossed a thumb over your shoulder.

“Careful with her. She can be devious,” you said.

Emily smiled and stood up from her desk. She went over to sit with you on the small couch near the center of the room.

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”

“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.

“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.

“Okay,” you nodded.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.

Natural light still came in from the large windows at the front. It was odd though. The weather outside, while chilly, wasn’t cold enough to create an outage. You hadn’t heard anything fizzle when the lights went out either.

“That’s weird—” Emily said.

The back door burst open with the sound of hinges breaking. Both of you gasped and stood from the couch. You slipped a hand into your purse to find your phone, and then the first contact you could think of.

You were about to press the call button when a tall man with broad shoulders stepped through. He was older, balding, and his clothes and neck were stained with blood.

Buck Barnes.

“Buck?” you gasped. “What…what’re you doing here?”

He didn’t look like the easy going, kind-hearted man you knew at the camp. Now, he looked haggard, injured, and dangerous, like a wild animal.

“Hush up,” Buck held up a silver pistol in his right hand. “And drop that phone, nice and slow.”

Your heart was in your throat, but you couldn’t just think of yourself. You subtly tried to pull Emily behind you as you set your phone down on the ground.

“You tried to kill Paige,” Emily accused of the man. It had you turning to her, your eyes going wide. When you looked over at Buck to gauge his reaction, you saw how his lips pursed.

“Sit down and shut up,” Buck ordered, gesturing with his gun at both of you. He drew closer and forced you and Emily to sit beside each other on the couch. There he grabbed a roll of duct tape from his pocket and began taping your shaking hands together.

“Why’re you doing this?” you asked Buck.

“I need some collateral if I’m gonna get the hell outta dodge,” he replied.

“Fine, but let Emily go. She’s just a kid,” you begged, as tears stung at your eyes.

Buck just continued taping you up. Thankfully not your feet, just your wrists. He moved to Emily next. 

“You don’t need her,” you tried again. “Come on, Buck. You really think Beau Arlen’s going to want to work something out with you if you take his daughter?”

“Oh, I’m bettin’ he’ll be more than willing.” Buck grabbed you and placed a strip of tape across your mouth, then on Emily’s. He hooked a large, calloused hand around your arm.

“Now get up.”

“What?!” Beau asked. His eyes widened in alarm. “Slow down, Denise. What’s going on?”

The more he listened, the more his heart plummeted into his stomach. He had to grip his work desk for balance.

It took him and Jenny under half an hour to meet up with Cassie and Denise back at Dewell & Hoyt, along with a forensics unit of officers. There was evidence of struggle in a turned over table and a broken back door lock.

Denise explained that she left you and Emily for just a few minutes while she went to grab a late lunch order. By the time she returned, the power was out, set off by the breakers, and you and Emily were missing.

Jenny found your purse on the couch, while Beau found your cell phone on the ground. He picked it up with a gloved hand. He’d seen you unlock your phone enough times to remember your passcode.

When he inputted those six numbers and unlocked the screen, he found his own name and phone number highlighted there. You’d been about to call him.

He squeezed your phone tight in his hand. He looked up and saw another officer pick up Emily’s backpack.

“No power means no surveillance footage,” Jenny said. “Okay, let’s think. Why take her and Emily?”

“It’s gotta do with Avery and the money he stole,” Beau said, grinding his teeth. “I needa find him.”

“Any idea where he might be held up?” Jenny asked.

“Carla will know,” he replied.

“Do you want me to go with you?” Jenny was quick to offer. She could see his rage bubbling.

“No,” he said, cutting her off with a swift hand. “Get a response team ready, but I don’t want anybody doing anything without checking with me!”

He was out the door before any of the women could stop him. Denise was in tears, both for you and for Emily. Cassie wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re gonna find them,” she promised.

You and Emily were in the backseat of an SUV. Buck was singing along to some country song, driving them down a highway to hell knows where. 

The tears had begun to dry on your cheeks. It didn’t mean you were no longer petrified, but for Emily, to give her support, you’d been able to keep breathing through it. She was still in panic mode, hyperventilating as tears streamed down her face.

“Y’all better quiet down back there,” Buck warned.

You grabbed Emily’s hands and met her frantic eyes with your calmer ones. You were hoping to reassure her, let her know that while you were scared too, you were with her. She wasn’t alone.

She squeezed your hands back, even though it made you wince. Your right hand was still injured. Again, you breathed through it so you could hold her back. You rested the side of your head against hers to try and help steady her further. If you could, you would’ve held her like a mother bear.

Emily leaned against your side and began to calm down, bit by bit. Meanwhile, Buck continued to talk your ears off—about country music, and how this particular song was the one he and Sunny danced to at their wedding. Though frankly, you couldn’t give a shit about anything that was coming out of his mouth.

All you knew was that it was nighttime, pitch black darkness by the time he pulled into a plaza. It looked like a gas station next to a bar.

Only in Montana, you mused. Though you perked up at attention when Buck parked and actually left the car.

Of course, he took the keys with him and put the child locks on the doors, but you tugged at the duct tape Buck put around your ankles when he’d forced you and Emily into this car. If you could get free, then you could shove your way into the front seat and unlock the doors.

Emily tried to help you. You winced as the tape tugged at your skin. At least I shaved yesterday.

She gasped around her gag when she saw a young man coming their way in the parking lot. You joined her in banging on the window, trying to get his attention.

“Oh my God,” you heard him say, muffled as it was through the window. You pointed at the front of the car, trying to communicate to him to break the window open there.

“Hold on, I’ll get you guys out of there,” he said. He went to the front of the car and tried at the door handles, but before he could get very far in his attempt to free you, Buck came up behind the younger man and grabbed him in a chokehold.

You and Emily screamed at him, but it was no use. You did your best to shield Emily’s eyes when Buck snapped the man’s neck.

Bad call, bad leadership, bad police work.

Beau felt the weight of his shame like never before—all while he held Carla and rocked her in his arms. She’d just arrived at the police station, after getting the news that her husband had been killed.

When he learned that Emily was taken, Avery tried to help Beau and the police confront the men he’d stolen the $15 million from, but Avery had gone rogue by bringing a gun into the equation.

Beau had just one chance to pull Avery out and send in his unit of officers on standby. Jenny had asked him what he wanted to do, hoping he would make the right choice.

Beau had been selfish. He wanted to see if the men would give up the location on where they were holding you and Emily, so he kept Avery in play. He’d thought the man would be fine with Tonya and Donno backing him up in the room.

After all was said and done, however, Avery lay dead in a pool of his own blood with a bullet in his chest. The criminals also hadn’t taken you or Emily.

By process of elimination, Beau now knew it was Buck. The man had already killed a hiker on his way out of the woods, where he’d been holding Paige.

Now it was a whole new manhunt.

“Beau,” Jenny said. “We have something on Buck.”

It prompted him to drag himself out of the dark spiral of his thoughts. He let Carla go, but kept a supportive hand on her back. She was still distraught, and understandably so—not just for her husband, but for her missing daughter.

Jenny gave Carla a sympathetic look. She beckoned him over though.

“Come see this,” she said.

Beau comforted Carla one moment more, rubbing her back, but she encouraged him to go with Jenny. She led him into another room where Cassie was waiting for them, and Jenny’s laptop was connected to a smart TV.

On the screen was new surveillance footage of a parking lot, outside a bar a few hours out of town. There was a green pickup truck parked next to a black SUV. Beau couldn’t see you or Emily, but he watched Buck drag the dead body of a man behind the truck.

“Buck was casing the lot for a car to steal,” Jenny said. “We’re guessing this unlucky guy found them.”

“It means they’re still alive,” Cassie pointed out. Jenny drew attention to the keys, or whatever it was that Buck dropped and picked up off the floor. It was hard to make out from the footage.

Cassie agreed to ask Cormack Barnes if he knew what the keys were for, considering he already had the keys to the pickup trick in his hand when he picked up the fallen set. Beau knew it was time to question Sunny Barnes again.

He headed down the hall to do just that, with Jenny on his heels. Soon though, he found himself slowing down in the hall, like his feet were made of rubber. That, and his heart was fracturing. Jenny slowed down with him, giving him a questioning look.

“It’s just…it’s the one thing we’re supposed to do. Protect our kids,” he said. “The one thing.”

“Hey,” she said. Her blue eyes were understanding. “You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

And yet again, they both knew that was a lie. Beau held a curled fist against his lips for a moment, as he tried to swallow down the lump of emotion in his throat.

“She’s gotta be so scared, Jenny,” he said. His eyes stung, but he tried to blink the unshed tears from his eyes. It wasn’t working.

“Both of them,” he said. “They’ve gotta be terrified. And every minute we waste chasing our tails just gives that twisted son a bitch a chance to do something to them—”

Jenny grabbed his arm to steady him. “I still think he’s keeping them alive for leverage.”

“Well, I hope you’re right, because there’s nothing stopping him from making an example from one of them,” he said.

But the moment it escaped his lips, he wished he hadn’t uttered the thought out loud. It was too much.

He felt like a failure of a father. That was already destroying him from the inside out. And though he’d vowed to himself otherwise, you got dragged into this too.

You’d already been through the wringer enough. Beau hadn’t even checked in on you in damn near a week since he left your apartment the last time.

Now, you’d been taken by the very same man who murdered your friend Mary. Beau hadn’t had the chance to tell you…

He hadn’t been able to tell you a lot of things.

And maybe, he’d never get the chance.

The pickup truck Buck stole had a small trailer attached, convenient for stuffing you and Emily in, along with the corpse he’d made of the truck’s owner.

On the long and bumpy ride down the road, you’d been able to search the dead man’s jeans and found a small pocketknife. You pressed a small button to click the blade open. You showed it to Emily, and then tried to cut her bonds.

You only got halfway through when the truck and trailer stopped. Moments later, you smelled gas. Buck was probably stopping for a refill on the pickup truck. You closed the knife and hid it in your hands. That instinct turned out to be a good one, because Buck slid the trailer door open.

You and Emily winced as the bright morning sun hit your bleary eyes. Not only had you not slept all night, but you’d gotten used to the perpetual darkness of the trailer.

“You girls behaving yourselves back here?” Buck asked.

You and Emily stayed quiet, but fearful. He stepped into the trailer to lower your taped gag, and then the girl’s. He uncapped a water bottle to give her some. It was a strangely humane thing to do, you thought.

But then you realized that he just didn’t want you two to pass out of dehydration. He was trying to keep you alive long enough to use you as bargaining chips.

“My dad’s going to find you,” Emily said, staring up at your captor. Buck chuckled at her cheek.

“You want water or not?” he asked.

“And when he does, he’s gonna kill you,” she said. Buck rolled his eyes and gave her a few sips of water. He offered the bottle to you next.

Instead of drinking, you used his distraction and proximity to pop open the pocketknife and jab it at his face. He pulled back fast, but you managed to sink the three-inch little blade into his neck. Buck backhanded you so hard, it made the side of your face crack against the back of the trailer.

Emily screamed and tried to catch you when you accidentally fell on her shoulder. When you recovered after a bit, blinking the black splotches out of your vision, Buck punched at the spot right above your heads and made you both flinch. By then, he’d taken the little knife out of his neck, even though it made a new wound ooze blood down his shirt.

“Forgot to check his pockets,” he gritted out. His anger then bled away, into a dark chuckle. “Gettin’ a little rusty.”

He poured out the rest of the water over your boots, but he didn’t make any further threats. At least, not physically. He stepped away and began to exit the trailer.

“Next time it’ll be gasoline and a lighter,” he warned. “Now both of you, shut the fuck up.”

Then he closed the door, casting you and Emily into darkness once again.

“You okay?” Emily whispered. You could barely make out her face in the dim light, coming from the smallest crack in the trailer door. You rolled your head her way so you could give her a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied. Truthfully, your head was ringing and aching at the same time. Buck had knocked you out for a few seconds there. Plus, you were exhausted, and hungry, and parched.

“At least the gags are off,” she said. You nodded, letting out a sigh. You welcomed her to rest on your shoulder and tucked her wrapped hands under yours.

“We’ve just gotta keep holding out,” you said. “I’m sure your dad is on the way.”

Emily nodded in agreement. She believed every word of what she’d told Buck. She just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

It was much, much later.

Still, you and Emily were no better off. Actually, you were pretty sure this was worse.

Buck had driven you deep into the woods, then forced you to walk what felt like another half-mile until you reached a dusty old shack. He’d unlocked it and forced you both inside, kneeling in the dirt and dead leaves. Along with the duct tape already around your wrists, he’d tied you both up with ropes around the metal hooks hanging from the short roof.

Even with the gags off, it was hard to breathe in the hot, stuffy woodshed. It felt similar to being buried in a box and left to rot.

You weren’t sure how many hours it had been, but the sun was slowly inching by. If you had to guess, it was around mid-afternoon. You were sweating down your neck and back, now uncomfortable while kneeling in the jeans you were wearing. And sometimes, your vision started to blur in and out.

By now you were beyond hunger. Dying of thirst? Quite possibly.

“How’re you doing?” you asked Emily. She nodded, but she didn’t have much energy to talk either.

So instead, you tried to twist your wrists out of the rope. Very quickly you gave yourself burns, however. Buck had tied your bonds so very tight, not to mention the duct tape underneath.

What a fucking asshole, you thought. He could’ve at least left a bottle of water. Or some protein bars.

“How are they supposed to find us out here?” Emily asked. Her voice was small and coarse with exhaustion. You nudged her knee in comfort.

“The police will get it out of Buck, I’m sure,” you said. “Even if Beau can’t, damn certain Jenny will.”

You gave her a smile. Emily tried to smile back, but she didn’t quite make it there.

“God, I’m so thirsty,” she coughed.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “All we can do is keep trying to get loose.”

You both tried twisting out of the ropes for a while, but it was no use. You were just going to bruise or cut your wrists further through the tape.

You knew that you and Emily had been in the woods for hours at this point, somewhere in the middle of the mountains. You tried not think about how unlikely it would be that someone actually heard you, let alone found you.

You knew you were the adult in this situation. You had to keep it together for the girl beside you, but after a while, a feeling of desperation and despair rose up again in your chest, no matter how hard you fought it all.

Tears welled up in your eyes, though you tried to breathe through it. Emily nudged your arm this time, giving you a comforting look.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered. “I know Dad’s coming for us.”

Your lip wobbled, but you nodded and sucked in a breath. If she could be strong, then you could too…

And that was when you started to hear voices. You knew they weren’t just in your head, because Emily perked up too. You both called out the best you could to whoever was out there.

You squinted watery eyes when the door to the shed finally slid open.

Beau tested the limitations of Jenny’s SUV on his way out from the woods, and then back into them. 

At the very least, Buck was dead. 

Sunny had shot him—before they had gotten a location on you and Emily. Beau had been about to have a serious breakdown before Cassie called him. 

“They found them,” he’d told Jenny, with red and shining eyes. 

In another five miles, they reached the old cabin. Cassie had said there was a woodshed attached on the south side. Beau tore out of the car and sprinted up a hill, through a patch of dense trees, until he found the cabin and the shed. 

Cassie and Cormack were talking to someone just out of Beau’s eyeline, but his gaze focused on his daughter. The moment Emily saw him, she brightened and ran to him. He met her in the middle, grabbing her tight and secure in his arms.

His tears burned in his eyes and fell as he held her, comforted her, rubbing her back. She held onto him just as tightly.

He struggled and failed to keep himself together. Relief wasn’t even the word for how he felt; it was beyond words.

And it was almost unreal to be able to hold his daughter and see that she didn’t look hurt, just shaken.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. “God, I’ve got you.”

Letting out the deepest breath, Beau’s gaze ventured past his daughter and up ahead. There he found you, being supported by Cassie up the hill. Beau’s eyes widened.

You were rubbing your wrists. They looked raw. Your eyes were also red and watery when they met his. Your breath seemed to catch as well.

Your name fell from Beau’s lips, his voice breaking. Emily looked up at her dad and had to smile. She even made room for you when you came up on his other side. Beau still kept his daughter tucked against him, but he reached for you as well and brought you into his embrace.

He felt your body shaking with quiet, wracking sobs. His heart broke for it, but he soothed a hand over your knotted hair and down your back.

“Shh, it’s okay now,” he whispered in your ear. His voice was choked with emotion. “I’ve got you, darlin’."

Never gonna let you go again, he thought.

You nodded, sniffling, but you kept your face buried against his chest.

Eventually, you lifted your head to meet his kind, if tearful eyes. He was a mess, and so were you. He was right though; you knew that it was all right now, as long as he was here.

You looked over at Emily, who was still hanging onto her father. You touched her shoulder.

“You okay?” you asked through tears. She nodded back at you with a smile.

“Good,” Beau said. “Let’s get you two home.”

You realized then that you were clinging to him like…like he was yours. 

“Oh,” you uttered, releasing his shirt. “I‘m sorry.” 

Beau’s eyes widened at the way you pulled away from him, unconsciously lowering your gaze. He frowned, and he pressed a gentle hand to your cheek, so you’d look at him again. 

“Don’t you do that,” he said, his voice still a bit unsteady.

Almost every cell in his body said to pull you back in. To sink his fingers in your hair, and to kiss you.

But he noticed Jenny, Cassie, Cormack, and even his daughter watching with some kind of smile on their faces. You stared up at him, teary eyed and waiting.

Beau cleared his throat.

He hesitated a bit too long, warring with himself all the while. So he just stroked your cheek and guided you, along with his daughter to the car.

You and Emily were going home.

AN: 🫣 Lol please don't hate me for the little tease at the end there. But how did you like how all the action and drama of the kidnapping unfolded?

Don't think this is the finale though. We've still got some drama and fun things to come. (Also, I think it's funny how this next particular chapter is going to post on my birthday lol.)

Next Time:

“I’m the one who needs you to forgive me,” he said, gently squeezing your arm. “I promised myself I would keep you safe, that I wouldn’t drag you into this mess. And I couldn’t keep my end of the deal.”

“Stop that,” you said. You grabbed the front of his shirt. “How many times do I have to say it’s not your fault before you get it in your stubborn head?”

It came out a bit snappish, but the moment your eyes met his, you both seemed to realize where your passions had led you. Just inches away from one another.

“Maybe one more time,” Beau said, in a quieter, but no less heady voice. There was a hint of humor in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back.

You released his shirt and instead, took his face in your hands.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 8

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit. 

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign. 

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling. 

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music. 

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once. 

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance. 

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone. 

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in. 

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith. 

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush. 

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right? 

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with. 

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied. 

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops.. 

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town. 

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else. 

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans. 

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened. 

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much. 

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie. 

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway. 

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did. 

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else. 

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him. 

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew. 

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well. 

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour. 

The hour could not go any slower. 

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned. 

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone. 

“Steve, I’m serious!” 

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.” 

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it. 

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone. 

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson. 

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook. 

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook. 

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice. 

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned. 

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera. 

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar. 

“Hello? Anyone home?” 

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?” 

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.” 

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would. 

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise. 

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar. 

Where did you know this guy from? 

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater. 

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd. 

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe. 

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off. 

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?!  He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you? 

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video. 

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing- 

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people. 

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker. 

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together. 

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him. 

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened. 

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt. 

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it. 

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in. 

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later. 

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically. 

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.” 

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly. 

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.” 

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded. 

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.” 

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in. 

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!” 

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly. 

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead. 

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members. 

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.” 

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled. 

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours. 

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.” 

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him. 

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain. 

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next. 

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly. 

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!” 

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it. 

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!” 

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand,  and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie. 

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.” 

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled. 

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.” 

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second. 

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him. 

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?” 

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.” 

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.” 

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show. 

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.” 

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van. 

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast. 

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone. 

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes. 

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand. 

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much. 

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him. 

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin. 

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged. 

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.” 

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.” 

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet. 

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.” 

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot. 

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky. 

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way. 

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.” 

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side. 

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes. 

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.” 

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well. 

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled. 

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant. 

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment. 

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him. 

“Chris Morrison?!”

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Next Chapter

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

[annwrites]

dance with me.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & billy run into one another at the halloween party

— tags: dancing, billy pining

— tw: drinking

— word count: 2,390

— a/n: this is an outtake from my thoroughfare series. i know it prob doesn't make much sense for it to be, as this takes place at the end of october, & that series clearly takes place in the middle of summer, & i stated in it that billy had only been in hawkins 2 months before he & reader ran away. but we're going to pretend like it fits anyway lol.

if any of this is inaccurate to what happened during the ep which featured the halloween party, it's bc it's been a few yrs since i watched season 2.

pay attention for an easter egg (song they dance to)!

You have half-a-mind to turn back around and go back home. But in no way is being there preferable, either. You’d vowed to yourself that you were going to have a good time tonight. Well, at the very least a halfway-decent one. Even if you were completely out of your depth—your comfort zone. You’d never gone to a party before. Solitude was where you thrived. Around other people you just sort of…froze up. 

But, he’d been on a tear this last week. Had broken a couple of plates and a picture frame in a drunken fury just two nights ago. You needed a night away—just a few hours—a reprieve. Even if it was going to be surrounded by other drunks. At least these were fellow kids, if nothing else. And they wouldn’t be wanting to take things out on you if it turned out alcohol didn’t suit them. Unlike someone else.

You glance to Nancy at your side, then to the domicile ahead—thumping music blaring loud enough that you can hear it from the sidewalk—and silently follow along behind her as the two of you head inside. 

Once you’ve passed the threshold, she turns back to you. “I’m going to look for Steve! He should be here already!” She yells over the deafening rock music.

“Want me to help and look for him, too?”

She nods fervently, and the two of you split up.

You make your way through throngs of people—couples making out, friends joking with one another; a boy who’s already half-drunk nearly spilling his beer on you—before you spot a door leading into the backyard. 

Unless he’s outside…Nancy may very-well have to find him all on her own, because you were absolutely not going back in there just to be squished between sweaty, hormonal adolescent bodies again.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

That opinion only cements itself further when you step onto the back patio, shutting the door firmly behind you, and look straight ahead to see Billy Hargrove doing a keg-stand as a crowd of your peers stand around him chanting “chug, chug, chug, chug!”.  He stands back on two feet once again, puckering his lips, spitting beer into the air and you roll your eyes. Those surrounding him start cheering and patting him on the back.

Like getting drunk is something to celebrate. 

And of course he’s shirtless. Because a leather jacket and jeans is obviously a Halloween costume. 

Just as you begin to turn away, arms now crossed, wondering if you shouldn’t now go back inside, Billy stops licking his lips, and laughing, or so much as paying attention to the other obnoxious idiots surrounding him when he sets eyes on you. 

Why the hell were you wearing pajamas to a damn Halloween party? Was that really supposed to constitute being a costume? Then again, he shouldn’t be complaining. You’re not wearing bottoms. He suddenly decides he likes whoever the hell the character is.

He shoves past those around him—which even includes numerous girls with hearts in their eyes—and makes his way over to you instead. 

He grabs your arm lightly, turning you back to him as he stares down at you with a smirk. “Well, well, look who it is.” 

His eyes trail from your bare legs, back to your eyes, and you feel ready to squirm away from his grip. 

He cocks his head to the side then. “Who the hell are you dressed as, anyway?”

You pull your arm away from him. “Audrey Hepburn. Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

He raises a brow. “Uh-huh.”

You shrug. “She was an actress. Before our time.”

He gives you a sultry look. “Well, whoever she was, she was clearly one hot chick.”

You blink up at him for a moment. 

“What? Not going to try and guess who I am?”

He watches as your eyes trail along his body and his jaw clenches at the sight of you taking him in. He hopes you like what you see. 

Until you gaze back up to him with an indifferent look on your face, the fire quickly extinguished.

“I feel like you just wanted an excuse to walk around shirtless.”

A corner of his mouth tugs down in a frown. “You’re one to talk.”

“I have a shirt on.”

He glances down to your legs, then back into your eyes with a raised brow. “Somebody specific you’re trying to catch the attention of tonight, sweetheart?”

He leans an arm against the side of the house. 

“Not really,” you reply looking behind him.

“C’mon, one guess. Maybe I’ll reward you if you get it right.”

You look back at him then, and he can’t believe he’s actually piqued your interest with that. 

“Do I get to choose the prize?”

He heart skips a beat. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

You study him again. “Let me guess… A greaser, from The Outsiders?”

He licks his lips. “But which one?”

It’s so incredibly obvious. At least to you. “Dallas?”

“Winner, winner,” he says, leaning the least bit toward you. “So, what’s that pretty lil’ heart desire?”

“Stop pulling my hair in class.”

He snorts. “That’s likely.”

You roll your eyes. Waste of time, clearly.

“He was damn good in that movie, wasn’t he?” He just throws it out there to keep you a bit longer.

“Hm?” You ask, looking behind him again. 

“Matt Dillon.”

You look back at him and he could swear you blush a little. On the one hand, maybe he should feel flattered since he’d dressed as his character. On the other, it’s clearly the actor that you have the hots for. Not him. No, never fucking him. Why does he try so goddamn hard with you?

“The book was better. But Matt certainly made the movie worth watching,” you say with a smile.

He frowns. “What? No love for my man, Ponyboy?” The blond, he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You glance behind him again. 

“If you’re lookin’ for fun, I’m right here, honey,” he says, smirking.

“I’m looking for Steve, actually.”

His smile drops instantly, arms crossing. “The hell do you want with him?”

You glance back to Billy for just a moment. “Stay golden, Billy,” you stay, going to step past him, until he grabs your wrist.

You look down to where he’s now touching you. Gently, but firmly, then back up to him. “Let go.”

He sneers. “The fuck is it with you, huh? I mean, what is it with him? What does he have that-” He stops himself short and watches as your brows furrow.

Too much. He’d drank too much.

“You realize he’ll never go for you, right? Too stuck up Nancy’s bony-ass instead.”

Did…did he think you liked Steve? Oh God…did Nancy ever think that as well? “I’m trying to help Nancy find him.”

He softens a little, thumb rubbing against your wrist. “I say we leave her to it, then.” 

His smirk returns and you mentally groan at whatever is about to come out of his smart mouth. 

“How about you and I take off and go make our own party?”

You roll your eyes, wrenching your wrist away. “I’d really rather not.”

He watches as you walk away, enjoying the view. 

It’s perhaps an hour later before Billy finally bothers coming inside, looking for a cold bottle of beer in the fridge, and it’s after he’s found one that he enters the living room and catches sight of you sitting on the couch, staring up at Nancy and Steve wrapped around each other, talking. 

His jaw clenches at the longing look in your eyes. Like Steve is something fucking special to be had. 

He has no idea it’s just you thinking of how lonely you feel in comparison; wishing you had someone of your very own to love.

He glances down to your hands, a red solo cup held between them, then back to you. Getting drunk to soothe your aching fucking heart, huh?

He takes a swig of his beer, thinking that it makes two of you.

He pushes past others to get to you, before plopping down beside you on the couch. And you don’t even bother looking at him. 

Meanwhile, at least three other girls are eyeing him up from across the room. He doesn’t so much as wink at them before turning back to you.

He grabs the cup from your hands, which finally gets your attention. 

“Hey!”

He takes a drink, then holds it away from him with a confused expression before shoving it back against your chest. “Water? Really? You come to a party and get yourself a cup of water, you’re that big of a fucking square?”

You roll your eyes, taking a sip. 

He swirls the neck of his beer bottle in front of your face. “C’mon, try some, sweetheart. Might like it.”

“No, thanks,” you say, looking back to your friends.

He pushes his luck further. “Never know how good somethin’ can taste until you’ve put it in your mouth.”

You groan in frustration, standing, heading back outside then, just wanting him to leave you alone.

He of course follows you out, watching as you seat yourself at a table on the back patio, resting your chin against your fist, watching others dance.

He considers for a moment, taking another drink, then setting the bottle on the table, holding his hand toward you. “Dance with me.”

Your head jerks up and in his direction then. “What?”

He shrugs. “One-time offer, sweetie.”

You glance down to his hand, then back up to him. 

He grows serious then. “Just dance with me. Please.”

This side of him you don’t get to see often. And you think the same thing now about it as you usually do when he shows it to you: you feel like, somehow, you’re the only one he gives it to. You’re unsure why, exactly. But you don’t dare ask.

Instead, you slide your palm into his—you could swear his hand is shaking a little—and he leads you into the middle of the yard. 

Just as he positions the two of you in the middle of it, the song changes. Bob Dylan humming the beginning of the tune. 

Billy rolls his eyes, staring upward. “Of course it changed to a fucking slow song.”

…And you know the moment is over.

You go to step away, until he twines his fingers between yours, pulling you back to him. “I didn’t say to leave.”

You’re not sure why you’re even giving him the time of day, but granting him moments like these, you feel, are important. He’s trying. To be decent. And if you shut it down—these moments are already rare enough as it is—he’ll one day stop trying altogether. You hope this can be a step toward him being just a bit more mature going forward. To you, if no one else.

You go to wrap your arms around his neck until he shakes his head. “None of that junior-high shit. You’re dancing with a man, not a boy.”

You stare up at him at the statement. 

He positions your right hand atop his shoulder, taking your other in his left, placing his right against the small of your back. “Need to be a bit closer, doll,” he says, pulling you toward him, making you now chest-to-chest.

You ignore your heart beating just a bit faster now.

He begins to sway back and forth, staring down at you. The look in his eyes that of…tenderness? No. He’s just tired, or he’s drank too much. He’s not looking at you any kind of way. Is he?

He then presses his forehead to yours. “You look really pretty tonight. I don’t think I told you that.”

His eyes flutter closed. 

You’re quiet for a moment. Then, “Thank you,” you reply quietly. You return the compliment. “You look very handsome.”

His lip twitches. “Me or Dillon?”

You shake your head lightly. “You, Billy.”

He hums his response, fingers at the small of your back curling inward, bringing you impossibly closer to him. 

He pulls back the least bit, resting his cheek atop your head, closing his eyes again with you tucked under his chin, your head against his chest. He could stay like this for… He can’t think like that. It’s just one short dance. That’s all. It means nothing.

Until he looks down at you again. 

And you look up at him with wide eyes.

His heart pounds, his hand shaking in yours as he begins to lean down. If you let him… This could be the start of something. Even if he knows he’ll do anything he can to destroy it. Because that’s what he does. To anything good he touches.

Your breaths come in short and shallow, your lips only slightly parted, your heart fluttering… And then you hear someone calling your name.

And the moment is over.

Billy stares behind you, expression morphing into seething hatred. “Always fucking ruining everything,” you hear him mutter.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

He lets go of you then, stepping past you. 

“Y/N, hey, it’s time to go. Nancy’s ready to head home, so I thought I’d give you a ride, too.”

Steve then catches sight of Billy, who’s heading straight toward him and does not look happy. 

“What the fuck is it with you? Always in the goddamn way. I’ve fuckin’ had it! If she wants a ride home, I’ll give her one. She doesn’t need her white fuckin’ knight right now.” 

Just as Billy raises his fist, Steve unable to do anything more than brace for impact, you quickly throw yourself between the two of them before he swings.

You stare up at him, arms outstretched on either side of you, trying to shield Steve, knowing—rather, hoping—Billy won’t do anything so long as you—or, at the very least, a girl—is in the way. 

Billy stares down at you, teeth clenched, fist hovering next to his head, then glances back to Steve. 

“Billy, don’t,” you say softly.

He squeezes his fist more tightly. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You ask, a mere whisper.

His face falls, then, as well as his fist. He swallows thickly. His eyes search yours, looking for the girl he’d had in his arms just moments ago, but sees she’s taken another’s side now.

“Fuck you,” he says before stomping away.

[miguelhugger2099]

Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality. 

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.” 

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered. 

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. 

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.” 

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples. 

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil. 

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks. 

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back. 

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?” 

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself. 

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

[melanieph321]

Hey!

Can you write something about Ruben being a girl dad and celebrating easter in Portugal where they are playing easter egg hunt. You may add other things as well.

Thank you ❤️

Of course! I'll write anything about Ruben being a dad ☺️☺️

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUESTS 2.0

(DAY 2)

Ruben Dias x Reader - Learn With Time

Enjoy!

Easter. Ruben was the one who suggested that the family celebrate it in his home country, Portugal. It would give your three children a chance to practice their Portuguese, although your two oldest, Carlos and Carolina, were practically fluent by now.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and the kids were excited to go on an Easter egg hunt in the garden.

"Where is Sofia?" You asked, looking around the backyard of Ruben's parents' house.

"Isn't she out hunting for eggs somewhere?" Ruben said as he flipped the burger patties that lay on the grill.

"With who?"

The children were running around in pairs, with Carlos and Carolina both having paired up with their cousins.

"Ruben, she's gone?"

"Hey." He left the grill to put a calming hand on shoulder. "I'm sure she's around somewhere. Who knows, she might be out egg hunting by herself."

"I don't know, Ruben?" Your instincts as a mother told you otherwise. Sofia had been excited to go egg hunting with her cousins. Why would she decide to do it alone all of a sudden? The feeling in your gut told you that something must have happened to her.

"Hey, if it would make you feel better, I'll go look for her."

"You will?" You turned to your husband. The evening sun lit up the smile on his handsome face.

"Just keep an eye on the grill for me, will you?"

You nodded. "Okay."

He stepped forward, planting a swift kiss on your lips. "Be right back."

Whilst Ruben began his search for your daughter, somewhere hidden amongst a colorful bed of tulips was Sofia, feeling left out of the egg hunt.

Unlike her brother and sister, she did not jump at the opportunity to pair up with her cousins. She was hoping that one of them would be kind enough to ask her to be a pair. You see, Sofia loved playing with her cousins, but unlike her siblings, she barely understood a word of what they said. At times, it made her feel left out, left out by the fact that she never understood what the joke was about. She never understood when to laugh.

Sofia could tell that her siblings were getting tired of translating everything for her, that she should know the basic frases by now and although her parents told her that her Portuguese would improve with time, Sofia suffered, leaving her feeling left out of the annual egg hunt.

"Boo!"

Sofia let out an ear shattering shriek as something, someone, grabbed a hold of her leg. She sat up from where she had been laying amongst the tulips and was surprised to see Ruben laughing at her frightened reaction.

"Papa!" She groand. "You scared me."

"Did I?"

Ruben plotted down beside your daughter. He noted her print in the flower bed. Ruben's mother was very fond of her flowers. As a child, he would never hear the end of it whenever his football ended up crushing one of them. "Why aren't you out egg hunting with your brother and sister?" He asked.

"Because..." Sofia muttered, tucking her knees to rest under her chin.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes?"

"Oh." Ruben looked to your daughter, her face all crinkled up into a displeased frowned. To him, it was adorable, although he understood that something had clearly upset her. "Would you care to enlighten me about what's wrong?"

"Yes. My Portuguese."

"You're Portuguese?" Now Ruben was the one looking displeased. "What's wrong with your Portuguese?" He had taught his children everything he knows. What could possibly be wrong with Sofia's...

"Papa, I don't know how to speak it, at least not as well as Carlos and Carolina."

"Mas querida," Ruben sighed. "Você aprenderá com o tempo."

"You see!" Sofia exclaimed. "I have no idea of what you just said."

Ruben chuckled. "I said, you'll learn how to speak Portuguese with time. Haven't your mother and I already told you that?"

"But Papa, I want to know how to speak Portuguese now!!!"

Ruben pulled Sofia towards him, allowing her body to rest against his side. They remained like that for a while, just listening to the noises surrounding them. There was laughter from the other children. They were still running around, looking for Easter eggs.

"You know, I don't see why not knowing Portuguese should stop you from egg hunting." Ruben said, squeezing your daughter with the arm he held around her.

"I didn't know how to ask anyone to be in pairs with me." She confessed. "Everyone was taken before I could ask Carolina to help me translate."

"I see." Ruben nodded, an idea litting up in his mind. "How about if we'd pair up?"

"Really?" Sofia perked up. "You would do that for me?"

He smiled. "I would do anything for you."

The two of them shared a hug, with Ruben helping Sofia to get back on her feet.

"Do you still think there's any eggs left to find?" She asked.

"I hope so. But let's not waste any more time and start looking."

A twinkle of determination appeared in your daughters eyes. "Okay, Papa. Let's do it, let's find the eggs." she said, her voice a little stronger.

Together, the two of them set out to find the last remaining Easter eggs. They searched high and low, laughing and chatting as they went. Sofia was having the time of her life, and she was so happy to be spending this special day with her dad.

As they were about to give up, the two of them stumbled upon the last egg hidden behind a large bush. Sofia squealed with delight and sought you out to show off their findings.

"There you are!" You exclaimed at the sight of her.

"Mommy, Mommy, Papa, and I found the last Easter egg. Look!"

You looked to Ruben, who trailed his steps behind your daughter. His smile assured you that everything was fine with Sofia, that you could relax now.

"Good job, honey." You bent down to inspect the egg. "I bet there is a suprise hidden for you inside of it."

"There is?" She gasped.

"How about you take a look?"

You and Ruben watched your daughter unwrapped the egg without mercy, laughing at the way her eyes lit up as she discovered that the egg was made out of pure chocolate.

"Papa look!" Sofia squealed. "It's chocolate."

"How about you show it off to your brother and sister, I bet they didn't find an egg such as yours."

And with that, Sofia was gone, eager to join her siblings and cousins. And as Ruben wrapped his arms around your waist, forcing you to meet his complecant grin, you knew that all was well in paradise. The life you shared with Ruben was simply just that, paradise.

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity; Invisible String

series masterlist

i was going to include this in chapter seventeen to break up the angst a bit...but then i thought i'd just do it as its own separate piece so that they have a chance to explore their love without there being as much (because i couldn't help myself) angst overshadowing this pivotal moment for meadow and matty....there is also an important (not very subtle) easter egg regarding the storyline that will be delved into in a later chapter....anyway this takes place between chapter 16 & 17 xxx

warning: 18+ content, fingering, piv, soft smut, declarations of loooove!!

~∞~

After the Order members had left, with plans of meeting privately to discuss Professor Dumbledore's funeral and what they were supposed to do in the wake of the harrowing battle, Madam Pomfrey had made her way over to you to check on the wounds that littered your abdomen, and with a flick of her wand, they became faint lines of jagged silver as they scarred over. Shortly after that, she'd declared you okay and insisted that you get some rest in a proper bed. It was probably also to make space for the students, part of Dumbledore's Army, who had also been injured in the battle.

You and Mattheo left shortly after that, but not before Ron came up to you and wrapped you in a hug, tears leaking from his dull blue eyes. No words were needed, you knew what his actions meant. You held him tighter, even as his parents beckoned him to his brother's bed.

The castle halls are eerily silent as you walk hand in hand with Mattheo. Even the portraits don't stir at the harsh glow of his lit wand, as if they were grieving for the loss of Dumbledore in their own way. The two of you are the only disturbance in the still atmosphere, your soft breathes and light footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor.

Neither of you had wanted to venture near the Astronomy tower again, afraid that the sight of the now spotless hallways would spark harsh reminders of the bloodshed and carnage that had swept through them like a petulant disease only hours before. So wordlessly, Mattheo had begun leading you towards the dungeons, his body heat sheltering you from the chilly bite in the air.

The Slytherin common room was mysteriously desolate when you entered behind him. Not a soul to be found under the dim glow of the Black Lake's murky waters; only the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth and the gentle ripple of the current against the windows could be heard over your mingling breathes.

"Where is everyone?" You ask, cringing instantly as your voice becomes agonisingly loud in the silence, despite your words being spoken with quiet cadence.

"In bed I assume, or gone." Mattheo responded with a low rasp. "It wouldn't surprise me if news has already spread and parents are collecting their children to return home."

You respond with a soft "oh", as you follow him up the stairs to his dorm.

"Draco's gone." He continued as he unlocked the dark oak door leading to his dorm. "So are Blaise and Pansy. Enzo and Theo are still here, but they'll leave soon too."

"Why didn't you tell me anything before? I deserved to know that my friendships started out as a means to an end." You ask him as you enter his room. He's silent as he observes you from the threshold, brows creased in thought.

"I would've told you eventually. There was never a good enough time though. And it wasn't a means to an end, love." Your about to retort but he continues as if you hadn't opened your mouth to speak. "It felt like the right thing to do, to tell you when I did."

"To gain The Order's trust?" You ask, running a hand through your hair.

"Exactly. Though I doubt it's done much to sway them."

"What happens now?" You ask hesitantly, reaching and squeezing his hand.

Mattheo gently guides you to where his bed sits in the corner of his room, allowing you to find a comfortable position before he finds his own one behind you. He pulls your back to rest snugly against his chest, cradling your body to his own with strong, protecting arms as your heartbeats synced as one.

"I don't know, darling. But we'll face it together." He says as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head. The two of you rest in stagnant silence, unsure of what tonight's happenings meant for the world as you knew it.

~∞~

A little while later, you turn to face him, restless anxiety clawing at your insides. Mattheo's curly, deep brunette hair has fallen haphazardly across his forehead and his onyx eyes, framed by glorious lashes, shine bright, despite all that they had witnessed in the past few hours. He has a soft smile painting his face as he admires you in tandem, although you can see his poorly hidden concern for you reflecting behind the tenderness. Each breath you take, he mirrors and your racing heart slows to a relaxing lull in your ears. Unhurriedly, you bring a hand up to his face and brush the loose curls away from his eyes, a tender look overtaking your fatigue.

"I meant what I said in the ward." He mumbles, voice betraying how exhausted he was, too.

"Yeah?" You ask, your smile widening imperceptibly. You fingers caress his face with featherlight strokes as you trace the freckles and scars that are scattered across his cheeks. Your eyes are now alight with teasing mischief as if daring him to say the words aloud, all sense of tiredness having left your face in the wake of it.

"Yes, Meadow." He responds with a quiet snicker as he pokes your side. His eyes glow with serene happiness as he watches you squirm and giggle, watches the despondency leave your pretty face. "Did you ever take me for a liar, sweetheart?"

"No." You say breathlessly as he continues to stroke at your trouser covered hips. "Never."

I want to hear you say it. You implore wordlessly. Please.

He kisses you then. It's not hard and rough and passionate like his caresses always are. Instead, it's soft and slow and entirely all consuming, like the very first time, but infinitely better. Every emotion he's ever felt for you coarses through your veins as his tongue clashes against your's.

"I love you." He says breathless and low against your lips. You kiss him with a newfound fervour, pouring your every thought and every emotion, intertwining your soul with his. Your magic practically explodes around you, casting a warm indigo glow about the dorm room, illuminating his features; guiding shadows in a dance across his face.

He looks at you in awe as you both admire the way his own magic seems to tangle seemlessly with it. Whorls of indigo and silver flicker in pretty patterns that seem to pour out around you like a smattering of a million tiny stars.

My incredible, smart girl. He tells you with a wide smile on his face as he looks at you, admiringly. You flush under his intense stare.

You undress each other with practiced fluidity until you are both blissfully nude; no barriers separating you from the other, all vulnerabilities splayed out in the open. He rolls on top of you and presses your hands above your head with one of his as his other trails lightly down your stomach, tracing the new lines of scars which seem to twinkle under the faux starlight. He presses soft kisses to the marred skin, words of love and adoration melting into you as he presses away the new insecurities without even trying.

He eventually works one finger, and then two inside you as his thumb strokes idle patterns against your clit. You mewl at his practiced ministrations as he fingers you, slow and rough, in the way he knows you love, despite never having said it out loud before.

The noises you make bring a delighted smirk to his pretty lips and he speeds up his movements almost unnoticeably to bring you close to release; teasing you through one orgasm before letting a second rush through you, all while drinking in every sound; every expression that you let overcome your flushed face.

It feels like an eternity later that he finally sheathes himself inside you, every ridge of his cock brushing sensually against your most sensitive spots as he sets a leisurely pace – starting slowly before he finds a particular rhythm that has the both of you moaning in unison. His arms are braced at either side of your head, careful not to snag on your hair which is haphazardly fanning out on the pillow beneath your head. The muscles in his biceps flex with every push and pull of his body, his core tense with the exertion of making you feel like you're walking on clouds.

Your own hands are on a journey of their own, travelling along the defined muscles of his abdomen and across his strong hips, until a particularly deep thrust from Mattheo causes you to claw at the soft skin of his back, willing him to come closer to you. The scars that litter his skin are blissfully joined by marks of your making, marks that he wishes could stay there forever in place of the others.

Where he's left love bites on your skin, you eagerly return the favour as best as you're able. Leaving deep purple marks across his chest and clavicle with your kiss-swollen lips that happily migrate from his body to his own lips as much as possible.

"I love you." You whisper against him and he lets out a barely restrained groan as he thrusts even harder into you at your admission. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins at the whiny sound you let out in response.

"Say that again." He says, pressing hard kisses to your chest, leaving more delicious marks in his wake.

"I love you, Mattheo Riddle." You repeat, a moan catching in your throat as you begin to reach your peak for a third time. "You have my whole heart. Break it. Crush it. Decimate it. Do what you must, but please know that it's yours. It will always be yours. I love you."

The both of you are pushed over the edge at that, clinging to eachother's bodies, which are slick with sweat. The euphoria causes your intertwining magic to surge around you again, and you both feel how it sparks at your very souls, the feeling never ceasing, only growing as you allow your love to manifest and flourish like its very own entity.

Neither of you want the intoxicating feeling to end, content in basking in the sensation, if only to prolong the immense amount of love that radiates from your magical cores.

"I love you, darling." He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, exhausted and spent, breathing in the scent of you; the soft floral hint of your perfume that seems to linger despite the raging battle you'd been in and the musky scent of the sweat that clings to your skin.

You press a kiss to his own shoulder as his body flops to land beside your's on top of ruffled emerald sheets. Your interwoven magic still permeates the air, seemingly in no hurry to dissipate any time soon and you can feel it, along with Mattheo's deep in your chest. By the look on his face, he's feeling its affects too.

"That was–" You mumble with a breathless giggle, fingers trailing patterns across his marked skin.

"All consuming." He agrees with a lethargic chuckle of his own before he's pulling your body into his again, magically rearranging the sheets so that the two of you are modestly covered.

"Can you feel something-" You start, but are unable to put this new sensation into words as he gazes down at you with soft eyes. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Different? Like my magic isn't entirely my own anymore?" He wonders aloud and you find that he's voiced your exact feelings.

"Yeah. Precisely like that, actually." You say. "It's like I've unconsciously absorbed your magic again. I'm sorry-"

His lips against your's prevent your apology from fully forming and he's looking at you with such a tender expression that makes you melt.

"I'm not sure it is your siphoning, love. It's different. I can feel your's too." He says with lightly furrowed brows.

"How strange." You mumble, a yawn escaping your lips. Mattheo manoeuvres you so that you're practically chest to chest as he lies on his back, letting your aching nipples brush against his strong pecks as he wraps his arms around you.

You breathe out a content sigh that causes a shudder to rush through him as it ghosts over the sensitive skin of his neck. The impact of your shared love and intertwining cores feels like a supernova swirling inside you.

The fate of the wizarding world, and your own fate, is a haze of unknown territory, but you were entirely certain of one thing; Mattheo held your heart in his hands, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.

~∞~

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@whatsupb18

[i2ycat]

mr. obvious

pairing friend!jay x fem!reader synopsis jay as ur friend who secretly likes you genre friends to lovers(?), fluff warnings mentions of jumping off a cliff (jokingly), not proofread main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

you and jay knew each other by being in the same circle of friends, but it’s only recently that you’ve started to get closer

between the small talks and late night group movie marathons, jay starts to question his feelings towards you

jay wouldn’t admit to his feelings for you at first, probably because of 3 things; 1) he wants to save himself the embarrassment: 2) he’s scared of rejection: and 3) he’s scared of losing you as a friend

he would constantly have to stop himself from staring at you way too long, from thinking about how cute you are even when you’re not around, from falling in love even deeper than he already is…

after a few tortuous months

jay would come to full terms with his feelings after seeing you the week after easter holidays;

it would be mid spring, wind rustling the trees and petals falling onto the concrete pavement

you and the rest of enha are walking back home, bikes in hand instead of riding it, just enjoying the spring breeze and each other’s quiet company

he would look over at you and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t deny it any longer… the way your hair fluttered just like the petals around you, the warmth in the apples of your cheeks…

he was a gone man FOR SURE

there was just no way he could deny his feelings for you anymore

so from then on, he decided that he would just love you as silently as he could

and that he did

more under cut!

he didn’t want ANYTHING to get out, not even a single word about his feelings for u so he didn’t tell any of his friends about his crush on you, not even his mom who he tells absolutely EVERYTHING to

he wouldn’t be taking any chances of you ever finding out

he would jump off a cliff with this secret if he had to

jay would be the type to subconsciously try to match your fashion sense, or anything you do really

you like wearing greyish tones? jay would be finding clothes to match that

you like wearing semi-casual clothing? jay is already buying slacks, a dress shirt and some other pieces of clothing that fit the vibes the you go for

he wouldn’t even notice that he’s doing that until someone else points out how you guys are always matching

“eh? you guys are basically wearing the same outfits.” jungwon teases, nudging jay at the sides

jay would be blushing HARD, trying to shut jungwon up by slinging an arm around his shoulders and pushing the poor boy down

little does jay know that his little crush is PAINFULLY PAINFULLY obvious to all his friends, INCLUDING you

someone save my poor boy from his misery PLEASE 🙏🏻

if it wasn’t already obvious enough, jay has an extremely soft spot for you, always taking your opinions as his very first consideration

“where should we eat?” jay would ask

“i kinda wanna eat sushi…” sunoo replies, scrolling through his phone as the rest of you wait in front of a 7-11, deciding on what to eat for dinner

“i wanna eat italian!” you beam

jay is immediately searching for all the nearest italian restaurants in the area

“italian it is!”

everyone, except you, huffs and rolls their eyes in disbelief at how jay folded so fast

like BOY STAND UP!!

you think you know the extent of jay’s feelings? WRONG, you don’t even know the half of it…

he can’t even get mad at you because to him, you could do no wrong or harm… you’re too cute for that

jay would even let you be the first to taste test anything he cooks before everyone else, because he silently wants you to know just how much your opinions matter to him and that you’re the most important person to him, above everyone else (not including his family that is)

to him, it would be action >>>>>> words

you wouldn’t expect this but he’s probably the type to watch romance tarot readings with you in mind, giggling to himself whenever something remotely related or similar to you comes up

he’s just a silly little lover boy :(((

he’d even ask his mom how he could help when a girl is on her period because he wants to take care of you the best he can, bringing you chocolate, ice cream, all the snacks you could ever want

he would keep an extra pad in his locker just in case you needed it

he’d give you all his hoodies because you just look so much cuter in it, even if they were his favourite ones or he just bought them (he secretly buys them for you)

jay as your friend who secretly likes you can’t even keep it a secret, even if he tries to hide it

you’d eventually decide to put him out of his misery and confess to him first

“i like you.” you bluntly say, not nervous enough because you already knew how he felt about you

jay’s mind would completely short circuit, his feet stopping, his heart stopping, everything stopping

and when he finally comes back to his senses, he would jump around like he’s won the lottery or something

“I FINALLY GOT THE GIRL OF MY DREAMS??!?”

© i2ycat 2024 not my best eatery i’m afraid… and i was supposed to post this yesterday for jay day but umm… it’s out now! ^^

[chubsonthemoon]

Happy Binderary 2024!! Kicking things off with the fantastic Never understood a single word he said by dear friend @aboxthecolourofheartache. I had the best time beta'ing this for Box and just had to have it on my shelf! More pics and process info under the cut:

had an absolute blast packing as many easter eggs as I could into this one! it's a roadtrip gone wrong fic heh, so I went for a scrapbook/collage cover made of the same kraft paper I usually use for paperbacks, but left the hinge + spine exposed. I tore each piece from a different sheet of scrapbook paper, so the resulting texture is really fun:

I also went to town with references to some of the events in the story, particularly on the back of the cover. the postcard is probably my favorite element; here are my few first practice runs on scratch paper (along with some of my colored pencil testings for the markings on the map) before I went for it on the real cover!

I repurposed the ribbon graphics I originally drew for another bind (@feralrookie's right where I should be ❤️). the music notes on the first page notate the rhythm of the opening lines of the song the fic is based on, Three Dog Night's "Joy to the World," which I had on loop while I was typesetting this! ("Jeremiah was a bullfrog/Was a good friend of mine.") Box's taste in trigun-themed country and blues is impeccable, and I have a whole spotify playlist made almost entirely of her recs ehe :3

the blank/empty ribbon appears between chapter 1 and the epilogue for story reasons ehe; really wanted to convey the feeling of "where did the music go?", because I also listened to American Pie a lot while making this lolol.

also added little camera graphic at the end, which reminded me of meryl's occupation as a journalist, but the hands/lack of a face holding the camera also gives me the uncanny feeling of being watched/photographed (also plot relevant heh). camera graphic and the house graphic at the beginning are both sourced from Heritage Type's free vintage illustrations, from a series of packs called "Hands Holding Stuff."

the hand holding the house on the title page gave me wolfwood's confessional-on-the-go vibes, BUT it was originally held straight like this:

so I decided to tilt it to give it more of that feeling of instability and "oh shit my entire world is being turned upside down rn god the exits WHERE ARE THE EXITS (there are no exits)" feeling present in the fic :D so I guess it's more of a knives reference?? still, the kind of "what is even going on here?" reaction I had when I first saw it fits well with the title, so I went with it!

and that's it for now!! I'll be out of town for the next week or so, but I have a bunch more projects I'm really excited to share this month, along with some long-overdue author copies that I'm excited to get mailed to their rightful homes!

finally, thank you SO much for letting me bind your work, Box!!! it's always such a pleasure <333