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floshav · 7 months

Text

part 2 to my last rodrick fic which u can read here !

summary: Rodrick proves his likeness for y/n through a spontaneous kiss leaving her smitten and dazed. However, thoughts of Heather still lingered in her mind, constantly being reminded of the blonde girl whenever she passed by. "Does Rodrick still like her?" "Does he even like me?" What happens when Heather suddenly takes interest in Rodrick after ignoring him for years just because she can't let y/n get what she wants.

wc: 2k plus

warnings: allusions to smut, heavy make out

2 weeks later...

the kiss, no not just the kiss but the two kisses rodrick and y/n shared that night resulted in their relationship. She had been left smitten and the feeling was one of those that even if you wanted to forget, you couldn't. The heart racing, blush inducing feeling of getting kissed on by rodrick the boy she'd been crushing on for years, with his rough boy lips which still managed to be soft and plush because well, he was Rodrick after all.

It was now a plain old Monday and she was lost daydreaming in her Calculus class, or was it english? She couldn't bother to take notice.

"Alright, take out your calculators and flip to page 56. We'll be grinding through the workbook today class!" Ms. Smith yelled whilst her big buggy glasses fell down the tip of her nose bridge, stopped by her finger which shoved them back in place. Y/n couldn't care less. Her mind was swarmed with what happened 2 weeks ago.

His lips grazed hers one more time, this time softer and one might say more lovingly if she was in a state of delirium. She felt his slender hand creep up the side of her hip brushing it against her shirt so so gently. He broke off the kiss and his face was so close to hers she felt as if she might faint right then and there. The boy who was rough, impatient and borderline rude crumbled in-front of her. She'd never seen Rodrick like this before. Each freckle, each fine line, each perfect imperfection visible to her now. She'd imagined this image thousands of times before, but never had she imagined it to come true. Rodrick hesitated before saying his next words "I- I really like you y/n. And- and i just want to set that clear before you try showing up to my house drunk silly again. You were being so wreck less you know that?" He chuckled dorky-ly ever so slightly which made her heart pound just a little harder. Her heart fluttered at how he cared for her.

"M'sorry I-i just, m'just so jealous." She slurred as her eyes began to tear up with a mix of happiness, jealousy, anger and most of all, sadness. "Why? You know i'm here for you and you only, stupid." Rodrick whispered so softly against her lips but y/n's mind swarmed with confusion. "B-but you always *hiccup* talk about Heather." She sighed as she let herself fall into her hands. "Makes it *hiccup* hard to believe" She said again. "I-" He moves further back and a familiar ache rises to her chest, one of abandonment. "She was just someone I was infatuated in. Nothing more. Fuck. If i really liked her, would i have kissed you back? Let alone kiss you again?" He said making eye contact this time. He looked absolutely illegal. The way his hair was his usual mess, his blown out eyeliner smudged beneath his fox eyes. His puffy lips. Everything about him made her feel unreasonably hot in the cool weather. "S-so no more feelings for her?" "No. no more." he said so seriously it made her scared. "In fact, she's an asshole and i don't want any part of her in my life." He said whilst memories of what Heather did earlier fled his mind. Rodrick plants a kiss at the corner of y/n's lips and this time she knows it was meant lovingly. Still, at the back of her mind, the one aching question lingered, didn't he say he loved her?

"Y/n?" "Ms y/n?" She blinked and the memory was interrupted by an annoying voice. "Do you care to open your workbook? Or do you intend on staring at the cover for the next hour?" Ms Smith's breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck waking her from her daydreams of what happened that hazy night.

"Yea, sorry ms smith." She smiled tightly before flipping to page 66 or 57 the page number was was a blur to her, but an open book would do.

He planted a soft kiss at the crook of her neck.

suddenly her mind wandered to what happened later that night.

Hand riding up under her shirt. "is this okay?" His voice was earnest and soft against the skin of her neck.

her thighs clenched together unintentionally and she felt ashamed for imaging such lewd things. She'd been daydreaming about that night for the past few weeks. Each week making her crave for more until she felt sick. Rodrick hadn't made a move like that on her ever since, and she was just too shy to even ask so images in her mind would do for now.

He unclasped her bra in one swift motion and it made her question if he'd done this before, with... Heather? No, can't be, she doesn't even care for him. Right?

The kissing started to turn into making out and y/n felt his breathing falter when she brushed her pinky against his crotch by accident.

"Fuck do you even know what you're doing right now-"

"Ms. y/l/n!" Just as quickly as it started, her daydreaming had come to a halt.

"I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes. Care to share your answer to the whole class? I assume you didn't even hear the question number i gave you. Number 5! Now." Ms. Smith tried to hush her yelling down to be more precarious.

"Sorry Ms." Y/n sighed before making her way to the black board with a dumb empty mind filled with Rodrick.

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The same could be said about Rodrick. His usual sleepiness that was met with classes vanished ever since that night. Instead of sleeping, he was putting his pretty dumb brain to use by thinking. Thinking about y/n. Every night, everyday, every moment. He'd be lying if he said that she was the only girl he'd ever gained feelings for, because Heather Hills did exist. But it was true when he said he didn't like her anymore.

"Mmm- Aaah- R-rodrick p-please not my neck."

"Shhh, just one more kiss y/n, please."

"F-fuck!"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUC-"

Before Rodrick's dream could get any steamier he was awoken to the sound of Heather cursing just beside him, clearly to get someone's attention.

"FUCK! how am i going to do this!!!" Heathers voice was painfully exaggerated and Rodrick couldn't help but cringe. Was this the girl he was smitten by before?

"Oh- Hey Roddy!" Heather smirked as she twisted her body to face him.

Rodrick's head was rested on his arm and he couldn't help but look at her with dead eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You.... you play the drums right?"

"Mmm" Rodrick groaned as he scratched his temple, he was surprised at how much he didn't care for THE Heathers presence anymore.

"Was wondering if.... You'd wanna play a gig at my birthday party?"

Rodrick's eyes lit up. A gig? That was a once in a blue moon occasion to rodrick's ears. But reality struck him when he remembered it was Heather who was asking.

"Mmm sorry Heather, don't think i can." Though it ached him to decline the gig, he knew you wouldn't like it so he sucked it up. Rodrick felt a sense of pride when he realised he didn't stumble over his words around her anymore.

"Awwww but why! I'll pay you 50 bucks an hour, and you know my parties last long." She feigned a girly voice as she batted her long eyelashes which icked Rodrick out.

50 bucks an hour..... The offer was tempting but, you were even more tempting.

Before Rodrick could answer, you walked in the class with a goofy smile, ready to see your Rodrick with..... Heather.

Heather shot back daggers through a fake soft smile. The type she'd give to a teacher after almost being caught doing something.

"Oh... Hello there y/n! Sorry, Rodrick was just telling me about how he'd love to play drums at my party. Isn't that right Rodrick?"

"Wh- No?" Rodrick scoffed out, eyes squinting at the mischievous blue eyed blonde.

"Oh c'mon, don't lie to y/n just because you pity her! You're a man! Act like one." Heather said as she got up from her chair slightly agitated at the fact Rodrick didn't play along.

"See you there Roddy." Heather said before smirking and popping out her ass dramatically.

roddy... That nickname made y/n's blood boil and she never wanted to hear it again.

"I swear! I-I did not agree to any of the shit she just yapped about." Rodrick panicked whilst stumbling over his words like a nervous teenager, that familiar feeling rising again but this time towards y/n.

"Hard to believe Rodrick. Or should i say Roddy... God! i shouldnt have been so naive. I'm so stupid! I thought you were over her." Y/n lashed out before storming out the classroom in a hurry, not thinking straight.

"Wait! Fuck. That fucking bitch Heather." Rodrick sighed out as he reached for the class door.

You found yourself slanting against a crusty brick wall beside a half broken vending machine. You don't know why you overreacted so fast without even bothering to hear Rodrick's explanation but maybe it was because you were so stupidly insecure. You quickly fumbled around your pants pockets to find an old packet of ciggs you remembered you left there. There were 2 left so you lit one up and breathed in the pure comfort. It felt nice to not care just for a second with the cigarette around. When it could have gotten more peaceful you heard a set of obnoxious dorky feet approach you.

"Hey." Rodrick said lightly as he squatted down to your eye level, lanky hands hanging by each sides of his knees.

It made you jump a little and your facade of wanting to remain mad slowly revealed itself. You couldn't help but suppress a tight smile from leaking out.

"What" You said as you blew a whiff of smoke away from his face. His heart fluttered at the small gesture.

"I really did not agree to what Heather told you." He said seriously which was a rare look on Rodrick.

"Are you sure? Cuz it seems like you two are getting along just fine" Y/n sighed as she pushed her hair back, Rodrick's heart beat pounding harder by the second.

"Please, believe me I- I really did not agree to anything, I-I really want you to believe me please." Rodrick was pleading which was something she only saw when he was lovesick. At that moment she knew he couldn't harm her emotionally.

"Alright. Fine, I believe you." Y/n said with a tired voice, though deep down she was glad she could read Rodrick like an open book.

"Im so sorry." Rodrick sighs before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, still a nervous wreck whenever he handled her.

She releases her cig and reaches in to hug him back tightly and lovingly before breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. Far better than a cig.

Just around the corner was a cheeky little Heather, listening in to every single decibel of the convo. Heather tightly rolled her eyes and scoffed before it turned into a smirk. Something clicked in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She was going to fake it till she made it.

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lol i feel like this story deserves a pt3 so if this does well i will continue it! I know this has been a long times worth of progress but i've been procrastinating writing like crazy lately and i've only started getting back into it. Anyway please do request because i'm always bored and free !

#rodrick fanfiction #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick imagines #rodrick smut #smut #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick fanfic #rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick rules #rodrick x y/n #not my rodrick

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theplumsoldier · 8 months

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taking care

summary: on thursdays you and joel have a drink, but this time poor old joel is in need of a friend and makes a confession, which brings you closer than ever before.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

word count: 8,1k

warning: angst, alcohol consumption, talk of sad bad memories ;(joel tells you about everything that went down at the firefly hospital; killing-spree, lying to ellie, etc.), self-l oathing, crying joel, mutual pining, friends to lovers bro, vulgar language, some domestic bliss, friends to lovers trope!!! mdni 18+: mentions of masturbation and fantasizing about friends, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, pet names. let me know if i missed anything! <3<3

You found it ironic how you had longed for the sun's blazing rays to warm your body all winter when summer had finally reached Jackson and now you were whining and moaning because it felt like you were being fucking boiled alive.

The sweat tickled down your skin, perspiration spread in your hairline, threatening to bunch into droplets and fall from your nose and brow. Joel felt himself tense up at the sight. Dressed in washed denim shorts, a t-shirt, and worn cowboy boots—it was a sight to behold. You looked like an angel to a southern man, and Joel had to clear his throat to make sure his voice wouldn't fail him.

"Still goin' at it? It's Milton's job to take care 'o the horses, y'know."

Chuckling, you shook your head and dusted your shorts as you stood. Running a hand over your horse's mane, you gave Joel a smirk. "You know she don't like nobody but me."

He chuckled. Joel had noticed that the more time you had spent with him, the more his own southern drawl began to echo in your own voice. Not much, not enough for other people to notice, he doubted you yourself even did, but Joel noticed—and every time he got a taste of that sweet honeyed punctuation, his stomach practically somersaulted.

Today, you hadn't been on patrol together, as you had the morning call and he had the evening call. You knew he'd just gotten back. Typically he would shower after duty, but today he hadn't and you knew him well enough to know why.

"Had a rough run?"

Joel huffed in response, forcing himself to pry his eyes off of you for a second. He had never seen you in this little clothes before and was finding it quite difficult not to give you a one-over when you had turned to him completely.

You had tied your flannel around your waist, leaving your arms bare for the sun to tan and it was then he couldn't help himself. Your cleavage was revealed in the little top you wore, droplets of sweat glistening on your skin as they trailed—

Joel cleared his throat once again, "ya up for a nightcap?"

A sly smirk landed on your lips.

Leading your horse May back into the stables, you walked with Joel to his house, to share a drink or two as you did every so often. You sensed a sort of tradition forming, recalling you had done this exact play every Thursday for the past few months. Five out of seven days a week you patrolled together. On Mondays when you were both off duty you played pool. On two out of seven days, you were in no way obliged to see one another and yet, here you were, making it a tradition—ensuring that you would not go as long as 24 hours without keeping each other company.

You wanted to ask about the day he had had but decided against it and settled on asking how Ellie was doing instead. Having come to know Joel quite well, you understood he would rather let work-related matters stay work-related and it seemed fitting to veer your attention at Ellie as you recalled Joel saying she was doing good at school. You should've talked about the weather. The weather was a safe bet.

"S'it turns out she didn't even go—keeps holdin' out on me," Joel worried, clearly contemplating what might be on Ellie's mind.

Some weeks back, Joel had been thrilled to hear that Ellie was doing good in the school in Jackson, but as it turned out, she had lied to him about going. He wasn't sure where she'd run off to, and that bothered him more than the fact that she was keeping things like this from him—how could he keep her safe, if he didn't even know where she was?

It was clear Joel blamed himself for a lot of things, and though you were well aware he didn't always tell you everything just as Ellie didn't tell him everything, you never hesitated to assure him he was doing a good job. You admired the way he cared for her - it was obvious he loved her and she loved him - although you doubted they ever spoke of that. One night Joel had shared with you a portion of what Ellie had been through, and even admitted that there was a time, a brief span where Ellie had gone through hell for him and he didn't even know what she had endured back then—he blamed himself for a lot of things that happened to her, constantly reminding himself that he was not good enough, that he let her down. Joel hated that feeling, that he was failing yet another daughter and he needed to get a whole lot more of his chest, to talk to someone—to you, about what had happened before they returned to Jackson. He just never could, never knew how to begin nor how to explain why he'd done all those atrocities—what else might one call it? It was fucked up, all of it, but the situation had been so very fucked up too and he just needed someone to agree with him on that, he needed you to ensure him he had been right to make the choices that he did.

But Joel had always been good at keeping his feelings bottled up, letting them mix together over the years until an occasion allowed him to relieve some of the stress that concoction produced.

You had confronted him about it once when you had felt a small fraction of his anger—he had admitted and apologized, for it was so very unprompted he realized when he took it out on you, which led to a much more calm and collected conversation where you advised him to relieve himself of all that weight he insisted on carrying like fucking Atlas lifting the universe. While you didn't want to act like you were any better at that yourself - getting help, that is - he agreed you were right. In that moment he understood and doted the fact that you were willing to let your shoulder be one for him to cry upon if need be. Of course, he wasn't going to do that every chance given (patrolling helped a lot with his anger issues, giving him an excuse to commence violence); nevertheless, Joel felt touched to know you would be there for him.

Instead of dumbing his shitload of stress on you, he found himself going out of his way to see you outside of your communal duties, your company somehow helping in other ways. Though Joel never initiated any deep conversations with you, they happened every now and again and those nights, when he'd go to sleep, it felt as if he could rest just a bit easier.

The sun gradually went over the horizon, the blue sky melting into a nuance of lilac, bringing with it the cold and quiet air of night. This was a peace neither of you had experienced in a long time before settling down in Jackson and therefore as sacred and precious as a promise.

You helped yourself to another drink and Joel quietly watched on as you poured the liquid gold. Holding up the bottle you tipped your head to look at him, silently asking if he needed a refill.

Over the years Joel had become a man of few words and meeting you he suspected he had found his match. You only conversed freely around people you liked and enjoyed the company of, not nearly bothered enough to spare even a glare at those who didn’t deserve your time.

You decided to joke to lighten the mood and hoped you weren't overstepping. "Come on, Joel. I know you're older than me but you must've been a teenager at some point."

It made him snort and his brow jumped at the change of topic though he wasn't about to object. You adored it when he looked at you like that; the way he glared when you teased him or made him laugh. "If I was I sure don't remember."

Joel downed the rest of his drink and held out the glass. You leaned forward and poured him a couple of inches and for a second Joel slipped, forgetting his guard and manners as he watched more of your chest expose to him. He wasn't sure when his attraction had begun, but he had noticed that lately he just couldn't seem to oppress it. Joel would waste away at night, fighting the urge to let himself give in to his desires and fantasize about you as he fisted his cock—and he was strong on that part. It was hard (and in more ways than one) but he felt disrespectful even thinking of you like that. He was supposed to be your friend; and what kind of friend would he be if he was ready to betray your trust when he was feeling lonely.

He gulped.

Finally prying his eyes off of you, Joel wet his dry lips and slushed the drink around the cup.

"You're a generous bartender," he remarked sarcastically.

You laughed.

"You've got expressive eyes, you know that?"

He stopped with the rim of the glass at the tip of his lip, pausing, fearing he had been caught. The thump, thump, thump of his heart resonated in his ears.

"'S that so?" he pondered. "What're they tellin' ya?"

Joel hoped you didn't notice the way his breath hitched in his throat when you leaned back in the rocking chair with a smug smirk on your lips.

"That you were a troublemaker," you grinned. "But you never got in trouble 'cause you were so damn charming as a kid. Probably shoplifted gum or some shit."

Joel laughed. You weren't too far off; he did occasionally get into trouble and he did usually get out of it with no problem—his mom had called him the luckiest boy in the world. The memory struck a cynical thought in his mind; he might have been lucky but not enough to miss the end of the world.

Joel decided to entertain your guessing game. "I ain't ever shoplifted. Didn't have the guts for it," he tutted before taking a swig. "'F I had it would've been condoms though."

Your eyes squinted and crinkled as you bit back a cackle. Your head fell back and your chest bubbled with laughter and he knew he shouldn't have made the last comment when he felt his cock strain against the seams of his washed jeans.

"Joel Miller—scared of a lil' thievin'?" you teased, moving your boot from the porch railing to shove at his thigh.

There was that southern accent you had obtained from him again.

He masqueraded his discomfort by shoving back at your foot with a chuckle—he wasn't sure why he kept his hand on your boot though, keeping it in the place you had put it.

"I didn't have sex till I was like 24..." Joel's expression turned sour as he noticed yours did the same and sensed a bitter memory. Then you mused, trying to make light of the bitter picture that flashed in your mind: "Thought it was love. Turns out it was fear."

You shook your head as if to shake the thoughts out. You'd been through a lot since then, toughened up and become brave enough to fight for yourself, but the memory was still clear. You had vowed to never trust another man again which was why it made this blooming attraction to Joel Miller all the more difficult. The last thing you had considered when coming to Jackson was to try and build a life, and yet; here you were, having built a life with friends and found family in a prospering community with a steady ass job and bars and cafés and all that shit as if the world had never ended.

It seemed almost like you had been feigning sadness for your mien changed so abruptly it caught Joel off guard. You said with casual indifference: "How 'bout you? Ever manage to find love in this fucked up world?"

Joel wasn't sure if you were testing him. You had said he had expressive eyes and completely misread his mind—now he wondered if it was on purpose. The way you nudged him with your boot (that he was still holding onto) told him you were very aware of what you did to him.

And you noticed—of course, you noticed the way his eyes would effortlessly glide over your body, down your body whenever you moved an inch. You had noticed his attention before, but not like this. Not when it shamelessly continued when you had caught him and it made you realize you were not making stuff up in your mind.

Joel wanted you, too.

Now you just wanted him to admit it.

"Once or twice," he finally admitted though his answer gave you little to work with.

You supposed it was the question and not the answer that was the problem; there's a fine line between loving another person, caring for another person, liking a person, and enjoying their company. You had once been told that one could determine if they loved someone, romantically, in just a few minutes by looking into the other person's eyes. It made you wonder—how long would it take you? Would you find that you did in fact love Joel Miller after just 3 minutes? Or would you find that there were more cons than pros to your relationship? Perhaps you might hate him, and this attraction was spurred on by a sadistic kind of hatred and a need to put him in a vulnerable position.

No. That seemed unlikely.

When you first met him you thought he was arrogant, manipulative, and cocky.

Now that you had spent so much one-on-one time with him, you had realized he was confident, persuasive, and fearless. He seemed impossibly skeptical because he was cautious, and he appeared bossy but that was just him being self-asserted.

You couldn't possibly blame a man for being confident when the trait suited him so well. Right now, you had just hoped he was confident enough to let you know how he felt.

Suddenly you shivered. The days had become unbearably warm but the nights were equally unrelenting with the cold.

"It's getting cold."

"Y'wanna call it a night?"

"I'd rather go inside," you shrugged blatantly as if it was not a big deal. It was. Despite how long you had known Joel and how often you were in his company, you had never been beyond this porch, never stepped into the humble residence. You pressed, watching him rather intently: "S'that weird?"

Joel's fingers were intertwined in his lap, thumbs picking at each other. There was a blank yet somehow inquisitive look in his brown eyes and you couldn't tell if it was because his mind was going over what you were offering or because the whiskey had caught up to him.

He let go of his lip with a tsk and shook his head. His gaze softened, and a faint but certain smirk tugged the corner of his mouth. "Not at all."

Joel made the move to stand up and your boot found the ground below with a thud. He grasped the two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other, then pushed the door handle with his elbow.

Inside the walls were painted a deep orange and it reminded you of curry. Though it was not a nice color, it made the room appear warm and cozy with the lights on. There was a green couch which pretty much made up the living area. A bartop separated the kitchen from the dining room and there was a small mess atop the table where you supposed Ellie had been drawing. It was only then you noticed the art decorating the house, Ellie's drawings displayed in beautiful gold frames like in a museum. It made you chuckle.

"Where's Ellie anyway?"

Joel slouched down on the couch, arms spreading around the back and you looked over just in time to catch him parting his legs, thick thighs smothering the couch cushion, looking oh so big and handsome. What a slut, you thought.

You occupied the space left beside him, pulling your legs up under your body, and thanked him as he handed you your glass. In an effort to test the waters, you let your fingers brush over his knuckles as you accepted the drink, watching him closely. He shifted a bit, but in no way trying to distance himself from you. Your knees rested against his thigh and you could've sworn he only moved his leg closer to you.

"She's with that girl Cora."

"Flemmings?"

"Yeah."

Cora Flemmings was a sweet girl, not the type you would have guessed Ellie would want to hang out with, but you guess that's where your relationship with her ended. You had realized she was quite likable early on, witty and smart, too, but that was about it. She didn't allow a lot of people to get close, and you supposed that was fair all things considered—still, you couldn't help but feel you had let her down. It was stupid, really, but being as close a friend to Joel as you were, it felt like you should know her better.

A shared a couple of more drinks, just lounging on the couch, side by side, your shoulder pressed against his. It was not unusual for Joel to be quiet even when you would go on talking about whatever came to mind, but you noticed he was being more unresponsive than normal. You knew him too well to think he was getting drowsy from the mix of the late hour and the whiskey. His mind was on something else, and again you wanted to pry, but you knew better than to do so.

To your surprise, he let you in: "Can I tell you something?"

It was a stark contrast of serious pondering compared to the mindless rambling of life in outer space, going from negative numbers to a hundred in a split second. You were caught off guard, but tilting to look at Joel instead of the ceiling, you nodded softly.

It was difficult not to notice the tension in his body, sitting close to him and all. Feeling his chest rise with labored breaths, watching his jaw clench and loosen up, only to flex again, you realized something far deeper than extraterrestrials was on his mind.

Nothing could have prepared you for the burden he was about to unload. Joel resumed to tell you how when he had first met Ellie, she had been nothing more than precious cargo to the Fireflies, a girl believed to be immune to Cordyceps. It was his mission to get her to Salt Lake City, but when he and Ellie reached St. Mary’s Hospital, he discovered that the doctors would have to perform a brain operation. It would kill her. Everything that had happened up until that point had been for that specific moment. His bottom lip trembled as he told you he didn't even have to think about it before he grabbed the gun and started shooting. "It was easy," he said as tears welled up in his eyes. After spending months protecting and getting to know Ellie, getting to love her like his own daughter—he wasn't about to not rescue her from yet another certain death. He recalled how they'd had a brief moment before it all, where Ellie admitted she wanted to stay with Joel after the procedure. "Used it as an excuse," he cried silently. "She 'ad no idea she wouldn't come out on the other side."

Your heart sank as it all dawned on you. Everyone involved robbed Ellie of any agency at all.

What seemed to be the worst part for Joel, though, was when he lied to her. Saying she asked him point-blank to tell her the truth of what had happened back there. He spoke through gritted teeth, his gravelly voice clawing its way through his heart in his throat: "Then I told her the fattest lie."

You wanted to jump in, reassure him he did what he thought was right and at least gave her a chance of life. But you couldn't. It was too big a mouthful, too tough to swallow it all at once and give him some not-thought-through assurance.

It was a lot to take in.

You had never doubted Joel would do everything in his power to protect the ones he loved, but this—it was all too visual to get behind. Impeding finding a cure, the rampage through the hospital, the lying. It was easy to see Joel hated every part of what he had done, though he did not regret it. It was horrifying to think, but it didn't not sit right with you.

That's what parents were supposed to be, right?

Protectors.

He might have acted out of his own interest; he might have stripped her of what she believed—what she wanted to be her destiny, but he did it out of love.

You couldn't possibly sit here and say you wouldn't have gone full-on Attica to save the ones you loved. You couldn't possibly tell him you would have done the same either. In more than one way, you were much like Joel, only you hadn't had that kind of bond with anyone in a long time, and so it was impossible for you to understand everything Joel had gone through, everything he still went through.

At this point became quiet, his soft sniffles reduced to staggered breaths. His hands shook in his lap as his fingers fidgeted. You reached across and took his hands in yours, the size difference almost comical in your smaller ones.

"I hate that you went through that, Joel," you began, biting your lip as you contemplated your words. "It was... It might not have been a difficult choice then, but it's no doubt difficult to live with."

You hated to think he had done that, but you could see that he, most of all, was disgusted with himself for lying to her. That would have hurt him more than anything else he had done that day, and it was evident he hated himself for that.

You squeezed his hands between your own, prompting him to look at you.

"You did what you thought was right. You did everything in your power to protect her. You can't possibly be wrong for that."

His eyes dropped and his face contorted, beating himself up. Although his head bobbed in a quiet nod, agreeing with you, your words didn't do much to convince him.

You wanted to cry, loathing the thought that you couldn't convince him he was not a bad man, couldn't help him.

A different approach then.

You were aware that Joel possessed an innate distrust in systems: He had shared with you his experiences with the government back in the day, his experience with the Fireflies, his experience with FEDRA. Nobody had ever worked in his favor.

You were so focused on helping him that you didn't even realize you had reached up to cup his cheek. Stray tears bedewed the upper edge of his stubbles, and you caressed the patch mindlessly with your thumb. You had never been this close.

"Hey," you whispered softly, keeping his despondent brown eyes on you. It broke you but you put on a determined face. "It's okay, you're okay, Joel—you're here. Don't beat yourself up about it, it's okay."

He didn't believe that. Joel's mind was in turmoil, his thoughts turning on him, torturing him.

His eyes squinted, forcing a new wave of tears to flow and you shook him, more harshly than you meant to. "Joel, hey—hey! Look at me, look at me, Joel."

He forced himself to snap out of it, a sharp inhale clawed its way down his throat, forcing his lungs to be filled. The scent of you, the scent of a day's work and macadamia shampoo, calming his senses.

It's okay.

You're okay.

You're safe.

Finally, his labored breaths ceased and he managed to stop trembling. Bringing himself to look at you, you didn't miss the way he gulped, his expression turning soft with the remains of deep lines carving his features.

"Good, you're doing good, Joel," you praised, too close, too deep in it not to brush the fallen strings of dark, matted hair out of his face. "Look whose to say these people had any clue what they were doing? Hell, even if they did manage it—say they produced a cure—what then? How'd they distribute it? How'd they manage to cure the last of us while the Cordyceps is still out there, constantly mutating? I—I mean they might be able to save a couple hundred, maybe thousands—but what's the use? People would get infected along the way, people like us, who are safe here in Jackson, we'd go out there again and risk our lives just to get the vaccine—a-and what for? We've already lost this battle. S'it really worth saving what's left?"

As the tension of your rant died down, you suddenly became very conscious of the way you held onto Joel. Your hands had settled on his shoulders for purchase, and the fleeting thought of how fucking broad they were this up close, made shame crawl your skin.

Dropping your hands, you watched him intently, looking for signs of discomfort, hoping you hadn't gone too far.

Though his expression was difficult to read, your gut told you he was grounded again, and you boldly leaped at the opportunity to provide that last bit of assurance.

You wet your lips and sighed.

"I won't act like I know what is right and what is wrong, but I can't blame you for doing what you believed to be the moral choice. You are not the villain."

Watching as he was deep in thought, a pang of guilt struck you. On more than one occasion, had you accused Joel of being prone to overthinking. From experience, you knew that entailed tossing words around to better fit the negative narrative in one's brain, and now you worried you might have said too much to have been any help at all.

Worriedly, you spoke your mind: "I hope I didn't say too much, make matters worse."

Joel didn't look at you just yet, but he instantly shook his head. "No, no," he muttered, collecting his thoughts. Breathing in was easier now, he noted, the pinching strain in his chest changed for something else. A small chuckle escaped him and he cleared his throat and shifted in the couch to cover it up, as if he didn't mean to let it slip. Turning to you, there was a small glint in his eyes. "Thank you. Really, I… You know, wouldn't 'ave vented to you like that if I expected you to keep your mouth shut. Trust me, you didn't make me feel worse, doll."

Doll. It played on a loop in your mind.

Doll, doll, doll.

"S'good," you mumbled, eyes flickering down his chest. "Cause, you know, really ain't what I was goin' for."

Joel's chest rumbled with a chuckle. There it is again, he mused to himself. That little accent he must have rubbed off on you and that thing in his body tickled his insides again. It had been a long time since he had felt this way, but it was unmistakable.

It dawned on you that you must have been looking at him with the sickly adoration of a girl in love, for when the grin faded it was replaced by—confusion, maybe? Curiosity?

"What?" you blurted, mentally deadpanning for albeit short, it was a sweet moment of quietness and you went ahead and made it weird.

Joel then looked puzzled, his head tilting like a bewildered dog asked if it wanted to go for a walk.

Your heart missed a beat at the look in his eye, another when the brown orbs dropped and lingered on your lips. As if the air had been knocked out of you, you suddenly felt breathless, frozen in place as if struck by fear and you wondered how you could be so stupid. What else could it be—not confusion, not curiosity but the need for knowing; if the same thing that was happening to his heart was happening to yours?

"I-I—" you stammered but were quickly cut off as Joel jumped from the couch as if he had realized he was late for something.

"I, uhh," Joel interrupted though he had no better speech prepared than you had. He scratched the underside of his arm, looking both bashful and hot with embarrassment.

The silence resumed and you stood up as well, trying to figure out what the hell to do with your arms so that you wouldn't look so awkward. "Tell you what, you uh—you go clean up and I'll make a little dinner and we'll eat and I'll get outta your hairs, then." The thought of leaving didn't sound as appealing as you thought it would. Making a fool of yourself, just a second ago, ruining whatever that had been, you would have jumped at the opportunity to hide under the covers, but now—you didn't like that idea one bit. You reminded him—but mostly yourself: "We still got an early morning tomorrow."

Joel frowned, shaking his head. "No, yeah, yeah—you're right, sure."

Without another stumbling attempt at conversation, he spun around and disappeared, feet trotting to the sound of his palpitating heartbeat.

Locking himself in the bathroom, Joel immediately started cursing as he scrabbled about, ending up with his palms firmly pressed against the sink.

Finding his reflection in the mirror, he stared into his own eyes for a minute, collecting his crumbling self. "Get it together."

Stripping out of his clothes, Joel turned the faucet on and stepped into the shower, not bothering to wait for the water to get hot. He needed to cool down, anyway.

He couldn't get the moment out of his head and wondered if he had misread the entire thing. Could it be, that he had merely been so entranced by his own emotions, that he resorted to some simple wish-thinking? Perhaps you realized, coming out of the sympathetic spell, that you cared for him no more than a friend.

Joel scrubbed harder down his body, heedless to the itch that burned around his newly acquired wounds and scratches.

He couldn't get the image out of his head: The way you had looked at him as you clutched his face in your hands, comforting him—it wasn't how friends looked at each other, no matter how much they cared for one another. Joel looked for signs of the same display of affection earlier in the night, and he recalled your banter, your boot teasingly pushing at his leg, and the way you watched him over the rim of the glass.

Stepping out of the shower, he had managed to get his spiraling thoughts under control, sweep them under the carpet, if you will. Drying off, Joel was about to leave the bathroom in nothing but a towel, as one often would in their own home, but reminded himself that you were in his kitchen.

Not wanting to make you uncomfortable, he begrudgingly jumped into a fresh set of clothes, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a tee when he reappeared in the living room.

Joel cursed his own stupidity when he saw you standing there, mindlessly swaying your hips to Y Andale playing in the background (you had found his stereo) as you stirred the pot. He should have put on a pair of briefs to hold the hardening outline of his cock in place.

When you turned around to place the pot on a felt coaster on the dining table, you gave a start as you saw Joel just standing there. He looked devilishly good in the plain outfit, hair damp and slicked back.

You offered him a smirk. “Hope you don’t mind—jus’ couldn’t help myself when I noticed the stereo.”

All the reasons as to why Joel couldn't do a thing about his attraction to you, all the strength he had just mustered in the bathroom to hold himself back; it all went down the drain as he became aware of the vividly domestic setting before him.

You had little time to assess the situation as Joel closed the space between you in just four strides. Before you knew it, one large hand cupped your cheek and another pulled you close by the waist. There was a split second of that something again, and then he pressed his lips to yours.

Your eyes fluttered close and you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into his touch (not that you wanted to). His lips felt dangerously soft and puffy, surprisingly warm and inviting as they passionately touched your own. In a delirious moment, the fresh scent of him veiled you like a pleasant comforter after a long day at work, those plush lips wrapping around yours, nibbling, sucking—all too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

Breaking apart for air, you felt light-headed, like the room was spinning and you were hot with fever.

It looked as if the black of his pupils had swallowed up the brown of his irises. You were weak, thinking you were the root of his lust. Joel breathed your name.

"S'this okay?"

Biting your lip, you blushed. Putting it into words somehow made it seem all the more real. Even if it was a dream, you hoped you would never wake up.

You let out a shaky breath, unable to hold back the small chuckle it turned into. "You don't have to ask, Joel."

He chuckled then, too, realizing it was probably a bit too late for that anyway. The way your teeth let your lower lip go only made his cock grow harder. Holding you closer, firmer against him, Joel sucked in a breath. "F'you let me, I don't think I can stop."

You prayed he could feel your heart beating against his chest, the way you could feel his cock poke your lower stomach.

Searching for his eyes, you nudged your nose against his. "I don't think I ever want you to stop."

He didn't waste another second.

Crashing his lips to yours, the kiss was more heated than the first, showing you exactly how much he wanted you. Swiping his tongue against your lip, you let him in without hesitation, tasting him for the very first time. Tongues dancing and teeth clashing, Joel snaked his arms down your body, lifting you from under your thighs with a grunt.

You were so caught up in finding his soft spots, kissing him gingerly on his neck, that you didn't realize where he was carrying you until you were splayed out on his bed, melting into the mattress.

Eagerly reconnecting your lips, you found yourself having completely forgotten about the soup, relishing the feeling of the open-mouthed kisses Joel pressed to your skin.

Moaning as he nibbled the skin below your ear, you pulled his face back up to yours, wanting to prolong the kiss. He gave in to your desires but trailed his lips down your neck as your fingers entangled with his hair and you began writhing beneath him.

Finding that sweet spot he had only gotten to graze before you pulled him away, he brought his lips close to your ears and whispered: "You gonna let me take care o' you now?"

Too lost in the sensation, the feeling of his warm lips brushing your skin, the press of his body weight against yours, you couldn't do anything but moan, whimpering a small “please”. He could do whatever he wanted with you.

Noting the bliss you were caught in, Joel chuckled, but he was determined on an audible confirmation. Grasping you by the jaw, he forced you back down on earth. "Tell me you want me."

Brows furrowed and hips desperately bucking up, you whined and responded, "please, please, Joel—need you."

Joel had to steady himself against you, feeling his muscles weaken at the sweet, sweet sound of your begging.

"S'a good girl," murmured he, letting his hands roam every curve of your body, every hill, and every cleft. Squeezing your hip, you felt the coarse pads of his fingers caress the skin beneath your top. "Take this off f'me, yeah?"

You quickly got rid of it, not particularly eager to move your hands from his body. Joel laced his fingers through yours, pressing your hands at either side of your head as he eagerly kissed you, his warm tongue darting out of its cave to invite you to dance.

His palm kneaded your breast, a low groan escaping him which you swallowed down, moaning when his coarse thumb swiped across your nipple.

"Can I take these off, baby?" he asked lowly, and you whimpered meekly, bucking your hips up in response.

Joel worked your shorts off of you, and it seemed to get ten degrees hotter in the bedroom. He had left your panties on and as he trailed a path of wet kisses down your body, you groaned pathetically.

"Joel, please," you begged, not sure whether you wanted his fingers or his mouth, his tongue or his cock.

"I know, pretty girl, I know," he hummed, but there was little sympathy in his tone. A wanton sound escaped you when one of his fingers expertly nudged your clit, like he already knew your body like the back of his hand. "Look at you, baby, so pretty and ready f'me."

You had never given it much thought, whether Joel was one for pillow talk, but you certainly didn't mind it. You couldn't even be flustered about the mess you must have made in your panties; not when his eyes were enlivened with adoration and words laced with desire, not when his touch felt so enticing.

Joel pushed your panties aside and ran his fingers through your slick, kissing and nibbling at your inner thigh.

Moaning, a chain of pleas left your lips. Another low chuckle escaped him and you barely managed to pout down at him before his tongue darted out, collecting your arousal in a long, painfully slow lick. Eyes fluttering shut, they rolled to the back of your head while your hands clutched the sheets so hard your knuckles turned white.

"Holy—f-fuck!"

His nose, so perfectly shaped rubbed against your clit and his beard tickled your sex, making you squirm.

Joel used his hands to part your legs further, giving them a squeeze to let you know to keep them in place. His fingers spread your sex and groaned when his thumb played with the bundle of nerves.

As his tongue licked up and down your wet pussy, your legs threatened to close in on him and he must have noticed your struggling because he praised you, murmuring you were doing so good for him. You spread your legs as if on command, determined to be worthy of the praise.

While his thumb circled your clit, a finger prodded against your opening, coating it in your arousal as Joel slipped inside and he grunted. "So damn tight for me, baby girl."

So concentrated on holding your legs in place while he worked you closer to the edge, you involuntarily ground down on his hand, adding to the pressure on your clit, and felt his thick finger spread you so deliciously.

He chuckled, "y'want more, huh?" Adding another finger to the mix, he curled two digits against your spongy walls and you cried out. "I know, I know, baby. You're doing so good, pretty girl, clenchin' down real nice—fuck."

Joel allowed you to feel him as he worked his fingers in and out of your sex at a tauntingly slow rhythm, leaving you to feel the stretch when he was knuckles-deep.

"Fas—fuck! Faster Joel," you moaned, panting as you became increasingly impatient to reach the impending orgasm.

Joel watched you intently, jaw slack, and peppered open-mouthed kisses on your thighs. He picked up the pace, grinding his own hips into the mattress.

"Fuck, baby—that's it, keep makin' those pretty lil' noises for me. Doin' so good," he encouraged, feeling his mouth wet with drool.

"Please—want your cock, Joel," you whined needily.

"I know, I know, baby girl," he sympathized, squeezing your thigh as if to comfort you. It only made you shift beneath him, as his fingers seized pumping, curling against your clenching cunt. He lulled, "you can take a third, right?"

Any answer close to making itself audible was interrupted by his tongue lapping at your clit, adding to the euphoric sensation of three fingers prodding your entrance. A moan got stuck in your throat and your head slammed back down on the pillow, crying at the stretch.

Joel must've sensed your orgasm approaching for he increased the steady thrusting, his movements not once stuttering while his tongue persistently flicked your clit. A wave rushed over you as he coerced the orgasm to be ripped from your writhing body with inaudible praises, letting you ride out your frenzy on his now-soaked face.

Bleary-eyed, hands balling up the sheets, you willed yourself the strength to look down at the sight—and by God, it truly was a sight.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, revealing a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. Your cheeks flushed red, and you pulled him into your neck to hide your embarrassment, as if he hadn't just eaten you out as if his life depended on it.

Joel held your face, eyes mindlessly scanning over your features. "Don't be shy now, baby, tastes goddamn delicious," he hummed with a satisfied lull to his tone, pressing his lips to yours.

"No one's ever done that," you blurted, not entirely sure why you would even admit that.

A frown settled on his face, something resembling disbelief and amusement, and then a strained touch of lust padded over his expression. He was not hesitant to admit that only turned him on all the more. Joel’s ego even told him you had been waiting, saving yourself just for him.

You reached between you to pull down his sweatpants and Joel was happy to let you help him out of his constraints: He had had to stop grinding into the mattress while going to town for fear that he might cream his pants. That would have been embarrassing, busting like some teenager finally getting some action. Though he was touch starved, he would hate to wait any longer—he needed to finally feel you—finally be a part of you.

You had always imagined Joel would have a big cock, but your fantasy scenarios did him no justice—he was long and thick, heavy as his weeping tip pushed against your entrance, and you realized why he had insisted on stretching you out first.

Your sex lives had never been a topic brought up in conversation prior to today, but you could imagine he knew it had been a long damn time. Feeling his cock prod against your sex, you felt thankful for the forethought.

"Fuck," Joel shuddered, sheathing himself in your cunt. His forehead bumped against yours. "So damn tight f'me, baby girl."

You latched your hands onto his shoulders for support, wincing at every inch he filled you with.

Joel hadn't noticed he had been holding his breath before he bottomed out in you, a ragged groan finally releasing itself from his dry throat. He caught your heavy-lidded eyes with a boyish smirk—he could hardly believe this was happening, after so long. "How ya feelin'?"

You let out a breathy chuckle, overwhelmed by the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of his smell and his touch. "Over the fuckin' moon."

The worry vanished, wiping his face clean to replace it with another expression, a search.

You tucked him closer, grasping his ass to feel him better. "Fuck me now."

Cock twitching, saluting your command, and obeying your wish, he pulled back, thrusting his hips forward in a grinding motion that had you gasping for air, eyes rolling back.

Joel pressed sultry kisses to your neck, to your cheek, and to the corner of your mouth. Cupping your face in one palm and holding himself up by his elbow, he forced you to come back to him. "Eyes on me, pretty girl."

There's a spot inside you, one you can't recall ever reaching, but when Joel does you're sure your fingernails dig little crescents into his skin. White hot blurs your vision, a string of wanton moans and curses leaving your lips, panting. "Holy shit."

Your hands roam over the expanse of his chest as his thrusts become harder, more relentless. The sun-kissed skin warms your palms and your foreheads brush, breaths shared.

"Fuck, it's like y'were made for me," he sighed, brows creased in concentration and eyes fixated on where his cock disappeared inside your cunt. The sounds of skin slapping were so fucking vulgar and he's right, you thought, and he was made for you, too.

His rhythm was designed to make you see stars. The coil in your stomach tightened and he must have felt you squeezing around him, for the motions only became harsher, his hips crashing into yours in precise strokes.

Joel's head drooped, nose brushing your temple as he shook his head. "M'not gonna last much longer," he confessed lowly.

Dexterous fingers snaked between your sweat-licked bodies and he rubbed your clit, desperate to feel you come around his cock.

Gasping, holding onto his shoulders as he rocked your body back and forth, you forced his eyes to lock with yours. "Come inside me, Joel," you begged fervently, and you knew it was risky, very fucking risky, in fact, but you couldn't care less—you wanted to feel all of him.

The didn't deter him one bit, however, if anything it spurred him on, the jolts of his hips becoming animalistic. He found purchase on your shoulders, holding you in place so that he could better fuck up into you. His hips began stuttering, sinful groans falling from his dirty mouth. "You want me t'fill you up, yeah? Want everyone to know who you belong to? That's it, baby, come around my cock 'n I'll fill you up real good."

Losing yourself to the mind-wrangling orgasm, your legs spasmed and you cried his name, repeating it like a prayer while he fucked you through yours, chasing his own.

With one, two, three thrusts, he spilled inside you, burying his cock deep in your cunt as his purchase buckled under his weight. You didn't care that he collapsed on you—you had never felt better, never felt more full.

Coming down from your highs, you held him close even when he slumped down against your side, his softening cock slipping out of your sex.

For a few moments, you just lay there, regaining your breath, feeling the reality of it all wash back over you. It felt silly having to summon the courage to face him again, but you couldn't help the blush that colored your cheeks.

Joel spoke first. "Can't believe it took us so damn long," he mused, somewhat dumbfounded with a grimace of disbelief. You melted when his strong arm cradled you closer to his chest.

You nuzzled your face into his neck, sighing quietly along to the rise and fall of his breathing. Yawning, you drowsily mumbled, "I don't ever wanna leave your side, Joel."

Joel pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, holding you close as he felt sleep closing in on him. "You won't, sweetheart. I won't let you." Your heart was racing but sleep managed to pull you under its grasp. Joel relished the languid hum you offered in response, and he brushed the hair from your face, kissing you one last time. He could barely wait to wake up with you in the morning. "Sweet dreams, pretty girl."

#theplumsoldier #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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kentoshousewife · 2 months

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shower sex with nanami pt2...-> part one here!

tags; nsfw, 18+, smut OBV.

wc. 894 (short af ugh!)

writing for hubby nanamin again i just love him.

it was the wee hours of a dreaded monday morning and nanami had woken up a little earlier than his set alarm, which doesn't happen too often but it's not an unnatural occurrence. he figured he might as well use the extra time to leisurely get ready for the day. slowly sitting up, trying not to wake you, nanami gets out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom connected to your shared bedroom.

he makes precise work of brushing his teeth while running the shower, waiting for it to become a decent temperature. hopping into the shower once it was suitable, he let the water run down his body, the pressure of the shower head feeling heavenly.

you barely feel the bed shift as nanami gets up, but it wakes you out of your sleep anyway. you don't mind the disturbance, you don't have anything to do or anywhere to be, so there's no problem with rising a little early.

after a few seconds of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize the shower is running. kento must've woken up early. you grin to yourself as a mischievous smile graces your lips so early in the morning.

stripping from your silk nightgown you make your way to the bathroom, opening the door. "ken.." you call out, "can i join you?" you ask just loud enough for him to hear over the running water.

"of course pumpkin, c'mon" he hums sweetly.

you push the curtain just enough for you to fit through and climb into the shower with a soft giggle. nanami swiftly rinses the soap from his body before turning to you. grabbing your hips, he turns you so you're now under the shower head.

you sigh in satisfaction at the warm water cascading down your body slightly sore from the night before. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck with your manicured fingernails. figuring since he has a little time before actually needs to start getting ready for work, you could have some fun with him. fortunately for you, nanami has the same thought.

that's how you ended up stuffed full of your husband's fat cock so early in the morning. nanami held up one of your legs, spreading you open so he had an ample amount of room to fuck you until tears started gathering in your eyes. the tips of your toes on your other leg were barely touching the shower floor, he may as well have been carrying you.

the position he had you in let him reach the depths of your pussy, you could feel him in your stomach, and if you looked down, you were sure you'd be able to see him as well.

nanami confirmed your suspicions, looking down at you as he fucked the remaining drowsiness out of you, he saw the bulge of his cock poking your belly from the inside. he felt himself twitch wildly inside you at the sight. he took the liberty of pressing down on the bulge.

the action made your back arch while your nails scratched down his own, it sent electricity all throughout your body, ending at your toes.

the feeling of you clenching around him like a vice had his moans echoing throughout the bathroom.

"fuck, your cunny's so delightful pumpkin" he praised, "you feel good baby?"

you could barely speak, your brain practically turned to mush. "daddy feel s'good." you whimper, "g'nna make a mess".

you tried to warn him of your impending orgasm but you're pretty sure he could tell from how much you were clenching around him.

"i know honey, me too" he moves one of his hands to rub your clit in tight circles, "m'gnna fill you up so nice" he promises, "you wan' it?"

"yes daddy please, please" you beg repeatedly, yet unnecessarily. he could never say no to you, you deserve everything and more, the least he could do was give you the best orgasms of your life.

the pleasure his thick cock and his rough fingers were giving you brought you to your peak, "shit!" nanami moaned into the crook of your neck as he came rope after thick rope inside of you. the feeling of him feeling you up with his cum triggering your release completely.

"ohhh m'god" you squeal in delight. nanami sucks dark purple hickies into your brown skin while massaging the plushness of your thighs as you both try to come down from your reeling orgasms.

eventually, your legs were only slightly trembling instead of vigorously shaking like before, you two got cleaned up and dressed in the clothes you would begin your day in.

going down to the kitchen, you started a pot of coffee and breakfast, checking the clock to see how much time you had left to spend with your man before he had to depart for the day. seeing you had time to finish cooking and eat comfortably without rushing, you found yourself wishing you could start every morning like this.

nanami came around the corner and wrapped his arms around your waist as you moved around the kitchen, stuck to you like white on rice. the two of you spend the rest of your morning together eating breakfast and showering each other with soft kisses and words of affection.

kentoshousewife notes;

choso,,satoru,,yuuta,,so many choices. also i had no idea how to end this. i love him i wanna kiss him and have his babies.

(not proofread surprise surprise).

asks | chat with kentoswife

#kentoshousewife | writes #kentoshousewife | smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #x reader #black!coded #black fem! reader #x reader smut #jjk x black reader

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cherryskyies · 1 year

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What your favorite slasher says about you — part two

includes: og michael myers, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair

this is just the start of my slasher writing. so far, they are winning on the poll, so what better way to start than to finish old pieces?

please bare w me, my writing is a smidge rusty ok 😔

Masterlist || Navigation || a03

Og Michael Myers

I can't explain it well, but he is the equivalent of that inner cold feeling when you were at your lowest. You can still remember it in memories and it's a comfort you can't let go. It's giving major attachment issues, even to things that ruined you. Letting go of your past is like letting go of yourself — you can't do it.

You weren't listened to growing up either, and maybe even now you still aren't. Advice was given, especially when you didn't want it. You're desperate to have someone just listen.

Alone time is a must in your life, you can't have someone all up in your business 24/7.

Probably a water sign with an air moon. Or a Taurus who never had stability.

Rough sex is a must. I mean, it's Michael. Rough is the only way you'll get it and you like it like that. Also, it's giving blood & knife play vibes.

Very independent. You'd rather die than have to depend on another person for necessities.

Bo Sinclair

It's giving possible substance abuse or alcoholism. I mean, you only drink Monday-Sunday?? What's the harm in that?

You crave possession in a relationship. Maybe you never felt special, so it's a must to have a partner willing to kill for you and show you off.

Bondage is definitely an interest of yours. You might be into forced submission and definitely into being covered in marks.

It's also giving daddy issues. Something about an older man calling you baby and sweetheart sends you into overdrive. You want him to provide and you want him to make most of the decisions while you sit pretty.

You've never experienced a stable relationship either, especially with men, so you don't care that he'd be toxic. You only care that he's there and not likely to leave.

Probably an earth sign or neglected fire sign.

Vincent Sinclair

Either an only child or the ignored one — maybe both.

Body worship is a must. Nothing more attractive than a man that makes you feel special, loved, and seen.

You don't care about money or expensive dates and trips. You'd be happy with a picnic and spending alone time together, because to you it means more than anything money could buy.

Definitely insecure yourself, so you're drawn to those with obvious flaws; not that you think he's flawed, but it gives a deeper understanding.

Actions mean more than words. You've likely been let down by those who have said they would do something, but never did.

Soft, meaningful sex is your style. If you can't feel an emotional connection or you don't feel loved during, then you aren't happy and begin to feel insecure in the relationship.

You enjoy peace and tranquility. Maybe you're an artist or it simply fascinates you due to the complexity and millions of meanings. Do you stay up and think about the past and it's art, wondering what was going through their minds and what they had witnessed to create it?

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jinwoosungs · 5 months

Text

{ 115 }

smithereens.

heartsteel!aphelios x fem.reader

modern au

your eyes were drawn to the young man with emerald locks of hair who had just walked into the café, and his sudden appearance sapped all of the concentration you once had.

it was a sunny day, and you decided that it was the perfect time to get out of your apartment and be productive; to work on that paper that was due the following monday. your classes weren't too much of a challenge, and you managed to make decent grades without putting a lot of effort into them. but one downside to your learning style was that you tended to procrastinate, a lot.

you had just completed a rough outline of your paper when the strangely beautiful man walked in. he stands in line of the café, and his presence seems to catch the attention of the girl who stood in front of him. as if curious, she turns around, eyes turning wide as she excitedly jumped up and down.

her reaction to him makes you raise your eyebrows in question. due to how loud she was, it was hard not to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"oh my god, you're aphelios! i-i can't believe that the forums were right! they mentioned how this was your go-to spot, so when i saw your reflection i knew i had to stop you!"

the man- aphelios, seemed uncomfortable, taking a step back as he held up his hand in surrender. this supposed fan of his must have taken things a bit too far, and you felt something well up inside of you- this sudden desire to shield him.

packing up your laptop, you slide the device within the confines of your backpack before slinging the bag over your shoulder, gathering your courage as you called out to him.

"hey aphelios, thank you so much for waiting!"

the fangirl looks away from the man, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you. she takes in your form and does a quick assessment of you, scoffing. "and just who are you? surely you're not his girlfriend."

"it's none of your business who i am to aphelios; what matters is that you're clearly making him uncomfortable as we're about to leave. so, if you'll excuse us."

you had no idea what prompted you to take his hand- but you did so in a heartbeat. without looking back at that crazed girl, you took the poor guy out of the situation, never once looking back at the café. only when you were a safe distance away from the shop did you let go of his hand.

"that girl sure was crazy, right? i mean, who in their right mind would ever resort to such a thing?" you face him head on, gaze unwavering as you waited for him to say something.

now that you could see him up close, you felt your heart suddenly lurch forward at the mere sight of him. his strands of hair was not the startling emerald you had once assumed it was, rather, it was more of turquoise. those soft strands fell across his pale face, and despite how his lips were covered in a purple mask, you found yourself captivated by his rufescent eyes.

based on his looks alone, you would have assumed that he was a model of some sort. that would explain why that girl was so crazy about him, but you had a hunch that this beautiful stranger was more than just a pretty face.

realizing that he had not spoken a word for a full minute or two, you watch him with a tilt of your head. he rummages through the pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone. there was an awkward silence settled between the two of you, and you found yourself shuffling your feet, uncertain of what to do or what to say next.

you hear him tapping against his phone's screen a few times before showing it to you. you come closer to see what he had written:

thank you so much for what you did back there. you really saved me, and i'm grateful.

you allow the soft laughter to escape from your lips. "i'm sorry if my confession offends you, but... i don't think i understood why that girl was so dedicated to meeting you. are you famous or something?"

aphelios rolls his eyes at your question, yet the way his eyes seemed to crinkle in response made you realize that he was probably smiling from beneath the mask. he types something else within his phone before showing you once more:

i kind of prefer it that way.

you smile in response to his words, then felt a sudden warmth against your cheek when your stomach began to growl. you recall having a single granola bar for breakfast before you left and was now feeling the painful hunger pangs clawing away at your stomach.

aphelios hears the sound of your hunger, and you swore he was trembling with silent laughter, typing on his phone so you could see:

care to join me for some lunch? i know the perfect place to get chinese food for situations like this.

you probably had to kiss your chances of finishing your paper before monday goodbye now, since all you wanted to do was spend some time with this perfect stranger and get to know him better.

{...}

it was strange, but you had developed a friendship with aphelios during the following weeks after you had rescued him from that crazed fan.

he still kept his occupation a secret from you, remaining tight lipped when you kept asking what he did as a career. yet, his mysterious nature did little to deter you from your desires to remain close to him.

there were some days where you couldn't see him as often, resorting to sending him texts and funny memes that elicited a few short laughs from you. the times that he left you on read made your heart ache, but always without fail, he would text you back a few hours later and your late night conversations would ensue.

you felt something blossoming within your chest each time you were together with him, but refused to acknowledge or put a name to the emotions you were beginning to feel. for starters, you didn't want to ruin this seemingly perfect relationship you had developed with him-

and more importantly, you didn't want to have your heart broken, since you knew that aphelios was simply out of your league.

but you digress.

choosing to ignore the festering emotions threatening to take ahold of your heart, you instead focused on the excitement coursing through your veins at the thought of aphelios coming into your apartment tonight. he had texted you earlier, telling you he had a surprise for you and that you should save eating dinner for when he came over.

after cleaning your apartment, you got ready for aphelios' arrival, already having your notebook ready so that you could talk about aphelios' surprise.

thanks to how close you had gotten to him, you knew that he was mute and liked communicating with his phone or writing out his thoughts with pen and paper. when you realized his preferred method of communicating was when you went out and bought a thick notebook from your local bookstore along with a plethora of pens.

you and aphelios had already filled out a good portion of pages, and admittedly, you found yourself reading the old conversations you had with him, wishing to cherish each and every memory you had with him and this silly notebook.

just as you were about to open the notebook to a fresh page, you heard several knocks coming from your door. all too eager to see him again, you walked with a bounce in your step towards the door and open it, revealing aphelios with a large pizza in his hand.

"that pizza pie smells absolutely divine." there was a twinkle seen in his ruby red eyes, indicating his amusement as you could just imagine him writing to you i know.

aphelios walks into your apartment and takes his usual spot on your couch after setting the box on your coffee table. upon seeing your notebook, he reaches out and grabs his pen, already writing something down in his usual neat scrawl.

allowing aphelios to write, you help yourself to a slice of pizza, biting in to the cheesy and heavenly goodness while holding back a moan. you had finished a slice and was about to take another one when aphelios shows you his note:

i think it's about time you know what i do for a living, and i'm hoping you won't mind if this surprise will happen later on tonight.

your eyes widen at him, watching as aphelios ate a slice of pizza while taking tiny bites, as if feeling nervous about how you'd react. upon reading his note, you felt your own stomach begin to churn with anticipation.

"wait, are you being serious? where am i going?"

aphelios doesn't bother writing anything new. instead, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a golden ticket. you blink at the ticket, watching as aphelios slides it towards you for you to take.

your hands were trembling, taking the ticket as it read:

VIP PASS FOR HEARTSTEEL CONCERT XX-XX-XXXX

"heartsteel?" you allow the name of the band to fall from your parted lips, suddenly feeling shivers going up and down your spine.

you were vaguely aware of the band, but didn't know them enough to consider yourself a fan of them. that wasn't to say that you thought their music was bad- but rather, you just didn't listen to them. perhaps you were living under a rock after all if aphelios was a member of a pretty popular band, and you hadn't the slightest clue about it.

"i assume you're not the lead vocalist?" you ask, making an attempt at a joke so as to get him to calm down. it works when you see him break out in a smile, jotting something else down in the notebook.

no, i'm not. but i do help with making a lot of the beats and instrumentals. i want you to come tonight and see my passion.

you hold the notebook close to your chest, hugging his written words tightly when you met his gaze. "phel, i would love to see you and your band perform, and i thank you for allowing me to do so."

after telling him that you would attend his concert, you swore that you would do anything to see him smile like that for the rest of your days.

{ ... }

the moment you arrived at the venue, you were not expecting to receive such a warm welcome.

when aphelios had left your apartment to prepare for the concert, he had told you to arrive close to 9pm, not wanting you to miss a thing. after dressing yourself properly for the concert, you arrive and was immediately taken backstage by some of the security that was helping with the event.

they recognize you almost immediately, referring you by your name as they took you towards a hidden back entrance. your heart was racing, and you found yourself excited to see aphelios again.

after a few minutes spent walking, you were taken to the back of the stage where a single seat was settled off to the side. as the guard lead you towards the area, he gestures towards the seat and beckons you to sit. after thanking him, he gives you a stiff nod, leaving you alone as he returned with the rest of security.

you sat down, and you saw that you were incredibly close to the band, seeing each member as they prepared while speaking to each other. you could feel their excitement, and as your eyes searched for aphelios, you were immediately met with his gaze.

his crimson eyes were filled with mirth and... were your eyes playing tricks on you, but was their a tint of red seen against his cheeks? as if realizing that his face was flushed, aphelios looks away from you while donning his usual, purple mask.

was aphelios actually... blushing at the sight of you?

did you dare to hope that he felt the same way about you?

you shake away such ridiculous thoughts, figuring that his flustered expression was due to his excitement to perform in front of a huge crowd.

after the stadium became filled with heartsteel's fans, the lead singer set up the tone, filling the crowd with his enthusiasm as the band began to perform.

and throughout their stellar performance, you found yourself wishing that you had known about them sooner. their music was fun and just listening to them live gave you a rush you hadn't felt in a long time. despite how this was the first time you had heard of them, you found yourself screaming and dancing along to each performance, your voice becoming hoarse with each passing minute.

as the concert came to a close, aphelios takes this chance to meet your gaze once more, his whole body seeming to glow because of how happy he clearly was whilst performing. he catches your awed expression and lifts up his hand in a thumbs up motion. you could see the familiar crinkle in his eyes, letting you know that he was smiling from beneath the mask-

that was when you knew you were doomed-

for you could no longer hide the fact that you were falling in love with aphelios.

{ ... )

after the concert, you were trapped in a whirlwind of emotions, wanting nothing more than to see aphelios while congratulating him on his music. you search the crowd for him, hoping that he had already gone backstage.

when you thought you saw the familiar flash of turquoise hair, you immediately followed him, ready to call out his name when the sight of something stops you dead in your tracks.

it was aphelios, but moreso than that was the hauntingly beautiful girl that stood next to him. she had bright pink hair while sporting a loving smile, saying some words to him that you couldn't quite catch.

what was perhaps even more heartbreaking was aphelios' expression when he looked at her. it was soft, and it was clear that his crimson gaze held a great deal of adoration for her. whoever this woman was, you knew that aphelios loved her.

choking back your sobs, you allowed your tears to fall, searching blindly for the exit when your body collided with a hard wall of muscle, coming into contact with one of the vocalists.

"whoa, are you okay-" you shake your head and push yourself away from him before running out of the area, not wishing for aphelios to see you or your tears.

you should have followed your instincts and never allowed your feelings for him to blossom, for you never stood a chance at obtaining his heart.

{ ... }

you spent the next few weeks avoiding aphelios...

despite how much it broke your heart to cut yourself away from him, you knew it was the best thing you could do in order to salvage your friendship with him.

you had yet to speak to aphelios after the concert, and you knew that your actions were nothing short of cowardly, but you couldn't help it.

you had never felt so strongly about anyone before, and aphelios had awakened so many emotions you thought you had once thought you never had. so in order to ignore your heartache, you buried yourself in assignments and schoolwork, allowing your university life to take over as you seemed to run on autopilot.

it took a herculean effort to ignore aphelios' texts, but you willed yourself not to open or answer them, feeling disappointed in yourself for falling in love with the person that was supposed to be your best friend- nothing more and nothing less.

yet that was what ends up hurting you the most; the fact that you felt so strongly for him-

the fact that your feelings would ultimately become unrequited had you had kept up with this façade of being happy while remaining a mere friend to him.

eventually, his texts became less frequent before stopping altogether. even if this fact ripped your heart to pieces, smashing them into smithereens, you ignored the heartache and feelings of emptiness that came with his eventual departure.

wanting to forget all about your messy feelings that came with aphelios, you decided to order your favorite takeout for the night while binging your favorite show on your laptop. you were barely through the first episode when a series of knocks were heard at your door.

your eyebrows were furrowed, thinking about how fast your takeout had come despite how you had just placed the order a mere ten minutes ago. believing it was the deliveryman, you open the door with little hesitation-

only to be met with aphelios' annoyed expression.

you let out a gasp, closing the door in his face immediately, yet aphelios was faster than you. he holds your door open, pushing his way through with a surprising strength as you were forced to take a step backwards.

chills were running up and down your spine, and you hated how your heart was racing at the sight of him, still yearning for him after all this time (such a traitorous heart you had.) willing the goosebumps to go away, you rub your hands up and down the length of your arms, watching as aphelios locks the door, "w-what do you want?!"

he rips off his mask, his handsome features set into a permanent scowl as he takes out his phone and types on it:

why have you been ghosting me?

"i-i haven't ghosted you! i-i just needed some time t-to process some things."

frustration was clearly seen on his face as he runs his hands through his hair, making them appear even messier than before as he typed out another message, this one longer than the last.

bullshit, you've been ignoring my texts without any explanation. after that concert, you were never the same. i thought i could trust you. i thought i could share my career and dreams with you, and you would appreciate and accept it- accept ME, but i guess not. i guess i'm nothing to you after all.

"NO, that's not true! i'm in love with you, okay?!"

your sudden outburst comes as a surprise to both you and aphelios, with you immediately hiding your mouth beneath your hands, eyes wide as a splash of coldness washes over you.

there was a deafening silence settled between you and him, and you swore you could hear the blood rushing through your ears. you were terrified, and aphelios' expression was so grave that it was bordering on the cusp of being unreadable. you listen to the gentle tapping sounds that came from his phone, one that indicated he was deleting the prior messages before revealing a new one.

explain, please.

trying to even out your breathing, you clench your eyes shut, inhaling deeply while explaining, "that night, i was...so captivated by you. it was clear that you loved making music, and that you had an immense talent for it."

"that night, seeing you perform- seeing you look so happy, it made me realize how deeply i had fallen for you."

aphelios remained still, not typing a thing on his phone as he listened to you intently. "i had this...this desire to just see you, you know? i wanted to tell you how much i enjoyed your music, how proud of you i was and...how i was falling for you."

"b-but before i could meet you, i-i saw you with this gorgeous girl. she was smiling at you and you were smiling at her, and it was so obvious that you loved her, that's why-"

you were given no chance to continue when you felt a lithe weight colliding into you, taking your breath away as your form landed on the couch. your mind was racing now, feeling aphelios' arms around you as he seemed to shake violently as he held you.

he hid his face within the curve of your neck, and when he finally moved away from you, you were shocked to see that he was smiling, and that a series of soft laughter were escaping from his lips.

aphelios holds up a finger, silently telling you to wait a moment as he types out something on his phone before showing it to you.

of course i love her. that girl you saw me with was my twin sister, and she's also my band's manager.

by now, you could feel the mortification coursing through your veins, making you hide your face within the palm of your hands. you kept groaning and berating yourself, admitting to aphelios to how stupid you were and how you made him suffer through all this heartache for no reason at all.

"i'm so sorry, phel, i guess i'm just not that great, always assuming shit and-"

you felt aphelios take a hold of your hands, removing them from your face when he leans in to press a kiss against your lips, the soft sensation enough to make your heart soar up into cloud 9 with how much joy it made you feel.

his kiss was achingly soft, never once turning demanding as you both seemed to fall into a peaceful rhythm. his lips were perfectly slotted against yours as you allowed your fingertips the pleasure of delving into his soft strands of hair. when the need for air proved to be too much was when aphelios pulled away first. he still kept the loving expression on his face, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours in a sweet gesture that made you fall for him all over again.

"aphelios?"

he moves his lips away from your features, gentle red eyes meeting with yours, as if silently beckoning you to go on.

sliding your eyes shut, you lean in closer to him, pressing butterfly kisses across his jawline before properly confessing to him.

"i love you."

and when he places a hand beneath your chin, lifting you up so that he could give you another searing kiss, you knew he felt the same way without needing a single word to be spoken.

a.n. - i have never written for league of legends before, but my brother uses aphelios as his main when he plays, and i was captivated by how gorgeous he was. i'm sorry if this is ooc, but i hope you readers go easy on me and enjoy this oneshot anyways 😭 🙏

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#aphelios x reader #heartsteel aphelios #heartsteel aphelios x reader #aphelios fluff #aphelios x you #league of legends x reader #heartsteel x reader #.stories

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thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight · 1 year

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𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝕱𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 ~ 2

(Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x reader)

This was highly requested! Thank you all for the support. The fact that KKFIL got so much support shocks me! I appreciate all of you!

< Part one

"You're pathetic." Plagg said ever so bluntly in-between his chews. He took another bite of cheese, crumbs falling onto Adrien's newly cleaned desk, "Just admit that you like them and move on."

Adrien grumbled in response, "I don't like them, Plagg."

Living with the kwami of destruction always presented a challenge. There wasn't a day that passed by without the mischievous cat trying to pull some dirty prank behind Adrien's back. At first, he didn't mind it. It added something new to his day, and it was usually harmless.

But apparently hiding his phone or ruffling his hair before a photoshoot wasn't enough for Plagg anymore, because as of late, he's been turning off Adrien's alarm so he doesn't wake up for school on time. So now he was stuck in this position, shoving everything in his backpack last minute while trying to rush out the door.

Right now wasn't exactly the best time for him and Plagg to be having a conversation about his upside-down love life.

"You don't like them?" Plagg pushed, "Sure, and cheese is my worst enemy."

"Look Plagg, it's too early for this conversation."

"So let's end it right here with you admitting that you like them."

"Get in my jacket or I'm throwing out the cheese you stored in my desk." Adrien opened up his jacket as Plagg let out a shrill gasp before immediately flying into his pocket.

"For the record, this is called manipulation."

"You're insufferable sometimes."

Monday.

Adrien walked into the classroom ten minutes late, and he'd never forgive Plagg for ruining his perfect on-time attendance.

He huffed and sat down next to Nino.

"Woah, dude, you look like shit. Totally unexpected from the model of the class."

Adrien smiled at Nino's bluntness, "I had a bit of a rough morning." He made sure to subtly flick his pocket as he said that. He felt Plagg pinch his side in retaliation.

"Yeah, I can tell." Nino shook his head, turning his attention back to the teacher. Adrien wanted to follow suit, but he couldn't help but notice you.

You sitting in your desk.

You looking wonderful as ever.

You…staring…right at him.

He smiled and waved.

You waved back.

And time stopped.

He wished he could sit next to you. Ask about your morning, hold your hand under the table, and pass notes throughout the class, giggling every time you nearly get caught.

But, alas, he wasn't sitting next to you, he wasn't holding your hand, and passing notes from this distance would be a guaranteed detention.

Life was cruel and unfair sometimes.

"Psst." He raised a brow at you, silently asking you what you needed. You smiled, looking a bit bashful as you put your fingers to your lips and blew him a kiss.

Maybe life wasn't so cruel and unfair.

Tuesday.

"Are you ok? You look tired."

Your voice was something Adrien would never get tired of, and it was just the remedy he needed after dealing with an akuma who had a…not so melodic voice.

The fight was harder than he had assumed it would be. A few scratches littered his arms and legs while stubborn strands refused to stick with the rest of his gelled and styled hair. Though most of the ringing had gone away, his hearing hadn't quite recovered yet. He questioned the miraculous ladybug and why it decided that fixing a civilian's ripped tie was important, but Adrien (the person who helped stop the villain) would have to suffer the rest of the day with hearing loss. It needed to get its priorities straight.

You looked him up and down, your nose scrunched at the sight, "Did you lose a fight to a pigeon or something?"

"Very funny." He reached to scratch the back of his neck, but quickly remembered how Plagg had made fun of him for doing that when he got nervous the night before, and quickly put his hand down. "I tripped. I can only imagine how happy my father will be when he sees me." Adrien laughed, "I have a photoshoot after school. He's going to kill me."

You smiled awkwardly, "And you're laughing about that?"

He paused, realizing how strange it must've seemed for him to be laughing at the idea of upsetting his father and maybe another day, he would've been more worried than joyful…but…

A part of him felt like sticking it to his dad. It was something he never would've considered doing before, but dressing up in a cat costume everyday can change a man.

"Well, good luck with your dad." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned to leave. He could still feel it on his cheek, his face growing increasingly warmer.

"You like them~" Plagg whispered.

"It's completely platonic."

Wednesday.

A festival was in town.

Adrien didn't exactly get permission to go, so he had his good old friend, Chat Noir, help him get to where he needed to be. It was a risky game he was playing, but he couldn't miss seeing you.

You ran into his arms the second you saw him, hugging him for longer than necessary (not that he was mad about it).

You walked through multiple booths, picking up small snacks.

Soon a dance broke out, and Adrien couldn't resist asking you to dance.

He bowed deeply, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "Would you like to dance?"

You looked bashful.

It suddenly didn't feel so platonic anymore.

Thursday.

You were trapped in a closet with him.

Chat noir had run in to detransform, not realizing that you had already occupied the space.

He tried to quickly turn back and leave, but the door handle broke in his hands, leaving the two of you in the closet alone.

"So…you like jazz?" Chat asked. He felt like banging his head against the wall. Talking to you was so easy as Adrien, but it was difficult as Chat Noir.

How could pretend like he knew nothing of you when all he did was think about you?

You gave him a very confused look, "Uh…is the akuma gone?"

"Yeah! And so is the doorknob!"

The joke didn't land as well as he wanted it to. You just nodded and shifted back and forth on your feet. He was terrible at this.

He knew the two of you couldn't stay in there forever, but the only way you could get out was if he cataclysmed the door….

But in order to do that, he'd have to detransform.

"Do you mind closing your eyes?"

"Uh…how come?"

"I need to detransform."

You stared at him for a few more minutes. He wondered what you thought of Chat Noir. He had never asked you about it before.

He could only hope that you liked him.

You finally closed your eyes, and Chat whispered the magic words that rid him of his magic.

Plagg shook his head disapprovingly at the blonde, though Adrien wasn't sure what the cat wanted. There was nothing else he could do, and he knew you would be trustworthy.

He fed Plagg quickly.

"I just wanted to say…"

Adrien froze, scared you would someone know it was him if he breathed too loudly.

"I'm very grateful for what you and Ladybug do for Paris…really. Thank you."

Adrien smiled, relaxing slightly. He wished to respond, but without the quantum magic to mask his voice, he knew speaking would only screw him over. Thankfully, you seemed to understand that, as you didn't say anything about his silence.

He waited for Plagg to finish eating before transforming back.

He cataclysmed the door and stepped to the side, "Victims in distress first!"

You smiled and stepped out, he followed quickly.

"Thanks again."

"There's nothing to thank me for, all I did was get you stuck in a closet."

You laughed, "I meant for stopping the akuma…and getting me out of the closet."

You smiled, and Chat could've sworn his heart stopped. He wanted to kiss you now more than ever.

Not on the cheek.

Not on the hand.

A real kiss.

Chat couldn't do such a thing, but he knew someone who could.

Friday.

It was raining.

Neither you nor Adrien brought an umbrella.

The smart option would be to seek shelter immediately, but instead you ran in the rain.

Adrien had offered to walk you home, and during the walk, rain poured down on you. It wasn't cold or uncomfortable, but freeing. Your clothes stuck to your sides and your poor shoes would struggle in the puddles, but you didn't care. You didn't care because Adrien had grabbed you by the hand, leading you down the street in a fit of giggles.

Each drop of rain let out its own ring, like the weather was singing its own love song for the both of you.

You twirled and spun, grabbing both of Adrien's hands. He seemed flustered, but he effortlessly followed your movements.

Perfectly in rhythm, you and Adrien were stuck in your own world.

"I love you."

You stopped, face heating up as you locked eyes with a now embarrassed Adrien.

"What?"

"I…I love you." He repeated. Despite his stutter, his voice was confident. He couldn't be more sure of his words.

You smiled, "I know, I heard you the first time."

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

Finally, your first real kiss.

#chat noir x reader #cat noir x reader #cat noir #chat noir #miraculous x reader #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic

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maniculum · 5 months

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Bestiaryposting Results -- Gligglae

Sorry this is later than usual; traveling for the holidays makes it difficult to keep up with this sort of thing. The smart move would have been to write it up a couple days ahead of time, then on Monday just update it with anything new that had been posted since, but see, what happened was that I did not do that. Instead, I tried to type this up Monday evening in between various family obligations, realized I didn't have time to do it properly, and just shoved it in my drafts. Then all of Tuesday was taken up with the long drive back home from where my family lives, and now you're getting it on Wednesday.

(Also, don't worry, I followed all CDC guidelines appropriate for someone who had recently had covid, and wouldn't have traveled for the holidays at all if I hadn't been without a fever for 48 hours prior to departing. Plus I drove instead of flying, didn't visit anyone but immediate family, and had a mask the whole time, so even if I am still contagious somehow, exposure was pretty minimal.)

Anyway, the entry that our artists are working from is here:

And, of course, all previous material on this matter can be found at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting.

I think a larger number of people than usual identified the animal in question right off the proverbial bat, because this one has some pretty blatant tells, but as always I appreciate everyone trying to put it out of their minds.

So, anyway, in rough chronological order:

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) (thank you for providing your own alt text, I really appreciate it) brings us her usual impeccably medieval-stylized rendition -- the swirls and curves in this one give it a really interesting vibe, I think. We can see the Gligglae in full-body profile on the left there, and a group of them doing their cluster behavior on the right. The, like, griffin/cockatrice/vampire look is pretty great, also. I enjoy the overall design, which you can find some discussion of in the linked post. Gold foil also a nice touch.

Coolest-capybara also notes that the entry is very interested in the ways in which the creature is "almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a bird," and I can explain why that is. It is because this entry is in the Bird section of the bestiary, so officially this is a bird -- I mean, it flies, what else can it be -- but it's sufficiently un-bird-like that it really sticks out to the authors, so they need to explain the ways in which it's Doing Bird Wrong. Everything else in this section does X, so we need to point out that this one does Y, kind of thing.

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has drawn an absolutely adorable little Gligglae. (Adorable if you have my sense of aesthetics, that is -- I suspect if you're among the portion of the population that finds aye-ayes more creepy-looking than cute, that might apply here as well.) There's an explanation of design decisions in the linked post, including a number of references to real animals that provided inspiration. I like the decision to play up the "lowly" and "mean" part of the description by making it small and kind of scruffy. And the general concept of blending "gliding rodent" with "nocturnal primate" to make an arboreal mammal with elements of both really worked out well here, in my opinion.

@aethereaii (link to post here) has done this beautiful piece in a style that kind of gives "19th-century naturalist" vibes. (Actually, it makes me think of James Gurney, but I suspect that association says more about my childhood reading habits than anything else.) This is a great design in my opinion, and you can find some brief discussion on design decisions as well as an earlier version of the Gligglae in the linked post. The earlier design is also very good, but I agree with Aethereaii that this one is a step up, particularly with the Anomalocaris-inspired faux-wings. I also really like the inclusion of the juvenile Gligglae (Gligglings?) clinging to their parent's back in the corner there.

@karthara (link to post here) decided to go in a reptilian direction with this one, which (a) works well and (b) caused me to spend a chunk of time reading about flying snakes on Wikipedia just now. So in this version, the "rowing motion with its skin" is a description of the Gligglae flaring its ribs and undulating through the air -- which I genuinely think really makes sense. The entry seems to legitimately disagree with itself about whether this critter has wings (or, taking it entirely literally, it has wings but flies through a completely separate method that specifically does not involve said wings, which I think we're justified in deciding is Wrong), so I think going with such a non-wing-like flight method works here. Also like the concept of making these very cuddly (and apparently loving, according to our bestiary author) creatures into a type of animal that usually isn't seen that way. The linked post also contains some brief notes on design decisions.

@strixcattus (link to post here) has, as per usual, provided a really excellent modern-naturalistic description of the creature they've designed in the linked post, and you should definitely go check it out right now. I'll wait.

... back? Okay good. I particularly like their interpretation of the "grape-cluster" behavior as a social group that's specifically not a kin group; and also the fact that said group is officially referred to as a "cuddle". The choice to make it a whole genus and show us several different wild and domesticated species, also very good, love it. As with several of these drawings, Strixcattus's Gligglae (Gligglaes?) are extremely cute -- which, really, does also fit the description provided in the entry. They're like tadpoles crossed with sugar gliders.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) credits Ken Sugimori's Pokemon illustrations as a stylistic inspiration, which I suppose explains why the Gligglae cluster seems to be hanging from a Sudowoodo. The linked post also draws certain parallels between medieval bestiaries and the Pokedex, which I think is actually pretty insightful. There's also a breakdown of their design decisions there, go read it. I think this is a pretty good rendering of something that is like a flying squirrel but distinctly not a flying squirrel, and I like the shaggy look of the fur.

Also, thank you for providing your own alt text.

@pomrania (link to post here) is, I think, the only person to take the bestiary author at their word that this animal has wings but flies through some other, non-wing-related method. You can see the tiny useless wings at the shoulder there. I really think that's fascinating as a concept: what evolutionary pressures would produce an animal that (a) has wings and (b) flies but (c) those two things are unrelated? Although this many appendages on a fur-bearing creature puts us firmly in the "alien biology" territory, so maybe it's silly to expect it to make sense by the standards of terrestrial biology. Regardless, I like it, and I think the decision to run with the "rowing" description by giving it those oar-shaped appendages is a good & creative one. The post linked above contains a fair bit of information on design decisions and the drawing process here -- there are sketches and everything.

@vindikat (link to post here) has interpreted this in a way I find really charming. The art is of course excellent, very well drawn, and I appreciate the effort that went into doing these different poses. However, I really like it from a worldbuilding perspective: this gives me the impression of a small species of griffin that's adapted to urban living, more pigeon/cat than eagle/lion. (Come to think, both pigeons and cats are examples of feral populations finding a successful niche, rather than wild ones that adapt to a city, so maybe we can speculate that these guys are also descended from domestic ancestors.) Also the Gligglae under the eaves there remind me of pictures of chimney swifts that have made the rounds on Tumblr.

The design is also generally very appealing; I think the extra wings and the long tail really work here. The linked post includes an explanation of the design decisions that I think is worth taking a look at.

@moustawott (link to post here) has given us another very cuddly version of the Gligglae. I particularly like the wing design here, how it's kind of a mammalian version of a pterosaur -- Moustawott indicates that they were specifically trying not to draw the animal that they're sure this is, and I think the pterosaur-squirrel design here is a great way to make something that could fill kind of the same niche while being an unmistakably distinct creature. The little round head and eye markings remind me of a chipmunk, also, which is cute.

@rautavaara (link to post here) continues to do interesting stylistic stuff with their contributions. I like how the limited color palette here makes this look kind of like a single-block woodcut or similar relief printing. Like, you could plausibly see this as a design someone's carved into a wood block, then printed on mustard-yellow paper with purple ink. (I'm actually not 100% sure that's not what it is; I would just be surprised if someone actually went the extra mile of breaking out the engraving tools for my little bestiaryposting thing.) Very dynamic scene, also, and a charming creature design; love the huge mouths with pointy little fangs.

All right, these are all the ones that come up on the search; if I missed yours, let me know please.

(I have to apologize here for another delay that's absolutely my fault -- I would have had this out a few hours ago, but I got derailed by impulsively deciding to check out that Hbomberguy plagiarism video everyone's talking out, and... yeah.)

Anyway, as a number of this week's artists indicated, this one was really easy to guess, so the reveal seems a little pointless, but we have a format, so:

Obviously, this was the sheep.

What? Look, you can't make assumptions with these things. Some of these medieval bestiary entries are really counterintuitive. Medieval Europeans believed there was a species of small, highly-social, flying nocturnal sheep native to Ethiopia.

Really, it's in Pliny the Elder.

...

Yes, fine, I'm just lying to you for fun. It's the animal you all think it is, there are no flying sheep to my knowledge. Here's the Aberdeen Bestiary illustration.

Yep, it's the bat. Oddly human face on that one, and generally I don't think this was drawn from life, but it's definitely a bat.

I do kind of find the way it's described in this entry kind of interesting, though. The confusion about whether bats count as having wings (even after having been placed in the "bird" category) is kind of odd, and the "rowing" description is not one I would have ever thought of. I very much like the declaration that the way bats huddle together is "an act of love of a sort which is difficult to find among men"; it's a sweet way to talk about a creature with a generally negative reputation, which contrasts interestingly with the fact that the author also thinks of them as "lowly" and "mean". You kind of get the idea of a creature that's a bit wretched but in a sympathetic way. "Scrungly", one might say.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #gligglae

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underratedmurder · 10 months

Text

Richie Jerimovich/Reader "I Would Like a Blanket Please" (Part 1/2)

Reader works at The Beef and is having some housing/financial troubles, Richie offers his apartment as a place to stay! <3

Stuff in this: Soft Richie, Reader is kind of awkward, Soooo many hands on shoulders, They are so sweet and tender with each other, They both know how much the other one is hurting, They are each others comfort person!!! They have some sexual tension, Carmy is totally onto them

Stuff that will be in part two (if you don't want spoilers then just skip past this): Chicken nuggets (hell yeah), Richie when he was in college <3, Reader sleeps on his sofa which is much nicer than his twin bed?, Sharing blankets, Intense cuddling, The softest kisses

I know its been more than a week since my last update I am sorry dear friends, but trust I will deliver !!! Second part should be up tomorrow night or Monday.

Please enjoy, and leave a comment or like if you want to see more/have any requests !

____________

You were sitting on the ground of the walk-in, fingers getting colder, digging into the sleeves of your thick knit sweater. The one Richie called you crazy for wearing in the kitchen, but also one of the last pieces of physical comfort you had left.

Life was… rough, and you were currently struggling to find housing. You just spent your last bit of money on last night's stay in a motel room downtown. You were hoping you could pull through and figure something out by the end of the day… but that time was now, and you had nothing.

You tried to collect your thoughts, breathing hard and freaking out a little bit. Your nerves were getting the better of you, and you had been nothing but filled with tension the whole day.

You breathed in and out, slowly letting your body relax, and your fingers loosen their grip. You looked at the ground intensely, almost studying it, to remind yourself where you were. And to remember that the world wasn’t actually ending, it was just your life! Just yours!

Don’t worry! At least the restaurant is okay!

Even that was an overstatement.

You felt yourself finally come back to the moment.

“Alright well just don’t put it on the stove again Fak! It’s not fuckin rocket science- Oh,” Richie's voice was booming even before he opened the door.

He had snapped you out of your tranquil state immediately, and you could already feel yourself tensing up again. Being around people and trying to act like everything was normal and okay all day was very hard. Especially around Rich. The guy you almost desperately wished to be close to.

The fear was pungent though, you didn’t want to be a burden on anyone, especially on him. You feared getting tangled up with him in any way would only make life more painfully complicated.

These thoughts and feelings did not cross your mind though when you were actually around him in the kitchen, and you got to talk to him and watch him ‘work’, as you fought back the carnal urge to violently makeout with him.

It was far too easy to be comfortable around him, it was only after your shift everyday that you reminded yourself you were not in the position for a relationship.

If he even liked you-

“Hey, uh, what are ya doin' on the floor?” you were back to reality again, and Richie was looking down at you, one arm on the door and the other at his side.

You looked up at him with the most honest and unintended look of pure dread on your face, eyes sad and fearful. His own expression dropped.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he lowered his voice and knelt down to look you in the eyes, face to face.

You furrowed your brows and smiled in adoration. His words were somehow instantly comforting.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,”

He didn’t look convinced, instead he went to place a hand on your shoulder, his palm was warm in the chill.

“You sure you're ‘aright? You can tell me, ya know? Promise I won’t tell Mr. Crazy Chef,” he joked, referring to Carmy, and you let out a huff.

“Did you spill a giant jar of pickles or somethin?”

“Ha ha,” you said sarcastically, a half smile escaping your somber expression. Though, it didn’t last long.

Richie dropped to your level on the floor, sitting next to you.

You shook your head again, looking down.

“Its just been a long day,” you hesitated, but Richie just waited.

“Things have been… hard,” you let your words out with an exhale, your arms and legs becoming a bit less stiff.

“Home troubles?”

“Yeah,” you half whispered, fiddling with your fingers as that last bit of tension escaped you.

“Yeah… I get it,” he said with a sigh, and he let his head lean on the wall.

You sat there in silence for a second, the humming of the freezer accompanying your barely audible breaths.

“I take it you don’t wanna go back huh?” he asked you, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your brows and looked at him puzzled.

“Back home, I mean,” he clarified.

You put it together he assumed your home life wasn’t very good. Which technically it wasn’t, just not in the way he expected.

Obviously, you hadn’t alluded to anything else.

You nodded, barely mumbling another yeah, as to not embarrass yourself, though you could feel yourself getting there.

You leaned back against the metal shelf, tilting your head back and running your fingers by your scalp.

You half smiled at him, afraid to look into his eyes for too long or you might get lost in them.

“You know you can stay with me if you want?”

“What?” you blurted.

“If yur really not feelin like… goin back tonight, you can crash at mine. I got plenty o’ room,”

“Are you serious?”

“Course I am, I’m not an asshole,”

“Well…” you grinned and looked at him cheekily.

“Shush, I aint no fuckin asshole aright? I can be nice,” he expressed with his hands, signature of a pointed Richie opinion.

“Yeah like now?” you joked, your arms hooked around your knees as you leaned forward again.

“You don’t have to come over if you don't wanna-”

“I do,”

Richie stopped and looked at you, surprised and… relieved by your answer?

“I do, want to,”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the longer he looked at you it seemed he couldn’t come up with anything. He smiled a little bit instead, a pleasant sight. His cheeks just a bit pink.

“Well, then we better get goin’, it’s ‘bouta be closing and I don’t recommend staying overtime,”

He popped up from the floor, lending his hand for you to grab and propel you up.

“I already work overtime, Richie,” you reminded him as he brought you to your feet.

“Right uh, I really should get Carm to pay you more for that,”

“You should,” you said, nodding a bit and just barely smiling, it seemed to be something neither of you could stop doing.

“Consider it out of my paycheck. A little catch up in your check for this week. I’ll get Carm to fix it tomorrow, promise,”

You nodded, then looked down, grateful but also a bit guilty. Anything out of Richie's pocket could basically be considered right out of the restaurant. Richie seemed to catch your worried look.

“You ‘aright?” he let a hand rest on your shoulder, leaning over to get a look at you.

You nodded, sheepishly, but Richie just held onto your other shoulder.

“You sure?” you made eye contact, and willed yourself to reassure him.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and he let go.

“Kay, let’s get outta here,” he sighed, opening the door to the giant fridge.

“I promise you won’t regret this. I've got a nice 50 inch flatscreen, the most shining bathroom you’ve ever seen, and a pretty damn good bed,” He said, his eyes bright still but his face smug, until he caught your expression and dropped his own.

“That’s not what I uh…,”

“What’s goin on here cuz?” Carmy rounded the corner,

“Nothin, we’re just headin out,”

“We?” He looked at Richie, incredulous.

“Y/n was uh-”

“I’m staying at Richie's tonight. Just a temporary thing, my parents are having some friends and relatives over right now and I’m not really into opening the can o’ worms that is my life and career at the family function,” you chuckled nervously. You thought of the lie quicker than you were proud of, but knew it might resonate with Carm.

“Yeah no, that's… fine. Yeah, I uh, I understand,” he paused, ”I get it,”

He looked you both up and down, and it was only then that you noticed you were standing so close together your arms were touching. In the time the conversation started, neither of you made an effort to move away from the other.

His brows raised, “Have fun you two,” he smirked and turned to leave.

“Very funny, Carm. Fuck you too!” Richie called after him,

“Hope your playdate goes well!” he called back, just barely audible.

“What a dick,” Richie mumbled.

Remove the word ‘play’ from that sentence and the prospect of your staying over completely changed. Though you wondered, if the word 'play' really insinuated anything else, if not… other activities that could happen at a potential hangout. Was the word ‘play’ in ‘playdate’ in the context of two adults being around one another really any more appropriate than just simply saying date?

“Don’t listen to him,” Richie assured you, blue eyes wide and totally in your face.

You snapped out of zoning out, eyes flitting from the spot on Richie's neck where they rested.

“Sure,” you said half mindlessly, nodding your head and scrunching your nose.

“We are just two coworkers, who are going to one person's apartment, where we will do regular coworker things,” Richie stressed, as you two made your way to the back door, expressing it all with his hands and arms.

“Mhm mhm,” you nodded your head again, walking quickly, but not forgetting to swipe your bag of stuff from off the floor by the lockers.

“Like… sleeping,” he exclaimed a little too loudly, and you both paused in the doorway as soon as he said it.

“That keeps coming out wrong, doesn’t it?” he looked down, and then up at you, smiling a little bit.

He needed to stop doing that, it was starting to become addicting to watch.

“Yeah, it does,” you said with a sympathetic look of worry and also amusement.

“Yeah,” he flattened his mouth, his hands landing on his hips.

“I think maybe you should just stop talking about it for a bit,” you suggested.

“Yeah you're right, you're right. It’s a little weird huh?” he looked side to side, then down at the ground again, scratching his neck.

“I mean, not weird. Just a little, odd,”

“Just a little?” he looked up, smile growing on his face and cheeks still very pink.

“Just a little!” you chimed, and it looked like his eyes were smiling before his lips could.

“Yeah… good on ya babe. I should keep my mouth shut more often”

“Maybe not, completely shut?”

“Ah,”

“But just… mostly, shut,” you let your mouth curl into a smile.

“Right. Like a ventriloquist,” he offered, smiling back, a bit bashful.

“Yes, like a ventriloquist. Exactly,” you grinned and rubbed the space between your brows, he laughed a little.

You laughed as well, just barely, air escaping your nose and mouth. You exhaled, and let your smile fade with his. You both paused, eyes meeting in the comforting silence. Richie's mouth parted, before he clicked his tongue.

“My uh, my car is just at the end of the lot,” he grinned,

“Right yes, lets go to that,”

“As you wish,” he swayed his hand out in front of him.

You simply smiled, and walked past him down the step to outside. He stopped before he could even walk forward.

“Wait, hold up. I gotta get my jacket… I’ll be right back,”

“Yeah, sure,”

He turned towards the lockers but promptly turned right back around.

“Do you need anything? You got all your stuff?”

“Yep! It’s just my bag,”

“Okay, alright, cool,”

He disappeared down the hall, and you turned to face the cold, all too familiar with the chill on your skin. You watched your breath in the air, as you exhaled, trying to slow the rising tempo of your heart. You hoped Richie's place was warm. You hoped he was warm.

“Alright!” you jumped a bit, but met him with kind eyes.

“Let's get this show on the road,”

#richie jerimovich #the bear #ebon moss bachrach #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction #The Bear fandom please accept me

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Note

i would love to see rugby player james with a s/o where james is the sunshine and she's the rain but she never misses a match anyhow, if u fancy it! ty if u do or if u don't love jade

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

@luveline I hope you don’t mind the tag! I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t do it in case you missed it <3 thank you for the request honey you always have the cutest ideas 🥹

—

Your shoes beat the well-worn, familiar path to the locker rooms, an atrocious gold color as insisted by James.

“You’ve gotta wear my team’s colors,” He urges you, showcasing the hideous shiny shoes, “‘S just what girlfriends do”

Apparently girlfriends also bring their big sweaty boyfriends a stale pretzel after the game, and one is clutched in your hand, parchment wrapped around it to prevent it from burning you.

Stepping through the doors of James’s locker room means being bombarded with various smells. Sweat, expensive cologne, and shampoo are among the first you experience, and you have a feeling you know who’s mostly behind the second one.

James stands by his locker, abusing a bottle of cologne that you’d been unwise enough to give him. He hasn’t quite mastered the correct amount to put on, yet, and your nose wrinkles involuntarily as you approach him.

“There she is,” He booms, his charismatic shout echoing through the metal-lined locker room, “That’s m’girl!”

He tugs you close, squishing the pretzel in your hands between you in a very toddler-like embrace, a little too rough and slightly uncoordinated. You blame it on the adrenaline still coursing through him from the match.

“You’re makin’ my eyes water,” You mumble, a funny nasally tone to your voice, “No more cologne, Jamie.”

“Did you have fun?” He chooses to ignore your helpful advice, rubbing a hand down your back as he snatched the smushed pretzel from your hands. He tears into it with an overzealous bite, and crumbs stick to his mouth.

“The old lady next to me was loud,” You hum, recalling her raucous shouts, “And the floor was sticky, so my shoes squeak now.” You lift one off of the locker room floor, a squelch sounding as it lifts from the syrupy surface.

“And not only that, but-” You intend to ramble about the vendor you’d bought the pretzel from, who insisted that melted cheese was not available, even though you could see it buried beneath a pretzel in his basket. You’re sure if you would have told him your boyfriend was number 81, that he might have given up and forked over the cheese, but you don’t often like bragging about things.

James’s warm hand slides over your cheek, pretzel aromatic on his breath as he leans closer to you. His eyes twinkle with sympathetic amusement, his lips quirked up as he speaks, “Did you have fun watching me play?”

You remember scanning the screen for your boyfriend’s sweaty face, clapping extra eagerly when he happened to score. Your favorite part had been when the kiss cam was on, and they flashed to you. You’d been very bewildered at the spotlight, because no one sitting beside you was anyone you knew, in fact, the only person you did know was on the field. But a mere few seconds after displaying your face, they showed James down on the field, eyes all gooey and lovestruck at your picture. Then he realized he was on camera, blowing the biggest kiss he could to where you sat in the stands. You’re sure if he’d been given the opportunity, he would have scaled the concrete steps to smooch you for real, but even the compromised gesture had set loose a swarm of butterflies in the pit of your belly.

“Yes,” You decide, leaning your cheek into the palm of his hand and deciding not to scold him when he squeezes the chub there, “I did have fun.”

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differenteagletragedy · 6 months

Note

Your writing is wonderful and so much fun to read!!! If you’re willing, could we get some wholesome headcanons about living with each of the OL boys? Thank you, you’re amazing!

Thank you so much, that makes me so happy! So do wholesome thoughts about these boys! I could have gone on so much longer lol but here you go!

-- Baxter is a lawn guy. If you move out to the suburbs (he'll want to if you have a kid), then he's going to be SO EXCITED to pick out a good lawn mower, to get out there and trim the grass. He's got a little garden going and everything. He's trimming the bushes with glee.

-- He also cooks, both because he loves to cook and because he loves to cook for you. If he can cook with something from his garden, then he's the happiest guy on the block, at least.

-- Meanwhile, Derek is a grill guy. He has cheesy little aprons and everything, and any opportunity he has, he's out there grilling dinner.

Derek: See, what you want to do is put the charcoal in a pyramid, you get the best heat that way.

Cove: I honestly could not care less.

-- Cove doesn't like to cook, but he's got all your takeout orders memorized. He's going to stop and get something after work, he's going to know exactly what to get for you. Do you love that one sauce from that one place? He's not leaving without it. He will absolutely never bring you home the wrong thing.

-- Baxter likes blankets. There's a closet full of them, all different kinds. If anyone is ever stumped on what kind of gift to get him, they're going to learn pretty quick that a blanket is a great bet. If he's sitting down at his apartment and it's not to eat a meal, he's gonna have a blanket. He is also very happy to share :)

-- I mentioned this in another one, but Derek is really good with his hands. He can fix anything. It makes him feel really good too, to be so helpful, so be sure to tell him that he's doing a good job.

-- If you've got a garage, that is the most dad garage you've ever seen in your life. He's got a work bench, a few tool boxes, anything and everything he could possibly need to do what needs to be done around the house.

You, going out to the garage one random Monday: Derek, what are you doing?

Derek, picking up a power tool: I'm building a porch for you, babe!

-- Derek is a "babe" guy, btw. Baxter is a "darling" guy, and Derek is a "babe" guy. Cove just says your name, but we already know that.

-- If you live with Cove then you are contractually obligated to go camping on the beach at least once every summer. He doesn't actually make you sign a contract, but he would if he needed to.

-- One time you surprise him because you find a beach where you can watch baby sea turtles hatch and he loses his mind. Cries every time he thinks about it. Named a few, will ask you how you think they're doing for the rest of your life.

-- Hot beverages with Baxter! It doesn't matter if you like coffee, tea, hot chocolate, whatever, he's got a good selection and he'll make you something whenever you ask, and a lot of times even if you don't.

Baxter right when you walk in the door after texting him in the car that you'd had a rough day at work: Tea, darling?

-- Baxter also has nightmares sometimes, but it helps if you snuggle him tight. He gets sort of embarrassed by them, he doesn't want to be that sad broken boy for the rest of his life, so just pull him close and tell him to go back to sleep.

-- Derek will want to play video games -- also something we already know, but still true. Every time a new Mario Kart comes out (and no the Mario Kart 8 expansions do NOT count, Nintendo) you go to the midnight release and take the next day off work to play. You have to, it's tradition.

-- One day the GameCube is going to break and he'll try to play it off a little but he's going to be really sad about it. Hope you can find a good deal on ebay!

-- So I had this college professor who was talking to me once about directing a play, and he told me that a lot of directors make the mistake of using just kisses or hugs or sexual touches to show intimacy. He said that one time he saw a show with a scene with a husband and wife, and it was this intense scene, and the husband just slid his hand under his wife's shirt and put his hand on her stomach. Not higher or lower, there wasn't any pregnancy subtext, it was just a nice tummy touch. So now every time I like a character with a love interest I imagine that.

-- That means that Cove, Baxter and Derek all like to just rest their hand on your stomach. It's just nice and cozy there.

-- Cove is going to come home with a bouquet of poppies a lot. It's always going to be precious.

-- Baxter is going to tease you mercilessly but in the most loving way. I mention this a lot but it's because it is my truth. Did you trip coming out of the bedroom that morning? Get ready to hear about it for the rest of the day.

-- Derek is an early bird, but if he feels like he can't get out of bed without waking you up, then he's going to stay in bed as long as humanly possible.

Mr. Suarez: Son, you're late!

Derek: Yeah ... uh, traffic.

Cliff: Lol ok

-- If you're in college when you live with Cove then he is going to make sure you take your studies VERY SERIOUSLY. You ask him if he wants to watch something? Nuh uh, you've got a paper to write. He doesn't care if it's not due until the day after tomorrow, you need to work on it.

-- But if you want to binge watch anything, Baxter's your guy. Let him grab a blanket.

-- Baxter likes to give you a bath. Not in like a sexy way, he just likes to take care of you like that. He's got fancy soaps and he'll put on lotion and do your skincare after and everything.

-- You better hope you don't live near a kid, because if some child knocks on the door trying to sell something, Derek is going to spend irresponsibly.

You walking in the door to see boxes and boxes of that fundraiser chocolate: What is this?

Derek: *sheepishly* Nothing?

Cove, shoving a third candy bar in this mouth: Yeah, it's nothing.

#our life beginnings and always #olba #our life #baxter ward #cove holden #derek suarez #olba baxter #olba cove #olba derek #our life cove #our life baxter #our life derek #our life headcannons

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starstruck-cupid · 1 year

Text

The Sweater

Masterlist

Part 4 of unnamed Charlie fic. I'll think of s name eventually. Should I start a tag list? I'll probably start a masterlist when I figure out how to

(edit: name change. Formerly unnamed)

A/n: not super happy with this one. I struggle at first and I'm

TW: mentions of murder, smoking, weed, stalking, theft of personal items, kissing

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I woke up to an empty bed.

It's Monday. Charlie probably went home to Get ready for school.

Burgundingly, I get out of my warm bed. Throwing on the random clothes I grabbed, and clipping my hair up, I jog down the stairs. There he is. Charlie was sitting on the island stool.

"Ready?" He asked, voice groggy from sleep.

Nodding, grabbing my keys from the bowl and walking out the door.

Charlie and I always get coffee before school. There's this little hole in the wall, mom & pop shop, coffee place. He pays, I drive. It's a good balance.

After getting coffee, and having random conversations, we're at school. Charlie always parts to go to Robbie. I don't mind. Gives me time to be by myself.

Walking into the doors, I look around. Everyone is either dead with lack of sleep or as lively as a Friday afternoon. Some people are on edge. It's the anniversary of the original Woodsboro murders. Walking to my first period, I see Charlie talking to Kirby.

That won't end well.

Entering my first hour, I take my seat in the middle. Soon, Charlie walks in and takes his seat next to me.

Halfway through the hour everyone's phone starts to go off. I haven't looked at mine since the texts. I don't plan on starting. I hear someone say that Marnie and Jenny were murdered last night.

My head whips up to look at Charlie. He's looking at me too. His stare doesn't look surprised. It looks analytical. Charlie is good at putting others in front of himself. Maybe he's concerned?

I wasn't close with either of the girls, but this is insane. You think it couldn't ever happen to your school. It's the Anniversary of the Woodsboro murders. Maybe it's just a coincidence. My mind won't stop racing.

Do I tell someone about the texts?

No. It was just a prank. I don't even know if they're related.

"Are you okay?," The concern in Charlie's voice is something I've gotten used to in the past couple days.

Nodding, I look back to him, "just spaced."

Today was long. Everything kind of seemed like a blur. Charlie said he didn't want a ride home today, so I drove alone.

Entering my empty house, I felt anxious again. I need a bath. After walking up my stairs in a sluggish manner, I push open to my door and flop down on my bed. It's cold. I look up to my window. It's open. I didn't leave it open.

There's a knife in my nightstand drawer. I reach over and grab it, getting up from my bed. Slowly, I look around my room, then slip my head into the bathroom as sneakily as I can.

No one. Absolutely empty.

After spending an hour rummaging through my stuff, I've deduced that I have three things missing.

My favorite pair of underwear, my favorite chapstick, and my cigarettes.

But one thing had resurfaced.

My missing joint.

This joint was a godsend after today. If there is a god, he owes me this after everything.

Walking into the bathroom, I see myself in the mirror. I look tired. I am tired. These last two days have been rough. I walk to the bay window, pushing it open. My lighter is still on the cushioned bench. Lightening the joint and sitting down, I already feel so much better.

Then I see Charlie. He's climbing into his bedroom window with a backpack I've never seen before. He looks over noticing I'm watching. He gives a mock salute and slips into the window.

Weird.

After the joint and half of Nightmare On Elm St, I hear a knock. My heart starts racing, I freeze. My phone pings. My heart races faster. I look at the text. It's from Charlie

10:30. Let me in

My pulse slows. I slide off my bed and let him in.

"Hi," he says, slipping in as his freshly showered scent fills the room.

"Hey"

"You look high." There was amusement in his voice.

Usually he doesn't like it when I smoke.

Letting the unconscious giggle confirm his thoughts, I lay back on my bed with a flop. Charlie follows suit.

For a while we just lay there, looking at each other. It's raining. Feeling safe now that Charlie came, I left the window open. The cool, yet warm spring air.

I could be here forever.

I move my hand to rest it on his cheek. It was warm. Gently stroking it with my thumb. He closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly a scream rips out, making me jump, my head turning to find the source.

"Just the movie babe, everything's okay," he said in a reassuring tone, eyes opening to look at me.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry"

"Are you okay? Anything you wanna tell me?" There's that tone of concern again.

I nod. The high is getting to its peak and I think it's obvious.

"Tired?" He asks.

"Yeah."

Charlie had an amused smile. We sat there for a few more minutes. Charlie got up to change the movie. Sliding up the bed, I watch Charlie.

"No gore, please," I asked. Gore and high do not mix well.

"Of course princess," I could almost hear the smile on his face. I see him pick up 10 things I hate about you.

Once he's back on the bed, he sits next to me, lower then I am. He pulls me down by my belt loops, and wraps an arm around me.

It could be the high talking but things feel different right now. Less friendly, more romantic. I don't have to wait long to figure it out because he lifts my head up by my chin and kisses me.

I want expecting it. Stunned, it takes me a second to kiss back. The kiss is hard and needy. It's warm. His lips are chapped. Slipping my hands up to his cheek. They were still warm. He pulled away. He was blushing. I'm definitely high. I can feel the wetness of my heat.

Oh.

That's what I've been feeling.

"Was that okay?" Concerned again.

"Absolutely." I let out breathlessly.

He leaned back and moved closer to me and we continue the movie.

#charlie walker #charlie walker x reader

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roxygen22 · 2 months

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Bottled Up

"My Little Cocoa Bean" Series

Summary: Ben/Bean (age 12) battles a bout of nerves before the school play. Willy tries to get his mind off of things.

A/N: See if you can spot the reference to Dune Part 1.

<><><><><>

You were preparing dinner in the kitchen when you heard the front door fly open and fast, erratic footsteps echo throughout the house. "Mamma?!" you heard Ben shout.

His loud, brazen entrance startled you. You were glad that you had already finished chopping up the vegetables and put away the knife, or else you may have accidentally cut yourself when you jumped. "In the kitchen, dear," you called back.

Ben sprinted through the kitchen door, nearly sliding into the table in his rush. "Mamma, Mamma! I got the part! I got the part of Peter Pan!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, Ben! That's fantastic!" You jumped up and down and clapped your hands with glee. "I'm so proud of you! All of those hours of practicing paid off." You wiped your hands on your apron (and the tears from your eyes) before wrapping him in a big hug. At just twelve years old, you and he nearly saw eye to eye. He was going to be tall and lanky like his father, who arrived at the house a couple of minutes behind Ben. The boy had apparently run ahead after he visited the chocolate factory after school, eager to share his news.

"There's my thespian!" Willy announced proudly with a big grin on his face when he caught up to the two of you in the kitchen. He joined your hug and wrapped his arms around both you and Ben.

Charlotte and Brownie came running in from playing in the backyard to find out what all the fuss was about. "What's going on?"

"Bean got the lead role in the school play!" Willy informed her as he opened his arms to invite her into the group hug.

"Great, now we have to listen to him practice the whole show, not just that one piece?" The sassy 8-year-old rolled her eyes but then smiled and hugged her big brother. "Good job," she mumbled into his side.

Ben had obsessively practiced in the weeks leading up to the audition and continued to do so until the day of the event. Willy enjoyed spending his evenings running lines with the boy, and even offered tips for dramatic flourishes. What he didn't enjoy, though, was watching Ben be so hard on himself. As the big day neared, he would practically fall apart if he couldn't remember a line or deliver it perfectly.

"I- I can't do this, Papa. They should have picked someone else for the role," Ben lamented after a particularly rough rehearsal. He sat on the front porch of their house with his head in his hands. Willy seated himself next to his son and put a hand on his back, gently rubbing in a soothing circular motion.

"I really think you need to take a break. I never thought I would say this, but you have to get your nose out of that book. You've been practicing nonstop for days. Weeks, even. Your brain needs time to rest or else you will stay in this fog," Willy said in a low, calm tone.

"But there's only a week left until the show!" Ben shouted, his voice strained from holding back tears. Willy's hand stilled at the uncharacteristic outburst.

"Bean. I am serious. I respect how you are putting your heart and soul into this performance. But it shouldn't come at the expense of your health." He paused. "I don't want you to look at that script this weekend."

"But-"

"No buts, Benjamin. We are going to find something fun to do to get your mind off of things. I can almost guarantee you'll feel better by Monday."

Ben knew he had lost the argument when his father used his full name, which was rare. "Okay, fine," the boy grumbled.

"Besides, it will help you get into character. Peter Pan is a carefree spirit, after all," Willy joked as he ruffled Ben's hair. "Say, that gives me an idea. How about we go out in the boat? With the wind in your hair, you'll feel like you're flying, just like Peter Pan!"

Ben offered a closed-lipped smile and nodded in agreement. Willy clapped him on the back before going back inside to brief you on the plan. After some discussion, you thought it best if you took Charlotte into town for a girls' day while Willy took Ben out on the boat. She had a knack for winding Ben up, as siblings do, which would be counterproductive in his current state. Besides, you were overdue on taking some one-on-one time with your daughter.

<><><><><>

The weekend came, and Ben and Willy made their way to the docks early Saturday morning. Willy noted Ben's posture as he walked ahead toward the boat. Slumped. Defeated. Weary. He was more determined than ever to help his son out of these doldrums.

They loaded their supplies in silence, and Willy navigated them to the beach they had first visited many years ago when Ben was only three. The boy's curly hair flowed behind him as he faced into the wind. He looked back and smiled at his father as they neared land. Ben loved this place. Willy shined a hopeful smile in return.

Once the boat was tied off, the pair started aimlessly ambling along the shoreline. Willy stayed silent, wanting Ben to take the lead when he was ready to open up. It didn't take long. Ben paused to stare out at the sea.

"I'm scared," he said flatly, without looking at his father.

"I know." Willy stayed a step behind, watching his son stare off into the distance. "Want to talk through what exactly you're scared of?"

"That I'm going to mess up my lines and make a fool of myself and my castmates. That I wasn't the right choice for the role." Ben sighed and ducked his head.

"I see. So you think Ms. Harper makes poor decisions?"

"What?! No, she's the best teacher I've ever had!" Ben replied defensively.

"Then perhaps you should trust that she made the right decision about you. Now, of course, I might be a little biased, but I have seen you practice. You own the role so well that you transform, Bean. I no longer see my son, but a mischievous, adventurous scamp who fights pirates and flies to distant worlds on nothing but faith, trust, and pixie dust. You transport people into the story by making it so believable. Not just anybody can do that." He laid a hand on Ben's shoulder and squeezed. "And if you don't get a line quite right, the audience will be none the wiser. Especially if they are enchanted by your delivery. They won't have the script in front of them."

Ben looked to the side at the hand on his shoulder and covered it with his own for a moment. Willy responded with just a light squeeze, then the two continued their trek down the beach.

They eventually made their way up to a grassy hill where they decided to sit a spell. Ben laid back to watch the clouds drift slowly. Willy sat next to him, legs bent so he could rest his arms on his knees and look out across the water.

"You know, this reminds me of the day we spent together before your very first day of school. We went to the park, ran around, and watched the clouds float by. You were nervous then, too," Willy reminisced.

"Yeah? Seems to be a theme," Ben scoffed.

His father chuckled. "Perhaps. But you faced that first day head on even though you were scared. You didn't let it stop you. I have a feeling you will tackle this in much the same way. Even if the play is a disastrous flop - which it won't be - you're still the only thing I ever needed you to be." Willy looked down to make eye contact with Ben. "My son."

The boy's lip trembled. He sat up and wiped tears from his eyes. Willy wrapped an arm around and pulled him into his side. Ben buried his face into Willy's shoulder, and the floodgates to his tears opened. The poor boy had bottled up so much stress. In time, his sobs subsided, and he pulled away from his father to sit up straight again.

"Thank you, Papa," Ben said softly as he wiped his red, blotchy face. "You were right, as always. I do feel better."

"I'm glad I could help." Willy clapped him on the back then pushed himself off the ground, brushing the dirt off his pants as he stood. He held a hand out to Ben to help him up. "We better get going if we want to get home before dark."

On the walk back to the boat, Willy noticed the boy walked a little taller with a bit more spring to his step. There's my boy, he thought.

<><><><><>

The rest of the week passed quickly. Ben was still nervous but not to the point of incapacitation like before the trip. On the evening of the play, Willy handed Ben a box full of giraffe milk macaroons for him to share with his castmates. In the box, you included a note that said, "Break a leg and have fun!" Ben kissed you on the cheek, shook his father's hand, and left early to get into costume.

You, Willy, and Charlotte arrived at the auditorium and took your seats. Willy's leg bounced up and down with nerves until it was time for the show to start.

"Are you alright?" you whispered.

"Just a little nervous for him. I know how much this means to him."

You squeezed his hand and turned your attention to the stage as the curtain rose. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Willy mouthing lines throughout the performance and holding his hands to his mouth during the most dramatic scenes. He was the first to jump up to applaud when the curtain fell, triggering a standing ovation. The cast and crew came out once more to take a bow.

"Bravo, bravo!" Willy yelled, catching Ben's attention, who smiled at his family and waved excitedly. Willy looked over at you with glossy eyes. "He was perfect," he whispered.

"He's a natural showman, just like you."

"My little cocoa bean."

<><><><><>

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forever-fixating · 3 months

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Some Sentences Monday?

Tagged by the ever-awesome @priincebutt

Okay, so I know this is meant for Sundays, but ya boi was destroyed from work and completely overstimulated so I had nothing in the tank. But after hibernating most of today, I am emerging ready to share a new project I have in the works. Getting such amazing response for Love on the Menu has really invigorated my desire to work, and now my mind is running with ideas. I've been toying with the idea of writing a historical AU for a while now, so allow me to introduce:

I don't have an official summary for it yet, but to overhype myself, this story has everything: childhood sweethearts separated by tragedy, rivaling nations full of political intrigue, magick because I've been dying to write a fantasy AU as well so por que no los dos, a tournament where the grand prize of the joust is the hand in marriage of our sweet Henry, a cliffhanger that I am so excited to write but that I know will enrage everyone that reads it...get ready, yall!

Below the cut is a massively long teaser. Forgive the roughness of it. I am just so geeked to share it, but just know I'll be working on it until it's ready. Enjoy! (If you'd like a soundtrack for this, might I suggest Surrender by Natalie Taylor?)

The air was perfumed with the scent of springtime blossoms. Beneath the shade of a great willow tree were two young lovers. One was flaxen-haired, his ivory skin rosy from the sun and littered with constellations of freckles. His body and limbs were slender and knobbly, still in that awkward phase between boy and man. His light blue eyes studied his companion with unguarded adoration. The other young man was shorter in stature, but rigorous exercise had already defined his physique. Atop his head was an untamed mass of sable curls, still wet from swimming. His unblemished skin gleamed a rich russet shade that his fairer companion couldn't stop touching. The pair had completed their lessons for the day and decided to take a refreshing dip in the lake near their school. They were naked, hidden among the willow branches, like two woodland nymphs from a fable and not two princes from separate nations. The dark-haired boy Alex lifted his lover Henry's hand and kissed the signet ring on his pinkie finger. The ring's face held not a family crest but their initials. A promise.

"When we are married-"

"You mustn't say such things!" Henry laughed even as his stomach fluttered at the very prospect. "It isn't proper."

Alex leaned down to press a kiss against rose-petal lips. "A man must state his intentions plainly, and mine are to marry you, cariño."

"You are not yet seventeen, cariad," Henry said as Alex trailed kisses along his jaw and neck. In this sacred space, it was easy to get lost in the rose-tinted fantasy of their future together. He tangled his fingers in Alex's curls, tugging at the roots. "Our parents would say it is unwise to speak of such things at our age."

"Why," Alex hissed as he climbed over Henry's body, "are you mentioning our parents when I am trying to ravish you?"

Henry arched his body into that of his beloved, gasping, "You have ravished me twice already this afternoon. Is that not enough?"

"Never."

As the twin suns began their steady descents into the horizons, the young lovers got dressed and made their way back to the school. Fireflies glowed in hues of pink, orange, and yellow as the pair discussed their plans for the following day. Given their disheveled states of dress, they were wary of running into Headmistress Beaufort or one of their professors as they made their way back to their dormitory. Unfortunately, fate was not on their side, and they rounded a corner and nearly crashed into Professor Wagner. He was a squat toad of a man who taught history and hated Alex for his frequent interruptions during lessons. His face held a perpetual bitter expression, as though he had just sucked on an unripen lemon. He berated them for looking and acting beneath their station and gave them detention for the following fortnight working in the stables with Gerald the groundskeeper. (It wasn't the punishment the man thought it was. They enjoyed Gerald's company, especially when he was joined by Julian, the music professor. Henry was convinced they were in love, but Alex said he was delusional.)

They scrambled upstairs to their shared dorm room to change. Dinner was already in progress when they joined their social set in the dining hall. Alex's older sister June was discussing a novel with Henry's twin sister Beatrice while their best friends Percy and Nora played cards. As Henry took his spot between Bea and Pez, his sister poked at the poorly concealed love mark Alex had gifted him earlier and teased, "My dear brother, it would appear you have been mauled by pixies. Should we alert Gerald of a possible infestation?"

Alex, seated across from him between June and Nora, snorted into his goblet, and Henry kicked his skin beneath the table. Giving his sister a tight smile that told her he knew exactly at what she was playing, he said defensively, "It was only a single, annoying pixie. Hardly cause for alarm."

"Annoying?" Henry's stomach filled with regret the moment the words left his mouth at Alex's fallen expression. He looked away from Henry. "Perhaps the pixie will direct their attention elsewhere if they are such a nuisance."

Alex would not meet his eye for the remainder of the meal. Once Headmistress Beaufort dismissed the students for the evening, Alex was up like a shot. Henry felt the disapproval of their friends and loved ones as he stood and trailed after Alex like a lovesick puppy. When Henry reached the common room of their dormitory, he found Alex chatting with Liam, the son of a nobleman from his home country. While he knew there was no danger of them forming an attachment, jealousy sparked in his chest, hot and ugly. He strode over to them and said, "Alex, I wish to speak with you."

Alex's expression was that of cool indifference. "Yes?"

Ignoring Liam and tugging on Alex's arm, Henry insisted, "In private."

Alex rolled his eyes but stood, shoving past Henry to their dorm room. Henry didn't look at Liam but hurried after Alex. He passed some of their classmates roughhousing in the hallway. Alex's ire was quick to be provoked, but Henry hoped he could dampen it with gentle words of apology and a gift. Their dorm room was on the far end of the hallway to the right. When Henry entered, Alex was sitting on the window seal. Henry closed the door.

"Cariad-"

"You would be wise not to call me that right now," Alex snapped, not looking at him.

Henry bit his bottom lip. Pushing away from the door, he crossed the cross to retrieve a parcel he received earlier that day from his bedside table. Though he protested Alex's pure words down by the lake, Henry's heart ached at the very thought that Alex thought himself alone in this affection. Henry was naturally cautious when it came to matters of the heart. While his parents had a romance for the bards to write neverending songs about and supported his inclinations, his grandmother Queen Mary still held final sway over who her grandchildren would marry. While Alex's country was a rising power, full of untapped resources and potential, Mary looked down her nose at their progressive politics and rising status among the nations. But despite the perceived impossibility of their future together, Henry found himself desperately in love with Alex all the time.

Henry knelt in front of his wounded lover and placed the parcel in his lap. Alex finally looked at him before glancing down and asking, "What is this?"

"An apology and response."

Alex picked it up and tore away the plain brown paper. Revealed was a red velvet bag. Henry's heart raced as Alex opened the bag and pulled out a small golden key on a silver chain. The bow of the key, intertwined in delicate filigree, was their initials, much like the ring that rested on Henry's hand.

As Alex studied it, Henry said, "My words earlier were foolish and hurtful. The truth is that I am afraid of the end of term. Things as they are now seem too perfect and golden. I...I fear once we are parted, reality will make you realize I am not worthy, that you will find someone more suitable for-"

"You believe me to be easily swayed?" Alex snapped. Henry looked up to see frustration and sadness in his eyes. He reached down to yank Henry's hand that held the signet ring to eye level. "Is this not proof enough of my love for you? Is it not enough that I say I love you? If this is an apology, it is a very poor one, Henry."

Henry climbed on the window seal with Alex, desperate to be understood, tears in his eyes. "It is an explanation. I am scared, Alex. I know we are young, but I know in my heart I will never feel for another what I feel for you. But when my grandmother finds out about us, she will stop at nothing to keep us apart. Does that challenge not give you pause?"

"Cariño," Alex whispered, cupping Henry's face, the necklace dangling from his fingers, "I would slay a thousand dragons, cross the Great Salt Desert, and brave the bitterest frozen peaks if that's what it took to make you mine. You may fear your grandmother, but I do not. There is no one else for me but you."

Henry took the chain from Alex's hand and placed it around his neck. Pressing his hand over the key, Henry said, "As you are for me. I want to be brave like you. I want you to know you are not alone. This key is a symbolic gesture, the key to my heart. My promise to be true."

Two young lovers, bathed in moonlight and their love for one another, making a vow as true as the gods had ever heard. Perhaps it was their youth that gave them pause, or the sincerity in which the vows were given. Whatever it was, the gods took note and, in their mercurial way, decided to put that devotion to the test.

The skies were clear that night as Alex and Henry clung to each other, but they could not see the storm brewing on the distant horizon. A challenge.

Tagging @dragonflylady77 @onthewaytosomewhere @theplayfulfairy and anyone else who scribbles and is interested.

#yall are not ready #a tournament for his heart #some sentence sunday #tagging game #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #rwrb #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #WIP

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