#every time I move cross country I drive so I can take care of my plants

[bleedingoptimism]

The Stray

part four

“What… are you doing?” Eddie asks him softly, afraid of the answer as if he can’t already tell. 

Steve sniffs and looks at him with an apologetic smile, a single tear hanging off his long eyelashes.

“I talked to Robin. I told her the truth. She wants me to go live with her.” 

Right. Robin. The best friend who lives across the fucking country while she’s finishing a master’s or something. The one Steve didn’t want to find out the truth because he didn’t want her to worry. The only family he has left. Eddie had talked with her once or twice on the phone, Steve told her they were roommates… She seemed nice. He kind of hates her now.

“You want to leave.” He doesn't mean to sound so intense but he can’t help himself. His whole world is turning on its axis. Just like that first morning when he got home to find Steve in his kitchen. 

He hadn’t even thought of the kitchen as his in such a long time. It was theirs. Steve’s and Max’s and Eddie’s. Their kitchen.

Why would he leave?

“No!” Steve tells him taking a step closer and shaking his head, “No, but…” He crosses his arms around himself and does that little shrug of his, “It’s been months, Eddie! And I’m not any closer to finding a job or fending for myself! I can’t keep living off of you! Not when-” But he cuts himself and shakes his head again hugging himself harder.

“You are not! You are so much help! And you make us happy and money it’s not a problem-” Eddie tries to assure him.

“But it is! It is for me! I can’t-” Steve frowns at him and Eddie quickly lifts the notebook back from the floor and walks inside.

“What if I gave you a job?” He asks, a little desperate.

Steve's frown deepens as he looks confused at his notebook in Eddie’s hands, “What?”

“I- I’m sorry I found your notebook and I read your songs and they are so good Steve-” He grabs Steve’s hand and gives the notebook back, “Corrored Coffin could hire you as a songwriter! Or I could put you in contact with my agent and-”

Steve throws the notebook into his open bag and takes a step away from Eddie, he covers his face with his hands and moves them up to his hair, tugs on it. And Eddie fumbles in place because he doesn't know where he went wrong.

“So you- you and Max, you- help me and take care of me and give me support and a family, a ho- a home. And now you want to give me a job?! Eddie I- it’s too much. I can’t-” And whatever he was going to say gets lost behind his hands as he covers his face again, shoulders shaking and taking short intakes of air.

Eddie steps right back into Steve’s space and holds him by the shoulders, hands going up and down in a soothing motion, “Woah, puppy, yes, you can! Of course, you can! I’m not offering it, I’m asking you. I need you.”

Hiccuping, Steve slowly moves his hands away from his face, he blushes and his eyes search Eddie’s as he wipes his tears away pointlessly, since more keep falling nonstop.

“Why do you call me that?” He asks seemingly out of nowhere.

Eddie is so thrown back he chuckles, “You don’t mind, do you?” he asks, moving a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes. He knows he doesn’t, he’s been calling him that for months, and Steve blushes and bites his lips like he’s holding back a whimper every. single. time. It drives Eddie insane. But he’s never asked him why before.

Steve shakes his head and bites his lip, “Why puppy?” he asks.

Maybe it’s not the confession he was hoping for, but still, Eddie tries to lay it all out there. Instead of answering why he calls him ‘puppy’, he answers why he’s in love with him.

“Because you are cute and kind and bubbly. Because your smile is so bright and sincere when you see us, you make coming home the best part of the day. Because your happiness is contagious, your hair is soft and wavy. Because you are bad at taking care of yourself and always put everyone else’s needs before your own. Because you sing like an angel and you are so pretty it makes me want to cry. Puppy.”

Steve blinks and Eddie caresses under his eye, wiping another tear away, “Not because I'm a stray?” Steve murmurs under his breath and before Eddie can answer, Steve grabs Eddie’s hands away from his face but moves a little closer and holds them between their chests.

He shakes his head with a little frown between his brows, “I lied, I do mind when you call me that. It makes me want to do stupid things.”

“Like what?” If he could move closer he would, but right now they are toe to toe.

“Like fall in love with you.” Steve says looking right into his eyes, “Like stay.”

“Fuck, Steve would you?” Eddie whines and lets go of their entwined hands to grab at Steve’s waist and pull him closer, “Would you stay?”

Steve keeps his hands over Eddie’s chest, one palm over his heart and there’s no doubt he can feel how hard his heart is beating right now, “Eddie, I don’t need-”

“I know you don’t, of course you don’t. But I want it.” Eddie interrupts him. And this is it. This is where he comes clean.

“I want you. I want to take care of you, to touch you, to make you feel good, to keep you close and safe. To give you things and stop you from working too hard and remind you when you haven't eaten all day or not to work out too much or forget to take your jacket when it’s cold. I want you to wear my jacket when it’s cold.” 

Finally, Steve’s hands move from his pecs to his shoulders and he circles Eddie’s neck with his arms, the heat of his body warming Eddie from head to toe.

“That sounds like so much work. I’d be so needy,” he whispers shyly, a little unsure. But there’s a glint in his eyes, and Eddie knows he is already in.

“I want you needy,” Eddie says, his lips almost touching Steve’s, “I want to be what you need.”

Steve does whimper at that but he doesn’t move closer. He’s waiting for Eddie to kiss him first but Eddie needs to know. Needs to know if Steve’s still going to leave.

“Puppy, please. Stay.” He begs.

A whine and nod is all he needs.

fin

part 1: 🎸

part 2: 🐾

part 3: 📓

part 4: you are here!

coffee?☕����💕

[i-magines]

Wildest Dreams: Chapter 3

Pedro Pascal x fem!Reader

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6  | CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 8 | CHAPTER 9 | CHAPTER 10

synopsis: You’re an assistant director in an indie movie set and fate makes sure you keep crossing paths with a certain Chilean actor.  

disclaimer: This is my first Pedro Pascal’s fictional work + the first fanfic I write in English, as it isn’t my first language. Unfortunately, I do not own Pedro and this is all a product of my imagination.

rating: M (keep scrolling if your under 18 please)

warnings: age gap, mature content, fem!reader, eventual drinking and drugs, a little smut but nothing crazy (yet), a bit slow burn but not really.  

word count: 1,509

Over the first month, your friendship with Pedro only grew stronger. You were afraid once the production set was moved to the country, he was going to just disappear, as you were no longer roommates. You’d be lying to yourself if you said he didn’t make you feel anything, especially with how charming and flirting he was. You both had shared a lot of personal stuff over smoking joints and you were already used to hanging out together after a day of filming. But today things were going to be different, because the producers had organized a little happy hour for the crew.

Speaking of them, you had asked Pedro to keep your friendship on the low, at least during the job. You knew what everyone would say and think, mostly about you alone, so you were looking after yourself. He understood that and apparently didn’t care to be sneaking out like a teenager to spend some time with you.

“There you are”, Pedro happily greeted you on the corner of the happy hour room, about two hours into the event. “I almost didn’t get the chance to see you today. How’s everything going?”

At this point, you were certain the director hated you, but thank God he was the only one. Everyone else seemed to really like you and your work, which helped a lot with your anxiety.

“He spent the day trying to drive me crazy… Again”, you told Pedro. “You?”

“I would definitely rather be directed by you, if I’m being honest” he said in sympathy. “But yeah, it won’t take long for me to tell him to fuck off. Super nicely, of course.”

You both laughed. You could see he had been drinking and so did everybody in the room. Somebody turned up the music and Pedro dragged you to the improvised dance floor. You danced for about half an hour, until you saw him going to talk to Donna, one of the producers. They seemed friendly— too friendly, if somebody asked your opinion. You noticed it before, how close they acted sometimes, but at the end of the day, it was none of your business. Flo, the make-up artist that got you the job, got your attention and you walked to her.

“What’s up with that face?” She shot you the question. Flo was in her mid 40s and you got to know her in your first gig, since then she was always trying to connect you with people. You really liked her and, most importantly, trusted her. “You looked like you were about to commit murder on the dance floor. I know Dave is giving you a hard time, but honestly he is doing this to every single soul.”

“I was just wondering, is Donna taken?”, you asked as if you had no intention behind it.

“Yeah, I think so”, she told you. “Why? You gay too?”

“Someti— wait, what?” You stared at each other for a few seconds. “Is she?”

“As far as I know”, she said simply. “And by that I mean I’ve known her for about 10 years now. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, you didn’t. I mean, good for her, right.”

You decided you need to put your shit together now on. You excused yourself and went to get another drink — you can be a new woman tomorrow. You took some shots and got a drink to hold while you watched everyone dancing and having a good time. You tried to force yourself to stop thinking about your crush on Pedro.

“I need professional help”, you whispered to yourself.

“And why is that?”

“Shit, Pedro!” You jumped, realizing he was right by your side. “You scared the shit out of me, you shithead.”

“Wow, language, sweetheart”, he laughed at your reaction, putting his arm over your shoulder. “What are you up to?”

“Not much, just enjoying the free drinks”, you replied, also enjoying the proximity of his body. “I can see you’re enjoying them yourself.”

“Nah, I’m thinking about getting out of here, people are starting to get too drunk and God forbid I witness anything I can’t unsee”, he was being playful and seemed happy when he got a smile out of you. “Care to join me? Or you already have plans for tonight?”

“Yeah, you know me, Miss Popularity herself”, you both laughed. “Seriously, though. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Is it okay if we leave together? Considering your privacy policy”, he whispered in your ear. Only if he knew how weak that makes you. You just nodded. “After you, mi princesa.”

Fuck you, Pedro Pascal, you thought as you made the effort to move your shaking legs. Two options: first, he had no idea of his effects on you, or second, he did know that and he just liked to torture you. However it is, you were not willing to make a move to figure it out. 

The location of the shooting was a huge farm, so you walked together through the open field, towards his cabin. You got inside and took your shoes off.

“Hey, mister ‘I’m just a common worker as everybody else’, tell me again why exactly you are the only one with a private hot tube”, you teased him. He laughed. “Is it because you’re such good friends with Donna?”.

“So that’s what it was about back in the happy hour?” Pedro looked deeply into your eyes. “Such a jealous little girl, uh?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You can’t deny your brain formulated that sentence, but the alcohol spilled it out your mouth.

“Answering your question, I’m not really friends with Donna, but her partner is one of my closest colleagues in the industry”, he said in a patient tone. “And you’re welcome to use the hot tube whenever you feel like it.”

You could feel your cheeks burning. Fuck.

“I didn’t mean to— to be honest, I don’t even know what I meant, so don’t mind drunk Y/N”, you breathed out strongly.

“Why don’t we forget about it and instead go chill in the hot tube?” He offered you a smile. Pedro was so easy to deal with, always trying to make you comfortable. “I have more of that nice whisky you like.”

You quickly put on your bikini in your room and head back to Pedro’s cabin. You could hear the happy hour turning into a party on the back, as you joined him inside the tub. You did your best to not stare at his toned, tanned body. He was smoking a cigar and handed you a glass.

“You know what’s funny”, he started, you already knew you wouldn’t find it funny at all. “This is the second time I see you in a tub.”

“Well, fuck you very much sir”, you held a serious face before letting a smile scape. “That was traumatic.”

“Why is that? I would say you made quite an impression”, he laughed, something different sparkling in his eyes. “Would it bother you if I said I still think about it?”

You felt your body hot, as if the water was on boiling point.

“God”, you whispered. He never took his eyes off yours. “I don’t know what to say, Pedro.”

“It’s a simple question, sweetheart”, he replied, coming a little closer. You got chills all over your body. “Honestly, I don’t know if you only see me as this friendly, older, disgusting man—”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” you cut him before he could finish. “Feel free to think about whatever you like.”

“Good”, he said quietly, his body even closer, but still not touching yours. “Tell me what you were doing on the tub that day, sweetheart.”

“I-I was, uh,” you felt like you were about to explode, your brain trying to process if this was really happening. “I was touching myself.”

“Finally, princesa”, he let out a deep breath against your neck. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to hear you say this, to be sure my memory wasn’t fucking with me.”

He touched your waist with his hand, putting the cigar away with the other one. You felt delirious.

“What are you going to do now that you know?” The question popped out of your mouth.

He grabbed your arm to move your body, making you sit on his lap. Face to face. He was hard as fuck.

“I will take you back to your cabin, give you a goodnight kiss…” He made a pause. His stare was deep down your soul. “Come back to mine and think ‘bout you while I mind my own business.”

He was dead serious.

“I’m too horny to go to sleep”, you cried to him, all your blood concentrated between your legs. You moved on his lap, rubbing against his cook.

“Trust me”, he said as his hands firmly held your hips down, making you stop and yet feel him ever harder. “I feel the same way.”

He gave you a little forehead kiss.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

CHAPTER 4 AVALIABLE NOW

TAGLIST: @kyuupidwrites @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @vivibabiez @ivyohmy @sebastianstansimp @tubble-wubble @28cnn @3zae-zae3 @technicallysassyfox @bellatrixyoass @mandolover86​ (edit: i’m not sure why i wasn’t able to tag everybody i’m trying my best here)

[joysmercer]

post-season 3

Terri will freely admit that she wasn’t overly enthusiastic about her daughter suddenly deciding (with less than a month’s notice) to spend two weeks of summer at a camp run by her boyfriend and otherwise minimal adult supervision. Yes, a lot of it was because she (selfishly) wanted her daughter to spend that time with her after not being together for half a year, but she was also concerned on a more general level: across the country with no cell phones? The summer before her junior year? Terri would much rather she stay home, focus on SAT prep if anything, and prepare for her future—not go to some theatre workshop where she’s unlikely to learn anything of value. 

It did help to find out that Gina has been cast as the lead in the first-ever stage production of a wildly popular Disney movie and will also be starring in the associated documentary. This is a novel experience, can go on her college apps and résumé, and really, who is she to judge when all expenses are paid in exchange for signing a few release forms? 

Still, she misses the days she could hear about each rehearsal straight from the source instead of random teasers dropped on the Disney+ twitter account, and she especially hates that she has to work and miss Gina’s big debut. By the time intermission is called on the livestream, Terri (ever-so-grateful for the weekend off) is already en-route to California. 

Terri pulls into the Shallow Lake parking lot and spots Gina immediately among the throng of campers checking out and saying their goodbyes. She’s grown at least an inch, Terri realizes with a jolt. Gina is nearly seventeen now, on the brink of adulthood, and the way she’s carrying herself now demonstrates a demeanor entirely different from the teenager she’d dropped off at MSY just a few months ago. Why does time always move so fast with these kids? 

Gina whips around as soon as Terri slams the car door shut, as if she was able to hear it from all the way across the yard, letting out a loud squeal of delight that sends Terri’s heart melting before launching herself straight into her mother’s arms. Terri is instantly reminded of a five-year-old Gina doing the exact same thing at kindergarten pickup.

“Hey, sweet pea,” she whispers, returning her daughter’s tight hug. Some things never change. 

“Mom? What are you even doing here? I thought you were closing on the house? Oh my god, I had no idea—"

“I finished all that yesterday, and since I have a free weekend, I thought we could take a mother-daughter road-trip back home – just like old times.” While their last few moves had been too far apart to drive, she and Gina used to spent nearly every school holiday or long weekend transporting their lives across state lines while eating their fill of fast food and pancakes, touring random obscure roadside attractions, and making some of their fondest memories. 

Gina beams. “I’d love that,” she says, bouncing on her heels excitedly. “I finished packing, actually, so I just need to take care of one thing real quick and we can head out.”

Then she smiles big and wide again, an expression she saves for truly special occasions (like, apparently, 10 hours with her mother in a car), and quickly kisses Terri’s cheek. “Love you, mommy. Be back in a bit.” 

Gina sprints off in the direction of, according to a nearby sign, a “Yurt Locker”. Strange name, Terri thinks. She doesn’t have a chance muse on it (or what the hell it even means) further, though, because someone bellows GENEVIEVE MARIE! so loudly that both Gina and Terri, now at least 20 feet apart, jump at the sound. 

The source of the voice appears a second later—or at least Terri assumes that’s who the curly-haired boy with a shit-eating grin on his face now standing in front of Gina is, given her daughter’s currently crossed arms, flushed cheeks, and, surprisingly, equally playful smile. Terri eyes the boy curiously. Gina doesn’t give out her full name to just anyone and rarely allows anyone to use it (Terri can’t remember the last time she herself even said the word Genevieve, let alone added her middle name to the mix). But Gina seems entirely unfazed now, as if having this boy yell it for all to hear is a regular occurrence. Who is he?

Then she notices the acoustic guitar he’s clutching, and it hits her. Kristoff: Ricky Bowen.

It had been a while since Gina had mentioned Ricky in their weekly FaceTimes. His name had only ever come up in relation to Ashlen’s role of Belle in the spring musical, and even then, it was mostly to complain about his two left feet. If it weren’t for a panicked text conversation on Valentine’s Day (Gina’s teddy bear got lost in transit, long story), Terri would have entirely forgotten about him.

Clearly, not only has his dancing greatly improved this summer (if yesterday was any evidence), but so has his friendship with her daughter.  

Ricky pulls out a set of keys and gestures to the parking lot, fanning his face with his free hand, and that’s when Terri realizes he’s wearing…a pink-and-blue snowsuit. Gina laughs and rolls her eyes at him, clearly teasing him about his ridiculous attire for an LA summer, but when he says something else, Gina suddenly shakes her head, pointing straight at Terri. 

Terri gives a small wave to the kids, and Ricky immediately waves back excitedly.  Okay, then. 

Turning back to Gina, Ricky says something else and Gina smiles shyly and nods. Terri watches as the pair hugs goodbye, a motion that is simultaneously so natural neither think twice about it—falling into a tight embrace that nearly lifts Gina off the ground—but so awkward when they separate that Terri can feel the tension from all the way over here. Okay, then, indeed. 

Ricky meanders toward the bright orange bug almost double-parked in the last slot of the lot. Terri recognizes the car from her driveway last fall – but also remembers Gina mentioning that Ashlen’s boyfriend also drives an orange bug that the three of them and EJ would carpool to school in, leaving Terri to wonder which possibility is weirder: that Ricky and his friend got matching ugly vehicles together, or that Ricky transported his friend’s car across state lines for two weeks and his friend actually agreed to it. 

There isn’t much she knows about Ricky Bowen, actually, except that he has an apparent penchant for nabbing lead roles out from under everyone else’s noses and—surprisingly—actually justifying those casting choices. Gina’s scene partners are often so dry she has to work double-time to make the chemistry believable. Last night, however, Ricky showed a level of talent that nearly matched her own daughter’s in the way he was able to hold the audience captive even without Gina on stage with him. There was one solo of his in particular that had actually caught Terri’s attention (she had taken the opportunity to answer some emails) when, right at the end, he suddenly directed the final line of the song away from the audience and into the wings: you’re what I know about love, he sang, straight to Ana. Straight to Gina. It was not only a genius move but one she doubted he was directed to do—he must have come up with it himself. 

Still, something about him sets Terri on edge. Questionable decisions (seriously, snowsuit?) aside, he has the demeanor of a class clown, someone who stays while it’s fun but bolts when things get hard. It makes Terri uneasy, especially since it’s clear that this is someone Gina cares deeply about. 

“Sorry about that.” Gina’s back, suitcases in hand, shaking Terri out of her reverie. “I had to tell Ricky I didn’t need a ride first.” 

“Oh, I thought EJ was giving you a ride home,” Terri says, taking one of the suitcases from Gina. 

A tense silence. “Mom, I told you we broke up, remember?” 

“I know, sweetheart,” Terri quickly assures her. Gina had called early yesterday morning from Kourtney’s phone, relating the news with a quick “it was a long time coming, we’re still friends, prom was super fun otherwise, see you soon” and hanging up before Terri could even get an I’m sorry out. “I just assumed you’d keep the same arrangement since Ashlen and your other friends are there, too.” She winces. “I see how silly that sounds out loud, though.” 

“Yeah.” More silence. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Terri asks gently. 

Gina shakes her head no emphatically. “I told you, it wasn’t really a surprise. I’m fine.”

“Okay, okay, got the hint.” Terri laughs, sighing internally with relief when Gina gives her a (albeit watery) smile. She opens the car trunk and shoves the suitcase inside.

“So, why was Ricky wearing a snowsuit?” Terri asks as they settle in and buckle up, unable to keep the question to herself any longer. 

“Oh, he wasn’t supposed to be at camp at all, and showed up without a ton of clothes, so he mostly borrowed from others I think, and got pizza all over his laundry yesterday, too.” she giggles slightly, then continues, “plus the guys dumped ice water on themselves last night and he put is wet towel on top of his open suitcase, like an idiot.” She says all this with the nonchalance of someone explaining 1+1=2, not…whatever she just said about sudden enrollment, pizza, and ice water. 

“That doesn’t explain the snowsuit,” Terri says, now even more confused. 

“Rumor has it he was supposed to go skiing with his ex? he didn’t say, though." Gina shrugs. 

“that girl Jamie’s working with?” 

“No.” Gina doesn’t elaborate. 

“Well, regardless, he’s very talented,” Terri supplies. “I did enjoy that one ballad of his yesterday, the one with the guitar and lights.” 

“Oh.” Gina smiles softly, almost to herself. “I liked that one too.” 

Terri’s stomach twists, like they’re about to go barreling off a cliff they can’t see and can’t stop. 

“Is he doing the fall musical as well?”

“I dunno. Probably. It’s his senior year, he won’t have many more chances.” 

“I didn’t realize he’s a year ahead of you,” Terri says, surprised. “How are his college apps coming along?”

“Mom,” Gina groans. “It’s literally summer vacation, and believe it or not, I didn’t ask. He probably hasn’t even started thinking about them yet.” 

“Fair,” Terri says, although, internally, she disagrees. if Ricky were truly serious about his future, he would have had his summer plans set in place long ago, and a solid school list by now. 

I can tell you like him, Gigi, she thinks. And then, suddenly, I wish you didn’t. 

It’s a strange thought, and a foreign one—Gina has yet to make a friend that Terri straight-up disapproves of.  What Ricky does with his life is really none of her business, and Gina’s a smart girl—she won’t go rushing into poor decisions even if her friends are walking bundles of chaos. Plus, from the little she’s seen, it’s clear he cares about Gina, too. Maybe as much as she does him. 

But Gina in a relationship is…different. Gina in a relationship was more carefree, a little less focused. She begged to go to prom despite having an exam the next Monday, she shifted her summer plans around for a camp she showed no interest in before, and she prioritized FaceTimes and texting every night over reading or sleeping. there were no lasting negative repercussions for any of this, but if there was ever a time for Gina to conserve her extra energy for something worthwhile, it’s now. 

Ricky a good friend, Terri decides. As friends, he keeps her grounded—but anything more than that? She’s just not sure. 

[filthforfriends]

Glass Houses

Read parts 1 - 4 of DILFiano on my Masterlist

CW: Morally grey age gap and power dynamics.

Word count: 4.9k

Three hours: barely a respectable amount of time to party hop with your friends before asking to go home. It’s not like you didn’t have a good excuse: they wanted to drive over an hour to some bougie party in the hills. Icarus liked to use her dad's name to get into events every now and then, just for the thrill of it. Most of you were leaving for college on Monday anyway. This was one last hoorah. 

“I just feel super nauseous.” The statement was an excellent way to get home because no one wanted you in their car. 

“You better not puke, or I swear to god…” Icarus threatened

“It’s just nerves about the move. I’m struggling to remember why I wanted to attend college on the other side of the country.”

“You had like two sips of punch, anyways,” slurs Elliot.

“Fuck you,” playfully shout towards the backseat. “Someone needs to take care of your ass when you have alcohol poisoning!”

“Hey, I’m on your side!” protests Moxy.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love!” You blow kisses in her direction, both tacky and affectionate. 

“Is it okay to just drop you off at mine? Or do you need me to take you home?” Your heart jumps at the prospect of spending time in the David’s home. Pretending you were on this little adventure for Icarus was morally exhausting. It’s not that you didn’t care about your friend, but because the globe had shifted its axis. Your world now revolves around Damia. Ingesting various substances, dancing until you broke a heel, and stumbling back to your car at dawn was totally ineffectual in comparison to him.

“You can drop me at yours, I don’t want to deal with getting my car tomorrow morning. Ugh! I’m just fucking tired for some reason.” You were wide awake and so impatient you couldn’t even disguise it. Luckily everyone’s attention was on Google Maps.

“Just crash at mine like we were going to do anyway,” Icarus offers. “And we’ll be home…” She looks back at Elliot, who’s scanning the directions on his phone. 

“It’s an hour and 23 minutes away,” he supplies.

“Okay we’ll probably just sleep there then.”

“Sick! I’ve always wanted to spend the night in the hills!” Moxy is excited to cross something off her stereotypically L.A. bucket list. You try to be happy with her, but internally you’re counting the trees as they pass. While your physical form is trying to plaster a smile on her face in the passenger seat of Icarus’ G-Wagon, your mind is already at the David’s house. Biding your time on the ride was unbearable. You wanted to crawl out of your skin or just feel the dry desert air on your face as the wind rushed by. 

The sound of the tires changed as Icarus turned from asphalt, to her smoothly paved driveway. You wanted to jump out of the car and sprint while the SUV rolled forward.

“Wait, what is the turn off again?” She whipped around, coordinating with Elliot.

“Uh, shit, let me check. I screen shot the directions in case my battery gets low.”

“You can just charge it.”

“I forgot my phone charger,” he groans, and Moxy rolls her eyes.

“I literally texted you –”

“Okay, okay!” He holds up his hands defensively. Elliot had smoked too much random weed at the second party and was jumpy as a result. It was a risky move, just taking whatever was offered with no questions. Sometimes you’d be fine and others you’d want to rip your eyebrows off.

“Are you playing nice back there?” Icarus called. 

“Can I get out?” Keeping the urgency out of your voice was impossible.

“Huh, what?” 

“The car is still moving,” you snap.

“Oh shit,” she puts it in park. A good person would make sure Icarus was absolutely fine to drive. A good person would make sure all their dumbass friends ended the night safely. A good person would put aside their own personal needs for the sake of others, but that had been your entire life. Tonight you weren’t going to be a good person, you were going to seduce your friend’s dad.

Hopping out of the car, you exchange various expletive ridden farewells. The wave of relief at watching your friends drive off was like fully exhaling for the first time tonight. How freeing it was to be in the company of someone you didn’t have to take care of.

Damia had the house to himself, now. Alexander stayed at his mothers apartment so his older sister could have a going away party. You wanted to know how exactly Damia came to chaperone. Did he volunteer? Were you on his mind every waking moment too?

After your meeting a week and a half ago, Damia hadn’t called or texted. You waited in rapture for the first four days, then gave up hope. A grown man isn’t going to chase after you like a teenage boy would. You’d have to earn that reverence. Holding it against him wouldn’t be fair, anyways. Chiara would probably use your relationship against Damia in court, trying to win sole custody of Alexander. She seemed like the type to play dirty, and with a heart as pure as Damia’s, that was reprehensible.  

The house was dark, so you kicked your shoes off on the welcome mat instead of the tile, that way your arrival didn’t echo through the silent house. It felt early to you, but the kitchen clock read 12:07am. He must be asleep. You go to the trouble of depositing your belongings in Icarus’ room for appearances sake, before tip-toeing to the otherside of the house. Damia’s bedroom door didn't squeak when you opened it, the whole home was well-oiled and in perfect working order. 

However, you could sense that Chiara’s presence here was waning. All of Damiano’s eclectic art she’d managed to arrange in an orderly fashion stood on its own. No longer balanced between a neutral-toned painting and a perfectly proportionate end table, the heavy colors of a disfigured facade leered at you from across the hall. Up until today, you’d thought the bust was of a humanoid face. Now it was so clearly a mask, crazed eyes boring through wind-warped wood from the other side of some secret.

 Another painting had been moved from Damia’s office to the living room. The piece was both gory and abstract, radiating deviant energy. There were no mangled figures, but the blood red paint had been applied to look like straining muscular ligature.  In fact, all the paintings that had newly achieved pride of place were disconcerting, which you realized, was the point. In an effort to find himself, Damia must first be uncomfortable in the world around him. He was too beloved for anyone to do that to Damiano except himself. 

Walking into his bedroom, you found the space above the headboard surprisingly baren. At 15 years old, you'd snuck a peek during a dinner party. There was nothing remarkable about it. The David’s had an under-stated European style. Given how Damia had centered his sexual charisma as a musician, you’d expected plenty of nude imagery ranging from sensual to erotic. Hell, maybe even attachments for restraints on the bed. However none of this was true, and you’d shut the door, fearful of getting caught. All you could recall was the absence of things, but had no memory of what the master bedroom looked like.

In a room lit only by artificial light sleeping through the window, it was hard to decisively observe anything. After closing the door, you became distracted by the books. First and second editions of Maya Angelou, Willian Carlos Williams, Walt Whitman, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Allen Ginsberg, and others whose names you didn’t recognize. There's a sensuality in your fingers running down every spine, as if caressing their drug addled ramblings.

Of course your eyes then fall to Damia. No one is more angelic when they slumber or more evocative of sin when they wake. The dark washes us clean. Maybe you and Damia could stay up all night together.

“Hey,” you whisper. He doesn’t stir and after a moment you're glad you haven’t woken him up. He lays on his side and you lift the covers, scooting in behind him. It wasn’t an unfamiliar position. You always rose first at sleepovers, even in elementary school. The boredom of waiting was hellish, but not now. Nothing could hold your attention more completely than the even rise and fall of Damiano’s ribcage as he breathed peacefully. In such close proximity, you could see he was shirtless and propped yourself up on one hand to admire him. The muscles of his pecs were relaxed as were his biceps. All this beautiful body resting easily, folded in on itself. 

You lay back down before the urge to run your hands on his warm, freckled skin becomes overwhelming. Testing the limits, heart racing, you put the pad of a single finger on  Damiano’s back and hold your breath. As far as you can tell he’s still sleeping. You scoot closer so certain places are just barely brushing against his body: knee, forehead, stomach, the back of your left hand. You imagine Damiano had invited you into bed with him, that you’d fallen asleep together like this, maybe after a night of love making. You press your lips to his spine, then can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Damia startles and flips over suddenly. The glass house you’ve built in your mind is shattered.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” he heaves, hand to his chest. The mortification sets in. This wasn’t the slow, sensual wake up call you’d be hoping for, with kisses and gentle touches. Of course it wasn’t, because you were an 18 year old girl and a near stranger in his bed.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Damiano reaches over you for his phone and for a moment he’s held above you so intimately it makes your cunt throb. After a few taps his sighs and lays back on his bed, disposition changed. 

“I take it Icarus is with her phone?”

“Yeah, of course! I wouldn’t – fucks sake I wouldn’t do this if there was any risk of be found.” It's then that the reason for Damiano startling occurs to you. “Oh shit, you thought I was Chiara for a sec.” You sit up, weight resting on your hip and left hand. Looking down at him felt so casual, a snapshot into a fantasy life.

“No, no. We haven't shared a bed in almost a year. This bed,” he pats the mattress on either side of him, “is brand new. I’d like to sell the house, but…it’s not the priority right now.”

“Alexander.” Damiano was trying to give some consistency to his son. He nods and puts his arm behind his head. His tattoos stretch across his skin. The claw of a sprawling dragon pierces the head of a sphinx because Damia hadn’t coordinated between tattoo artists. He says he prefers it this way.

“You’re a good father.” Damia snorts and you realize immediately why that might not have been the best comment.

“Oh am I?” God he’s gorgeous. His happy trail is dense because Damia’s body hair spans his lower stomach. It also partially conceals the coiled serpent on his sternum, and reaches across his pecs. You’d never slept with a man who had adult body hair. It must tickle. Everywhere.

“You could move to a different room? That should be a manageable amount of change.”

“The guest bedroom is right next to the kitchen, though,” he wrinkles his nose. Moving Icarus’ bedroom likely wasn’t on the table either.

“What about an add-on to the studio? Expand the bathroom, add a bedroom, and make all the Swedish producers sleep in here?” 

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Sleep in the guest bedroom when Alexander has friends over.”

“So I can hear all the nefarious activities happening in my house,” he chuckles, nodding. “You're full of good ideas.” He extends a hand to your knee, face thoughtful. “You know what the issue here is though? You’re better at these conversations than my peers.” His words are the sweetest, most delicious, most unbearable torture.

“Damia, you can trust my discretion.”

“I trust you as much as I can possibly trust an 18 year old, since I’ve been one.” You don’t like this answer and he can see it. “Where is Icarus tonight?”

“Getting drunk an hour and a half away in the Hollywood Hills and spending the night. Probably will be too hung over to get home before 4pm.” Damia is bargaining with himself and visibly gives in.

“You can’t spend the night in my bed, but we can cuddle for a bit.” Is cuddling what he called tucking Icarus into bed? Or did he say something else like snuggle? Is cuddling what he called his caresses with Chiara? Which role are you: daughter or wife? You are neither. 

“Also please don’t tell my daughter that I have a tracker on her phone. It’s for her own safety, but –”

“I understand.”

“Of course you do. This’ll be our secret too.” There was no earthly thrill like keeping a secret with Damia, because it created an intimacy that couldn’t be denied. Even if neither of you named it, that tether was made stronger. You wanted thousands of secrets with him, to drown in all the promises you made and kept like your life’s purpose. 

You scoot closer, putting off the moment where this touch could feel parental rather than romantic. It was far worse: contrived. As you lay down on his chest, Damiano’s smell was everywhere: his bedsheets, his pillows, his skin. It was the perfect encapsulation of his sex appeal: mature, masculine, refined. His arm wrapped around your back, fingertips dragging up and down your side. The sensation made every hair stand on end and you shivered. Damia chuckled which broke the awkwardness. 

Feeling a little shy now, you turn your face against his skin and get a whiff of body odor. For some reason you want to hide how hard your nipples are, like there was any point in decency now. The hand strewn across his chest comes alive, holding onto Damia’s ribcage. The deep breaths aren’t really enough. Some part of you wants to bite into the muscle of his pec to feel it in your mouth, dig our fingernails into his skin and drag him across the bed. Consume him whole. It’s so carnal that you don’t recognize yourself.

“Pheromones. The smell thing it's…you’ll grow out of it, I think.” Having your mind read by Damia evokes that forbidden, cherished memory under a vibrant sky. For the first time ever, you weren’t thinking of the kiss already. Damia falters in stroking your arm, eyes turned to the ceiling in thought as well.

“Then why is it so hard for you to hold back?” The outer corners of his eyes crinkle as Damia lets out a short laugh. He shakes his head, not at you, but at himself. He should have known you’d be capricious.

“You call this holding back? Hmm.” Damia brings you closer and presses his face to your scalp, breathing in deep. Mothers say the heads of their newborns smell sweet when making the same gesture. If not sweetness, then how did you smell to him?

“I’d say we’re doing a terrible job,” Damia whispers. Upon being released, you finally feel confident enough to give into the craving that nags you, throbs between your legs. Nuzzling his arm out of the way, you press your face into his exposed armpit.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize for your depravity, then take deep gasping breaths of Damia’s body odor. “Sorry,” you mewl, trying to scoot closer. His hair tickles your nose, lips, and cheeks. Damia lifts his arm, permitting easier access. You pet his armpit hair with trembling fingers and your knees bump his flank. Testing the limits, you open your legs and try to nudge his thigh in between. Only when he abides, do you realize why you want Damia positioned that way, why you want his thigh wedged as high up as you could get it.

“I’m sorry.” He shushes you soothingly. 

“Sweetheart, stop apologizing.” You stick the tip of your tongue into the hollow of his armpit and taste the salty skin, then lick upwards. Thankfully, he’s not ticklish, but your rapid breaths against his wet skin makes Damia shiver.

“I want you so bad,” you whimper. “And if you’d just – I’d be happy just to give you a blowjob or handy or anything. If you wanted I’d eat you out. God, I’d lick you clean after a run. I don’t even need you to touch me, because just knowing that I got to touch you…I’d be so thankful and I’d never ask for anything again. I’d take it to my grave, I promise.” This had devolved from propositioning into pathetic begging, but you really were that desperate. Damia looks pained when you want him aroused.

“Sweetheart, if this situation were different –”

“But it’s not. This is the situation.” There's a flicker, a candle fighting the wind. Deep down, a fraction of a fraction of Damiano is considering it. Maybe pity wasn’t the way to go. He was so confident, he probably was attracted to confidence in return.

“Sorry that was rabid, um...” You have to instigate because Damia can’t. But push a little too far, he’d shut down completely and ask you to leave out of guilt. You commit to a course of action, rolling over to the side of the bed and peeling off your tights. Damia’s eyes go wide in alarm. Instead of taking the rest off too, you kneel in front of him, wearing just panties and a skirt.

“I want you to feel how wet you make me.” 

“We can’t –”

“And I’m not asking you to do anything! I just want you to feel, just once. You don’t have to get me off, but I want you to know.” There's that flicker, no longer just one candle fighting the wind. 

“This is a horrible idea,” Damiano responds, propping himself up on an elbow. “I can’t believe I’m…” He extends his hand and you shift position, parting your legs to make room. You pull his wrist under the skirt and his fingertips bump right above the waistline of your panties. Before you can control the reaction, everything tenses in excitement, pussy pleading for you to give it something to squeeze down on. 

Damia’s gaze is knowing, but he doesn't break the asphyxiating sexual tension with a witty remark. He’s not going to invalidate this moment for either of you. Trying to read into that, you lower his hand a centimeter to your panties. Damia’s short fingernails catch on the elastic, but his eyes never leave your face. Rather than blush and turn away, you stare right back, pushing his fingertips past the waistband. 

Of his own volition, Damia slides his hand between your legs. His mouth falls agape, because you’re so wet he has to focus on not accidently slipping inside.

“Tesorina, I –” he touches you at a loss for words. Damia sighs in admiration at how warm and silky your pussy feels. Out of habit, he goes to apply pressure just outside your vulva with his pinky and pointer, while his middle and ring finger play with your pussy. He has to stop himself. You almost wish Damia was wearing a wedding ring so your body’s lubrication could loosen it.

“You feel lovely,” he purrs, pulling his hand back. You close your legs around his touch, clutching it between your thighs. It fits there so perfectly that you can’t help but rock against his palm. Both hands wrap around his wrist. A shameless part of you uses the grip to work back and forth against him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but mm please – don’t –”  Damia wedges his upturned hand firmly against your vulva. “Oh my god,” you mewl, careening forward.  You get fistfuls of the quilt and cry out, pelvis naturally finding a rhythm to rock against Damia’s hand.

“Ah mm, I’m sorry.” 

“Shh, stop apologizing,” he insists in a whisper. Damia isn’t even concealing the relief in his expression at you making this decision on his behalf. Testing the boundaries, you sit back on your heels and give Damia’s hand your weight. He applies firm upward pressure to counteract and your source of friction ends up being even more snug against your pussy.

“Fucking, fuck. Thank you,” you moan, grinding your clit against the heel of his hand.

“Right now, it's okay to listen to your body, tesorina.” Experimentally, Damia’s finger slides into the divot of your vaginal opening. He strokes your hymen in circular motions. Without using any pressure, Damia allows just the tip of his middle finger to slip inside. A car drives by and the headlights momentarily illuminate half of Dami’s face. You can’t tell if it's the half he shows the world, or the half he’s failing to hide from you. 

Captivated but conflicted, Damia drags the arousal up to your clit, middle finger dipping out of your hymen. Immediately you're grieving the lack of intrusion with a whine. Upon reaching the crest of your labia, he brushes back and forth in progressively smaller strokes. Damia uses a massaging motion around and on your clit. Rather than blindly picking a spot to rub, he allows the messy slickness of your pre-cum to inform his movements. 

At first you're in awe of his presion while so deep in thought. Until you realize that subconsciously, your hips were shifting to bring his touch to the best spot. Under all that focus, he was listening to your body’s minute signals. When Damia does find your clit, he puts it directly under his thumb and your hips buck violently. 

“Are you sure?” Something changes in the way he’s positioned. One of his fingers is extended and you falter as he presses it inside. It’s all you can do to nod. Head hung, your expression is corrugated by pleasure. He curls the digit against your g-spot and now your hands are pushing the blanket away, back arching, mouth falling open as your moan. 

“Hey, look at me,” Damia prompts “Are you really, really sure?” It’s absurd for him to expect an answer while he finally pleasures you. Maybe this isn’t an overwhelming amount of stimulation for some women, but you’re on the verge of full body trembles. Damia holds your clitorous between his fingers internally and externally and stays consistent, titrating the pressure up and down, trying to find that sweet spot for you. One hand tightens its grip on Damiano’s wrist as insurance. The other is planted in front of you, bringing your face closer to his.

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes.” Your intrepid confidence issues a scorching challenge. If this interaction ceases out of someone’s fear, it wasn’t mine. Because I am sure. You hold eye contact, gaze completely level. Equal. No longer a little girl in need of a replacement father figure. Damia returns your gaze, alarmed at your power, but also something like impressed. His pupils flit down to your lips. Eyes. Lips. Ridiculing himself. Lips, again.

“If you have the slightest doubt, tell me.” There's a sinking sensation in your stomach, not out of regret, but out of the knowledge of how wrong this was. It just made the whole thing more enticing; a door into the world of depravity that you coveted. People expected you’d spend your life as a righteous woman. Instead you wore a lacy thong under your skirt to seduce your best friend’s father when she was driving on the 405 tipsy. 

“If holding on to me feels good, that's fine, but I won’t pull away if you let go. I’m not cruel.” Damiano visibly makes the same kind of enduring moral concession. During which, his hand had stilled in the last few moments, but you didn’t have the decency to stop using it as a source of stimulation. It was an inexcusably filthy thing to do, hump Damia’s hand with so much vigor it made you sweat. It was fucked up. While Damia couldn’t bring himself to verbally encourage it, his eyes begged you not to stop. 

It was the briefest glimpse into the version of himself that Damia chained to the back of his mind, because it was a danger to his own reputation. A version of himself that sought out rules so his unquenchable rage had something to pulverize. That version of Damiano was allowed to fixate on the girl who fell to her knees in public and begged to blow him. He was allowed to accept the offer, and drag her back to the backseat of a car and have her ride his thigh. Both over and under the trousers, depending on which she liked better.

 “I know you’re desperate just from touching yourself, because sex toys are still embarrassing at your age. I could probably just buy you one, but…” he clicks his tongue at an intrusive thought and shuts his eyes. Jaw set, Damia carefully gets himself under control, but can’t stop the hand against your thigh from shaking. 

“I know you’re desperate because you’re so turned on that I can feel your heartbeat.” His fingers slowly curl towards your belly button as his thumb draws a straight line up your vulva. A breath gets caught in your chest, the pressure underneath your sternum threatening to become a scream. 

“Please, please, ” you babble, mouth falling open when he finds your clit again. With the plentiful pre-cum, Damia runs his fingers back down your pussy and inside. The reentrance makes a squelching sound from all the wetness and you cringe hard, eyes closed in embarrassment. 

“Shh, tesorina. Did you know most people have to use lube to get this wet? Hmm?” You had so much to learn. Why couldn’t he teach you? Damia’s fingering feels amazing, the slightest bit of delicious strain. You realize that he’d been using two. It’s more than you’d attempt so soon, but totally painless. Of course, Damia would know your body better than even you.

“How's that?”

“I didn’t think that I could take...but it feels mm.” You shift your hips side to side, exploring new sensations. 

“Of course you can,” he coos. Just as it had reflexively a minute ago, your body bears down out of a desperate craving for internal stimulation. This time you get to squeeze down on two thick fingers and that relief brings you to your forearms.

“Damia, oh my god,” you moan. At this point, you’re just breathing in your own hair where it falls around your face. Damia uses his spare hand to pull it from your mouth and tuck it behind your ear. Somehow, it's the most intimate thing he’s done today. 

“Do you want to try three?” No one had ever asked you that. It was counterintuitive to the goal of staying tight. It felt like you could take three. Maybe you’d really enjoy it, even if that was wrong. The stretch of two was deeply satiating. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if the answer is yes.” He sets his hand on your thigh and rubs up and down slowly.

“Yes,” you blurt, scooting your legs apart to create room. Damia works the third one inside much differently than the second. He starts with his pinky, just pushing the tip past your hymen. That’s easy after a couple passes, so he switches to using the pointer as the third finger. You’re frozen in anticipation for something you’d never allowed yourself to be interested in. When he pushes three inside you adjust your pelvis without thinking about it.

“See how you spread your legs to open your hips? It's totally intuitive. Never let anyone ignore your desires.” Listening attentively, you manage to integrate all three fingers to the last knuckle. It takes a little force from Damia, which just makes the whole thing hotter. The flat of your hand slams against the mattress in stimulation. A whine turns into a throaty moan that wasn’t supposed to escape.

“Mm, see? No one teaches women how good having your pussy stretched feels.” You’re nodding in agreement even though Damia hasn’t asked a question. He thrusts his fingers in and out at a relaxed pace. At some point during this exchange, Damia went from laying under to kneeling on top of the comforter to be closer. The hand stroking your flank was equal parts sexual and reassuring. 

“I could fit four fingers if I wanted too, hm? I could fit my whole hand, even. Would you like my whole hand inside you, tesorina?” You think about it, nod, and turn bright red. Even too embarrassed to meet Damia’s eyes, you can feel his smile. He’s thrilled at your honesty in this moment of self-discovery.

“Now I bet you didn’t know that about yourself until I asked. Here's the secret: most women love the way this feels. A woman, when she’s aroused, relaxed, and really wet because someone’s been patient with her, can fit more than just a cock. She can fit a cock and a finger, a cock and a toy. Never let anyone shame you for what it takes to feel full. It's your pleasure.”

Notes: No, that is not the end of the scene, however it is the end of my patience. My blog has been broken for months and it hasn't been fixed. For one, I can't tag people, hence the lack of taglist. PLEASE submit a help to Tumblr on my behalf. Yes, I know you're not supposed to, but I've resorted to annoying them into action. I'll post the rest once people can actually see my writing.

[caintooth]

Just realized I’ve never actually shared the text from my top surgery fundraiser here, so:

Hi, my name is Ez Charlie Tadgh. (Mostly Charlie these days, but a lot of you still know me as Ez, which is fine, too!)

I’m writing today to ask for help in affording gender affirming top surgery.

To tell you a bit more about me: I’m a recent college graduate, a queer and autistic poet, an aspiring silversmith, hobbyist photographer, and an amateur chainmail weaver. In my free time I also enjoy playing video games and watching / talking about films. I'm currently raising a leopard gecko (her name is Poppy) and taking metalworking classes when life allows. My professional life is in the sex industry, as I am a customer service and sales representative for an online adult toy store.

Deciding to make this fundraiser has been a long time coming. Finally typing out the words feels surreal… For most of my life, even before having a name for my dysphoria, I’ve concealed the shape of my body in purposely ill-fitting shirts, and worn zip-up jackets even in dangerously hot weather to disguise the shape of my chest. I've spent years purposely manipulating my posture, intentionally hunching my shoulders to make my chest appear smaller. I've avoided hugs, kept my arms crossed over my front, practiced the exact way to stand in photos, all to try and make my chest seem flatter. Even wearing a binder has offered little relief- the compression of the traditional style does not agree with my asthma, and though TransTape allows me to breathe better (it feels like a literal weight off my shoulders!) it very easily triggers my sensory issues, and sometimes makes my psoriasis flair up under my breasts.

These practices aren't sustainable. They're damaging both my mental and physical health... This body IS the house I will live in for the rest of my life, y'know? I can't keep boarding up the walls, I can't keep fantasizing about moving. I need to make real renovations, so it can stop being just a place I live, and instead truly become my HOME.

So, yeah. I am finally at the point where I know I can't do this on my own anymore. Every day the need for this procedure becomes more clear and urgent in my mind.

Trans healthcare in this country is notoriously inaccessible, confusing, and expensive. I'm lucky to live within driving distance of Dr. Hope Sherie in Charlotte, NC, a surgeon who I have seen nothing but good reviews about, and who has been recommended to me by more than one trusted friend. However, my insurance will not cover this procedure, and I am regularly seeing $10,000 quoted as the amount for top surgery at Dr. Sherie's office. I have some money saved up towards that amount already, but it is only a small piece of the complete financial puzzle.

I have my first consultation with Dr. Sherie on May 1st, and plan to post an update with exact figures after that meeting. I have already paid $100 as deposit for this consultation, and will need to pay a non-refundable fee of $1,000 to reserve my surgery date, on the day it is selected. I will have to pay the rest of the surgery cost 3 weeks before the date of the surgery. (Should I need to reschedule during that final 3 weeks, I will have to pay a second, also non-refundable $1,000 deposit.) This is not even including the cost for any prescription medications, lab fees, post-op care materials, or other surgery-necessitated garments and binders for this procedure. Should I need any revisions after the initial procedure, the minimum fee would be $1,000.

I also need to consider the fact that I will have to take some time off of work for the surgery itself and the recovery period, thus losing at minimum 2 weeks pay (that's a full paycheck for me) and will need to buy extra food and health supplies for that period.

I don't want this surgery to feel like some sort of hardship I'm having to go through. I want it to be safe, I want to feel secure during this process, I want to know I'm not going to be stressed the entire time. That's what all of this is about, anyway:

Trying to achieve a state of comfort.

Anything you can do to help me towards this goal will receive my eternal gratitude and respect. I am constantly in awe of our community, and the level of support we can provide for one another. I feel grateful for even having the chance to ask for this sort of help. Thank you. I love y'all.

[cascadianights]

Fucking hate this sundown country

Hate that I can't even go for a walk

When building up to feeling safer to go on just a walk has taken years

Without being shadowed by a cop for over an hour

I told myself I was being Ridiculous when he sped by at 50 in a 25, that he clearly had somewhere to be and wouldn't return

Then again and again and again, and I'm trapped under the lights of the main street because at least there there's enough people to hear if I scream

(I try not to think of the study that showed most people assume Someone Else will help and ignore it) ((I try not to think of the literal car wrecks and things I've seen that support it))

Phone is only at 20% so I don't know how long I'll have something taking video - I brought my dog, and don't have cell service (one of many bills I can't afford), so I'd almost left it behind

Who would bother me in such a quiet town, and who would I call anyways but the

Cop drives by again, directly in front of me this time, very slowly. I keep my eyes down. My dogs flannel coat swishes, only a few inches from the ground

I was once walking on a side street at night, friend trailing his hands along metal stands and fences, and one stopped us to ask what we were doing here (university campus) and if he was trying to steal the hoods?? Off the parking meters??? He's native

Deep breaths. Talk to your service dog, watch her check in on you every block. Be glad that this is on video because it'll make you look more like a real human being in the court footage. Who doesn't love a well trained, small dog in a coat? She stops at every curb to wait for the command to move forward.

It rarely snows in the valley, but one winter we had a gorgeous blanket fall on the town. My friend showed me how to build a snowperson, how to carve and shape the arms and legs and hair. People stopped and smiled, took pictures and applauded it on my little apartment block.

Until the cop came to ask "what are you doing here" and parked at the end of the street when "building a snowman in front of my apartment" wasn't a good enough answer. He stayed until we left. It didn't take long. That friend was black.

Cross the bridge, don't slow down to look at the river even though it's why you came out tonight anyways. An awful week, the death of the cat I got the week I moved out from home over a decade ago & worry over money and health. Walking the dog to clear my thoughts.

The headlights glare down at me, the 5th time now - but I should have time before he comes by again to turn across a parking lot and retreat to my own street without him finding where I live.

The cop walking in gun drawn on a youth in my care, half asleep and waiting for someone to come by and verify simply that he was on the campus. I'd told him he'd be safe. The cops who stayed outside Pulse that night.

The ones who pulled me over just to make sure what I (cheap car from 93) was doing in this very nice neighborhood at this hour again, and again when I'd drop my girlfriend off in high school.

The one my grandmother married because she had no other choice, who'd beat her black and blue and whose bloodline is a streak of red and dead wives who didn't get away in time.

The ones I know can do anything they want to me. The ones that turned butches to stones and children to markers in a back field. The one mental health crisis or meltdown or panic attack I can't cover or mask that stands between me and a bullet.

I made it home safe. My dog can lead me back even when I can barely think straight through the fog. My phone was at 4%. That's good at least. It would've been shitty to die on my birthday.

[inner--islands]

Interview with Dylan Henner (April 2020)

1. What are some recent inspirations?

I just came back from a trip to Sri Lanka. I’ve been working with the field recordings I took there and I’m finding endless inspiration in them. There’s a serene sense of calm there, I guess because it’s a primarily Buddhist country, where peace and meditation are part of daily life and culture. It fits really neatly with my music and the moods I like to explore.

2. It seems like your travels inform or inspire a lot of your music, perhaps more thematically than aesthetically. How do you find your travels influence your sounds?

Traveling is really important to me and my music. Especially during this difficult time when we’re all grounded, I realise just how much influence I take from other cultures and environments. I like to see music as a teller of fundamental truths about ourselves, and experiencing new places and new people is a great way to understand that.

3. Do you like to work quickly or take your time on a track?

I don’t have a process. Sometimes one and sometimes the other. It’s really exciting when new ideas flow naturally and a new track happens in a single sitting. But they’re not all like that. Some of my favourite pieces have taken months of work. My newest album A Dingo Crossing a Stream was a mix of the two - some improvised solo synthesis jams, some intricately crafted arrangements.

4. What are the signs, both internal and external, that a new track you’re working on is working for you?

This is a difficult one. Sometimes, just by repetition, a new track or idea can sound much better than it really is. You have to revisit it from lots of different perspectives to really understand its value. I suffer a lot from crises of confidence and sometimes delete hours of work because it doesn’t feel right. I think, when a piece of music says what I’m trying to say as a “composer”, then I know it’s heading in the right direction.

5. Do you listen to your own work much after it’s completed? Or is it mostly moving on to the next thing?

Almost never. I try to write music that appeals to my tastes as a listener - music I think I would enjoy if someone else had written it - but by the time I’ve spent hours composing, producing, mixing etc. I’ve exhausted my ears of it. Sometimes I can revisit after a few weeks or months, and that’s helpful for moving onto the next project. I want to be careful not to repeat myself, so I refer back to older songs then.

6. At what point during your creative process are you the most critical of your work?

There’s a “middle” stage. Towards the beginning, everything has potential, and that’s exciting. Everything could be the next “best song you’ve ever written”, it just needs to fulfil its potential. But that doesn’t always happen. And in the middle stage you start to realise that the song is tumbling out of your control and that you can’t keep it in shape. Towards the end point, if the song has made it through this critical period, you’re already too invested to undo any significant creative choices.

7. What drives you to put your work out into the world?

Wanting to make a difference. Even if it’s a tiny difference that only affects 10 people. Just wanting to contribute something that will outlive me.

8. Who is an artist whose work you have been consistently returning to longer than most other artists?

I know Japanese music is really en vogue right now, but I’m a huge fan of Geinoh Yamashirogumi. I’ve been listening to his / their records for years. I love how percussive and rhythmic it is, despite being really tender in lots of places. And so unpredictable. Throwing so many original and unique themes and ideas together in ways you’d never expect.

9. Do you see yourself as part of any particular musical tradition or lineage?

The ongoing history of gamelan music describes every new performance as part of the same eternal music. Like an everlasting living, breathing organism that speaks here and there. I love the idea of offering my music to that same tradition. It happens to take place in a different country and within a different musical framework, but it’s just part of the world breathing in its own time.

10. Words of wisdom you like to recall in times of need?

Kurt Vonnegut: “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”

Dylan Henner recently released A Dingo Crossing a Stream on Inner Islands on March 9th on cassette and digital formats. The album is available from our Bandcamp page.

[whokilledkenney28]

New Life

 So a lot has happened in the past year of my life. I have changed so much. Entering this new chapter of my life and making huge moves both figuratively and physically. I have gotten married and moved to another state while I waited for my new husband. He was sent to North Carolina while he finished his schooling. 

 While he was in his school house, he was told that he was put on a waitlist (best way I can describe it) that was going to last seven months. At this point I was living in California with my. mom and I had a huge decision to make wether to wait for him there or to move to Washington where my other side of my family lives. When it came down to it I decided to leave to Washington where my kids can be close to their cousins. 

 Being in Washington, I was able to build a closer relationship to my family. Doing new things that I have never tried and my girls making new friends. So many things have happened while I was here. Both good and bad, despite all the bad things, I had became a new person. I am now able to depend on myself to make decisions and just being ok with being by myself. I look at things so differently now. Being the best mom I can be and making sure I am staying strong for my family. 

 Being that my husband is in the military, there is really no exact timeline because things can change very fast. My husband called me very upset saying that his first duty station was going to be in North Carolina and he will be there for next three and a half years. As we discussed our future we had to come up with a plan on how we would get there. Fast forward almost five months later, I was shopping at Target as usual and I get another call from my husband and he was so happy and excited. He proceeds to tell me that he had applied for a house and he had gotten a call earlier that day saying that we got approved and will be getting our keys in a week. I was insanely happy but now stressed that we need to find a way to get there. 

 Fast forward to current time. We have decided to drive all the way there. This trip will take one day and nineteen hours to get there. Driving cross country with two young kids is going to be super challenging but at this point I really didn't care how we were going to get there as long as my husband was with me. Now we are set to leave in just two weeks and I am super excited to see him, mind you that I haven't seen him in nine months. The kids are more than excited to see him and we can finally be a family again. On the other side, we are going to miss my whole family. We will be so far away from my family and my kids will have to make new friends and start a new school but I'm sure they will do great. This will be a huge adjustment for all of us but trying to see every positive in the process. 

Love,

A momma starting a new life

[likehephaestionwhodied]

It’s June 1992 and Mikey makes Jack drive on what ends up being Mikey’s last visit to San Francisco. He packs up the car with records, books, clothes. More than he’d need for the month long vacation they’re taking. 

Jack pretends like he doesn’t know what Mikey is thinking. But they all know. Mikey’s getting weaker, he’s working less, calling out so frequently Jack is surprised he has a job (wishes Mikey would quit) Despite years of refusing to move in with Jack because he loves his neighborhood, his community he spends almost all his time at Jack’s house. 

They drive a car cross country, taking probably half of Mikey’s belongings to their friends in San Francisco, Jack tries not to think about how Mikey not be strong enough to make the return journey. Marcus carries Mikey into their home, sets him on the couch, has William stay with him while Jack, Marcus, and Callum unpack. Everyone’s heart heavy as the boxes keep coming. 

Mikey doesn’t stand for it though. As the sun goes down Mikey looks around at the men sitting with him. no one’s hair is done, the jeans could be tighter, not a single boot, or harness in sight. 

“Well I didn’t come all the way to San Francisco to not go to spend my night on a couch.”  Only Marcus is smiling, a soft secret smile as everyone else looks worried, or confused. 

“We just got in.” Jack says, there’s no bite to it though. Callum secretly wonders how much their relationship has changed, if Jack would ever tell Mikey they're not going out anymore, or if those days have passed. 

“we got in at 8am.” Mikey says, he’s standing, and William thinks he looks rested enough. “I am going out, you boys can come or not, I don’t care.” He does care, of course, he wouldn’t go with out at least one of them he’s determined, not stupid. 

It goes on like that all month. They don’t go out every night, but they go out as if Mikey’s not sick, everyone is watching, only Callum can tell how much its getting on Mikey’s nerves. But then, Callum is seeing his future. 

At the end of the month they all go to San Francisco’s Lesbian and Gay Freedom Day Parade. Mikey had spent the week before cleaning everyone’s boots, jackets, harnesses, even their belts, no leather is left unwashed, unconditioned or polished. Even William, who had only ever gone to leather bars with his friends, hands over his combat boots. 

At the end of the night Marcus is carrying an over exhasted Mikey back home, Callum and William do their best to try and keep Jack from worrying too much, but when the four see each other in the morning everyone can tell Jack didn’t sleep. Mikey doen’t get out of bed until 1pm he looks exhasted but waves away concern, makes them sit in the living room as Jack drags all the boxes from their room to the living room. 

Slowly he digs though the boxes handing things to the Californian men. 

Marcus is handed The Eartsea trilogy and The Lord of the Rings, messy notes in the margins of all the books. 

A crate of records sits at Callum’s feet, The replacements, Patti Smith, The Cure, Joy Division, The Smiths. There are tshirts from shows in New York next to him on the couch.

William’s lap is full of well worn jeans, beat up D&D player guides and a bag full of dice. 

The three men are so focused on Mikey they don’t notice when Jack leaves to grab a beer, don’t notice the tears in his eyes. 

Slowly, the items Mikey is pulling out change. From records, and books, and clothes to gear. A flogger for Marcus, lengths of chain and rope for callum. “this should fit you.” Mikey mumbles from his knees handing a harness made of chain and leather to Callum. 

The boxes are empty except for one pair of handcuffs “Just incase you ever want to try.” Mikey says handing them to Wiilliam, a blush on the slightly younger man’s cheek. 

Jack is still crying as the other three men take their things to their rooms. They come back to the Livingroom, eyes red, to find Mikey curled up in Jack’s lap. Marcus and Callum go to the kitchen to start dinner, and William goes outside to smoke. No one says a word when Callum starts sobbing as the tape, one Mikey had made him, starts playing Tears for Fear’s “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.” 

[ink-and-sheet]

Chapter One: I want to see him again.

Resting his head back on the seat, Noah shut his eyes, feeling a sense of annoyance and nervousness churn in his gut with every passing minute as he felt the car moving slowly and steadily.

The feeling of being home at last after spending all his days in another country wasn't quite pleasant, and he wished to tell the driver to take him back to the airport, but he knew offending his parents was one of those things that wouldn’t go over well.

After all, he had been doing it for years and they finally had enough of it, threatening him with the only thing he cares about, and that's the only reason he got on a plane in the first place.

The sudden sound of the car squashing before it came to a harsh stop made Noah jolt out of his thoughts, opening his eyes as fast as he could to get a better view of his surroundings.

There, in front of the taxi was a kid, shivering as he hugged his body, frozen in fear.

“Bambino!” A lady's loud car made Noah's eyes dart to the right to see her standing on the other side of the crosswalk. “Leo, step back. Mommy is coming.”

Suddenly, the driver of the taxi stepped out, and Noah frowned at his abrupt departure.

Quietly, Noah's eyes followed him as he matched to the boy, and then he suddenly shouted, “Are you trying to get me in trouble!!! How dare you not look before you cross! If you want to die, go do it somewhere else and not right in front of my cab!”

His brows snapped together at those harsh words, and without hesitation, Noah rushed from the taxi, hurrying to the kid's side, and stepped in between him and the driver.

The sound of people honking at them to get out of the way only fueled the rage that Noah felt as he said calmly to the driver, not wanting to scare Leo, “How can you speak to a kid like that?”

“I am just trying to discipline him since it seems like his parents don't!” The driver exclaimed angrily. “Maybe if his father would have spank him a couple of times, he wouldn't be so reckless and stupid to make a mistake like crossing the street when there are cars around!”

“You're talking about a little child, not an adult, you idiot,” Noah said, struggling to keep his voice calm and even, and he tried very hard to hide how much his anger was starting to build up. “So how about you watch your mouth, huh?”

The daring look in Noah's eyes and the slight growl of his voice sent shivers down the man’s spine, and the driver immediately became silent finally.

Taking a step toward the driver, Noah leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “Now, get back into your car and drive off before I give you something more severe to cry about than this.”

Immediately, the driver pulled back, scowling at Noah before turning around and getting back into the car.

When he started the car engine, Noah hastily picked up the kid, hugging him tightly as he rushed back to the sidewalk, frowning at the cab driving fast by them.

Suddenly, he felt Leo's hands tightening around his neck as his soft sob echoed in his ear, whispering, “I am sorry, uncle. I didn't mean to...”

“I know. It's okay, kid.” Noah mumbled, his fingers stroking his dark curls gently. “Everyone makes mistakes. What is important is that we learn from it. So, you know now that crossing the road without paying attention is bad, right?”

When Leo nodded, Noah chuckled softly and said, “That’s good. I am proud of you, kid.”

When the cross light brightened, Noah noticed the lady that screamed earlier, running over to them, tears streaming from her eyes as she cried, “Bambino!”

Finally, Leo loosened his grip on Noah’s neck and turned in his arm, smiling at the lady and mumbling, “I am sorry, mommy.”

“Don’t ever do that again! You have always been obedient and stood still, waiting for me to cross and get you! What got you to rush into moving traffic?!” She lashed out.

When Noah felt Leo squeeze his collar softly, he cleared his throat and said, “He is sorry. I am sure that he didn't intend to-”

“Thank you for standing up for my son and what you did. But I hope you can stay out of this and give him to me.” She cut him off sharply.

The arrogance in her tone made Noah bite his tongue, forcing himself to remain calm despite the anger bubbling inside of him.

“Of course.” He added, handing Leo to her.

The boy gave Noah a pitiful look, and even though he noticed it, Noah shoved his hands into his pocket and walked off without saying a word, not looking back.

“Mommy,” Leo whispered. “That uncle save me from that mean man.”

“I know honey, and I am thankful. But it’s best not to get attached to people, okay?” She replied sadly.

“But why? Wouldn’t it be nice to finally have someone who likes us when everyone is mean to you, mommy?”

“Leo, you are just six, you wouldn’t understand. So just try to be a kid for mommy's sake, okay?… even if your school recognized you as a child genius.”

Staring at the sadness that brimmed in his mother’s eyes, Leo pouted, and then he took off his back bag, unzipped it, and got out a birthday card that was decorated with colorful, glittering stars and butterflies in different shapes.

With a shy smile and a nod, Leo passed the card to his mother and said, “For you, mommy. Happy birthday.”

“Is this why you were happy to get to me, faster?” She asked, and she held the card close to her chest, tears glimmering in her eyes as she smiled fondly at her son, “I am really happy, baby. Thank you so much.”

Then she kissed the top of his head and then said, “How about we go get a birthday cake and celebrate mom's birthday together? Do you like the sound of that?”

“Maybe we can invite that nice uncle?” Leo said, looking over to the bus stop, a couple of distances away, and saw Noah standing there, staring at his phone.

“Bambino… We can’t, and don’t ask why okay?”

“But, Mommy,”

“No.”

Pouting hard, Leo stared at Noah, and just then a taxi stopped in front of him, and with tears brimming in his eyes, he watched Noah look back at where he and his mother stood.

Just then she looked where her son was staring, locking eyes with Noah before he got into the backseat of the cab and closed the door.

“I want to see him again.” Leo cried, sniffing hard as the cab drove away.

“What has gotten into you, Bambino.” She whispered, her heart aching at the sorrow in her son’s voice. “I said, ‘no.”

“He was nice to me, mommy. No one is ever nice to me! They keep saying that you are cursed and it’s because of you that dad…”

“Bambino,”

Looking up at the tears dropping down his mother's chin, Leo quickly dried his face and said, “I am not sad anymore, mommy! I am happy! Let's go buy cake and we can celebrate mommy's birthday together!”

Even though old wounds had been ripped open by her son’s words, seeing that he was trying to cheer her up, she picked him up and laughed, “Do you want ice cream too?”

“Yes, yes! And strawberry shortcake!” He squealed excitedly.

Nodding, she smiled happily, “Okay Bambino! We are going to buy everything... Ice cream, cake, strawberry shortcake. I can’t wait!”

“Me too, mommy!” Leo cheered, holding onto his mother’s neck tighter and giving her his brightest smile.

Subconsciously, her eyes followed the taxi Noah was in, and she stared hard at it as she thought, ‘I hope I never see you again. He doesn't need this kind of confusion in his life.’

[ghostselena]

I love you

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Realizing you’ve had enough of Rafe’s actions towards your friends, you put an end to your relationship. After seeing you get too close with JJ during a pogue party, he intervenes, hoping to win you back before JJ can make his move on you.

WARNINGS: swearing, slight inappropriate touching, sexual innuendos, kissing, drug talk, fights, Topper being an absolute ass, slight physical abuse, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.9K (sorry)

credits to gif owner

I have not written a story in over 5 years, I'm going to be a little rusty, my apologies. I don't know how many times I read over this so, any comments/advice would be greatly appreciated. The story picks up pretty quickly, enjoy!!

Do not post this story or copy it as your own, please and thank you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You adored Rafe with all your heart. After dating for over 6 months, you have learned to see all sides of him. From the good side when he is with you, kissing you, making love, or simply being there for you. Then to the bad side of him doing drugs, hating on pogues (which you hated because you were friends with some of them), constant fights, and jealousy from anyone who went near you.

You didn't mind it at first. You knew how hard Ward was on him and the constant pressure of trying to impress his dad projected itself over to your relationship. But It still wasn't an excuse for his actions. You tried to be there for him whenever he was in a bad mood, calming him down as much as you could, through the highs and lows of it all.

You were laying down on your bed while scrolling through your phone; you were on your day off from working at the country club. You worked as a golf beverage cart girl. Driving around the course and making drinks for the rich Kooks that paid overpriced mediocre drinks that you would make them. You didn't mind them trying to flirt with you. The tips made it all worth it. That is how you met Rafe a few months back. He kept coming back to see you every day with different flirty comments to take you out on a date, till you said yes.

It was one of the best dates you've ever had. He took you down by the beach and had a small picnic with you while you both watched the sunset, where you shared your first and many other firsts that night.

How could you not go on a second date with someone who put so much detail into a first date and made your night even more special with his other package surprise. His best friend, Topper, could not stand to see him flirt with you.

He didn't care at first, but It irked him to know that no matter what he did, he couldn't please, less keep your attention on him a few months back when he chased after you.

He lacked something that you couldn't place your finger on.

It didn't surprise you when he intervened in one of your many encounters with Rafe while you worked.

"Come on, bro, it's not even working on her, can't you see? She's too hard to please," Topper scoffed while Rafe was leaning against your cart, side smirking as he looked down at you.

"fuck off Top, I got this," He responded, sipping a bit of his Mai Tai that you always made him every day. Your eyebrows raised at his words, "I just have high standards Thornton, sorry you couldn't meet them," you responded to him.

Kelce laughed but coughed quickly, not fast enough since Topper punched his shoulder, earning a wince from Kelce.

"Yeah? you're not all that," Topper says back to you, earning a glare from Rafe," You're not worth the trouble."

"Neither are you. Sorry for bursting your bubble," you reply, rolling your eyes and driving off once you made sure Rafe wasn't leaning on it anymore. This was not worth your time and honestly? You just wanted the next two hours to go by so you could go home and sleep. You were a few feet away from them, hearing someone running behind the cart to catch up to you.

"Y/N! Wait up! Please." Rafe yelled as you came to a halt and looked at him, crossing your arms once he was facing you, lips parted as he tried catching his breath.

"What?" you responded, staring back at him and licking your lips without realizing. "I'm sorry about what topper said. He's an asshole." He says, scratching the back of his head nervously, his eyes looking down at your lips.

"Rafe Cameron, are you here apologizing for your friend? Who would've thought?" You say to him as he shook his head, smiling.

"Shut up, y/n," he says playfully, clearing his throat before speaking again." Look, I just wanted to tell you he was wrong about what he said. You are definitely worth trying for."

"So, you guys think I'm a reward or something?" You scoffed playfully, shaking your head as you teased him.

"God, no no no I- I would never think of it like that–don't twist my words," He responds, his face turning red.

"I'm teasing you, Cameron. I just want to finish my shift and go home. I also have other people to attend to, you know?" You say, mumbling the last few words quickly, getting nervous under his gaze.

"I know, I know. Just let me take you out on a date one of these days. You won't regret it, I swear it," He said, sounding desperate, which made you smile slightly.

"If I say yes, will you stop asking?" You say, putting your hands back on the wheel.

"Probably, it's worth a shot, don't you think?" He replies, giving you a small smile. "I guess it is. I'm free tomorrow afternoon if you are interested," you say, waiting for his response.

"I'm available, let me...pick you up?" He intones the last few words, not sure if you were going to agree. "Sure, you know where I live. " You wink at him, waving bye to him as you drove away.

He had the biggest smile on his face, walking back to the guys and high-fiving Kelce, receiving a glare back from Topper.

"You're gonna be disappointed man, that's all I'm gonna say," Top says to him, bending forward slightly, in position to hit the small golf ball. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna try," Rafe replies, earning a scoff from Topper, which he ignored.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thinking back to those times made you smile, you never thought you would end up dating Rafe and loving him the way you did.

You were a Kook, but it didn't mean you had access to your parent's money. You wanted to work for it yourself and that's how you met the pogues.

You were friends with all of them, except JJ. You never got the chance to meet him, but his friends always spoke highly of him.

While laying down, you received a message from Kie, you didn't need to hear her to know she was mad.

Pope showed up to John B's all beat up.

There was no doubt in your mind as to who had done it.

Without hesitating, you got up from your bed, freshened up in the bathroom before making your way downstairs. Closing your house door, you walked over to your car and drove away to the cut.

As you drove, all you could think about is how you were going to apologize for Rafe's actions, this wasn't the first time you had to do this.

It hurt to do it this time, he had promised you he was going to do better.

Once you got there, you got out of your car and ran to John B’s place, where you saw your friends outside, talking to each other. Once you came into view, they all turned to face you, smiling.

You sat next to Sarah, her arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm hug

"Hi darling, how are you feeling?" Sarah says, squeezing you softly before pulling away

"I've been better," You say, squeezing her back just as softly as you looked around the group, spotting Pope, a big smile on his face.

You frown once you see his eyebrow has a small bandaid, a cut on his lip, while bruises were slowly forming on the right side of his cheek. “Hi y/n, what brings you by?” He says, smiling over at you.

“I came to apologize on behalf of Rafe, I'm so so sorry Pope," You say, giving him a sympathetic look as he shook his head, opening his mouth to speak but he gets interrupted,

“You’re damn right he shouldn’t have, that asshole is fucking lucky I wasn’t there” Jj responds for him, clenching his jaw. “That kook needs to be taught a lesson once again, I don’t care If I die trying,"

He sits up as he pulls out his gun from the inside of his pants, earning gasps from the group

"Jj, what the actual fuck?" you hear Kie as she walks over to him, "You are not pulling another one of your stupid ideas on him again."

"Why not?" He replies simply, eyeing the gun before his eyes meet yours

You gulped as you looked back at him, nervously clearing your throat before speaking

"I-I didn't think he was going to break our promise, he wants to change jj,"

“You really believe he is going to change? Really? Rafe fucking Cameron Y/N,“ he throws his head back as he laughs, shaking his head before turning to John B, who pushed him slightly.

“This wasn’t your fault y/n, is what jj is trying to say here,” John B says, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You frown, shaking your head.

Rafe was really trying to be better, but you have given him way too many chances that you’ve lost count.

With Kie somehow calming Jj down, he put his gun away and pulled out a blunt, lighting it up as he took a hit before passing it to Sarah.

She hesitated before taking a long hit, coughing afterward, making you guys laugh as she glared before speaking.

"It's my second-time guys, give me a break!"

"You'll get the hang of it, princess," John B says to her, giving you a slight smile while handing it over to you.

You continued talking with them for a few hours, apologizing so many times that even Jj, who warmed up to you, made a joke about taping your mouth to shut you up.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You ignored Rafe’s calls and messages all day. It didn't surprise you to see him standing in front of your house door, with a frown on his face.

“Why did you ignore me today?” He said, looking down at you.

You rolled your eyes and let him inside your house, thankfully, your parents were out of town for the weekend.

“Why did you fight Pope today?” You say, turning to look at him as his eyes widened. “Who the hell told you?” He responds, following you into the kitchen as you walked away.

“You don’t think I can find things out on my own Rafe?”

“Look, I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me babe I swear,” he says quickly, wiping his nose before you saw the small white residue.

But you already knew he was high, you could smell him, his eyes were red and his words were all over the place, you could barely understand him.

“I just don’t get why you would do that, you promised” you looked at him, watching as he tried to come up with an excuse

“I don’t fucking know, he was walking around the club today and I warned him last time to not show up there,” he said, biting his lip nervously while he waited for your response

“ You don’t fucking own the country club, Rafe. That’s not a good excuse,” you respond, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, avoiding his gaze

Every time he would do something like this, his words and soft eyes convinced you to stay, but you weren’t sure if you could do that this time. You needed to think if this was all worth it.

“I-i don’t know what you want me to say y/n, he deserved it.”

“He’s my fucking friend Rafe, I had to go and apologize for you! You have to stop this,” you say, having the courage to look up at him as he clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring

“Why the fuck would you go and do that? Huh?" he says, grabbing your shoulders and gripping them roughly, pressing you back against the counter, blocking you from going anywhere.

You winced slightly, turning your head to the side, but he turned it back to face him, gripping your chin to look up at him," Rafe, stop it you’re scaring me,” you say, tears forming in your eyes as you stared back at his.

“I don’t care y/n, never fucking do that shit again, you hear?” He says, pushing you away from him while he paced back-and-forth thinking of what to do.

You tumble back slightly, wiping your tears away quickly as they fell, building the courage to speak, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you say, your voice coming out clearer than you thought

“What did you just say?” He turns to look at you, shaking his head as he laughed,” you can’t seriously be thinking about breaking up with me over this silly little thing, right?” He says slowly towards the end, walking closer to you as you watched him.

“That’s exactly what I'm thinking, you’re not the Rafe I fell in love with,” you say, bawling your hand into a fist just in case as he got closer. "You're an addict, you need fucking help and I don't have the energy to continue like this."

your words stung him, you hit a weak spot within him, "You're fucking pathetic, you're choosing your friends over me?"

"I am, you've shown to me you don't want to get better, it hurts me to say this, Rafe," You whisper the last few words, tears falling from your eyes as you look at him

"You can't bring me down with you again, it is exhausting,"

"I guess Topper was right you know? you're not worth trying for." He says, his words hitting you with pure hatred.

"You dont mean that.."

"That's where you're wrong, y/n, I mean every fucking word I say."

Without looking at you, he walks past you, grabbing his car keys from the counter before turning to look back at you, fingers holding onto the doorknob

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself as his jaw clenched once more, shaking his head as he chuckled and walked out.

You watched as he left, the door closing loudly behind him before you broke down into sobs, leaning on the kitchen counter as you tried catching your breath

His words hurt, you wanted nothing more than to crawl inside a hole and hide away from the world.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It's been over 3 weeks since you and Rafe called it quits, Sarah and Kie have been there for you from the start, taking you out on girl dates and having brunch at least twice a week.

You were feeling a lot better, the first few days were rough, you were so used to texting/calling Rafe every day, now you are just strangers to each other.

'It's for the best' is what you told yourself, but deep down you still loved Rafe like no tomorrow.

He still goes to the country club to play, but he makes sure to avoid you whenever you drive past the friend group to make them drinks

Topper had a wide, sarcastic smile on his face the first time he saw you after the break-up, you've been avoiding the group of friends like the plague for the last few weeks.

"Oh hey y/n! how are you and Rafe doing?" he says, pulling out his wallet, eyes on you as you add ice to three cups, ignoring him

Oh how badly you wanted to spit inside his cup, but you pushed that thought away and shook your head, smiling at the idea as you turned to him, giving him his drink

"Why don't you ask him?" you reply, turning back to make the other two drinks, looking over at Kelce who was waiting patiently for them, he gave you a warm smile as you handed the drinks to him

"He already moved on, did you know that?" Topper says, sipping on his drink, waiting for your reaction

You stayed in place as you turn to look at Rafe, who was looking at you but turned his face away as soon as you caught him.

"Really? Good for him," you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat as you bit your lips nervously, sliding back into your cart and driving off, the feeling of tears threatening to fall from your eyes once again.

you didn't know if it was a lie or not, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words got to you so easily

You took your break an hour early, parking your cart before going inside the club, straight towards the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, puffy eyes, plump red lips staring back at you from all your crying.

You splashed water onto your face, crying quietly as you did so.

Fucking Topper, you were doing just fine.

You dried your face with a paper towel, fixing yourself in the mirror before walking out of the bathroom with a shaky breath, looking down at your phone as you walked to the back to grab yourself something to eat.

You accidentally bumped into someone, quickly apologizing before you caught the scent, that damn perfume that you loved so much

You looked up and that's when you saw who it was, you quickly took a step back and turned around, walking away as fast as you could

He followed right behind you just as quick, grabbing your arm before you could go inside the back room.

"Can we please talk?" Rafe says softly, looking down at you as you pulled your arm away from him, crossing your arms.

"Leave me alone, Rafe." You reply, looking around nervously as you uncomfortably tapped your foot on the ground

He analyzed your face, frowning slightly as he saw the dark circles under your eyes, your lips all red and plump from biting them so much, god.. your lips that he loved to kiss so much and caress. He hated himself for the way he left things, he so badly wanted you back, but he knew it would take more than just one apology to get you to even look his way.

He sighed, scratching the back of his head nervously as he nodded, turning and walking away

You let out the breath you've been holding, walking inside the room, closing the door behind you. You close your eyes and lean back against the door, taking a few deep breaths as you try to calm yourself back down.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Jj says cheekily, grabbing something from his backpack before looking over at you.

You jump in surprise, opening your eyes quickly as you spot him on the corner table, wiping your sweaty hands on your pants before walking over to him, laughing at his words slightly.

He started working at the country club not too long ago, but he always made your day better by making jokes here and there.

"very funny J," you say, sitting next to him as he pulls out a small flask, filled with his own concoction that he calls whiskey.

"Want some? I feel like you need it more than me, you look like absolute hell,"

You playfully smack his arm as you grab it from his hand, raising your eyebrow at him, "What did you put in here?" you ask, smelling it before making a face of disgust.

"Dont worry about it, just drink." He responds, rolling his eyes as he watches you take a huge gulp, his eyes widening as you do so

"Why did you drink so fucking much?" He says, grabbing it back from you before taking a small sip, shaking his head

You lean back against the wall, crossing your legs as you shrug, "I don't really know,"

He watches as you play with your fingers as silence consumes the room for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze before you speak again, "Stop staring at me, it's creepy."

He opens his mouth to speak but stops, poking your side annoyingly till you smack his hand and look at him in annoyance.

"Wanna go to a party tonight at the cut? There's gonna be hella guys for you to drown your sorrows in," He asks, giving you a small smile

"I don't think I should,"

"Why not? don't be boring," He says, standing up from his seat, putting away his bag inside his locker, "Think about it, it'll be fun, everyone is gonna be there."

He ruffles your hair, earning a glare from you as he walks out of the room, going back to work, you assume.

You sigh, putting your face between your hands as you think about the party.

You think about what to wear tonight, giving you a small boost of confidence as you lock down the perfect dress in your mind.

You run your hands through your hair to fix it back down, standing up from the table, looking down at your phone, seeing a text come through from the girls, asking you to come to the party.

Great timing, it seemed planned

Maybe a party is what you need to get your mind off of Rafe. In the 3 weeks that you've been single, he's been making moves on other girls.

Why can't you do the same? If it's that easy.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I don't know, I think this dress is too tight, don't you think?" You say, turning to face Sarah as she fixes her hair in front of your mirror

She looks at you from the mirror reflection, turning around and walking over to you," I think you look smoking hot,"

"I know if I were a guy, id be crying if I couldn't get your attention," Kie says, earning a laugh from you and Sarah

"I think I'm overdressed, it's not like I have to impress anybody..." you say, running your hands down your body, staring yourself in the mirror.

You wore a tight long sleeve black dress. [ feel free to imagine any other dress, the story is all yours ;) ]

You had bought it a few weeks back for a date you had with Rafe, but he had to cancel on you because Ward needed him for a favor.

"We are all overdressed, but we look fucking hot so, who cares?" Sarah says, grabbing her phone and pulling you and Kie for a picture in front of the mirror.

You look over at her phone, staring at the way your body looked on the picture, a satisfied look on your face.

The three of you looked fucking good. This is exactly what you needed.

"Just so you know, I will post this pic and I don't care what you girls say," Sarah says, posting the picture right away with a wide grin.

You grabbed your phone and purse, running your fingers through your hair one last time before leaving your room, following the girls to the car, and getting in.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the way to the party, your thoughts get the best of you as you get nervous. What if Rafe is there with someone?

Kie looked back as Sarah drove, noticing the frown forming on your face as you were deep in thought

"No thinking about Rafe today, y/n," She says, continuing as you look at her and smile weakly," Today is all about us having fun, getting drunk, and forgetting about anything on our minds."

"damn right," Sarah says, parking the car behind a few others.

You all walk towards the beach, the wind blowing in your direction as you shiver slightly, feeling Sarah wrap her arm around your shoulder

"He's not coming, he's out of town with my dad," She says, walking towards John B once you guys spot them.

You nod your head, feeling better as you looked around, feeling way too overdressed for the occasion

"Y/N! YOU CAME!" You hear jj as he runs over to you, picking you up and spinning you around, clasping you as you squeal in surprise, "Put me DOWN, JJ!" You scream, gaining the attention of a few people

He puts you down, squishing your cheeks in his hands as he looks at you, smiling widely, "I knew they were going to convince you,"

"I came here cause I wanted to," you say sarcastically, your words mumbled as he kept his hands on your cheeks

Kie grabbed him off of you, making him stumble back a bit as he kept a smile on his face, wrapping his arms around her

"God, you're already drunk??" she says, holding on to him as he hums, laying his head on her shoulder

You adored your friends, they've been nothing but supportive through this breakup and you couldn't be more thankful.

"I'm gonna grab a drink," you say, walking past them and towards the keg that was on top of the table.

You grabbed a cup, pouring the liquid onto it and chugging it quickly, shaking your head, scrunching your nose in disgust

How could people drink this shit? pure battery acid, you thought to yourself as you poured yourself another cup, taking it with you as you walked back to the group, it was cheap liquor but it did the job.

"It's because my pants were too tight, so I borrowed one from Pope and he got mad at me for like, no reason," Jj says, arguing back with Pope as he crossed his arms, " I didn't even get to wear them, they still had the tag," He argues back, earning a laugh from everyone, including yourself

"a tragedy indeed," you say, smiling over at Pope as he shakes his head, smiling back at you

"y/n, you're backkk," Jj says, launching himself over to you as you catch him, wrapping your arms around your waist

This was not your first time witnessing a drunk JJ. He felt stress free, and it made you all happy to see him that way.

While holding him, you looked over to the keg table, eyes widening as you see the kook prince himself

"What the hell?" You hear Sarah say, walking over to you once she noticed your face as you watched him, "He wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow."

As if searching for you, his eyes catch yours while drinking from a cup, making you look away and down to your drunk friend, who was still clinging to your waist, head now laying on your chest comfortably.

Drinking the rest of your cup, you throw it into the trash next to you, moving your eyes away from his as you face your friends, "It's fine guys," You say, smiling slightly

"We can leave, we don't have to stay," Sarah says, looking at you as you shook your head, "He is not ruining this night for us," You respond, grabbing Jj's hand and Sarah's as you walked closer towards the music.

You couldn't let Rafe ruin a night you've been looking forward to since this morning, hell, you deserve this after hurting the past few weeks.

With the music getting louder and the alcohol hitting your system, you pull away from jj and turn to face him as you all danced, laughing as he tried to keep himself balanced

"God, I suck at this," he says, holding on to you and pulling you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, keeping him steady, " You have to learn to not get drunk before the party even starts, J," You say, dancing along with him slightly

"Dont gotta tell me that again, I've learned my lesson," He responds, looking back at you, fixing a strand of your hair and brushing It away from your face softly, "You look really pretty tonight, y/n,"

You blush at his comment, looking down to hide it before facing him, "Well thank you, you don't look so bad yourself,"

He opened his mouth to respond, but not before he got pulled back roughly away from your arms, "Yo! man, what the actual fuck?" You hear John B, catching jj just in time before he fell.

You quickly looked at who it was, noticing the way his eyes stared back at you intensely,

"Rafe, what the hell?" You say, helping John B with jj, shaking your head over at him, "I should be saying that shit to you, y/n," Rafe responds, walking over to you as he spoke, "What, are you fucking Pogues now?"

"Better back the fuck up, Kook," Pope says, getting in front of you as he got closer to you, making him chuckle.

A circle of people surrounded you all now, not surprised to see them pulling out their phones to record

"Not your fucking business," you say to Rafe before continuing, "I am done giving a fuck, Rafe," your friends watching you just in case, you turned around shook your head at them, not wanting to start anything

"It is my fucking business," he says, pulling you back towards him, making you face him once again, "Let me go, Rafe," You say, holding onto his hand as you tried pushing it away, "No, you're coming back with me."

He pulled you along with him through the crowd, hearing your friends behind you as he walked straight towards his car

"Let her fucking go!" Jj says, quickly catching up to Rafe and pushing him down towards the floor, not wasting any time as he punched Rafe, earning a gasp from you as you tried pulling him back,

"JJ! STOP!!" you hear your friends behind you, Pope wrapping his arms around jj's waist to pull him back,

Rafe fought back, punching jj as soon as he got pulled back, earning him a kick in the stomach, turning to face you as he groaned in pain

You bent down, grabbing his hands as you tried helping him up, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist for support, "Fucking lucky my friends are here, I would've killed your Kook ass," Jj says, spitting onto the floor as he stared back at Rafe, who looked way worse than him.

Hell of a way to sober up

"Mind your business, Pogue," Rafe says, you pinched his arm as he yelped, looking down at you with a bloody nose, "What? I'm fucking right,"

"y/n?" you hear Kie as she looks over at you, waiting for your response

Now you were stuck between who to choose, you so badly wanted to help jj and smack him for doing what he did, but at the same time, you wanted to thank him for doing what you've been wanting to do. But Rafe looked worse, and you'd feel bad letting him drive away with a black eye.

"I–let me just help him get back home, yeah?" You respond, looking at them as Sarah steps forward, "you want me to come along?"

"No no, it's fine, please help jj for me," you say, giving her a slight smile as she nods, turning back to your friends as they walk towards John B's car

"Why would you do that, Rafe?" you ask as you walk over to his truck, walking slowly as he limped slightly, handing you his keys, unlocking the passenger side before getting in.

"You let that Pogue touch you all over, you're mine y/n,"

"His name is Jj, since when am I yours, huh?" You ask, leaning over to buckle his seatbelt, standing back and closing the door, walking over to the passenger side, and getting in.

"You've always been mine, we just had a small fight, that's all," Rafe says, biting his nails nervously as he looks at you.

"You call that a small fight?" You ask, laughing slightly, turning to face him, turning on the car, and sliding on your seatbelt.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I did back there, alright? I'm sorry for arguing with you and holding you like that, I didn't mean to," he says, shifting uncomfortably on his seat as you drove him home.

You sat in silence as you drove, stopping at a red light before facing him, "I'm sorry for saying all that shit, Rafe. God, I sounded like a bitch,"

"I deserved that. I'm trying to stay clean y/n, I swear I–the last time I did it was that day," he says, leaning back against his seat, fumbling with his hands nervously.

You parked in front of his house, sighing, looking down at your hands while trying to understand him, "I still love you, so so much, but you hurt me," you say, looking up at him as he bit his lip, "I know, I'm sorry baby please, I love you–just give me one more chance, just one more," he says quickly, grabbing your hands in his softly,

"I don't know, Rafe, I want to try but I just don-"

"Then let's try once more, I swear I'll do better," He sniffles, wiping his eyes quickly, making you frown as you turn to him fully, holding his cheeks in your hands softly, wiping his tears as they continue to fall, "You promise?" you ask, leaning your forehead against his as he nods, pulling you closer to him, "I promise you, I'll try to get along with the pogu- your friends, too," he corrects himself quickly, leaning into your touch

You smile, wrapping your arms around him as he does the same, pulling you to his lap, gently sitting you on him, rubbing your sides as he leans back once more, a radiant smile on his face,

"You look hot with blood on your face," you say, running your hand through his hair softly, "Yeah? maybe I should get your friends mad more often," he says playfully, earning a soft smack to his shoulder from you, "none of that," you say, earning a grin from him as he pulls you closer, rubbing his thumb against your lip gently,

"Can I?" he asks, leaning closer to your face as you nod, pressing your lips against his slowly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling him slide his hands down to your ass cheekily, keeping them there as you both move your lips in sync, pulling back after a few seconds to catch your breath

"I missed you, I'm sorry for hurting you the way I did. There was never a day where I didn't kick myself for doing what I did, " He says softly, rubbing your back, keeping you close to him,

"I forgive you, but from now on we have to be better for each other, we gotta." You respond, laying your head on his shoulder, feeling him nod, his lips pressing a kiss to your head.

"I know, princess,"

You both sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company before you remember, "Rafe?" you ask, earning a hum from him, "yeah, babe?"

"I forgot to clean up your wounds, cmon," You say, opening the passenger door, but he closes it, wrapping his arms back around you quickly, "Just stay with me, please? you're my medicine, how about that?" he says, looking over at you while smiling,

you just smile and shake your head, pressing a long kiss to his lips, "You're an idiot, "

"Only for you."

━━━━━━

The amount of time this story took me because I kept going back and changing things, I hope you guys liked it, the ending could've been better, maybe I'll turn this into a story one of these days. I read this story many times so hopefully, there are not too many mistakes.

[rosze-v]

lavender baths and silver hairs

pairing: Nozel Silva x Reader

synopsis: A slice of Nozel Silva's hair routine

tw: nozel silva’s hair, pretty much everything about his glorious hair, oh and also nakey nakey nozel but its not what you think it is, maid reader

w.c: 1.5k

a/n: Halu! I’ve written this like last two weeks? I finished watching and reading Black Clover for the 126128362 time and I can’t stop wondering who takes care of Nozel’s hair and here we are :D I’m also a bit sad that there’s not much crumbs on Black Clover fanfiction so here is my offering to the fandom! OH ALSOOOOO YOUR GIRL HAS A DRIVER’S LICENSE NOW!! I spend a month and a half learning like crazy and thankfully I got it on first try!!! I’m so happy of this accomplishment and now I can drive a car, though I have to learn how to drive an auto now cause I actually learned how to drive a manual. ANYWAYSSSSSSS, I’ve been rambling like crazy so I hope you have a good read!

You are simply a maid of the House of Silva, a maid that was chosen out of nowhere to be the particular caretaker of Nozel Silva’s hair. Yes, you were nothing more than a maid that takes care of his hair.

What they don’t know is the service you give Sir Nozel is much more than a ‘a maid who takes care of his hair’. When the sun had finish showing it rays of light, it was your time to knock on his door and a quick ‘Come in’ can be heard from the other side of the huge door. Coming in with a tray of Sir Nozel’s hair essentials, you were greeted with a freshly wash and dressed Nozel Silva.

He always look handsome, as simply as compliments could go, you always thought he looks handsome but in these times, when the ray shining softly in his room, the soft smell of soap, strong enough to cover the whole room. You give a gentle, respectful smile while you approach him and in which he exchanges with his own soft smile.

“Excuse me Sir Nozel”. You said as you gently place your hands on his silky, silver hair. Gently, you stroke his hair and through the mirror in front of him, you could see Nozel closing his eyes, relishing in the feel of your gentle hands caressing his head. From the tray you place on top of the dressing table, you took a glass bottle containing Argan Oil, originating from a foreign land beyond the country.

You pour a suitable amount of the oil, not too much and not too little on the palm of your hand and place the glass bottle back. With a slight rub of your hand just to warm it up a bit, you gently brush your hand through his long hair, from his hair line, to the ends of the roots. Many asked what’s the secret to his glorious hair and he always answers with Argan Oil, yet they don’t know these skilled hands of yours, filled with care and love were another secret of it.

Then you slightly crooked your fingers down, scratching his scalp gently which earn you a groan and a sigh. “That felt good”. He muttered with closed eyes as you whisper a thank you, a small smile of relieved is evident on your face.  Nozel Silva have always cherished this little routine of his and yours, he loves it so much that every morning, he would wake up on time without fail, wash and dress, wear the finest perfume and patiently wait for the soft knock of yours.

Once you finish rubbing the oil in, you comb his hair and move to stand in front of him. Nozel then open his eyes, piercing purple stares up your eyes and he give another gentle smile. You, time and time again, blush at his actions, he’s an attractive man, what can you do about it. Clearing your throat, you took his hair ornament, a cross fleury and braided his front hair with it. At first you don’t understand why he asked for his hair to be braided like so, its eccentric and you remember gathering the little courage you have to ask him.

“Sir Nozel, why do you braid your like so?”. He stared into your eyes through the mirror as he answers.

“Because I am the Head of House Silva”.

You were new at the time, you didn’t understand his meaning as much but now you do. He’s the very and only Head of Silva, he’s the symbol itself, and it’s a way of him saying that he’s very proud to be called a Silva and to be the very image itself. He is the head of Silva and the Captain of Silver Eagle, both a symbol of grace and strength.

Once you finish braiding his bangs you move to the back once again and reach out for the thick hair balm which you use to style the hair on the side of his head. You then comb the stray hair to be put in place and move back to the front to tidy any other strays. Once you finished you smile proudly at your masterpiece of the day.

“I’m done Sir Nozel.” He nodded as he looks at the mirror, checking out his hair and overall look. With another smile, he nodded again and turn around to smile at you. You took his robe and place it on for him, patting down the material while he stares at you, content at the work you have done today.  

Then in the evening, after long, arduous day of missions, handling household affairs and the constant stress as a Captain, he would wait for you in his room yet again, just so he can feel your gentle hands caressing his hair and releasing all the pressure he hold. At times, you would accompany him during his baths, washing his hair and massaging his head and shoulders, those are the days you knew that his day was anything but good. Once Nozel arrived, he called for you to his room.

“I would like a bath today”. You nodded in understanding and went on to the bathroom. You turn on the water, adjusting the cold and hot water using the magic tool. Then you went to the shelf, you pick a lavender smelling oil, a mix of dried lavender flowers and rosemary and a lavender smelling soap. You heard the lavender is a very relaxing scent when you went out the market before and so you bought some of the products and you have waited to introduce the scent to Nozel.

With all the items, you went back to the bath tub. First, you dipped your hand into the water and deem the temperature to be perfect. Then you pour the lavender oil and the herb mixes, dipping your hand again, you move it around to mix it. Once you’re finished you went on and pull the make shift basin for washing Nozel’s hair and pour in the lavender soap.

“What is this amazing smell?”. Your head whipped back and you were greeted with Nozel who’s wearing a bath robe. Your face burns in embarrassment, looking down, you answer him.

“Its lavender scent Sir Nozel, I recently bought it at the market and I thought you would like it”.  You play with your fingers as Nozel chuckles and move to stand in front of you, he then picks up your chin, so you could pay attention to him. You breath hitched in your throat as he smile and says.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, I really like the scent. Later on, tell the butler to buy all these lavender items your have bought so I can use them again.” You nodded as he releases your chin from his hands and walk towards the tub. He took off his robe and went into the tub and with a sigh of contentment.

“The temperature feels amazing, you really do know how to cater to my needs”.

“Thank you, Sir Nozel, I’m happy that it fits your standards. May I wash your hair Sir?”. He nodded as you pull the basin closer to the end of his head. You gently pull his hair and place it inside the basin. You let his hair soak a bit and then gently you dab some water at his hairline to wet it a bit. Nozel was closing his eyes the whole time, his pale skin getting a bit pinkish, possibly due to the water’s temperature. You rub the soap into his hair and gently massage his scalp, which earn you a grunt of satisfaction.

After a while, you change the water of the basin and wash off the soap out of his hair. You then asked him to sit up straight which confuses him.

“Excuse me Sir Nozel”. You place the both of your hand on his bare shoulders as you start your massage at the base of his neck. Your thumb move down to stroke the blades of his shoulder, Nozel’s breath hitched in his throat because that hit the spot, it felt amazing in his opinion. You continue your massage throughout his back, earning you groans and sighs.

“I think I’m done now Sir. I shall call your attendants to dress you up.”

“That was amazing you know. Where did you learn such craft?”. Nozel asked as he wiggles his shoulder, refreshed now that the knots on his back are gone.

“Before I become to maid of the house, I actually work along with my mother as a travelling healer. We learn the crafts of masseuse from a traveling healer as well.”

“Ah, I see, no wonder you’re good with your hands. Thank you for today”. You nodded and thank him, bowing a bit as you move out to call for his attendants.

Nozel, who was still in the tub let his mind wander on you. He was really satisfied of your works and what warms his heart more is the fact that you actually bought the lavender with him in your thoughts. Perhaps, he was grateful to find a gem like yours whom he could share silent comfort and ease just by having your presence around him and your hands working on him.

Or perhaps, there was a flame lit from a single match at the mere thought of you. Hopefully, he’ll learn to know what exactly is you in his life.

[pxgeturner]

“Surprise”

Pairing: Clyde Logan x Shy!F!Reader

Warnings: presence of alcohol. Being left alone. Use of feminine nicknames (e.i. lady) and pronouns reader is depicted as short.

Themes: Fluff, meet cute, age gap.

Synopsis: You and your friends are on vacation and find yourselves in small town West Virginia during your cross country voyage. You get dragged out to a bar and meet a nice woman a few years older than you who introduced you to the sweetest man you ever could meet.

Word count 1.6k

——————————————

Some trip this is, your friend’s knew you’d rather stay at the hotel than go out. But being the outgoing people that they are, they found a bar to go to. One of them leaned over next to you on the bed and showed you it on google maps. It’s on the outskirts of town, so you can already tell exactly the type of bar it was going to be dark, musky with sweat and cigarette smoke, and filled with burly truckers craving a nightcap. All in all, not the type of place you’d typically consider. Honestly it was quite the last place you wanted to be.

But you have to go, being alone in a hotel when you are on a trip with an entire group of friends is too pitiful to bear.

So you all pile into the SUV, you with a book in hand. The drive to the bar isn’t long, considering the town is tiny. Normally, you’d be thankful for something like that, but today you aren’t. Less time driving means more time around in public. Soon enough you are pulled into a stool at the bar and your friends are flurrying around you talking amongst themselves, not sitting. One of your guy friends whispers in your ear about a surprise and coming back and moves away from you. You try to reel him back in but he starts talking to the bartender and you retract yourself.

“Could you get her a tequila sunrise and make her a new one if she finishes it? We gotta go but we’ll be back spoon so if you could watch her and make sure nobody bothers her?” he gives a tip as compensation and your friends duck out of the establishment. You weakly try to hold onto someone’s wrist but they slip out of your grasp. You sigh and open to your page on Wuthering Heights as a bright glass of ombre red to yellow liquid is placed in front of you. You thank the man and start reading.

You take care to drink slowly and take small sips so that you aren’t drunk by the time your friends are back with your “surprise”. Every time the little bell of the door dings to signify an entry you look over hoping it’s your people.

“Hi,” you hear. You peek at the woman from the corner of your eye. You think the best words to describe her would be “country chic” although some would replace the “country” with “trailer park” and that makes you a little sad. You don’t know what to do, you’re not good with strangers. You don’t understand how you have as many friends as you do. So you ignore her, despite feeling horrible. “I get it, you’re alone and this place is unfamiliar and filled with scary-looking people. But ya can talk to me, if ya wanna, that is.”

You set your novel on the counter “I’m…” you introduce yourself with hesitancy. She holds out her hand and introduces herself as Mellie Logan, offering a seat with her and her brothers and boyfriend. She points to the end of the bar where two men a bit older than her are sitting. You nod in agreement, so the two of you relocate to sit with “Joe Bang'' and Jimmy Logan. When her boyfriend introduces himself you force yourself to keep from laughing. You felt very grateful that her brother had a more normal name.

“Jimmy’s the oldest, I’m the youngest. Clyde, the middle baby-”

“-Is right here” a big, big man comes around on the other side of the counter. You realized that this is the bartender, and that you haven’t really looked at him until now. He looks down at you and greets you, “I hope my siblings aren’t causing ya any trouble, miss.” his voice is a deep southern drawl that fits him perfectly. You shake your head and tell him that you appreciate Mellie reaching out.

Joe claps his hands together, “Now where were we? Jimmy was just admitting how much of an idiot he was I believe.” Melanie slaps him in the back of the head. you giggle at the antics, they remind you of your friends.

“Why don't we let Miss…” you fill in your name for him and he smiles at you, this sweet, welcoming smile that has the butterflies in your belly waking up, “ tell us a little bit about herself?” you take him up on the offer and start sharing.

“I just graduated from college, my friends said I needed ‘something different’. So they’ve been dragging me all over the country.” you giggle thinking of all the stupid stuff you’ve done on this trip. “I know it might sound like I’m annoyed but it’s been really fun, before so much prevented me from seeing my friends: school, family. But we're out here growing together and getting closer and it really is what I needed.”

“Why'd they leave ya behind then?” Clyde asks skeptical of this sort of abandonment if you all are so close.

“They’re probably setting up some sort of midnight activity.” Clyde gives you a look. “For real! I’m serious, they like to do a bunch of night games and stuff, like this one time we AirBnb’d a barn and they set up a drive-in movie thing with a projector, super fun.”

“How do ya like yer trip so far? How many states have ya been ta?”

You take a moment to count on your fingers to answer Jimmy’s question? “ We’ve visited seven so far, by the time we’re in New York it’ll be ten.”

“Yer coming from out west?” Clyde asks, you nodd. “It’s an odd route to go through here.” you tell him how you all decided to come through here because your best friend got a job and so you two are relocating to this town.

“Why are you staying with them?” Mellie asks.

“We’re practically always together, and this place seems like it would be good fuel for inspiration for this book I’m writing.” you explain.

That gives Clyde a thought, “Speaking of, what were ya reading earlier?” you pull the book up from you, and he smiles again “I love Wuthering Heights.” then it’s your turn to smile.

You chat amongst yourself about various topics, such as how Clyde owns the bar and you enthusiastically congratulate him on being an entrepreneur and comet on how you adore the name of the bar. 1After a while Mellie, Joe Bang, and Jimmy left because they had work in the morning.

That left you and Clyde allll by yourselves, not counting the few patrons still hanging around.

“So, uh, what other books do ya enjoy?” prompts the bartender.

“Oh, um, your typical girl-y literature: Austen, SJM, others.” SHIT. Fuckkkk, why did I bring up SJM, now I gotta explain that I read fairy porn. You inwardly cringe waiting for him to ask who she is but all he does in a hum in response. “Oh! There’re these authors that I absolutely love, Soman Chainani and Nicola Yoon. my favorite books by them are The Sun is Also A Star and The School for Good and Evil. you should totally check them out, I think anybody would like them.” pause… “What about you? What’s your favorite book?” you want to kick yourself for rambling.

“I’m currently reading It Ends with Us.” your jaw goes slack.

“You’re a Colleen Hoover fan?” he blushes and nods and you make a series of small rapid claps.

After that it feels like a door was opened between the two of you. The both of you spend the next hour flirting and bouncing off book suggestions. You never knew it could be so easy. Clyde gives you a refill (virgin on your request as you didn’t want to be drunk) and asks you why you like the drink so much.

“I don’t really like the taste of alcohol.” he nods and takes a sip of his beer. “How do you like that stuff?”

“I dunno, I just do. Here, gimme one moment lil’ lady.” he moves over to another section of the bar and tends to some customers, returning with a dark liquid in a cup with a thin layer of foam on top. Clyde set it in front of you, telling you to try it. You refuse, sticking out your tongue and shaking your head playfully.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, it’s chocolate stout.” The mention of chocolate immediately changes your mind and you take a small sip. “Well?” he prompts when you set the cup down. You playfully tell him it’s not too bad.

Your friends come in with a burst of sound, yelling and laughing. They swarm around you saying that it is time to go, pulling you out of your seat. You call out to the sweet bartender informing him of the hotel you’re staying at incase he wants to visit you tomorrow and wishing him a goodnight and sweet dreams.

Your two best friends squish you, occupying each of your arms and ask you how you liked your surprise.

“I thought that’s where we were going?”

The girl to your right leans into your ear and whispers “He was the surprise, Babe.”

The man on your left leans down to your other ear, “I met him in the grocery store on my popsicle run earlier today and totally thought ‘this guy is so her type’ so I approached him and devised a plan with him, he was really eager to meet you, Tiny.” you scowl at the stab at your height.

Right before walking through the door you look over your shoulder at Clyde Logan, who winks and waves his mechanical hand at you. You smile and face forward with renewed excitement about the move.

——————————————

Tag list:

@heartlight-starlight

@kylakiwi20

[aehyei]

Hi soulmate! Love you sososososo much (btw sorry for making you dropping your phone TT) I have a request for you: “ please don’t scare me like that again. i can take a lot of things, but not losing you. / ” come here. i’m taking care of you tonight. and you’re gonna let me. ” (3) sender shows up at receiver’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. Pairing: ceo!jaehyun x korea's president!female reader (bc why not) Thank you!! <33

heyyyy riri 🥺🥰🥰 it’s fine! my phone’s still alive and i am too but like,, jaemin’s,, way,, too,, hot,, for,, me,, to,, handle,, :,)

[IT’S JUST US NOW]

pairing: ex-boyfriend! ceo!jaehyun x korea’s female president!reader, genre: angst, fluff, exes to lovers!au, !heartfelt, tw: driving under influence, cuss words, drinking, mentions of a toxic family, prompts used: “please don’t scare me like that again. i can take a lot of things, but not losing you.” + “come here. i’m taking care of you tonight. and you’re gonna let me.” + (3)

REMINDER: PROMPT GAME IS CLOSED.

And so you’re the president. 

What a job. Everyone looks up to you, and the whole country’s state is on your hands. One simple little mistake and everything you tried to built falls down like sand. And too add to that? You’re long time boyfriend decides to break up with you with the reason of “We don’t belong together, we travel different paths, roads that will never meet.”

Ouch. 

In the first place, how did you become the president? Honestly, you did not know either. Both your parents are potential politicians, always doing everything to stay in power— even if it means making their daughter run for a position in the government just so they could assure that they are the most powerful to live in South Korea. 

And just like the story ends, you find yourself at the top, being controlled by your parents with every move you try to make to help the country. 

But aside from how obviously unfair fate is, at least it gave you a chance to meet Jung Jaehyun— a young, rich, and famous CEO of a really known company. Your parents adored him more then they did with you, and you hated how they loved him just because of his money. 

“Date him, Y/n. He’s a great man,” you would remember your mother tell you while drinking green tea. You didn’t want too at first, thinking it was entirely cruel for her to control your love life now. “Mother, is me being the president not enough for you?”, You would ask, looking at her with an uneasy expression. 

“Nonsense silly girl. If you date Mr. Jung, your status would be better and everyone would love you more.” Her voice was stern and scary, making you give in to her wishes. 

Love you more, huh, if you date Jaehyun, would everything finally be enough for them? Would your father finally smile at you and tell you how proud he is? Would your mother finally call you her daughter instead of some silly girl? 

So date Jaehyun you did. 

The blind date was really awkward at first— aside from the cameras and paparazzi around the restaurant, or how Jaehyun literally looks like a Greek god that night— you felt the butterflies in your stomach swirling around like crazy. 

He...wasn’t that bad at all. In fact, he was a pure gentleman and always respected your personal space, never crossing any line. Maybe that was one of the reasons why you went home smiling so widely that night.

Unfortunately, your mother was right. When the public saw your dating status with the famous young CEO, they did adore you much more then you expected. Praising you in every way. 

A living fairytale, that’s where you thought you are. A princess caged in a tower, with an evil dragon and witch guarding the entrance, and a handsome brave prince saving you. 

Except the princess was you, the evil dragon your father, the witch your mother, and Jaehyun as your prince. 

But just like every fairytale, the story ends. Suddenly, people were sick of watching you and Jaehyun and wanted something else. Rallies were often happening, going against the thought of a young immature girl to run a whole country. 

It was the first time you saw your parents really worried— but you would be a fool if you think they were worried for you. It was mere obvious by their actions that they were more worried getting kicked out of power then their daughter’s mental and physical state. 

Then Jaehyun was taken away from you. He was banned from going anymore near you, and it wasn’t like he could. Your father would cut all ties you have with your boyfriend, saying you need to study on how to satisfy the people, not yourself. Your mother would constantly let you be followed around by a camera just to show everyone how ‘mature’ you actually are. 

Eventually, their plan did work and everything was back to normal again. After some begging and pitiful tears, they finally allowed you to meet Jaehyun just for this once. This time, no more cameras, no more paparazzi, just you and Jaehyun alone. 

“I’m sorry for everything and I—”

“We...we should break up.”

“W-What do you mean? Jaehyun, this is—”

“We don’t belong together, we travel different paths, roads that will never meet.”

So it turns out, he wasn’t your prince, and you weren’t a princess. You’re just a silly girl following whatever the witch and the dragon says. It all came crashing unto you as you stare at your now ex-boyfriend with a blank expression, slowly nodding and leaving before he sees the tears trickling down your eyes continuously. 

You weren’t in the mood now in dealing with your mother’s shrieks and your father’s sermons. You weren’t in the mood in pretending to be someone you don’t know in front of the cameras. You weren’t in the mood in dealing with the whole country and all that is on it’s land. For this once, you want silence. You want to look out your window and stare up the moon. 

Maybe you took a couple of sips of red wine, wishing when you wake up this was all just a nightmare. But there was one thing for sure— you weren’t that drunk to imagine a Jung Jaehyun standing just beside his expensive car with a can of beer in his hand, staring up at you with red puffy eyes. 

...or are you? 

You looked at the wine your holding, looking at it’s bottle to see it’s ingredients with confused and squinted eyes, “How strong is the alcohol rate...?”. 

“Can I climb up?” Jaehyun croaks out suddenly, startling you. “H-Have...have you gone entirely mad?” You stammered, creasing your brows together. He smiled and chuckled, looking down by his feet before looking back up at you, his dimples showing, “If I truly become mad, would you take care of me?”. 

“I would,” you whisper, opening your window wider for him, “Come here. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

Jaehyun’s smile grew wider, but he didn’t budge yet, looking hesitant. “What if everyone doesn’t want us together? What if...I don’t want you to take care of me?”. 

You shook your head, far to drunk to care anymore, “No. I’m going to take care of you and you’re gonna let me.”

Convinced and also wasted at the same time, Jaehyun stumbles to climb up your window— stopping when you’re both now face to face. “Why are you here?” You mumble brokenly, the hurtful memories just from hours ago still vivid for you. 

“There are two reasons,” he slurred, “the first one was I was looking for home, and the next thing I knew is that I’m in front of your house. And the second is I’m really, really, really drunk and I love you.”

You visibly froze. Jaehyun raised his right hand and gently caressed your cheek, smiling sadly, “I love you.”

He loves you. 

“C-Careful, you might fall,” you stuttered, grabbing on his arm. He grunts and enters your room, taking the wrong step and accidentally falling on top of you. A loud thud echoed around your dark room, and for a minute, you worried if any paparazzi are watching. Jaehyun must’ve noticed and softened a bit, “It’s just the two of us. Just you and me. Close your eyes if you want too, but I’ll just be here.”

You did close your eyes, feeling Jaehyun move away to lay beside you on the flooring and guided for you to lay in his chest instead. He reeks of alcohol and so did you, but no one cared right now. 

“I could handle my parent’s evil schemes, people going against me. I’m willing to give everything up, but not you,” you whisper, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt, “Please don’t scare me like that again. I can take a lot of things, but not losing you.”

Jaehyun held you tighter, burying his nose on your hair and inhaled your scent that he loved so much, “I’m not going anywhere.”

© AEHYEI

[watchmegetobsessed]

Prompt/Request Idea!! I don’t really have a vision for the beginning or how it should end but I thought it was a cute idea. Harry sees the reader in one of his T-shirts for the first time. And maybe she doesn’t realize it’s a big deal like she just wanted to get out of her uncomfy clothes and grabbed the first shirt she saw and threw it on. But like Harry turns around and sees her and his world stops for a sec. lol can you tell I’m a hopeless romantic?? Also I got this idea listening to a country song (T-Shirt by Thomas Rhett) so yea that’s it!! This just popped into my head and you are one of my fave Harry writers so I figured why not.

BORROWED

a/n: hii! im sorry it took me so long to get around and write this but i was finally in the mood to write something extra fluffy so here it is! hope you'll like it!

pairing: Boyfriend!Harry X Reader

word count: 1180

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

“We can start in a bit, I just have to make a quick call to Jeff, is that alright?”

Harry keys the two of you into his house, heavy paper bags in both your hands and his as you just came back from grocery shopping. Tonight is date night, but after the long week you both had, you chose to just cook something together and then get lazy on the couch cuddled up with a good movie. It’s exactly what you need right now.

“Sure, take your time,” you smile back at him as the two of you walk into the kitchen, putting the bags to the counter. “I’ll unpack these in the meantime,” you offer, digging into the bags of goodies.

“Thank you, love,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before making his way into his study to get over with anything work related as soon as possible so he can spend his time with you.

While he is on the phone in there, you softly hum to yourself, unpacking everything you bought, leaving what you’ll need for dinner on the counter and putting away the rest. You already know your way around Harry’s kitchen, you’ve spent a fair amount of time in his home since you’ve started dating just a few months ago. At first you felt hesitant whether the timing for the two of you to give it a shot is good, both of you driving a quite busy life lately, but at last you’re glad you listened to your heart. You’ve grown to love him more and faster than you ever thought and now you can’t even imagine your everydays without him.

When you’re done with the unpacking, Harry is still on the phone so you decide to start peeling the potatoes since there’s a good amount of that, Harry has been craving fries all day so you’re making that as a side. But before you could start working, you decide to make yourself comfier. Still wearing your dress from work today, you make your way into Harry’s closet, roaming through his simple t-shirts, grabbing one for yourself as well as one of his workout shorts before you strip yourself out of the tight dress and put on his clothes, allowing you to feel so much more comfortable and relaxed.

When you’re back in the kitchen you connect your phone to the Bluetooth speakers he keeps there, putting on some soft music as you start peeling the potatoes, taking your time, not wanting to get much ahead on your own, since the whole point of the evening is to cook together, something you’ve been doing a lot since you’ve started dating. In fact, on your very first date, instead of taking you out to some expensive restaurant he chose to make home-made tacos together and it was the most perfect first date you’ve ever been on.

On the other end of the house, Harry finally finishes up his call and puts his phone on do not disturb, not wanting anyone or anything to interrupt his time with his girlfriend before he makes his way out to the kitchen. He hears the music before he sees you moving around and a smile tugs on his pink lips how you’re listening to a country song again. You’ve shared with him your recent obsession with country music lately and how you always find yourself gravitating towards this genre whenever you’re listening to music.

As Harry approaches the kitchen you finally come into his view, standing with your back facing him as you gently sway your hips to the rhythm, humming to yourself while peeling the potatoes near the sink. Stopping in his tracks, he allows himself to adorn the sight of you, especially because he can feel his heart pitter-pattering in his chest when he realizes that you’ve changed out of your dress and put on some of his clothes.

The blue shirt hands loose around your frame, the hem reaching down to your mid-thigh, the seams on your shoulders falling way past where they usually do on his body. The workout shorts are baggy on you and though the shirt is covering your hips, he can tell you rolled down the waist of the shorts so they fit you just a tad bit better.

He is in love with this sight, his beautiful girlfriend in the peace of his home, wearing his clothes, ready to spend the rest of the evening together, talking it away about anything and everything, because that’s what usually happens. He loves hearing you tell him your opinion about anything, loves to know your thoughts and feelings, loves listening to your rambling about the things that interest you lately.

He just loves you and everything about you.

It’s not the first time he is seeing you wearing his clothes, it had happened several times when you were spending the night over at his place and after some mind-blowing sex you felt more comfortable in his clothes than your own, but every time it happened before you always asked, as if you didn’t have a right to just take whatever you want from him. In his book, everything he owns is already yours as well, nothing is borrowed anymore, but you haven’t gotten past the point where you don’t ask, but now it finally happened and Harry couldn’t be happier about it. It means that you’ve settled into the thought of the two of you being a full item, equals in a happy relationship.

Harry walks up behind you, his hands sliding around your waist and under the shirt so his palm is touching your bare stomach, his fingers playfully dancing on your naked skin. You smile to yourself, melting against his chest instantly, your bodies fitting together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces.

“Hey handsome, done with everything?” you ask, turning your head to the side so your lips could meet his in a short peck.

“Yeah. I’m all yours.”

“Mmm, finally,” you chuckle playfully, a giggle escaping your lips as he tickles you a little before his arms fall from around you.

Standing next to you he leans against the counter, taking another few moments to just watch and adorn you, his arms crossed on his chest as a small, content smirk tugs on his lips. You catch his gaze, but you have no idea why he is staring at you like that and you can’t help the nervous little giggle that falls from your lips.

“What is it?” you ask, bumping your hip against his playfully.

“Nothing, I just… I really love you, that’s it,” he shrugs and you feel the warmth hugging your chest at his words.

“And I love you too.” Dropping the peeled potato from your hands you lean closer and steal a kiss, leaning against him gently as his hands find your hips. “Do you mind taking care of the veggies?” you ask, smiling against his lips.

“Sure thing,” he nods, pecking you one last time before he gets down to work as well.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[heroloverangel]

Delicate

This is technically a sequel to last year’s Dad Mirio fic but can be read on its own! Everyone’s favorite Wholesome Dilf continues to live rent-free in my brain.

“I miss you soooo much,” Mirio says for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. You give him a comforting smile from your side of the screen, you know how he feels. Your husband’s been gone for three days now helping with a disaster in Osaka, and he probably won’t be home for the rest of the week. It’s hard being married to one of Japan’s top heroes, you think to yourself. You wish you could be there with him, putting your training to good use where it’s needed, but your current assignment is too important to ignore. It’s as if he can read your mind from the other side of the country. “How’s my buddy doing?”

You smile and tilt your camera down to show off your heavy stomach. At eight months pregnant, you’re sidelined from hero work no matter what the crisis is. “He’s alright,” you confirm. “I think he’s bored without you around, though.” He lets out a little whine that’s almost heartbreaking; it’s obvious where he’d rather be right now. You take pity on him and drop the phone level with your belly to give him a better view. 

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “I promise, I’ll finish as fast as I can so I can come home to you and Mama soon.” You feel movement inside you as he talks. You don’t know how good your baby’s hearing is, especially through the video chat, but you’re sure that he’s reacting to his father’s familiar voice. “I can’t wait to get back and feel how strong you’re kicking in there. I bet you’re driving Mama crazy!” You relax further into your pillows and let him babble on to your bump about his day saving civilians and clearing out rubble, only a little lonely when you look over at the empty half of your bed. You really do miss him, your house is far too quiet and calm without his usual energy filling it.

You yawn after a few more minutes and glance at the time. “Sorry, it’s getting kinda late. Would you mind if we called it a night for now?”

He smiles, but you can tell that he’s trying to hide his disappointment. “No problem, I know you need your sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow, okay?” You agree and tell your husband you love him before hanging up the phone and settling in for bed. You’re tired, but you’ve gotten too comfortable with him sleeping beside you and it takes awhile to fall asleep on your own.

You spend the next morning balancing your laptop over your swollen belly while you browse through maternity clothes. There’s a local shop that promises same-day delivery, and you treat yourself to a few things for your last month. You read through your email, a magazine wants a quick interview for an article about hero families and you’re happy to answer their questions. It’s hard to move too much in your condition, but you make sure to do the prenatal exercises your doctor recommended and then have a nice long shower. Your new clothes arrive and you leave them on the dresser for now while you eat lunch and call your family. It still seems too quiet in the house without Mirio, and you’re getting bored when your phone finally rings and your face lights up at his name.

“Hey sweetheart! I’ve got a surprise for you!”

You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart. “Is it dinner? I think somebody in here’s really craving steak tonight.”

He laughs. “You’ll see. Just have a seat on the couch and close your eyes for a second, okay?”

This isn’t the weirdest thing he’s requested over the phone, and you obey. “Alright, they’re closed. What are you planning, Lemillion?”

“You can open your eyes in three...two...one…” his voice disappears from the phone, all you hear is the background noise of birds chirping.

“Mirio?” Your eyes are still closed.

“SURPRISE!” 

You jump in shock and drop your phone, your eyes flying open. He’s standing in front of you with the biggest grin on his face, completely naked. It takes you a second to realize he must have phased through the front door to surprise you. You struggle to stand but fail, and he has to pull you up himself into his arms for a deep kiss. “You’re home early! How’d you manage that?”

“The others knew how much I wanted to get home, with you being pregnant and all, and everybody worked extra hard to cover for me so I could leave first.” You owe every single one of them a thank you gift. “Boy, that Uravity is amazing with rescue work!” Oh, you owe her twice as much after this.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you sigh happily. Your husband drops to his knees in front of you and pushes your shirt up to kiss your stomach, rubbing his hand where he feels a faint kick.

“Me too. I missed our family so much.” His arms wrap around you and he rests his head against your middle. You run your fingers through his hair, both of you taking a minute to relish your little reunion. It’s only been a few days, but it was more than enough to make you homesick for each other.

He stands back up after a bit and you head for the hallway. “You should go grab your phone off the porch and take a shower. I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you too, when you’re done.” He’s happy to obey and you follow him down the hall, pausing at the front door then into the bedroom. You wait for the bathroom door to shut and then spring into action as fast as you can. You clothes come off; you kick them under the bed instead of wasting precious time trying to pick them off the floor. 

You reach for the new clothes on the dresser and find the outfit you’d picked for his welcome home gift. The bra is made out of soft white lace so flimsy it looks like it’ll tear if you breathe too hard. It ties closed with a ribbon in the front and your clumsy fingers finally form a decent bow on the third try. A skirt attaches beneath the cups and just skims your thighs, the two halves of it parted to show off your obvious pregnancy. You’re lucky that the matching underwear ties on the sides with more ribbon; you’re not sure you’d be able to get them on without five minutes of struggling if you had to step into them. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and adjust the skirt of your lingerie. Despite the sheer fabric leaving little to the imagination, you look sweet. Innocent. Delicate. A grin spreads across your face; it’s perfect.

You get dressed just in time; you hear the shower turn off and the door opens a second later. “There, all clean and-” Mirio freezes at the sight of you and you see his fingers twitch against the towel wrapped around his waist. “Oh, wow. You look...just, wow.” He’s crossed the room faster than you can react, strong arms wrapping you in a tight, warm hug. “You’re so gorgeous like this, babe.”

You lean into his body; you’ve missed this while he was gone. “Well, it’ll be awhile before we can do this again. I figured we should really enjoy ourselves while we still can.” He nods and gives you a surprisingly gentle kiss. You can tell he’s holding back his strength for your benefit and the knowledge makes your heart flutter.

Mirio recovers from his surprise quickly and returns to his usual unstoppable energy. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, I promise!” His bigger hand is warm around yours as he guides you to your bed, losing his towel in the process. You don’t hide your staring; his body is gorgeous after so many years of training and you could look at him for hours. He sits back against the headboard and carefully brings you with him to straddle his lap, and you feel his cock already growing hard against your thigh. “We’ll take it easy,” he promises. “I know we have to be a little more gentle now since you’re so big-” You stare down at Mirio silently, but he continues. “What? You are big, that’s a good thing. You’re growing our baby in there, he needs all that room!” You just shake your head; you can’t really feel annoyed when he’s this sweet.

He looks up at you with pure affection written all over his face and leans into your touch as you run your fingers through his damp hair. “How can you be this buff and this adorable?” It’s not the first time you’ve asked as much, and every time he laughs you off with a faint blush on his cheeks. You lean in for another kiss while his hands move from your hips over your ribs to the front of your slip.

“This is so pretty, you should keep it on.” He gives your chest a squeeze and you whine, too sensitive from the hormones wrecking havoc on your body. You knew your breasts were going to get bigger, but they’ve turned out to be overachievers and you’ve jumped up two cup sizes already. “They’re still really sore, huh?” You nod and he offers you a comforting smile as he plays with the bow before finally tugging it open. Your nipples are already hard, and you don’t miss how he licks his lips when his thumb brushes over one. “I could help you with that, if you want.”

“Mirio…” You love your husband and all his enthusiasm, but you’re well aware that he can be a little too eager and get carried away. He’s being careful now as his fingers trace against your warm skin, his touch barely teasing you. He pulls you closer; you can feel the smile on his lips as he leans into your neck. He follows your pulse, down your collarbone to leave kisses at the swell of your breast and you sigh. “Okay,” you agree. “Just remember to-”

“I know, be gentle. Don’t worry babe, I’m gonna take good care of you.” He pushes your lingerie out of the way to get a better view at your heavy chest and appreciates the sight of it. “Man, our kid’s not gonna be lacking on calcium, is he?”

“I love you, please stop talking.” He laughs but obeys, his tongue flicking over your nipple and making you squirm in his arms. He does it a few times and you let out a little gasp when he takes you into his mouth. “Go easy,” you remind him, but he’s already distracted with his task. You asked your doctor about doing this before and were told it was perfectly fine, but you can’t quite shake the thought that it’s a little weird as Mirio begins to suck at your tender nipple.

You’ve tried this before, but every time he’s been too rough in his excitement and you’ve had to yank his head away from you in pain. Tonight though, he’s trying his best and after a few seconds of discomfort there’s an unfamiliar tingle deep in your breast as your body responds to his stimulation. “It feels weird,” you groan, but your fingers thread into his hair so he won’t pull away. “It’s not bad, just weird.” You’re not entirely sure you like what he’s doing, but you’re willing to continue until you figure it out. His tongue brushes over you with a slightly different motion, and something in you clicks into place. “Can you do that again? I think I liked that.”

His laughter is muffled but still obvious and you can feel the smile against your skin. Mirio’s happy to assist, one strong hand settling on your back to keep you steady. It wasn’t a mistake; he repeats his movements and you realize that it feels good. It feels really good, you have to admit, as his eyes slip closed so he can focus entirely on pleasing you like this. You hold him tight to your body, fingers running through his messy hair while you enjoy the affection so happily given. You’re still sensitive though, and after a few more minutes you start to get overwhelmed and have to pull him away.

“It tastes good.” His grin is huge as he licks his lips. “It’s sweet, just like the rest of you.” You’d roll your eyes if he wasn’t so cute. He gives your breast a gentle squeeze and earns another whimper from you, then turns his attention to the other one. “Don’t want this side feeling left out, right? Lucky I’m here to take care of everything!” Your heart skips a beat, you’re so in love with this silly, wonderful idiot. You don’t get a chance to respond, once his mouth is back on you it’s hard to do anything besides pant and whine for him.

You squirm against him, his dick pressing against your thigh and your panties doing very little to hide how much you’re loving this. “Miriooo,” you moan, and the look in his eyes is nothing but pure happiness that makes you melt. “You always take good care of me,” you coo, reaching down to stroke his cock lightly. “You’re so good to me, honey.” He pulls you closer and releases your chest to look up and meet your eyes.

“Babe, I’m just giving you what you deserve. You’re literally making a brand new, little person in there. If that’s not worth being extra nice, I don’t know what is.” He really has no idea how perfect he is. His thumb brushes over your nipple and your body is so sensitive now it makes you shudder. “Alright now?”

You stop for a second to consider. Your breasts do feel a bit lighter, there’s less pressure weighing down on you after his help. “Yeah, thanks. You’re the best, really.”

He brushes off your compliment in favor of pulling at the strings holding your underwear together. “Just doing my job, miss.” He groans at the sight of you fully naked and traces a finger along the lips of your cunt. You hadn’t noticed just how wet you were getting as he’d worked on your nipples, but now two of his fingers slip inside you with no effort. “I love you so much,” he says with another kiss.

You buck into his hand mindlessly, too eager for his touch after only a few days. You want to hold off and come with his dick buried inside you, but you can’t deny yourself when you’re this needy already. “I want it,” you whine pitifully.

His other hand gives your hip a reassuring squeeze. “I know, baby. You can have whatever you want, just tell me.” His thumb swirls over your clit and he doesn’t miss the jolt that runs down your body. “Right there, huh? My pretty little wife wants me to make her come?” His smirk is playful and there’s a glint of mischief in those friendly eyes.

“Mirio, please.” Hearing him talk like that does something to you and you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

His hand moves faster and your pussy clenches tight around his fingers. “It’s alright, I’ve got you. Just let yourself go for me.” His voice is so warm and soothing, you can’t resist. Your orgasm is marked with desperate whispers in his ear as his hand moves gently between your thighs to urge you on. “That’s it, honey. You’re so good, I want more of you.”

It takes you a minute to calm down before you’re able to pry your sweaty face away from his shoulder. His fingers leave you aching to be filled again, and you swallow hard when you watch him bring them to his mouth to lick them clean. 

“That’s my girl,” he smiles like the sun and you look away, almost embarrassed by the affection between you two. You can’t see anything past your swollen belly, but you can feel his thick cock ready for a turn. “Are you up for more? It’s fine if you need to wait-”

You fumble blindly for his cock until the tip presses just outside your cunt. “I want you inside me. Here, Mirio. Your pretty little wife wants to make you come.” The blush spreading across his face at your words is a special reward of its own. His hips thrust upward to enter you while he slowly pulls you down to meet him, and your mouth falls open in a long moan. “Fuck, Mirio. We’ll have to wait a couple weeks after he’s born and it’s gonna suck so bad.”

He hasn’t put much thought into this fact and you can practically see the gears in his head turning. “Well then, I guess we’d better make it count while we still have the chance,” he says finally. He’s always so much stronger than you, even when you’re not in such a delicate condition, and easily sets a steady pace moving you up and down his dick. You cling to his shoulders to steady yourself as you ride him, pressing your tongue into hs mouth to devour his sounds. This may be the peak of happiness, with your sweet husband pounding away inside your excited pussy, showering you with compliments about how great you are and how perfect your little family is going to be. “And once he gets a little older, we can start working on his siblings!”

Your hips falter in their rhythm at the suggestion. “S-siblings? Already?”

He grins back at you. “Of course! We need five or six, at least!”

“Five or six…” you repeat, suddenly distracted by the thought of doing this another half-dozen times. You don’t know why you’re surprised, it’d be more of a shock if he didn’t have infinite love to share. The idea doesn’t bother you, and you find yourself returning his smile with a smirk of your own. “You really wanna fill me up that much, Lemillion?”

You’re not expecting his thrusts to speed up so much or for him to pull you down so hard you’re gasping for air. “God, babe. So much. I think about it like, all the time now. You have no idea.” He stops to kiss you again, and your cunt squeezes hard around him. “I can take more time off of work,” Mirio insists mindlessly, getting far too ahead of himself. “I bet I can hold so many babies at once.”

You laugh, he’s so ridiculous sometimes. “Let’s just focus on this one for awhile, okay?” He nods, trailing his lips down your throat to feel how fast your pulse is racing for him. You can feel another orgasm building, and that he isn’t far behind. You were only apart for three days but it seems like far too long. “You’re really, really the best.”

He cups your sweaty face in one hand, the look in his eyes so soft and loving it takes your breath away. There aren’t enough words to describe how much you love him right now, and clearly it’s the same for him. Wordlessly he releases you and drags his hand down your body, stopping to tweak your nipples and making you cry out. His fingers drop to rub firmly against your clit, and your back goes rigid. “Miri-ohh. Just like that, I’m gonna...there, fuck.” You clamp down hard on his cock with a loud moan and he holds you tight, supporting your overworked body while you come. “Here,” your voice is ragged. “Your turn, I know you’re dying to come inside me.”

“You’re amazing, honey.” That last compliment is all he gets out before his pace goes sloppy and you feel him flooding your pussy with a low groan. “You’re so amazing.” 

You cling to him while he gradually wears himself out and stay wrapped up in his arms for the next few minutes. Eventually, there’s a firm kick in your belly that informs you that someone noticed all your movement and he’s not happy about it. Both of you laugh as you separate; you flop down on the bed while Mirio cleans you up and finds you a comfy, oversized shirt and fresh panties to wear. It’s still fairly early, and you won’t be tired enough to sleep for a few hours.

“Now that was a welcome home gift. You should just wear that around the house until you have the baby, it looks really great on you.”

You ruffle his messy hair. “I don’t think it would survive the entire month around you,” you tease. You stretch your arms above your head and feel a grumble in your stomach. “So, the surprise wasn’t steak for dinner tonight?”

He’s in too good of a mood to even think of denying you. “It is now!” He’s already fumbling for his phone to look up menus. “Whatever you wanna eat, just say the word!”

Sometimes you wonder how you ever got so lucky.