#the meanings are vague enough and her luck was good enough that they decided it was pretty accurate

[lildoodlecat]

learning how to do tarot readings not bc i believe in it but bc i bought a pretty deck so now i’ll feel bad if i don’t use it

turns out it’s fun even if you don’t take it seriously ✨

[goldengalore]

Hardest to Love

Summary: Harry and Y/N are broken up but still good friends. He worries that he’s holding her back from moving on and finding love again, so he tries to distance himself from her. But Y/N is too sweet and people are too dumb to treat her right. Stuck between his fear of hurting her and his desire to give her the love he knows she deserves, Harry finds himself in a difficult predicament.

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: some kink-shaming, mention of cheating, angst, smut (dom!harry, bondage, choking, spanking, degradation, orgasm denial, teasing)

A/N: This fic was inspired by two songs by The Weeknd: Hardest to Love and Scared to Live. Also, Y/N is bisexual in this one—just mentioning this for anyone looking for bi!Y/N fics :)

***

Harry hasn’t been good to Y/N.

The awful realization dawns on him while he’s sitting in a cafe with her one afternoon along with their two friends, Elena and Jordan. Well, actually, they’re more Y/N’s friends than his. He met them through her and only hangs out with them when she’s around. He may not have much in common with them, but whenever Y/N invites him to hang out, he always says yes because how could he turn down an invitation to spend time with her?

At least after Elena and Jordan leave, he gets to have her to himself. Not today though. Today, Y/N announces prematurely that she has to head home. Harry’s shoulders sag in disappointment.

“Whyyy?” he whines, resting his chin on his ring-adorned hand. “What could possibly be more important than spending time with your mates?”

She smiles. “I have a date tonight.”

Her three friends eye her with curiosity.

“Ooo, is it that guy from Tinder you’ve been seeing?” asks Elena.

“Yes, but don’t get too excited. I’m ending it with him.”

“What? Why?” they all ask, almost in unison.

She shrugs vaguely. “I realized he’s not my type.”

Elena snorts. “You say that about everyone you date. What even is your type?”

“Him,” says Jordan, pointing at Harry, who just chuckles.

Y/N’s cheeks flush. “I just haven’t found the right person! Leave me alone.” Her phone vibrates on the table. She checks it. “Oh, it’s him. He’s asking if our date is still on.”

“Poor guy,” says Jordan. “He’s got no idea he’s about to get his heart ripped to shreds tonight.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Please. You’re acting like he’s in love with me. We’ve been on two dates.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty easy to fall in love with,” says Harry, smirking at her.

Her cheeks turn even more pink as she attempts to bite back a grin. “Okay, I have to go.” Rising to her feet, she grabs her phone and pulls her bag over her shoulder. “See you guys!”

“Good luck tonight, heartbreaker!” Jordan shouts after her as she walks away.

“I can’t with this girl.” Elena shakes her head. “I thought I was picky with dating.”

“She wasn’t always that picky. It was only after Mr. Grammy Award-Winner over here came along,” says Jordan, nodding his head towards Harry.

The comment elicits an awkward laugh from him. “What do you mean?”

The two friends exchange looks. Harry hates when they do that; he always feels left out of the joke.

“You do know that you’re the reason Y/N keeps turning down all the people she dates, right?” Elena says, as if it should be blatantly obvious to him. “She’s still not over you.”

He scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. We’ve been broken up for eight months. She’s been seeing new people for four of them. Don’t reckon she’d be doing that if she wasn’t over me.”

“It literally could not be more obvious,” says Jordan. “She goes on dates with people, then she hangs out with you for five minutes, and oh, all of a sudden, those people are no longer good enough for her?”

Shaking his head, he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

Elena sighs and tucks a strand of her pink-dyed hair behind her ear. “Look, ever since you told her that you’d be willing to get back together with her when the time feels right, she’s decided—either consciously or subconsciously—not to give anyone else a chance. It doesn’t help that every time the two of you are spotted anywhere, Twitter acts like you’re back together again.”

“Y/N doesn’t even use Twitter,” he says, purposely deflecting now.

“You know that’s not my point.”

“So, what then?” He throws his hands up in defeat. “What am I meant to do? Stop spending time with her?”

“That, or you can just tell her you’re not open to being romantically involved with her again,” Elena suggests. “Until you say something, she’s never going to move on.”

He won’t admit it to them, but he knows they’re right. He too has noticed Y/N’s pattern of going on a couple dates with someone, then conjuring up some excuse for why she can’t envision a future with them. Everything from “he’s a snorer” to “she thinks bald cats are ugly” to “he uses too many exclamation marks in his texts.” And Harry is guilty of enabling this behaviour by telling her that it makes total sense to turn someone down for such trivial reasons. 

Truth be told, he likes watching these other people try and fail to win her heart. It gives him a sick sort of satisfaction to know that for her, no one compares to him. But he recognizes the deep selfishness of these feelings, and it’s something he doesn’t like very much about himself.

Harry and Y/N’s relationship has been complicated from the start. They met at a wedding. Harry was fresh out of a year-long relationship, and in no way, shape, or form was he ready to jump into another one just yet. But how was he supposed to resist Y/N, who looked like a fairy in her pretty floral dress and had a voice sweeter than honey and blushed whenever anyone said anything remotely nice about her and made him laugh harder than he’d laughed in weeks, maybe even months?

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t resist. So, he pursued her until she fell for him hard. And he fell for her too. And they had the most magical three months together, attached at the hip whenever possible and constantly texting each other when not. But the spark began to fizzle out once Harry realized, and Y/N did too, that he hadn’t completely moved on from his ex.

Y/N was so understanding, albeit heartbroken.

Harry went off to Japan for a few weeks to focus on himself and his music. She was on his mind the entire time, so much so that his ex began to feel like a distant memory from another lifetime. On his first night back from Japan, he called her. And it was as if nothing had changed between them; they picked up right where they’d left off.

Over the next couple years, their relationship was a turbulent cycle of breaking up and getting back together, rinse and repeat. It was almost always Harry who would get cold feet and call it off when things began getting too serious—a habit he’d developed after getting his own heart broken too many times.

He could see the effect that this back-and-forth was having on Y/N, how it was wearing her down and sucking the liveliness out of her. He didn’t want to cause her any further pain, but he didn’t want to completely lose her either.

When they broke up for the last time, he told her that maybe now just wasn’t the right time for them to be together. They could still remain friends, and perhaps in the future, if the time ever felt right, they could try again.

He knows that Elena’s suggestion of telling Y/N that he’s not romantically interested in her anymore is the most sensible thing to do. However, he can’t find it in himself to do that. Instead, he decides to create a bit of distance between him and Y/N, hoping that it’ll be enough to help her move on from him. 

Only time will tell if his plan works.

***

Y/N is pissed off. She doesn’t get angry very often, so when she does get like this, she doesn’t quite know what to do with herself.

Last night, she invited a few close friends over to celebrate her recent promotion at work. While Harry initially promised that he would be there, he texted her last minute that he couldn’t make it because he wasn’t feeling well. 

This morning, as she was scrolling through her social media, she stumbled upon a picture taken by a fan of him leaving a pub last night with his friend Ben. He appeared perfectly fine and healthy, making it abundantly clear that what he’d told her was a lie. This isn’t the first time he’s cancelled on her in the past few weeks. She just assumed it’s because he’s been super busy with work, but now she feels stupid and naive for thinking so.

The discovery of Harry’s lie made her so upset that she got dressed that morning and drove straight to his house to confront him. Now, as she stands on his porch, waiting for him to answer the door, a sudden sense of self-awareness comes over her. 

She’s never been a confrontational person. Showing up on someone’s doorstep unannounced to go off on them isn’t like her at all. She hasn’t even thought about what she’s going to say. 

Just as she’s considering turning around and sprinting back to her car, the door opens to reveal a freshly awoken Harry, dressed in the fluffy lavender robe that she always loves seeing him in because he looks extremely soft and cuddly when he wears it, like a big, purple teddy bear. She has to resist the urge to squeeze him in her arms.

“Y/N, hi,” he says, brows perked in surprise. “Wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“I just came to check up on you and see how you’re feeling.” She forces a smile and observes his reaction closely.

At first, he just stares at her blankly. Then it suddenly hits him, his eyes going wide as saucers. “Oh! Right, yeah, I’m, uh, I’m feeling much better. Thank you.”

Liar.

Y/N’s lip almost quivers from watching him lie straight to her face, but she maintains her composure.

“Must’ve been pretty bad, huh?” she asks. “Since you had to cancel so last minute.”

He looks down and fidgets with a loose thread on his robe. “Yeah, I wasn’t in the best state. Threw up three times.”

Her brows arch up, feigning surprise. “Three times! Wow! And you still had the energy to meet Ben at a pub on the other side of town?”

His face falls.

Y/N drops her facade now, letting her true emotion show. “You know, if you didn’t want to hang out with me, you should’ve just said so. There was no need to lie.”

“It’s not that. I love hanging out with you... Probably more than anyone else I know.”

“Then why did you lie? And why have you been so distant?”

He looks past her shoulder. Since she got here, a light drizzle has started, tiny droplets pattering softly against the ground.

“Let’s talk inside,” he says.

A stubborn part of her wants to keep her feet firmly planted on his porch, but it’s cold out here and the warm interior of his house does look incredibly inviting right now. She steps inside, taking off her shoes on the mat before marching into the kitchen.

He shuts the door and joins her there. “Do you want to sit?”

“No.” She leans against the edge of the kitchen counter and crosses her arms. He stands across from her, his hands resting behind him on the kitchen island.

She can’t help it. She has to say it, “It’s not fair, you know. I’ve always supported you and been there to celebrate your successes. I know getting a promotion at work isn’t nearly as exciting as getting a Grammy nomination, but still—”

“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t put down your accomplishments like that.”

She shrugs.

“I’m sorry I lied. And I’m sorry I’ve been distant. I just...” He hesitates. “I feel like I’ve been holding you back.”

Her brows furrow. “Holding me back from what?”

“From moving on. From falling in love again. I feel like the more time we spend together, the more you struggle to connect with the people you go out with. When we broke up, I told you that I’d be willing to get back together when the time felt right, and I said that because I still wanted you to myself, even if I didn’t want to commit to an actual relationship. And I realize now how shitty that was.” He sighs and stares down at the floor, seeming ashamed with himself. “I don’t want to sabotage your chances at finding love. Don’t want to be that guy.”

His explanation takes a minute to sink in and wrap her head around.

“So, wait,” she says, “you think I haven’t fallen in love with someone yet because I’m still hung up on you?” She laughs a little. “C’mon, H, that’s a tiny bit egotistic, don’t you think?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe. But Elena and Jordan think so as well.”

She scoffs. “Oh, so now the three of you are, like, the committee of experts on my love life? What, do you meet once a week to discuss all the reasons why my love life is a flop?”

He blinks at her slowly. “Y/N...”

“No, no, this is stupid.” She uncrosses her arms, clutching the counter behind her instead. “You are not the reason that I can’t fall in love. You’re... You’re...” She finds herself grasping for some way to convince him that his whole theory is absurd, but suddenly, she’s not even sure if it is. In the end, all she’s able to say is, “You’re my best friend.”

His green eyes soften. “And you’re mine. But maybe...” He winces, like he knows the next part is going to hurt her. “Maybe, staying friends after the breakup was a bad idea.”

This feels like a punch in the gut. It’s like experiencing their breakup all over again, except worse because the pain of losing a best friend is somehow more visceral, more agonizing than losing a romantic partner.

“You don’t mean that,” she says brokenly. 

“I’m just saying that we should try spending some time apart and see how that works for us. If nothing changes, fine... But if something does, then maybe it’s for the best?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

He says nothing to reaffirm her statement, making her doubt for a moment that this is really what he wants, but then she snaps herself out of it. No, he has made it clear that he doesn’t want to spend time with her anymore, and she’s not going to chase after someone who obviously doesn’t want her around.

“I should go.”

He follows her to the front door. They both stare out the window at the rain, which has escalated from a light drizzle to a full-on thunderstorm within a matter of minutes.

“It’s pouring out there,” he says. “Do you want to wait until the rain stops?”

“No.”

“Well, do you at least want an umbrella?”

“No, thank you.” She’s being stubborn, but she doesn’t want to be around him any longer than she has to. After slipping on her sneakers, she steps out onto his porch and makes a run for it to her car but gets drenched by the time she ducks into the driver’s seat.

***

The next time Harry sees Y/N is three weeks later at a mutual friend’s birthday party. They’ve developed so many mutual friends over the years of knowing each other that they’re bound to cross paths at one point or another.

She arrives at the party a little while after him, accompanied by Elena. Her sleeveless maroon dress hugs her curves perfectly and brings out the natural pink tint of her cheeks. Her hair is shorter too, he notices. He tries not to stare when she walks in, but it’s hard not to. They make eye contact from across the room. She looks away before he can lift a hand to wave hello.

For the entire evening, every time he enters a conversation that Y/N is also a part of, she discreetly withdraws. Any time he even comes close to her vicinity, she drifts further away from him. It’s frustrating. But he probably deserves it after how poorly he handled things with her. Lying to her instead of just having a candid conversation about his concerns. 

While he’s receiving the cold shoulder from her, Elena appears to be receiving quite the opposite treatment. Y/N sticks by her side the whole night, holding hands or linking arms with her, sharing longing glances, blushing whenever Elena speaks directly to her. He suspects there’s something going on there, but he can’t be sure. There is one person at the party, however, who might be able to give him the answers he seeks.

“Hi, Jordan,” says Harry, walking up to the short, dark-haired man who was oddly standing by himself in one corner, staring down at the phone in his hands.

Jordan glances up at him for a quick second. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”

“Not much. You?”

“Just sexting with this hot older guy I met last week,” he replies casually, his thumbs flying across the tiny keyboard on the screen.

“Oh. Nice,” says Harry. He’s not sure how to bring up the topic subtly, so he decides to forgo subtlety altogether. “So, um, Y/N and Elena...”

“I’m as shocked as you are.” Jordan laughs. “Who would’ve thunk those two would ever hook up?”

“Are they serious or...?”

“Depends who you ask.” Jordan glances up again and registers the confusion on Harry’s face. He elaborates, “If you ask Y/N, she’ll tell you they’re serious. If you ask Elena, she’ll tell you it’s still early days and too soon to say.”

“Huh.” He looks in Y/N’s direction again. This time, she’s resting her head on Elena’s shoulder, listening intently to whatever conversation was happening around her.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,” Jordan suddenly says.

Harry whips his head back around. “What?”

“The guy I’m sexting. He just sent me a video of him putting his dick in a—”

Raising a hand, Harry says, “You know what? I don’t think I want to know.”

Later that night, everyone gathers around to sing happy birthday to the birthday girl and watch her blow out the candles on her huge, extravagant cake. Afterwards, as the crowd disperses around the house again, Harry loses sight of Y/N. He decides it’s for the best since he’s spent most of the night watching her from afar instead of enjoying the party and mingling with friends he doesn’t see very often due to his busy schedule.

From that point onward, he tries to be more present in his conversations with people.

When he breaks away to find the bathroom a bit later, he passes by a room that looks like a den. The door is slightly ajar, enough to make out Elena sitting on a couch with a few other people. Y/N is nowhere to be seen, though she could be in some part of the room that isn’t visible from where he’s standing. But as he listens in to their conversation, it quickly becomes clear that she’s not in the room with them.

“Where’s your shadow?” asks one of the other girls sitting with Elena.

“Who?” she says.

“Y/N. She’s been following you around like a lost puppy all evening.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t know where she went, actually.” Elena looks around vaguely. 

Harry steps away from the door before she can see him. He leans against the wall next to the doorway, taking out his phone so that if someone catches him standing there, he can pretend he’s just messing around on his phone.

“The two of you are a couple then?” asks the other girl.

“I wouldn’t call it that,” replies Elena. “We’ve just hooked up a few times.”

A male voice chimes in, “What’s she like? In bed, I mean. I’ve always wanted to know, but she was always with that Watermelon Sugar guy.”

Harry rolls his eyes at that.

“She’s kind of a freak, actually,” Elena speaks in a hushed voice, like she’s revealing a scandalous secret.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh. She’s into that choking, slapping, getting tied up, being called names type of shit.”

Harry rolls his eyes once again. These must be the most vanilla people ever if they think liking a bit of bondage and degradation makes someone a “freak.” Most of the people he’s been with were into things like that, not just Y/N.

“Damn,” says the male voice. “It’s always the sweet, innocent-looking ones.”

“Yeah,” says Elena. “It’s kind of weird, but I just go with it. At least I can laugh about it later.”

A grimace has settled onto Harry’s face after hearing their conversation. He doesn’t appreciate the way they talk about Y/N, as if she’s some sort of anomaly or a sex object. He knows all too well what it’s like to have your sex life dissected and gossiped about by people who don’t even know you. 

It especially irks him when he remembers how insecure Y/N used to be about her kinks when he first met her. It took her some time to open up to him about what she liked in bed because before they met, she’d never had the chance to explore her deepest desires and fantasies in a safe space with someone who made her feel comfortable. He’s grateful that he was able to give her that.

Now, he leaves to go find the bathroom again, but when he gets there, it’s already occupied. He heads upstairs to find another one. The music from the party fades as he ascends the staircase. It’s mostly dark up there, except for the warm white light spilling out of a room down the hall. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s the other bathroom and, of course, someone is inside this one too.

He groans internally until he reaches the open doorway and realizes that the person inside is Y/N. She’s standing in front of the sink, fixing her hair in the mirror. Her gaze shifts to Harry as he appears in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Oh, sorry, do you need the bathroom? I was just leaving.” She starts to exit, but he steps in the middle of the doorway, blocking her path.

“You’re avoiding me.”

She meets his eyes reluctantly. “Well, I didn’t know if I was allowed to talk to you or not.”

He frowns. “What? Of course you are.”

“Just wondering, you know, because we’re not supposed to be spending time together anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t talk if we see each other at a party, Y/N.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?!” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “These rules are confusing.”

His eyes wander over her face, taking in her pretty features. “They are confusing,” he agrees, pausing before adding, “and stupid.”

“Oh, so now you admit it.” A playful grin dances on her lips, making him chuckle.

Lifting up a hand, he takes a strand of her hair between his fingers and twirls it around, examining its length. He notices her breathing stop for a moment.

“You cut your hair,” he states.

“Yeah.”

“Looks nice. Pretty.”

She blushes. “Thanks.”

He releases the strand of hair and watches it bounce back into place. Then he reaches up and brushes his fingers against her cheek. She leans into his touch, almost on instinct. His gaze rests on her lips now—so red and full and tempting. He begins inching towards them, but at the last moment, she pulls away.

“H,” she whispers, “we can’t. I have a girlfriend.”

“You do?” he asks, even though he already knows what she’s about to say.

“Yeah. Elena. We’ve been seeing each other.”

“Oh,” he says. And he tries to control himself. He really tries to stop the words from leaving his mouth, but they come out anyway, “Y/N, I don’t think she’s right for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t think Elena’s a nice person.”

She frowns. “Where is this coming from?”

He doesn’t want to tell her about the conversation he overheard earlier. It would only hurt her. “I just think you deserve better.”

Her eyes narrow. “And what exactly is ‘better’? You?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying, Harry?”

He can sense her losing her patience with him. Y/N, who normally has the patience of a saint and puts up with a lot more than most people would, is done with his shit.

“Because you told me that you were worried about holding me back from moving on and finding love again. But now that I’m with someone new, you’re telling me that I’m with the wrong person? It’s just— It’s not making sense. You say that you don’t want to hold me back, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

Her words pierce through his heart. “You’re right... It doesn’t make any sense. And I’m sorry. But I stand by what I said about Elena. She doesn’t have your best interests at heart, lovie. She doesn’t deserve you. Neither do I.”

She stares at him for one long moment, a tenderness flashing in her eyes for the briefest second before she looks away. “I can’t do this.” She squeezes past him to leave the bathroom.

“Y/N—”

“Bye, Harry.”

***

Settling in bed with a book in his hands, a cup of chamomile tea on the nightstand next to his phone and his songwriting notebook, which is always there in case a lyric idea pops up in his head while he reads. This is how Harry spends most of his nights lately. It’s a soothing ritual to come home to after a long day. 

The only thing missing is having someone in bed next to him. Someone to read with or read to. Someone to kiss goodnight. Someone to hold as he drifts off to dreamland.

Ever since his breakup with Y/N, he has been taking the time to figure himself out, to really look inward and, with the help of his therapist, work on some deep-rooted bad habits that he seems to carry from one relationship to the next. He’s never been good at being alone, which explains why he has a propensity to dive into a new relationship before he’s even moved on from the last.

He regrets rushing things with Y/N. If he’d just taken the time to get to know her and properly befriend her before taking the next step, things might have panned out differently. He truly believes that.

A yawn pulls itself from him as sleep begins to fog his brain. He places his book on the nightstand. Before he can turn the lights out, his phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s Y/N. 

He picks up. “Hello?”

He doesn’t receive an instant response. All he can hear is the beat of some techno song in the background and the muffled sound of female voices. He wonders if she just butt-dialed him by accident.

“Hellooo?”

This time, he hears her say on the other end, “You were right.”

Puzzled, he replies, “What?”

“You were right about Elena. She’s not a nice person.” 

She doesn’t elaborate any further, but he can infer from the hollowness in her voice that Elena broke her heart.

“I just called to tell you you were right,” she says. “You can feel all smug now and say ‘I told you so.’”

“You think I’m that much of an arsehole?”

She sighs and mumbles, “No.” He hears her sniffle. “I just don’t get why everyone treats me like I’m some toy they can play with and throw out when they get bored. Am I that easy to discard? Or maybe I’m just hard to love.”

“No. You’re not.” If anything, that’s me, he thinks to himself.

“Then why does this keep happening to me?” She sounds so defeated, it makes his chest physically ache.

“Because, Y/N, people are stupid—and I’m including myself in that statement—and they don’t realize what they’ve got until they lose it. By the time they realize it, it’s far too late.”

She goes quiet. He can hear the music thumping in the background again.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“In the bathroom of a club.”

He quirks a brow. “What are you doing at a club? You don’t even like clubs.” He recalls her telling him once that she hates being surrounded by all the sweaty bodies bumping into each other.

“Jordan dragged me here. Said the best way to get over a heartbreak is to go to a club and find a stranger to hook up with. But he ditched me as soon as we got here, so I thought I would just drink and dance away my sorrows, but then some creep tried to grope me on the dancefloor and I wanted to throw up and now I’m hiding in the bathroom.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. His frustration isn’t directed at her but at Jordan for giving her such terrible advice and then abandoning her in such a vulnerable state. “Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

“Wh— You’re coming here? You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m doing it.”

He gets the name of the club from her and tells her he’ll text her once he’s there. Climbing out of bed, he quickly throws on some clothes and heads out to his car.

He’s prepared to go into the club to retrieve her when he gets there, but she’s already standing outside by the curb, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. She has on a flimsy jacket, far too thin to block out the cool night air. As soon as he pulls up, she climbs into the passenger seat, finding refuge from the cold.

“You all right?” he asks, studying her intently.

She nods. “You know, you really didn’t have to come all the way—”

“Hush. Put your seatbelt on.”

She raises her eyebrows at his authoritative tone. “Yes, sirrr.”

He feels something stir inside him when she says that but quickly squashes the feeling and starts driving.

“Do you want me to take you to your flat?” he asks.

“Ugh, no. Jordan’s going to come home with some guy in the middle of the night and wake me up with obnoxiously loud sex noises.”

He nods once. “Okay then. My place, it is.”

When they reach his house, he prepares one of the guest bedrooms for her to sleep in while she uses the bathroom. By the time she comes out, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently for her. She sits down next to him. As he turns to look at her, he catches her staring directly at his mouth.

“Kiss me,” she says.

“You’re drunk.”

“Just one kiss. Please?”

He rolls his eyes and gives her a peck on the lips, forcing himself to pull back before he gets carried away. “Happy?”

“No, I want more,” she says, leaning forward.

He smirks and squeezes her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Greedy girl.” He releases her chin. “Go to sleep.”

She complies and gets under the covers. Staring up at him with her sweet, tired eyes, she says, “Thank you. For taking care of me.”

He shrugs. “I like taking care of you.”

He gets up then and leaves the room, shutting off the lights as he goes.

***

Y/N wakes up with a miserable headache compounded by a deep embarrassment over her actions from the previous night. Calling up Harry just to whine about her pitiful love life, prompting him to come rescue her drunk ass from the club, begging him to kiss her...

She wants the ground to swallow her whole.

Eventually, she drags herself out of bed and into the bathroom. After cleaning herself up, she heads down to the kitchen, where Harry is sitting at the island in his purple robe, having his morning coffee. The sight is all too familiar to her; she used to wake up to this on a regular basis when they were still together.

“Morning,” he greets her as she walks in, avoiding his gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungover.”

She fills up a glass with cold water and savours the feeling of it pouring down her parched throat. Finally, she turns around and forces herself to look at him.

“Sorry about last night,” she states. “I was, um, a bit of a mess.”

He gives her a kind smile. “It’s all right. You don’t need to apologize. Honestly, it made me quite happy to see your name pop up on my screen when you called.”

Her heart swells. “Really?”

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee to hide the timidness in his expression.

A smile spreads across her face. “Well, okay, that makes me feel better.”

He gazes at her for a while, like he’s carefully contemplating his next words. “So... You were upset last night and I didn’t want to ask, but... What did happen with Elena?”

Her eyes drop down to the floor at his question.

Noticing her reaction, he quickly says, “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine.” She looks up at him again. “I found out she was sleeping with someone else. I caught her texting this other person while we were in bed, cuddling. She thought I was asleep.” A bitter laugh escapes her at the idiocy of it all.

Harry’s eyes turn sympathetic. “Jesus. That’s awful.”

“Yeah... So, hey, you may have broken my heart, but at least you can say you never cheated on me!”

“I mean, that bar’s pretty low.”

“Oh, the bar is fucking underground at this point.”

He laughs. She grins. Then he stands up and walks around the island to her, pulling her into a tight hug, which she happily reciprocates. 

“I’m sorry people suck,” he says, resting his chin on her head. “I’m sorry I suck.”

She frowns. “You don’t suck.”

“Yes, I do. All I’ve done is break your heart. Over and over again.”

She pulls away to get a proper look at him, noting the guilt in his eyes. “That’s not true. You’ve been an amazing friend to me.”

He smiles sadly. “I don’t know about that.”

“Harry...” It concerns her that he’s being so hard on himself. He really has been a wonderful friend to her. Despite all the hardships they experienced during their relationship, he has been there for her more than anyone else in her life. To hear him fail to recognize that makes her sad.

“I want to be a better friend. I think I can do that. If you’ll give me a chance.”

“Of course.”

“I can even be your wingman if you need me to be.”

She laughs and makes a face. “My wingman?”

“Sure, why not?” He gives a casual shrug, as if the concept of her ex-boyfriend, whom she’s still undeniably attracted to, being her wingman isn’t weird as hell.

“Thanks for the kind offer, but I’m actually putting the brakes on dating for a while.”

“Oh, okay.”

She hugs him again, content to have him in her arms, content that she can finally go back to hanging out with her best friend again.

***

“I think we should watch the new season of The Crown tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes widen with excitement. “Oooh, yes! I’ve been dying to watch that.”

“We could order pizza as well. From that new place I told you about. You need to try it.”

“Absolutely.”

They’re sitting in their little corner of the cafe. Y/N finished work a while ago and headed there to meet up with Harry, who was coming from a writing session at the studio. Now, as they discuss their plans to wind down for the evening, something—or someone—catches Y/N’s attention from across the cafe. 

“Oh, fuck my life,” she mutters.

“What’s wrong?” asks Harry, as he follows her gaze over his shoulder.

“I just realized Elena’s here. With her new girlfriend. They’re sitting over by the window.”

“Oh.” He turns back to Y/N. “Do you want to leave? We can go somewhere else.”

She replies with an adamant shake of the head. “Nope. This is our favourite cafe too. Why should we have to go?”

Suddenly, Elena’s gaze shifts over to her and they make eye contact. Without reacting, Y/N returns her attention to Harry. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Elena standing up and walking over to them.

“Oh, great, she’s coming over here,” she says with an agitated sigh.

Harry squeezes her hand on the table reassuringly. “It’s okay. You’ve got this.”

“Y/N,” says Elena, once she reaches their table.

“Elena,” says Y/N.

“Harry,” says Elena.

“Elena,” says Harry.

A long, awkward pause follows.

Unable to endure the awkwardness any further, Y/N breaks the silence, “How are you?”

“I’m all right. You?”

“I’m fine.”

Another pause. Elena turns to Harry. 

“So, the reason I came over here is because my girlfriend, who’s sat over there”—she points over to the table she just came from—“happens to be a massive fan of yours, Harry, and she was hoping she could get a picture with you. I told her that we’re friends and I would ask for her.”

It takes everything in Y/N to resist the urge to roll her eyes dramatically. The nerve of this woman to cheat on her, then come over here to ask Harry—whom she only knows through Y/N—to take a picture with the same person that she cheated with! Truly mindboggling. Not to mention, it puts Harry in a very awkward position.

He looks at Y/N unsurely, waiting for a cue from her before deciding how to respond. “Uh...”

She gives him a small nod.

“Sure,” he says to Elena.

He stands up and follows her to the table where Elena’s girlfriend is eyeing him with a frozen, starstruck look on her face. He chats with her for a minute, then poses for a selfie before walking back over to Y/N.

“That was quick,” she says.

He shrugs. “She was more interested in getting a photo than talking. I asked her not to post it until later though, once we’re gone.”

Now that the uncomfortable encounter is over, they return to their conversation from earlier, debating what else to get with their pizza tonight.

Some time later, long after Elena and her girlfriend have left the cafe, Y/N notices a group of young people lurking outside the entrance, trying to peer in through the glass door. It’s getting dark out, but she has seen, and worn, Harry’s merch enough times to recognize it on someone else even in the dark from a distance.

“Uh-oh,” she says.

“What?” Harry looks at her. With his back to the entrance, he has no idea what’s happening. 

“I think I see fans outside. Elena’s girlfriend must’ve posted the picture already.”

He throws up a hand and lets it fall on the table. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Y/N takes out her phone to check, and surely enough, the picture is all over social media. The cafe logo can be seen on a sign in the background. “Yup, she posted it on Instagram and now it’s making rounds. This place is going to get crowded real fast if we don’t leave soon.”

“Would it be bad if we snuck out the back? I’m just not in the mood to deal with this.”

“Yeah, we can do that. I’m sure Theo would let us use the back exit.”

Theo is the owner of the cafe, whom Harry and Y/N have befriended over the years.

Harry scoots his chair back to stand up, then stops and looks at her with a conflicted expression. “I feel bad.”

She leans forward and locks eyes with him. “H, people can’t expect you to be on all the time, ready to interact and take pictures with them whenever they want. You’re a human being, not a tourist attraction.”

“I know, I know.” He bites his lip and sighs. “Okay, let’s go.”

They stand up, grab their jackets, and find Theo, who doesn’t even hesitate to help them sneak out the back exit into the empty alleyway behind the cafe. Once outside, they stop to put on their jackets. Y/N shivers as a cold breeze passes by.

“Holy crap. How did it get so cold?” she mutters through chattering teeth.

“You need a better jacket. This thing is paper thin.” Harry pinches the arm of her jacket to prove his point.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, mom. It’s not that thin.”

“Here, put this on.” He hands her his thick, green jacket, but she pushes it away.

“No! Then you’ll get cold.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Nope.”

He glares at her. “Y/N, put it on.”

“Make me.”

His eyebrows raise high on his forehead. “What did you say?”

A devilish grin materializes on her face. “I said... Make me.”

Grabbing her by the waist, he pushes her up against the wall of the cafe. She stares up at him, gasping when she notices the unmistakable lust in his eyes. He leans forward and presses his lips against hers so firmly, so hungrily that it literally takes her breath away. She kisses him back with the same hunger until, all of a sudden, he pulls away.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

She shakes her head. “No, don’t be sorry.”

He releases her waist and takes a step back, a look of dread now replacing the lust from before. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this again. Us being together. It never ends well.” He runs a flustered hand through his curls. “I don’t want to hurt you again. I love you too much for that.”

She tilts her head to the side. “Why are you so convinced that you’ll hurt me again?”

“Because that’s what I do, Y/N. I think I’ve proven that. It’s just who I am.”

“No, it’s not.”

He turns away, but she steps forward and takes his face in her hands, making him look at her again.

“I know who you are. You’re kind and thoughtful and loving, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re also flawed and imperfect and you make mistakes, but who doesn’t? At least you’re trying to be better, which is more than most people can say.”

His eyes never leave hers as she talks, which tells her that her words are actually sinking in.

“I know you’re scared of hurting me again, but I’m not scared. I trust you and I trust that it’ll be different this time.”

“How can you still trust me after everything I’ve put you through?”

“Because like I said, I know you.”

Like a light switch, Y/N catches the shift in his eyes from fear to hope.

“Now kiss me,” she says. “Properly this time.”

And then she’s back against the wall with his hands squeezing her waist and his mouth claiming hers. No hesitation this time. No internal conflicts. Just pure love and fervor and affection.

He gets even closer, until their fronts are touching, and rubs up against her. She moans, squirming between his body and the wall. Whereas she was cold before, the heat of their passion is enough to warm her up.

He starts speaking in between kisses. “We’re not”—kiss—“having sex”—kiss—“in an alleyway.”

She giggles against his lips. “Okay, then take me home.”

***

Back at Harry’s house, they’ve barely stepped in through the door before he’s pressing her up against it, attaching his lips to her jaw and neck while his hand wanders down the front of her body. His deft fingers unbutton her jeans before sliding inside them. He caresses her clit through her panties.

She tilts her head back, exposing more of her neck for him to kiss and suck on. Her hands weave through his hair. He continues rubbing languid circles into her clit until her panties dampen with her arousal, then stops.

“Nooo,” she whines.

“Shh, just taking you upstairs. C’mon.” He leads her up to his bedroom where he begins stripping off her clothes. He doesn’t remove his own clothes just yet, knowing she likes it this way. Something about being completely exposed and vulnerable while he’s fully clothed is a turn-on for her.

He tells her to lie on the bed while he goes to the closet to grab a couple of silk ties. When he returns, her hand is between her legs. He climbs on top of her and grabs her wrists, sliding them up by her head.

“Can’t leave you alone for two seconds without you touching yourself, hmm?”

She gives him an innocent smile.

“What am I going to do with you?” he says.

“Anything you want.”

His cock twitches in his pants. “Gonna be a good girl and keep your hands above your head?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, still smiling.

He kisses her briefly and gets up to bind her wrists to the bedposts using the silk ties. He has her tug on them a bit to ensure that they’re secure but not overly tight. Then he’s back on the bed, positioning himself between her spread legs, almost drooling at the sight of her dripping wet cunt.

She watches eagerly as he lowers his head between her legs and swipes his tongue over her slit, savouring her intoxicating taste and scent. It occurs to him while he’s sucking on her swollen nub that they haven’t does this in so long and she’s probably been in bed with several other people in that time. The thought makes his fingers dig deeper into her thighs. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he comments. “Annoys me to think of all the other people who’ve tasted you.”

“There haven’t been that many.”

“Well, even one is too many for me, so...”

She giggles and squirms as he dips his tongue into her hole. Whenever he draws back to take a breath, her hips automatically buck towards his mouth. He has to hold her down with one hand on her abdomen. 

It’s easy to tell when she’s nearing an orgasm from the way her thighs tense and her moans become more frequent, breathing more ragged. 

“I’m going to—” she begins.

“Don’t even think about cumming until I say so,” he warns.

“But I’m so close. Please—”

“Hold it.”

“I can’t!”

Ignoring her pleas, he continues licking at her clit as he pleases until she’s writhing on the bed, slowly coming apart. Her back arches as the orgasm ripples through her body. He waits until she’s done before pinning her with a disapproving look for cumming despite being told not to.

“What?!” she exclaims. “I told you I couldn’t hold it any longer. Not really my fault, is it?”

In a mere second, he’s hovering over her with a hand wrapped firmly around her neck. Her wide eyes stare up at him. He feels her throat bob up and down beneath his palm as she swallows. Her racing pulse can be felt under his fingers.

“What was that?” he asks.

“N—nothing,” she squeaks out.

“That’s what I thought, you greedy little slut.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice is so small, barely above a whisper. He can see her sinking into subspace before his eyes. Tied up with his hand around her throat, completely and utterly at his mercy.

“That’s all right, darling,” he says. “I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge, but we can fix that.”

He starts untying her wrists. She eyes him curiously but doesn’t dare to speak. He flips her over onto her stomach and reties her wrists. 

Leaning down to her ear, he asks, “Do you remember the safeword?” He expects her to have forgotten after all this time, but she proves him wrong.

“Peaches!”

“Good girl.” He plants a soft kiss to her lips, then straightens up again. 

He runs a hand through her hair and down her spine before resting on the delicious curve of her bum. He gives it one brief squeeze before lifting his hand in the air, watching her tense as his touch disappears. He allows the anticipation to build before bringing his hand back down in one swift motion. A resounding slap echoes through the room, followed by a grunt of pain from Y/N.

“Count, slut,” he orders.

“O—one.”

He spanks her again, harder this time, and relishes the way her ass bounces from the impact.

“Ah! Fuck. Two.”

The next few arrive in quick succession, causing her to squirm and fight against her restraints in a futile attempt to escape her punishment. He knows she’s enjoying it though because when the next slap lands on her pussy, his hand comes away covered in her juices.

“Look at you, getting off on your punishment. Only whores enjoy getting punished,” he teases.

Y/N presses her reddening face into the pillow and moans. He chuckles at her reaction and delivers a few more slaps directly to her cunt.

Finally, he stands up to undress himself. Then he lifts her hips off the mattress to shove a pillow under them, propping her up into the perfect position for a fucking. His dick is rock-hard at this point. He’s been palming himself through his pants here and there, but only her pussy can give him the relief he needs. He presses himself against her opening, then stops and starts rubbing his tip against her clit instead.

He keeps this up until she grumbles impatiently, “Can you fuck me already? Please and thank you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says with a smirk, then plows his cock into her.

She inhales sharply. He groans. It takes them both a few moments to process the intensity of her walls stretching around him. He pulls out and pushes back in, his length gliding in and out effortlessly due to her wetness. She tries to grind her hips back into him, though his strong grip keeps her locked in place.

As he brings her to the brink of yet another orgasm, she says, “I need to— I mean, can I please cum?”

He slows the pace of his thrusts. “You came once already, remember? Now you want more?”

“Yesss.” She tries to look over her shoulder at him, and if he could see her big, beautiful eyes, he would probably give in way sooner. “Please, H, I’m sorry for earlier. I really am.”

“Hmmm, I don’t buy it.”

She whimpers in desperation, her hands curling in their restraints.

“I think I should cum inside you and leave you here, unsatisfied, alone, and dripping with my cum.”

Her jaw drops at his evil proposition. “No! God, please don’t do that to me. I’ll do anyth—”

“Shhh, I’m only teasing, sweetheart.” He rubs a soothing hand over her back.

She lets out a sigh of relief.

“You can cum now.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before her pussy is flexing fiercely around his cock, shrouding it in more of her creamy wetness. A few more sharp, sloppy thrusts and he’s cumming inside her too, moaning and repeating her name in his blissful haze.

After pulling out, the first thing he does is remove the pillow from below her hips and untie her wrists. Then he lies down next to her and pulls her into his arms, pressing his lips against her forehead.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he says. Then he draws back to take a good look at her. “Are you all right?”

She gives him a dazed grin. “Oh, I’m amazing.”

He chuckles. “Yes, you are.” Pulling her into his chest, he tells her, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

As they lay there together, he marvels at how lucky he is. Not only to have another chance to be with her, but to have her in his life at all. Y/N is right; things will be different this time. Because this time, he’ll spend less time worrying about getting his own heart broken and more time cherishing hers.

***

Thank you for reading!  MASTERLIST

[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter four | joel miller

pairing: joel miller x ofc!genevieve word count: 3156 content warning: 18+ blog; heavy angst, child loss, talk of death, talking about Sarah, heavy emotions, grief, fluff, vague talk about being with other people while married (but neither know the other was alive/nocheating), reader has a name but has zero descriptive features, reader is wearing some of Joel's clothes, no age given but is within a couple of years of Joel, if l've missed anything please let me know notes: oh look what I managed to whip up! Joel was on the brain and I was thinking of these two so I just let things flow- needed a break from Dave I guess. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her continued support and help as I worked through this— love you!! This writer supports Palestine and does not share or support the views of tlou creator. series masterlist | previous | next

Contentment blooms somewhere deep within you. It fills in every fractured part of you that’s been lost and forgotten for so long. It brings a sense of peace, a feeling that you’ve searched for through bleak and uncertain times.

There’s a twinge of guilt that starts to prick at you, shame at how quickly familiarity has settled in. Less than 24 hours ago, your life had shattered on that hillside. Leaving you broken and left to figure out how to move forward with little hope of ever finding placidity of any sort. Only to seemingly be put back together after stepping foot into this new place, reacquainted with your old life. For it to be ripped apart again. 

You decide to focus on the stillness that bleeds through the morning air. Focus on how sleep came with ease as you settled into bed, far easier than it should have— has been for years. Focus on the way the sunlight catches the tiny dust particles that have been floating in front of the bedroom window for the last hour, each one on its own lofty path. Focus on the warmth that radiates from Joel as he still sleeps soundly next to you. His body instinctively found yours in the night— after all this time, he still fit perfectly against you. 

Joel. Your Joel. Alive and here with you. 

Your mind tries to replay every detail that has led you to this conclusion, replaying that reunion over and over. A happenstance of pure luck that you’re here, laying in the arms of your husband. 

A second chance? But why? Even as you will yourself to revel in the beauty of reconnecting with Joel, your heart still fights to grieve— Steve… Sarah. 

“Whatcha dream about?” A question you haven’t heard in two decades, Joel’s voice low and laced with sleep as his lips brush over that little spot behind your ear. 

It transports you back to a time where mornings together were sacred and unhurried. The sun barely pours through the opening in the curtains, still enough darkness to remain entangled and unbothered by the day's menacing agenda. Joel’s warm body spooning you from behind, his leg anchored between yours, a heavy arm securing you to him. 

Whatcha dream about? Was his good morning-love you-how did you sleep? He’d listen intently as you spoke about the wild imagery that filled your mind through the night. Whether it was a silly little blip of a dream or some drawn out story that had you dissecting its meaning far longer than your mornings allowed, Joel was fully invested. Humming along as he absorbed the details, only interrupting in the form of feather light kisses he strategically placed on the little spot behind your ear, the crook of your neck and slope of your shoulder. 

In turn, you always asked him the same. What dreams graced Joel Miller's brilliant mind? And he always responded the same, I don’t need to dream when I have you. 

“About that one summer, I think Sarah was 8, maybe 9. We decided to have that barbecue, and invited all the neighbors over.” Joel’s nose gently slides over your ear, his forehead resting against the side of your head. “Sarah was in heaven with that slip n slide she begged us to get once the heat finally hit. We had to beg all the kids to take a break so we could fill them up with hotdogs and chips— then they were right back at it again. I remember a few of them cried when their parents told them it was time to leave, but Sarah being so sweet told them they could come back again the following weekend.” 

Joel’s arm tightens around you as you talk, soaking in the memory he so vividly remembers. Sitting together on the blanket you had laid out on the lawn, tucked into his side as you both sipped on ice tea while you watched Sarah and the remaining few neighborhood kids, hyped up on soda and popsicles, splashing down the plastic water slide until the sun finally dipped below the back fencing. 

“That was the same weekend Tommy thought he was invincible. Made it a whole two slides before he was hollerin’ like a baby and I was drivin’ his dumbass to the urgent care.” You can feel Joel grinning as he recalls his own recollection of that day, little puffs of air hitting your neck followed by a singular kiss— his lips hesitate briefly, lingering just enough to not make you uneasy, but enough to convey the love he still holds for you. 

“Yeah— I can’t remember if it was the blonde or the redhead he was trying to impress that time. He got her number either way,” you add on. Joel’s light hearted laugh doesn’t go unnoticed, you smile at the sound as a single tear plunges into existence, rolling down your cheek and falling to the cotton pillowcase below. 

Tommy. 

“Tommy—“ You gasp, your stomach drops at the notion of Joel losing his brother. Turning in his arms so you're facing him, Joel’s eyes fluttering open at the sensation of you lightly brushing over his patches of grey whiskers . “Tommy. I— he’s…”

“He’s alive.” Joel’s expression is soft as he says it, his heavy lids lifting to take all of you in, grateful that this wasn’t some ruthless dream his mind was torturing him with. 

“What— Tommy’s alive? Where is he?”

“Here. He’s kind of in charge— always wanted make a name for himself somehow. Him and Maria actually put this whole place together.” His heart nearly gives out seeing your face light up. 

Joel takes advantage of the proximity, really taking in every detail of you in this morning light. He’s not surprised how even as the world shifted into darkness, you still managed to emerge into this season of life so gracefully. Noting how so much of you has changed, in gradual ways he wishes he could have witnessed first hand, but you’re still you— even more beautiful than he remembered. 

“Maria— She’s Tommy’s wife?” You ask, softly laughing as your mind begins to connect the dots to when she had mentioned you would be staying in her brother in law's house and elated Tommy had found himself such a strong woman to settle down with. 

“Yeah. Maria invited us over for dinner— whenever you feel up to it.

“Mmhmm. Yeah, I’d like that.”

You watch your fingers trace over Joel’s golden skin, still soft but slightly matured with age. Their curiosity produces tiny goosebumps as you reacquaint yourself with each tiny freckle and ridges of his chest. 

Joel’s own fingers dance over the hem of the shirt you're wearing. There’s hesitation at first, bloodshed and sacrifice embedded into every creased line, every rigid callus he’s collected. The weight of them is too rough and repulsive to share with you. But you don’t notice the way they’re marked with flaws gained through surviving and enduring. His progress becomes less reluctant as he soothes over the sliver of exposed skin on your hip, resisting his own temptation actively burning through him. 

“Did you and Tommy come here together?” 

“We went to find you, but the hospital was empty by the time we got there— just assumed, you not bein’ there meant that you were…” Dead. “We left Texas, eventually made our way up north to the Boston QZ— taken in by Tess and her crew— had us smuggling. Tommy being Tommy, was fed up with it, you know how he gets. So he left, joined the Fireflies before finding Maria and settling here.”

It’s condensed. Leaving out how the obscure nature of this world had hardened him into a depleted shell of a man. He knows it will eat away at him, keeping it from you. Though for the time being, it’s a burden he’s willing to carry. 

“We kept in touch for some years after through the radio but then he stopped contactin’ me. Tess n’ I decide to go find him— how we got the girl.” 

“Ellie?” You pull your head back and settle onto your pillow, watching as Joel’s face morphs through a multitude of emotions as he speaks. 

“Yeah, Ellie. After Tess— she was bit— I had to save who I could and keep movin’. We finally made it here, Ellie and I. She’s a spitfire that girl. I was such an asshole to her too, but she never gave up on me— think she saved me more than she realizes.” 

“Ellie mentioned her yesterday, Tess. You two were— partners?” 

“We— she and I were— we—“ Joel finds it hard at this moment to put an exact label on what they were, especially when explaining it to you, his wife.

It’s evident Joel harbors the same guilt as you. The two of you navigating a new life apart, your hearts seeking refuge in this destroyed world. You can see it, the shame slowly stitching its way into Joel’s features. How it pains him to verbalize it to you. To admit to something that in a different setting, your old life with him, would rip you apart.  

“Joel, it’s fine— whatever you both meant to each other. We were apart, not knowing the other was alive. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” You pause briefly. You let your own words sink in. Steve still heavily in your peripheral thoughts. 

This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?

Steve’s last moments with you, a premonition of sorts. This is your starting over. Here. Back together with Joel. A man you’ve held in your heart during the darkest of times for so long. 

“There was— I wasn’t alone either.” Joel's quiet but lends you his full attention, giving you the impression you don’t need to explain or justify anything either. “He was bit right before we got here.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

There’s a lull in the conversation. The room is quiet as you both bask in each other’s touch. The inevitable of what’s been left unsaid hanging over you both like an ominous cloud of dread. Joel is already preparing himself for what you’re expecting to hear. Your heart prepares itself for the inevitable of what you want to know. 

You swallow the lump that’s settled in your throat. “Was she here— did Sarah come here with you?” Your fingers stilling over a familiar scar on his shoulder that you’ve traced over a hundred times in the past. 

“Eve— we don’t have to talk about this today.” Not really sure if it’s for your benefit or his— perhaps both. 

“Joel— please.” Your voice cracks ever so slightly, lifting your gaze to his, tears already burning your lash line. 

He falters. Considering the caliber at which you have lost already, his heart begins to construct walls. Solid and impervious to the reality that’s haunted him for so long. Locking it away as he always does, suppressing the pain over and over. But as you look at him with your eyes glossed over, ignoring the subject isn’t an option anymore. Not with you. Not with the woman who gave him his purpose, his life— his babygirl. 

“No. She didn’t.” He releases a heavy sigh. “She— it was the first night of the outbreak—“ His voice trails off when he sees you’ve figured out the rest, nodding as your own tears silently overflow. 

Joel’s breath hitches. Reliving the incident through your eyes has what is left of his heart shattering against his chest.

Fail her. Again and again. 

You feel it in your bones. A hurt so deep it feels unbearable. Beyond any capacity you think you can handle. It splinters and forks out, penetrating every layer of your being. 

Joel wraps his arm around you, seeking a closeness he’s longed for in your arms. 

You cling to him desperately. Trembling as your hearts fuse together, reinforcing a love that’s managed to withstand lost time. Picking up where you both left off— 21 years ago. 

*

It’s some hours later. Tears dried and breathing settled. The heat radiating from the window warms the bedroom a few degrees above the morning chill. 

Shuffling coming from downstairs wakes Joel. Pots and pans clanging about, alerts Joel that Ellie’s grudge against him was short lived, for now at least, especially since it seems as though hunger has struck. He knows he’ll have to face her sooner than later, snuff out any remaining teenage rage still actively smoldering.

A glimmer of light refracts off the window pane, collecting in the tiny diamond nestled in the center of the ring on your left hand that’s resting on his chest. 

It draws him in. Like a moth to a lit flame, mesmerized by the sight, needing to consume its beauty wholly. His fingers fidget with the dainty gold band, again struck by how you still felt compelled to hold true to the vows you both shared, evident in the way you're still wearing it. 

Joel’s contemplation of the ring pulls you from the edge of sleep. The stammering of his heart, wavering somewhere between a nervousness or exultant leveled rhythm, is the first sound you audibly recognize as your eyes take in the rest of the room. 

“You’re still wearing it.” Joel's voice rumbles through his rib cage against the walls of his chest. 

“Hmm?” Your sleep addled mind absorbing and deciphering to its best ability. 

He lifts your hand, thumb running over your most treasured possession. Your fingers splay out above where you both still lay in Joel’s bed, cotton sheets kicked away, neither of you willing to let go of the other. 

“Yeah— kept me going when I didn’t have any reason to.” 

The watch still wrapped around his wrist doesn’t go unnoticed. Its face no longer resembles the pristine condition it once had. The arms frozen in place. A time forever displayed as such. The cause of its destruction is not of importance right now— another time. 

“Wait— I have something.” It’s all you say before you extract yourself from Joel’s arms. “My bag.”

Joel sits up alongside you, pointing to the corner of the room. Your tattered leather bag slumped on the floor next to the wooden dresser. 

Your tired legs carry you to your belongings on the other side of the room. The floorboards cool beneath your feet during the short distance it takes to grab the bag and haul it back to the bed where Joel rests propped against the headboard. The mattress dips as you climb back in, reclaiming the space next to him. 

Joel watches as you sift through the opening, in search of something hidden within the bag’s contents, in a spot only known to you. 

A small smile breaks across your face the second your fingers clasp around the small item. 

“I made it back to the house after some time— had to see if I could find you. It was sitting in its usual spot in our bedroom. It’s been with me ever since.”

Your fingers slowly unfurl, revealing a simple gold band resting in your palm. “I believe this belongs to you.” 

Everything stills as you watch Joel take in the sight of his wedding. Find it hard to discern what he’s feeling at this moment. His relaxed features now clouded by sadness and confusion, causing you to second guess your intentions for wanting him to have it back at this time. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want it right now— or ever. I know this is all still a lot to take in for both of us. So I understand if you don’t. I just—“ 

“No— No, Eve. I do. I definitely do want it.”

It fits back where it was intended to be with ease. The metal intense the second it makes contact with your skin, Joel’s large hands cradling your face as he delivers a gentle kiss of gratitude to you. 

“Thank you. For keeping it safe for me.” He says softly against your smile. “Forever mine.”

“Forever yours.”

*

Joel’s moving about, pulling clothes from over stuffed drawers, dressing himself for the day. You're occupied on the edge of the bed, unpacking the remaining items from your bag in preparation to find permanence in this space Joel calls home. He’d mentioned the idea of you living here with him, giving you the option of taking his room for yourself while he camped out in the living room, which you turned down immediately. You had just gotten him back, and you wanted it to stay that way. So you agreed to stay permanently in his room, under the condition that he would be in it too. 

The bed shifts when Joel sits next to you, groaning as he leans down to pull on and lace up his scuffed work boots. 

“What all you got in there?” Joel’s focus oscillates between you and his hands working at his worn laces, watching you empty 21 years worth of life that’s been crammed into the small space. 

“Pad of paper, a few books, some maps, some first aid equipment, a change of clothes that desperately needs to be cleaned.” He listens to you intently, the bag deflating as you pull each item, inspecting it then strategically organizing them on the bed for the time being, glancing over when you hear Joel chuckling as you rattle off one thing after the next. “Some other random things I’ve collected over the years.”

Everything accounted for, you toss your bag to the side. It hits the floor with a muffled thud in front of Joel’s boots. You miss the small folded paper that slips onto the patterned rug that lays beneath the bed. 

“This somethin’ of importance?” Joel asks, hold the paper between two fingers. 

“Not sure. Might just be some trash.” Taking it from him, promptly unfolding it for further consideration. 

It’s a letter. Not one of your own, although it’s directly addressed to you. Your eyes flit over every word. Then once more. And then again. Picking up on key words each read through. 

Eve… Genevieve… Jackson… Radio… Joel… Bit… I’ll be waiting for your letter… I love you… 

“What is it?” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh, your silence slowly becoming worrisome as you stare at the paper, its edges crinkled in your grip. 

“Joel— what’s your job here?” Your voice cracks in the air. 

“Patrol mainly. Took over the radio sometime ago. Help out here and there— wherever I can. Why?” His thumb strokes over your leg, a subtle mixture of coaxing and grounding, equally preparing himself for whatever it is that you’ve just happened upon. 

Each droplet hits the paper with a sharp plunk. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

The words blurring, squeezing your eyes shut tightly, releasing the tears all at once. 

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. 

“Eve— what is it?”

“You helped guide Steve and I here—“

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 11!!

Okay so I had Life being Life, then a bit of Writer's Block (sort of), then a bit of a hangover, BUT I GOT IT DONE. So here we go.

Beginning || Previous || Next

************

When you wake up the next morning, you once again find Anathema sitting at the large dining table surrounded by her books and tools. This time, though, Aziraphale and Crowley are with her. Aziraphale has his tiny glasses on and is flipping through a book, a cup of tea next to him, no doubt cold. Crowley is on his phone, and you can hear the sound effects of Candy Crush from here. He has a mug in front of him too, but it’s steaming and smells of coffee.

“Good morning,” Anathema says to you.

“Morning!” You respond, heading into the kitchen. Here, you can see that someone has bought a box of bagels, and you help yourself to one and make a coffee before returning to the dining room and having a seat across from Anathema.

“So,” You say, taking a bite out of your bagel (dear Reader, I personally am imagining just eating it like a donut because I can), “How are the readings coming?”

“Well,” Anathema starts, “I got some vague vibrations yesterday and I have a theory.”

“Oh?”

“The vibrations were very faint, mind you, but I think they were coming from the southwest. So I’m going to try going to that edge of the city today and try again. With any luck I’ll have a better idea of where we’re traveling to by tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” You reply

“Thanks! Aziraphale is going to go with me.”

“And I am not,” Crowley says definitively. You smirk behind your coffee mug.

“Still sulking over yesterday, are we?” You ask him, trying your best to imitate his eyebrow.

“No. It just sounds boring.”

“Well we could hang out today,” You suggest brightly. Crowley makes a noise that is non-committal and mono-syllabic. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Aziraphale offers in place of Crowley, “Perhaps you can find us a car to rent. I have a feeling that we will be leaving the city soon, and we won’t want to be walking will we?” He chuckles to himself, and you nod in agreement.

“Perfect,” You say with a smile as you finish off your breakfast.

----------------

“So!” You start casually as the pair of you wander down the street, “What mischief are we going to get up to? Are we gluing coins to the sidewalk? Are we going to find someplace busy and just walk REALLY slowly? Take up both sides of the escalator? Oh! We could ride the bus and request every stop without ever getting off!”

Crowley stops walking and looks at you. His eyebrow has practically merged with his hairline.

“Is that what you lot think I do?”

“Well, uh...basically yes,” You reply uncertainly. Just as you’re starting to wonder if you should be re-evaluating everything you know about how Crowley operates, he smirks with a satisfied hum.

“Good. Glad to know my finer talents are appreciated somewhere.”

Oh he has no idea. You decide not to inflate his ego too far. Yet.

“So what do you want to do?”

Crowley produces a bag of frozen peas from nowhere. A light bulb goes off in your brain.

“Oh! Ducks!”

“Ducks.”

And so you head for Central Park.

--------------

Finding the ducks doesn’t take too long. Neither does emptying the bag of frozen peas. In the end, you both find a bench and have a seat. It feels strangely like you’re filling in for Aziraphale.

“So what happened yesterday with Anathema?” You ask after a while.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he replies, shifting around on the bench. Alright, enough of this. You turn to stare at him.

“What do I mean, okay. I mean that you spent two days running around like an unsupervised kid, spend one afternoon with Anathema, and suddenly when I literally give you permission to be a mischievous shit, all you want to do is feed the ducks.”

It almost looks like he’s chewing on something. Words maybe, you figure. Maybe he feels that if he chews them enough, they’ll come out easier. He must realize it doesn’t work like that because after a few seconds he answers your question.

“She may have mentioned that my having too much fun might bring the Metatron back around. Back to Aziraphale. Especially since he didn’t seem to have much trouble finding you in Heathrow. He probably knows where we are.”

Oh. That’s actually a fair point. You take a minute and think about it.

“Yeah, he probably does, but I don’t think he’s going to try anything just yet. I mean, his tactics are straight out of the Fairytale Villain Playbook. So he’s probably going to hold back for a bit to see if I start to crack and then go back to him.”

“Book Girl still has a point, though. Don’t wanna bring him out before we have to.”

“Okay,” You pause for a minute, considering the obvious compromise that Crowley doesn’t seem to have touched on yet. But then again, sometimes you just need someone to give you permission – even if it’s something you already know. “So how about we don’t have too much fun, but we have just a little bit of fun. Like we go souvenir shopping and buy a t shirt with small change. Keep stuff in moderation, yeah?”

“Hm,” Crowley leans back farther if that’s even possible, considering your proposition. “I do somewhat fancy one of those I Heart NY shirts.”

“Same actually. Did you create those by any chance? Just curious.”

His smile is toothy and smug. Instead of answering, he lifts himself off the bench.

“Come on then, Reader,” he says, “Let’s buy some souvenirs.”

“Reader?” You answer, getting up and following him.

“Well what else am I gonna call you? You keep talking about how much you read and I already have Book Girl. Need to keep all you straight somehow don’t I?”

----------------

Not very long afterwards, you find yourself wandering around the city again, this time sporting I Heart NY merch and cheap star-shaped sunglasses. Crowley has swapped out his normal shades for a pair of shutter shades. A couple of times now you’ve had to grab his arm to keep him from walking into poles. And once, he nearly sauntered his way down a flight of stairs that he was certain had come out of nowhere. He still hasn’t switched back to his normal sunglasses.

“Okay what about Monopoly?” You ask him.

“Nope. That was an American who made that I think. No idea who it even was.”

“Mario Kart?”

Crowley snorts. “No.”

“What about fake pockets?”

“If anyone asks, yes. But otherwise, actually, no.”

“What about...multi-level marketing schemes?”

“I…what? No. But I definitely told Hell that I did.”

“Okay well then what did you actually invent?”

Crowley stops and looks at you through those ridiculous shutter shades. He smirks like the Cheshire Cat as he answers.

“As little as physically possible.”

“So you did basically nothing, and just took credit for everything?”

“YuP.” He pops the plosive at the end with a self-satisfied head-waggle.

“Brilliant.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” You turn and give him a hug. Sometimes, you just need to hug your demon.

“Ngk. What’s this?” He’s clearly uncomfortable, so you let go. He doesn’t say anything else about the hug, but he buys you an ice cream.

And he pays with pennies.

----------

The hotel room is quiet when you both return. After a quick search, you find that Aziraphale and Anathema aren’t back yet. That’s not...a great sign. But you’re determined not to panic.

“I’ll order some room service. You want anything?”

“Nah, I’ll wait.”

So he’s worried too. Alright. You place your order and turn on the tv. You try to care about the Big Bang Theory reruns, but you can’t relax just yet. Both of you sit in quiet tension until the door finally opens to Anathema and Aziraphale. Their moods are joyful, and you feel the dark cloud just lift away.

“Hey guys,” You say, “I just ordered some room service. I wasn’t sure when you two were coming back.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale practically sings, “I’ll get the menus. I’m certain they won’t mind adding on to the order.” He leaves the room. Anathema’s face is bright.

“I found out where we need to go. Did you find us a car?”

Oh. Whoops.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 3/16

Hangster. Explicit. Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

Odd year = Bradley's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

2005/2006 2007

2008 – Jake

                Flight school.

                Four years at USNA and now he’s back in Texas, the familiarity seeping into him like a homecoming and part of him cannot believe he made it into flight school. Not that he’ll let anyone else think he had any doubt, but he is inwardly fist pumping, outwardly trying to pretend it’s no big deal. He doesn’t care if it comes off smug, he does feel a little smug, that he obviously good enough to have been selected. Damn it feels good. And also such a relief.

                He’s good enough.

                He wants to share it with Nick. Doesn’t of course. While he trusts Nick with pretty much every little piece of vulnerability when it’s related to his sexuality and experience in that arena, his career is shaping up to be another huge part of his identity and he doesn’t need help or guidance from a guy on a website on how to best work on this aspect of his life. He feels like he’s got this one. After a few months though he decides to share, in a vague way, because he’s been getting comments from his instructors.

                Approval.

                He’s doing well.

>>You ever accomplish something that people didn’t think you could do?

>>That even you maybe didn’t think you could do?

>>HA.

>>Yes.

>>Feels fucking amazing to prove them wrong.

                Jake grins at the screen, wants to tell him about how amazing it is, being in the air. How much he loves it, the rush of the pressure pushing him back into the seat as he takes off. The

>>I got into my first choice of programme. So yeah.

>>Does feel pretty good.

>>Well done. Proud of you.

>>Thanks.

>>Think you maybe need to believe in yourself more.

>>Maybe.

>>My parents didn’t.

>>Don’t.

                He hasn’t talked about his parents with Nick. Talking about your parents generally doesn’t come up when your jerking off with another guy online, but they talk about a lot of different stuff now and it fits with this right now. He feels like Nick might get it.

>>I came out to them and they kicked me out.

>>Oh shit. I’m sorry.

>>I mean, it’s not a competition but my parents are dead so I can understand that feeling of loss I guess? Like they should be around to support me, but they aren’t.

>>Sucks more for you I think. They’re alive and are just bigots.

>>I was lucky to already have a place to go.

>>I’m extra proud of you.

                Pensacola is a different beast than boat school, everyone seems to be a little smug that they made the cut to be there, and Jake lets himself absorb the culture. He tries sleeping with a woman only to find that he can apparently have worse sexual experiences than his first time with a man, and of course he finds himself messaging Nick.

>>Bad sex with a man is still preferable than bad sex with a woman.

>>You give in to peer pressure and hook up huh?

>>How did you know?

>>Been there, done that. Got the tshirt.

>>As a gay man I have to tell you that even bad sex with a man rates above mediocre sex with a woman.

>>Why do people care so much where you want to stick your dick?

>>I like that rhyme. And I have no fucking clue. Mystery. It’s not like gay people haven’t always existed.

>>I’ve got a friend, female friend, who knows I’m gay, and she let’s me use her as a beard sometimes. Everyone thinks we have an on-again off-again fuck-buddies type thing going on.

>>So you’re still not out to people.

>>Nope. Would make work impossible so I just –

>>Hide in plain sight.

>>Huh. I wonder if I could get one of my friends to cover for me.

>>A lot less women in the military. Good luck I guess?

>>Well. I think one of my friends might just lie for me. Tell others that he saw me leaving with a hot chick or something. He’s the best wingman.

                He stares at the message, wishes he could call it back.

                Delete it.

                It’s too close to home.

                Wingman.

>>Definitely need a good wingman if you’re planning on cruising. You got bigger balls then me if you’re going to try and do it while you’re not on leave.

>>Are you sure that’s safe?

>>It’s not like they’re following me and putting cameras in rooms. I just need to be careful. Although so not worth it most of the time. But it would be kind of nice to have the option if it did present itself.

>>Yeah, I’m sure guys are just falling into your lap in the military.

>>I mean, they might be and I’m just not picking up the signs. They’re probably so repressed they wouldn’t be any good anyway.

>>I’ll leave that for you to find out.

>>Not sure if I should be wishing you luck or telling you to be careful.

                Jake isn’t sure either. He probably not going to risk it.

…            …            …

                It’s not always possible for them to have instant communication. He gets interrupted sometimes, or Nick isn’t available for days at a time, sometimes weeks, and his own schedule is erratic. However he’s always had time, made time, to chat with him since they found each other and he doesn’t have so many close friends that he can afford to ignore one.

                “What are you always doing on your laptop?” Javy asks and Jake feels like time freezes around him for a split second. Javy is one of the few people he’d count as a friend, his easy-going nature dealing with Jake’s prickliness effortlessly, seemingly patient and just waiting for Jake to come around. They were at USNA together and it wasn’t until they shared all their third- and second-class summers together that Jake had thought that maybe they could be friends.

                “Talking with a friend. He travels a lot.”

                He feels like it’s not actually a stretch of the truth, because he’s figured out that Nick moves around, the times he can talk inconsistent, meaning different times zones. He’s always assumed that Nick is American, but now he knows that the website they’re using to chat is actually based in England, and for all he knows Nick could be anywhere in the world.

>>Are you American?

>>Will you stop talking to me if I say no?

>>Of course not.

>>I’m shaking my head at you. You’re meant to be all patriotic being a member of our military. Shouldn’t be communicating with the enemy.

>>You just called it our military. Pretty sure you’re American.

>>Caught out. Yeah. I travelled around a lot as a kid. Tennessee, California, Virginia, Maryland and even Texas. Who knows, we could have walked past each other and never even known.

>>Yeah. We could have. That would be a weird coincidence.

                “You know, if you ever want to tell me something, I’m pretty good at keeping secrets.”

                Jake’s head snaps up so fast he’s surprised there isn’t an accompanying sound.

                “What?”

                “Just. Uh. I know if there was something, you can’t tell me. But if you did, and I’m not asking you to, but if you did, I wouldn’t be letting anyone else know. No telling on my part, that is.”

                He blinks.

                Holy shit.

                That’s pretty much Javy saying he knows, or at least suspects, that Jake is… something other than straight.

                “Just, once second. Just let me say bye…”

>>I think I’m about to come out to a guy who is my best friend in real life, because you’re my best friend in not-real life, plus we have sex and I do not want to ever have sex with J, but uh… I think I might be sick.

>>I’ll talk to you soon.

                His conversation with Javy goes around in circles for a little bit, Javy not willing to ask outright, and Jake unprepared to speak the truth; terrified to voice it. Then Javy gets fed up, places his hands on Jake’s shoulders and just stares at him, expression serious.

                “Jake. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother. There is nothing, nothing,” he stresses, “that would make me stop loving you as my brother and best friend. So, if in some hypothetical world you felt brave enough to tell me that you were… gay, then it wouldn’t change anything for me. I just. I got your back no matter what okay?”

                Jake can’t form words, grabs Javy into a tight hug, he’s biting his lip so hard it hurts, might even be drawing blood and he nods.

                “Thank you.”

                “Any time man. You want to go shoot some pool?”

                Jake lets out a shaky breath and nods again.

                They spend several hours together, in which Javy seems to want to really impress upon Jake that nothing is going to change between them. He still uses his body to shove Jake out of the way when he shows Javy up at pool, still slaps his ass in a vain attempt to distract him while playing darts, grabs them beers and doesn’t pull his fingers away when they accidentally brush like Jake is somehow going to take that as a sign of something more. He can have friends that know and they won’t hate him.

                It’s a revelation.

…            …            …

>>How did it go?

>>I’m kind of worried about you.

>>Hope you haven’t done anything stupid.

>>Or been beaten up.

>>Dishonorable discharge.

>>Fuck Jas, please tell me you’re okay.

                Jake stares at the flood of messages and feels touched, but also a little hysterical, because none of those worse case scenarios are going to happen. He trusts Javy with his life, he can definitely trust him with knowing.

>>I’m okay. Sorry.

>>It was fine. He had pretty much guessed and we talked about it. He’s the best.

>>After you.

>>Glad to know I haven’t been replaced.

>>I appreciated you for the orgasms.

>>Oh. Okay. Putting me back in my place.

>>Prefer you to put me in my place.

>>Really now? You in the mood huh?

>>Yeah.

>>Fuck. This is awful timing. I’ve got to leave in like five minutes.

>>Can’t take care of you like I want to.

>>That’s okay. You can go out and do what you need to do, and while you’re out you can think about me, jerking off as I type out what I want to do to you.

>>Unfair.

>>Hot though.

>>Shit. I’ve really got to go. I look forward to reading whatever you leave me.

                Jake grins, a little nervous. He’s gotten better at this, anything he does regularly for a few years becomes better, but he doesn’t know if it’s good. Not without Nick offering his constant feedback. He always finds what they talk about together the best, but Nick has left him plenty of messages that are just descriptions of what he wants and likes that Jake wants to return the favor.

>>I want to go down on you, suck you off until you come. I want to kneel in front of you and take my time, learn the taste and smell of you. The texture of your skin under my tongue and fingers.

>>I want to do it while I’m in my uniform, because that feels taboo you know? Want you to rub the head of your dick over my lips.

>>Want you naked so I can touch everywhere.

>>I start off slow, a little cautious because I want you to fuck my face, but we’re going to need to build up to that, stretch out my mouth and throat a little, let me gets used to the feel of you in my mouth and throat.

>>I really want to do this. I’m hard just thinking about it. Like the idea of your hand on my head, just guiding me, think I’d enjoy fingernails scraping my head.

>>I want to do this with a guy with no condom, I want to taste the skin and salt. I want that trust as well.

>>I’d trust you.

2009

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 12

Sadara woke...well she wasn't exactly entirely sure where she'd slept, to be honest. It was all fuzzy. Somehow or the other the first thing she was doing on waking was sitting in the stairway outside her apartment. She stood, groaning, walked up the stairs and into the apartment with a barely-tamed hangover headache.

Walking into the apartment she saw Jiub, who was seated in front of the TV watching some sort of game show. He looked up at her--and gave a mad grin.

"Don't say it," Sadara groaned, raising one hand. "Don't...don't say it."

"Say what?" Jiub smirked now. "How about instead of it I say something like 'good morning, slut?'"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You walk like you got fucked to oblivion and back," he laughed, "Who'd you leave with, anyway?"

"Jolene. The big guy. I remember last night in bits and pieces, but by the time we--you don't want the details, I know. The fucked like a...like it was his last chance. A couple of times. Cuddler, too." She gave a soft sigh. That had been wonderful, a part she remembered well. Silence, warmth, skin contact...she hadn't had anything like that in ages.

"The big ones always are."

"Thank goodness the hangover's not that bad. Headache's not bad, memory's a bit fuzzy, but..." Sadara raised her left hand and waved it a bit absently.

"Holy fucking shit." Jiub's voice turned deadpan, "Where did you get that ROCK?"

"Rock?"

He gestured to her hand, and Sadara looked - seeing not the moon-and-star, but an intricately carved ebony ring studded with scarlet rubies all over. Boxy, with a spike at the top...a spike whose tip was the biggest ruby she'd ever seen.

"Well, that explains why I haven't been hearing Nerevar..." Sadara's face sunk into her palms, "Jolene kept insisting on spending money on a bunch of things. Wooing me or whatever. But why he'd give me his ring--I must've swapped with him or something..."

"Check your pockets," Jiub said, "Maybe you'll get some hints? Hope to the nine you didn't buy it from a pawn shop on credit."

"Good idea."

She emptied her pockets. There were several receipts - one from the casino, cashing out her winnings, which were (somehow?) in her Venmo account. Another from a restaurant, including two meals and a 'giant' sweetroll. Then there was one from some hotel, and another from some bar she'd never heard of. Then a ticket stub from a theater. Jiub made several comments as each one popped out.

"350 drakes? Nice work...some people have all the luck."

"Dude took you to see Cats, he must've been serious."

"Twenty bucks for a drink? He must've taken you to a tourist trap. Sure you didn't pay for these?"

"I'm sure, I checked." Sadara sighed, "He was a lot of fun, though, wouldn't mind seeing him again. Sweet guy...kinda shy, too, like he hadn't been out in ages."

She pulled one final receipt out. At the top was marked SURAN WEDDING CHAPEL.

"Oh, no..."

At the bottom was pinned a small wrinkly side picture of her and Jolene--him with the bandage on his forehead she still vaguely remembered. Both of them were smiling, and there was a wonderful softness in his eyes, a warmth she could feel even just looking at.

"And we were both wasted," Sadara gave a slight laugh, "I don't even know his name--"

"You don't even know YOUR name, you mean." Jiub gave his own laugh. "You're a married woman now."

"How the hell am I supposed to find him again? I can't just turn up to every party hoping he's there...like I don't have enough problems."

"The Sixth House folks probably won't take kindly to you getting hitched to some random guy but...if we can kill Almalexia, however temporarily...we can handle anyone that decides to make trouble."

"Including Dagoth Ur himself?" she questioned.

"See previous answer." Jiub shrugged. "Give me enough skooma and I could do anything."

"Sooner or later we're both going to have to get sober." Sadara sighed. She had to admit he had a good idea. A ring this expensive, surely someone knew whose it was, or would be the person missing it.

The moment she posted the picture and question, a new thought came.

"Fuck, what if they think I stole it?"

"Just mention the chapel," Jiub said, "Say you got drunk married. That should put anyone with half a brain off."

She shared her own post and added that, and then sat back. "I guess now I wait."

"Guess so." she paused. "How was your night? I never asked."

"Good enough. Came back early, after the ordinators showed up at Greg's. Spent half the night losing to some legendary spammer on Pokemon Showdown, then beat him with some strategy I'd seen a couple times before. Guy was so salty he got himself banned."

Sadara laughed. "You beat him with a troll team, didn't you? ...what was that one you were looking up a while back? The FEAR strategy?"

"Something like that." Jiub smirked. "Nothing better than collapsing some chud's ego with a semi-elaborate plan that makes him think I'm barely trying."

"You'd be dangerous if you had any ambition."

"Ambition is how people get into trouble, and I have enough of that as it is." There was a pause. "Anyway, did you have any plans for lunch?"

-------------------

"You can't wear that in here."

Nibani said it the instant she saw the ring two nights later, when Sadara and Jiub walked through the door of the Waffle House.

"Well I'm sure as hell not leaving it at home, it's not mine, and it looks expensive," Sadara groaned. "I don't want to get into any more trouble if whoever it belongs to turns up wanting it."

"What do you mean, any MORE trouble?"

Jiub walked behind the counter and lit a cigarette. "Our girl here is now a married lady!"

"...and that's trouble? Did you marry a Temple priest?"

"Uh...well..." Sadara shook her head. "No. Not that I know of?"

"What do you MEAN, not that you know of?"

"I was...uh...pretty...well, no, REALLY drunk." Sadara shrugged, and got to work with some remaining dishes in the sink. "I wanted a rowdy night, you know, and I got it, but apparently a roll in the hay isn't ALL I got."

"You kids today--" Nibani sighed.

"We live in a world of shit, I'll take joy where I can find it." Sadara shrugged. "I'll keep the ring in my pocket while I'm here, problem solved."

"Do you remember anything about the fellow?"

"Aside from how big he was?" Sadara thought for a moment, and then realizing it could be taken differently than she intended, added, "Tall, I mean. He was...actually charming, in a sad wet cat kind of way. He seemed like he didn't get out much."

She really did want to see him again. Even if she was a rebound while he was getting over whoever he was bawling about, he'd been pretty nice. A good date, certainly...if a very drunk one.

(The picture had been slid into her wallet. It put a smile on her face when she glanced at it...no one had ever looked at her like that before.)

------------------------------

One week of relative silence passed. Dagoth Ur did not show once in that time, and neither did any of the sleepers they'd all become accustomed to seeing. Not so much as a like on Morrowtwitter. She would've been relieved, if that silence wasn't so worrying.

But there were, thankfully, other concerns.

Business was as slow as they'd ever seen it at the Waffle House.

At the end of a couple hours of nothing, the door opened. In walked a haggard looking Dunmer adventurer toting a big bag.

"Gods above, this has been a long journey. Give me some waffles and a large coffee," he said, "And tell me if you see anyone on the road that looks even vaguely like an ordinator."

"Steal something important?" Jiub asked. "It ain't much better up here. The armigers...they'll fuck you up too."

"Yeah, yeah. I went through the Ghostgate, but I don't think they...had gotten the memo yet. How, I don't know. There's a price on my head everywhere else. Don't know why I took this job."

"What job?" Nibani asked. "I don't want to deal with the armigers or the ordinators, it better only be moon sugar you're trafficking through here."

The dunmer laughed. "Yeah, I WISH it was only moon sugar, then maybe I wouldn't have all this shit on my head."

"What is it? I'm not gonna tell anyone, the Temple wants me dead anyway." Jiub, curious, walked on over to bring the waffles himself and so did Sadara, once she got the coffee.

It was ashes...and bones.

"Just bones?" Sadara asked.

"These aren't just any bones!" The dunmer said, "If they were...well, I'd still be in trouble, but not to this degree."

"Spill then. Whose are they?"

"Saint Nerevar's!"

"Now I KNOW you're fucking with us," Jiub said. He turned back to the grill. "If those were Nerevar's bones..."

"Look, if you don't believe me, that's fine. I just don't want to get caught by the ordinators with 'em."

"You don't wanna get caught by Dagoth UR with them," Sadara piped up. "You think the ordinators will be angry with you? That's nothing to--"

"Who the fuck do you think ASKED for these?"

"WHAT!" Nibani rushed forward, and the dunmer moved back in response. "You think to hand Nerevar's bones over to the SHARMAT?"

"I'm getting paid for it, so yes, I am!" the guy practically shouted, and being taller than Nibani, simply held the bag high up over her head. "He's desperate for them, apparently."

"Man's obsessed with Nerevar, always has been from what I hear," Sadara replied. "You might be helping out Morrowind by handing the bones over."

"How would that be helping Morrowind?" Nibani asked. "Delivering Nerevar into the hands of an enemy--"

"Dagoth Ur's not his enemy...at least, I don't think so. Not the way you're thinking. Uhm. You remember that tattoo I got a while back?"

"...yes...?"

"Vivec paid her to do it as a distraction. And it worked from what I saw. Man spent a long time staring at the fucking thing on Morrowtwitter."

If looks could kill, Sadara would have dropped where she stood.

"You got a tattoo. To tempt the Sharmat. What is WRONG with you?"

"I did it for money, alright? Vivec paid me to do it!" Sadara protested. "We needed a new fridge. We--it paid the rent!"

"Of all the foolish--you've put all of us in danger!" Nibani was positively screaming now. "You've gone and gotten yourself into a mess with this drunk marriage of yours. Suppose he shows up thinking you're still available, hmm? Imagine the damage he could do! Do you think of no one but yourself? The safety of Morrowind--the--the lives you endanger--"

"You've never been broke, have you?" Jiub spoke, but wasn't heard.

"Fuck this," Sadara burst out, "And fuck you."

She turned to the dunmer.

"I'll take the damn bones to Dagoth Ur, save you the trouble. The ordinators want me dead anyway. What else can I lose?"

At least HE would be happy to see her, and if she could produce the bones, so much the better. She could explain away the wedding as an accident. She'd heard Nerevar was prone to drunken brawls...so surely he'd understand.

It was nearly morning.

Sadara took the bones, left her apron, and headed out into the blight storm.

----------------------------

The walk to Dagoth Ur (the building) was a rather lengthy one, and she had to stop to ask ash zombies she'd normally pass by for directions. They seemed excitable when they saw her, and one even embraced her, making its characteristic gurgles and growls in a rather lighter way than she was used to.

"Yes--yes, thank you, that was a lovely hug, I'm glad you didn't forget how." She'd given it (him? she wasn't sure) a hug in return, and gotten some dried bittergreen petals out of its pocket in return. "Thank you."

The poor thing, she'd thought. How long had it been since they'd gotten a hug?

Her feet were aching and she had the distinct feeling it was a bad decision to offer to bring the bones this far.

But I've come this far...I might as well go the rest of the way.

Even in the blight storm she could see - the building was utterly enormous, palatial even, and she had as she had in the presence of other wealthy homes, the distinct feeling that she did not belong there. There were several sleepers outside, and when she explained what she was there for they let her in, giving her (she assumed for some odd reason of their own) a most hearty congratulations.

Sadara was directed to a side room (parlor, she reminded herself), and sat quietly, looking around the room. Sixth House tapestries, small portraits of House Dagoth members, furniture that looked centuries old...this place, she thought, this place was what would easily be called old money.

This wasn't just a house displaying its riches. This was wealth.

It took almost fifteen minutes for the door to finally open again, and Sadara stood up quickly when a Dunmer entered, flanked by two ash ghouls, one of whom announced him as "Dagoth Gilvoth."

He was relatively tall, and dressed in a fashion that reminded her vaguely of pictures of King Helseth. As if every mark of wealth needed to be shown, so those laying eyes did not doubt--

"So," he said coldly, with an icy gaze to match, "You have brought Lord Nerevar's bones."

"Yes, I--" Sadara started, but was cut off.

"I do not recall you being the one we commissioned to do that. Did you steal them?"

"Of course not. The man--was eager to get rid of them. Said the ordinators were after him...and I--well, I was free." The tone set her on edge, and the look didn't help. "I didn't steal shit."

"Mmhhmm. Vulgarity, as expected of one such as yourself. The bones, if you please."

Sadara quietly handed the bag over to one of the ash ghouls, who turned back and whispered something to Dagoth Gilvoth.

"Good. She didn't hold anything back, at least."

"Who the--I didn't TAKE anything, stop making assumptions!" she couldn't help but burst out.

"Really?" Gilvoth's tone slipped; it turned more snobbish. "Then I suppose you made that ring yourself?"

"The ring? Well--no, I woke up wearing it."

"Try harder with your lies, if you want people to believe them."

"I'm telling the truth. I woke up wearing it...a bit over a week ago. I went to Suran with someone, and...I...ah...married him. I still haven't figured out who he is, no one's got any answers for me. I assume you know who it is?"

"Know who it is!" Gilvoth laughed harshly. "You carry a Dagoth family heirloom and ask if I know who it is!"

"Then tell me," she said, trying to hold back the wave of--something. Dread? No. Or maybe yes. She was anxious, that was for certain. "Tell me whose it is. Tell me who I married. Wait--I have a picture. I assume it's one of you."

She took out the little picture from her wallet, and held it up for inspection.

Gilvoth's face shifted with a myriad of things, things Sadara couldn't quite pin down.

"That is the head of our Great House, Voryn Dagoth. Dagoth Ur."

Sadara paled. "I--I had no idea. If I had known--he was so different, I would never have thought..."

"You would never have married him had you known?"

"I didn't--well before, but--I didn't know there was more to him than the--the cult stuff."

Sadara sat back down. Her face sunk into her hands.

Of course. Of course. It was all so clear now. The sad song. The misery. The way he'd looked at her. The desperate cuddling.

Of COURSE the one time she'd ever had someone look at her like she'd hung the moon was because he thought of her as someone else!

"Cult stuff. We are trying to save Morrowind's very soul, and you call it cult stuff. I can see why--" A shift in tone again, and when she looked up, Gilvoth had looked away before speaking his next sentence. "--in any case, you have done all that is required of you. You may leave."

"I thought--given--won't there have to be some kind of talk about...well..." she raised her left hand to show the ring.

"You will return the ring, and you will leave. There will be no need for a talk of any kind, and certainly not with one like you. Now that we have Nerevar's bones, the mer himself may be revived."

That stony gaze turned back at her.

"Surely you understand it has always been Lord Nerevar that he wants? That that is the only reason he ever turned even a glance in your direction? You who have to show skin to keep his attention for any length of time? You, who carefully avoid accepting any overtures from our sleepers? You, who bring only scandal to House Dagoth?"

Sadara could not find words. She had been looked down on for being broke before, or being practical, but never to this degree. She expected to feel upset, maybe a stab of pain as she had before. But all she felt right now was anger.

"You don't even have the decency to pretend you care for him."

"I could have." The answer surprised them both. If she'd known there was more to Dagoth Ur than this cult he was running, she thought she'd have been a little more open to his...

"Hand over the ring and leave, before I have you removed," Gilvoth demanded.

She stood, pulled off the ring, and handed it to the other ash ghoul. Then backed away, and scuttled around to the door while facing Gilvoth.

"What in the blue blazes are you doing?" he questioned.

"You will remember my face," Sadara said, matching the chill of Gilvoth's tone, clenching her fist as she spoke. "Not my back. My face."

The words were not quite hers, and all but busted out of her. They seemed to surprise Gilvoth, but she didn't stay to hear anything he said.

------------------------------

u ok?

not really. Is the manager still pissed?

Like you wouldn't believe. idk what to tell you but I think you might've fucked yourself out of the job.

great. just great. I won't be home today anyway.

trip go that well?

I didn't get paid if that's what you were wondering. turns out it was dagoth ur I married. fml.

Spending the day?

no, they don't want me there. getting a room somewhere. i'll be by in the next few days. or not. I don't know. I need to fight something.

-------------------------------

I know you don't want to hear from me, but I thought I'd leave you a message anyway, before you start your new life with Nerevar at your side.

If I had known there was more to you than the religion you started, I'd have been more open to you to begin with. In Suran I saw a side of you I wanted to see more of. You were...I liked you. I liked the way you made me feel. I liked especially the smile I saw on your face when I looked at you.

I had a great time. I just wish it was me you wanted to be doing it with.

-----------------------

New post from LordNerevar -

Reunited and it feels so good ♥

[devilfic]

hi!!! it’s not very original but i’ve a request for a steve, rivals to lovers kind of scenario dhahdhs the idea of him constantly being shown up by a cool mc when he canonically cannot win fights is fucking funny to me

❝rival coworkers to lovers with steve harrington❞

pairing: steve harrington x coworker!gn!reader. cw: fluff, rivals to lovers, coworkers, workplace romance, steve is steveing. words: 1.9k.

I just think it would be SO funny if steve started a feud with you for employee of the month

it starts when steve realizes he needs a second source of income when his sweet ride starts breaking down on him and his parents decide that now is the right time to teach him some personal responsibility

robin as his best friend Obviously would find places to apply with him but between graduating and entering her hot lesbian summer era, she’s just gotta pat him on the cheek and wish him luck

there aren’t a lot of great options in hawkins, and since the mall got destroyed, he’s gotta scour smaller shops for places to work

but try as he might, his world-renowned Harrington Charm isn’t enough to land him a position (or at least not one that’ll pay for the repairs he needs on his car before he’s 30)

and it’s just as he’s starting to give up, spirit almost completely broken, that a lady in a boutique flags him down for how easy he is on the eyes

talking to him for like five minutes gives her all the reason she needs to practically shove an application into his hands for the new sales position at the boutique

the boutique for… clothes. women’s clothing. women’s underclothing

it’s a lingerie shop

it serves the ladies of hawkins and steve has to ask why he got hired instead of someone like. nancy or something

and all he gets back is “a compliment from a looker like yourself goes a long way in business, sweetheart”

and I mean. between folding stacks of lingerie and ringing up every hottie within a 10 mile radius… how could he resist :)

his main job is standing around and offering uncertain customers that little nudge to hand over the money

“that color is stunning, but you blondes can pull off anything. oh, you’re actually a natural brunette? I could’ve sworn with the way the light hits you… maybe you’re just this radiant all the time?”

“you really don’t wanna get that top? listen, I know the cut is a little *makes vague gestures* out of your comfort zone, but take it from a guy… it’ll drive your husband wild”

“oh, please diane. it’s your retirement! get a trip to the bahamas, drink a sex on the beach, treat yourself to something nice and get that set. you know you want to~”

god he’s INSUFFERABLY good at it

he’s just so personable and always knows just how much to push it

he’s also got a surprisingly good eye for fashion

he knows what colors suit warm and cool tones, what kind of cup style is most comfortable, how to pick flattering clothes for every body type

whenever robin visits and sees him in action she gets all starry-eyed at all the hot mamas that STEVE of all people gets to hang around

her poor gay heart is overwhelmed

she even begs him to get her a job at the store, any job at all. she’d mop walls and change doorknobs if it meant she could scope out cute ladies for a few hours a week

but steve wouldn’t let her work there anyway, even if it did mean he’d make employee of the month by default

he probably would be employee of the month by now too… if it wasn’t for you

you, who was in his graduating class and would have given a speech for valedictorian if you hadn’t gotten caught in a senior prank two weeks before the ceremony

you, who has been working at the store an entire year longer than he has

you, who could secure any sale without even trying

you, who, despite welcoming him with open arms on his first day, reminiscing about hawkins high even though you two had never had a full conversation a day in your lives, had this strange look in your eyes that steve just couldn’t shake

it was always there, teetering beneath your fluttering eyelashes as you did inventory

as you tidied the dressing rooms

as you lingered at the register, fingers tapping out an unnerving rhythm while you followed him around on the floor with your gaze

it took him his first shared shift with you to realize exactly what it was

"I don’t know, diane,” you’d whisper, slithering between the two of them with that knowing look on your face, “steve’s right about everything except the color; it won’t be nearly as sexy on you as the teal one. sex on the beach should be colorful, no? I mean the drink, of course. what do you think?”

and just like that, you swoop diane right off her feet and steal his entire sale within less than a minute

because you’re evil. you’re the devil. you’re employee of the month.

and goddamn it, steve harrington doesn’t have a lot going on for himself right now but being employee of the month at lace and vice™️ NEEDS to be one of them

and robin thinks this is the funniest shit she’s ever heard. she also suggests you two should just suck it up and suck face to get it over with

steve: I would NEVER suck their face. if and I said IF... I were ever going to do that—which I wouldn’t!—it would only be to take their breath away... in a murderous way, I mean. not like in a “I like them” way. cause I don’t. I don’t like them.

robin: I Know What You Are O.o

it sounds pathetic when he’s working a shift with her at family video because why wouldn’t it. it’s just another minimum wage job. no one their age would care this much. SHOULD care this much

steve usually wouldn’t care at all

he’s never cared about being a model employee at family video. hell, he didn’t even care about it at scoops ahoy

but every time you give him that smug little look, he cares just that little bit more

he sounds insane every time he tries to explain it to robin (and god forbid dustin when he dares to ask why steve looks so mopey all the time) but it’s like you’re deliberately targeting his ego. you know he preens like a peacock in a talent show every time someone falls for his charm

so the fact that his best bet, the one that got him this job in the first place, is under threat from you has his pretty little feathers all ruffled

after a few weeks of staying silent, he tries befriending you to see if that might help, turning his weapon on you

he calls you pet names that would make any one else in hawkins weak in the knees, holds the door for you when he times you coming in for your shift just right, turns that signature Harrington Charm up to 11

but you give him this knowing smile and throw it right back at him

(which, not gonna lie, it’s been a while since someone has made him blush like this and it’s really killing his reputation)

he then tries to ignore you, but the way you deliberately intercept his sales makes it damn near impossible

you’re always right around the corner, always hovering nearby

even when you’re not there, he feels like you are

in his head, making him nervous, thinking every voice with the same pitch might be yours

robin had taken to saying your name on their shared shifts just so that he’d fuck up whatever he was doing for shits and giggles

he even tried going against you head-to-head, but without fail, you beat him every single time

and if he didn’t think it was actually kinda hot he’d be way more pissed than he actually is

eventually, the tension grows so thick that steve thinks he might actually boil himself alive from the inside out

he’s seething with rage! inconsolable! hell hath no fury like a steven scorned-

and then the sweet young lady clutching a bralette to her chest for dear life between the two of you whispers, barely audibly, “do you guys need a minute?”

steve had completely forgotten he was supposed to be making a sale because you’d swooped in with your stupid pretty eyes and your stupid sultry voice and your stupid little grin and made him look like a whiny, blubbering fool. he was still red in the face with the mirror staring back at him

so he does what he should’ve done months ago. he grabs you by the arm and drags you to the break room for a “chat”

“alright, WHAT is your goddamn problem with me? I’ve tried to be nice to you, I’ve tried to give you your space… clearly you have some agenda against me, so what is it? was it my friends? we were assholes in high school, sure, but I’ve changed! I left that crowd years ago. and I’m sorry if I swept in and tried to steal your thunder, but I need this job to get out of this town one day and I’d really appreciate it if you’d just tell me what the deal is”

and for the first time in all the time he’s known you, you actually look… shocked. confused, even, “are… sorry, did I get the signals mixed up? were we not flirting with each other this whole time?”

steve… uh… well

he doesn’t know what to do with that

you look completely sincere

what the fuck

he would’ve said “no” but he’s so embarrassed that he starts to question himself

had he been flirting with you this whole time? more importantly, had you been flirting with him this whole time? was it some unconscious crush masking itself as envy? had he been so focused on your perceived villainy that he hadn’t considered, for even a moment, that you weren’t playing along?

he kinda blabbers a bit, struggling to voice his predicament, “well, I… I mean I thought that you hated me”

you blink, “where in the world did you get that idea?”

“you just seemed like you liked bullying me. stealing my customers and stuff. looking all… smug”

you kind of deflate and it’s unfortunately quite adorable now that steve isn’t blinded by senseless hatred anymore. your frown is the first time he’s seen you look so dejected, “I just thought... I mean, I used to see you flirting the same way with robin at scoops ahoy so I thought that maybe you liked that, you know? since you had a massive crush on her”

“it wasn’t that big of a crush-”

“and then she turned you down so i thought that maybe I might have a chance-”

“she didn’t turn me down, there was a- we mutually turned each other down-”

“but I don’t hate you, steve, honest. I really, really like you actually. I didn’t mean to freak you out”

and then you hold out your hand, the most timid he’s ever seen you do anything, as you ask for a truce

his hand meets yours in a gentle grasp

but all he can think to ask is “I don’t have a type, do I?”

you giggle, “what, people who are completely out of your league?”

had you made that same joke a week ago, steve Might have even been a little upset

but as he slowly processes your confession, his burned ego is immediately soothed

I mean, it was one thing to be bullied by you because you didn’t like him

it was a whole other thing if you actually did have feelings for him

mans isn’t above a little humiliation

“I resent that, but also you... definitely fit the bill, so you might be onto something”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry

[iceflowerglow]

“The Shaman of the Outlands”

Nuka, the Dork Dark Shaman :)

Okay, to be serious, this idea is also connected to my oldest and most thoroughly considered Lion King 2 theory, that throughout the whole movie, Nuka expected Kovu to betray the Outsiders. The theory itself is in the caption for this drawing, and there is also an addition here. Interestingly enough, Nuka seems to be quite perceptive, at least when it comes to his family and hopes. Besides the main point of the theory, there is also a curious detail that Nuka's role in the movie involves a lot of foreshadowing, like the part of "My Lullaby" where he basically predicted his own death. His good intuition, no doubt the result of Zira's unpredictable treatment of him, also seems to be the reason why he shows certain skill as a tactician/strategist, which can be seen in the ambush scene. This could have been a great asset for the Outsiders, if Zira actually bothered to listen to him. So, this is what this AU is about.

What would happen if Nuka decided to be more proactive and take matters into his own paws, pretending to have shaman powers and channel spirits to make Zira and Vitani finally listen to him? Would Zira and the other Outsiders actually start taking him seriously after it starts looking like his "powers" can be used to aid their effort to conquer the Pridelands? Perfect tactics developed based on what he can "sense"! This story begins when one day, Nuka deliberately hits his head on a tree branch and pretends to lose consciousness. When he wakes up, he brings Zira and Vitani unbelievable news: he had a vision of Scar, who told him that Kovu will soon betray the Outsiders. An enraged Zira hits Nuka, who pretends to lose consciousness once again. This time, upon waking up, he tells her more: if tomorrow, the day before being sent to the Pridelands, Kovu will say that he's worried about not being able to find Kiara in the flames, it's a sure sign that he'll betray them. Zira calls him ridiculous as Vitani laughs, but it stops being funny when the next day, Kovu says just that.

Vitani becomes concerned, while Zira insists it was just a coincidence. Vitani later talks to Nuka, and he "reveals" that he's always had some vague sense of "spiritual connection", and could tell that something was wrong about Kovu. "It's just your jealousy", says Vitani, but it's clear that she begins to have doubts. After Kovu departs for his mission, Nuka has another "vision", and tells Zira that Simba will accept Kovu into the pride, but won't let him sleep in the cave. Of course, that was to be expected, but it nevertheless looks suspicious when it happens just like Nuka said. Zira is still not convinced, but she can't deny that something is up with Nuka out of anyone making three correct guesses in a row. Next day, Nuka tells Zira that Kovu won't attack Simba in the morning, because Kiara will get in the way. What this wording means, who knows (certainly not Nuka), but once again, Zira's spies bring her the news: Kovu looked like he was about to attack Simba at the waterhole, but Kiara jumped out in front of him out of nowhere. Zira turns to Nuka, who can't believe his luck that his "prediction" turned out to be so literal (he only meant that Kovu likes Kiara and that would stop him!), and demands answers. Trying to regain his composure, Nuka says that he can sense these things, and Scar's spirit gives him clues. Remembering Rafiki and what they know about him, the Outsiders come to the conclusion that hitting his head on a branch "unlocked" Nuka's dormant shaman powers. Shamanism and predictions aren't really Zira's thing, but she can't deny that Rafiki's abilities are the real deal, and the Pridelands having what her pride lacks yet again was making her furious. If her pride had a shaman, that would even out the power imbalance at least a little bit... And there is no more perfect candidate for this role in her pride than Nuka, with his eccentric personality, and not really being good for anything else. She starts thinking about many other times when Nuka seemingly accidentally turned out to be right about something, or even instances where she'd swat at him, and he'd duck just at the right moment, like that one time in a tree.

Scar had chosen Kovu to be his successor, but perhaps that was because he had different plans for his biological son, thinks Zira. She had scoffed at the rumor that Simba could feel Mufasa's presence, thinking that these foolish pridelanders use this story to glorify and mystify their "wonderful" new king. But maybe there is some truth to it, and Nuka can really channel his father Scar? And if Kovu will really turn out to be a traitor like Nuka says, then better safe than sorry. So Zira appoints Nuka the pride's shaman, and Nuka, beside himself with joy, delves into his work in his new shaman residence. ----

Apparently this is also the first time I've drawn Nuka in the Elephant Graveyard, which is strange, because he's strongly associated with this location in the fandom, and his dialogue in the movie also implies that he's been there more than once, most likely starting as a cub, because the hyenas were still there. Of course, this place also "connects" Nuka and Scar. Nuka's staff is the same tree branch that he's hit his head on. For how long will he be able to keep up with the charade? Not sure yet, but it's a mystery why I didn't come up with the idea of a charlatan shaman Nuka earlier, it seems like such an intriguing AU idea now.

[calebwittebane]

gaia update!

her next appointment is later today, still monitoring the new tumor before we decide on the next step... sure hope this time chemo ends up being enough, i really dont want her to have to go thru yet another surgery. its a risk every time for an older cat like her. plus its in a difficult spot this time, close to ligaments and stuff. also, and i know its a strange thing to say, in this case her loving me so much actually constitutes something a problem... she fully wakes up the second she hears my voice or smells my presence, when it wouldve been better for her to sleep off the nausea and grogginess for a little longer 😭 but at the same time i dont wanna wait longer to pick her up because i know she'd be very very upset to wake up while i wasn't there. babyyyy

right now shes feeling and looking okay though. she got some anti-inflammatory shots on monday to help with her teefies, cuz her gums had been hurting (probably its cuz her immune system aint doing so hot rn), and it really helped. she ate a LOT yesterday and seemed really content about it. full tummy gaia :) the problem with her and her teeth is that it's kind of a recurring issue, once again probably stemming from her immune system getting kinda overwhelmed, and it makes it hard for her to eat her kibble (even if the bikkies are small, and soaking them isn't an option because she will NOT touch soggy bikkies even if she's very hungry). while id love to just switch her to wet food full time, that makes her poops very soft (very bad news for her and her funny furry pantaloons) and i... dont have the budget for it... i wouldnt give her and amity anything with a vague ingredients list and without stellar reviews, and high quality wet food in the "full meals every day" quantity is just not something i can afford. so she gets a nice spoonful of her favorite wet food (or canned tuna! she loooooves tuna) after taking her meds and thats it. i love that since its a reward for swallowing her pills, and amity gets the wet food too, amity always stands close and bonks gaia beforehand, like she's encouraging her and saying good luck... amity has been very nice to gaia in general lately. i mean she's still a bit of a nuisance to her, just because their personalities clash a little, but shes been trying hard to be very gentle. i loooooove amity's new habit of kissing gaia's paws. it's so sweet and adorable... thats right amity, your big sister is very fancy and chic, with dainty pawsies that need to be kissed!

she's also been very playful, which is good. she's got energy! and a new favorite toy, once again its part of a larger toy amity customized for herself (ripped parts off of) and it's this soft fuzzy orb thing. she's also been a little whiny, but i'm pretty sure that's just her complaining about the heat, it's not uncommon for her in summertime. she feels better when the fan is pointing at her. oh and she hates the lawnmowers outside... i dont wake up from the noises i wake up from her yelling at the noises ajdhfbxkdj. shes so annoyed.

wish it were easier to get a pet groomer appointment in this doggone town. a lion cut would definitely help her cope with the temperatures. plus knowing how funny she looks when her fur is wet id love to see her BALD she would look soooo funny. all the places with good reviews are always fully booked though it seems. swear to god this is all such a scam, Back In My Day if your cat was in surgery you could ask the vet to go ahead and give them a lion cut while they were still under anesthesia lmao. my own clippers just don't work with her fur either, it's too fine and soft. the cons of being a fluffy cloud... a toasted meringue angel... a lovely tiramisu girl... a silly baby s'more... a caramel frappucino princess...

[kerubimcrepin]

Episodes 27-29 - Ecaflip City (part 1)

I am forever fascinated by the portrayals of ecaflip spirituality we get in this show. Like, home shrines, milk altar offerings...

Kerubim's body language and inflections are very interesting here: he's a bit unsure of himself, but so enthusiastic about telling Joris.

You can just tell that this story means a lot to him.

My new headcanon is that he stopped living in Bonta with her (like he probably had in episodes 50 and 26) because the house is hers, and that made him feel inadequate.

I joked about Kerubim cheating on her while searching for Ecaflip city to propose to her, during past episodes where he is depicted as searching for the city, but it could be that finding it has always been his goal, and wanting to marry her is a whole new quest that ties into this?

But also — she was already his fiancée in the last episode, and it didn't exactly stop him from making questionable decisions.

This moment allows some new insight into Kerubim's thoughts on himself: while he may act cool, he really does feel undeserving of love. Probably a mix of Lou's being very mean (but I really doubt that she would be mean enough to say this) and his shitty self-esteem.

He really does have just... 30-50 different complexes, ranging from "my nasty personality makes everyone leave anyway" to "I'm poor and don't have a home" to "I'm not manly enough".

I want to like... Put him in a blender and mix in some anxiety medication, maybe. Perhaps that would help.

This question will be asked later by the show itself, but, is he really doing this for Lou, or is he doing this for himself?

I don't mean this in a "he's selfish" way, I mean this in a "he doesn't think he's good enough as he is... that's very sad" way.

Instead of gambling, he should have been a shopkeep from the get-go.

He's like a redditor that got into stock trading: a tragedy in the making.

If Kerubim isn't lying, — and I had sworn to take everything in this show at face value unless suggested otherwise by the narration — this moment may show us that it is true, that his other attempts at finding Ecaflip city were before he decided to marry her, and really committed to it.

You see, in episode 50, which, as we established, happens before Ecaflip City, he says that they stopped lying to each other after that story — which wouldn't entirely fit with him still flirting with girls and betraying her trust, while searching for the city.

But if those searches happened before, and he decided to continue them due to wanting to marry Lou? That would mean that he's changed for the better. At least a little bit.

She likes his dirty jokes. I don't have much to say, other than that this moment makes me sad. They were so cute together...

The menu seems to say "URM", but it's very stylized, so I am not sure.

Besides Kerubim being so addicted to gambling that it's ruining his personality and speech patterns, and also him probably being blasted with Ecaflip's luck buffs to the point of having prophetic fucking visions, — I think also points to Kerubim being lethally addicted to making people he likes happy, to the point of not seeing when it makes them uncomfortable.

He'll agree to do things with his loved ones — only to change plans later, when he realizes he's actually busy.

He'll go on a random, useless quest, to do something insane for love, and it'll just make things worse.

He'll be reassuring people that everything is going to be okay, when the thing they actually need is an acknowledgement of how bad things are. Et cetera, et cetera.

He has serious issues with understanding other people's emotions, and gets blind-sided when people he loves get mad at him for what he thought was the best course of action. (Totally not me foreshadowing what happens between him and Joris in the movie. Haha.)

I feel bad for him.

[gestures vaguely at all the times we've seen him shitfaced drunk in the series, and the horrid decisions this has led him to] [gestures vaguely to him constantly gambling and losing stuff, like, y'know, in the previous episode]

uhhh. All I can offer as commentary to this moment is this funnypost I made a while back on my main blog.

Keke you are so fucked, but you've been fucked for like, decades before this, so you are now mega-fucked. It's just over.

I'm,. so normal and sane and not sad about this.

Again, for all her faults, she really loved him, the way he is (even if sometimes he annoyed her, even if sometimes she used his weak spots to make him do things). I'm so fucking sad it didn't work out.

I just keep mentioning the fact that they both suck because I want to be fair to the two of them. What happened in Ecaflip city, despite her flaws, was Kerubim's personal failing.

...God. They're so special to me.

Guys, um... I don't think God Ecaflip likes to see Kerubim being happy and on good terms with people who aren't him.

Man. That evil fucking cat...

This here, folks, is why my deepest conspiracy theory is that Ecaflip is the reason Kerubim and Atcham lost their family.

He's evil enough to ruin a marriage in this episode, and Wheel of Destiny #8 does imply that Ecaflip was manipulating Kerubim to dislike Atcham (with his, y'know, threats of being able to make him "just as disliked and ugly" as Atcham. Normal father/god behaviour. Totally not the reason Kerubim is so scared of people disliking him. Haha.)

So what stops him from y'know, maybe, perhaps, killing their family a little bit?

Krosmoz is already inspired by Greek mythology. Evil god behaviour is just par for the course, y'know?

One may say: "Well, Ecaflip does these things to Kerubim to test him and his moral compass."

And I answer: I think it's very cruel to test the moral compass of a person, after knowingly breaking said person's moral compass with decades of mind games.

[invisibleraven]

"Setting the Christmas tree on fire doesn't count as a way to get warm, ok?" / GPP

No one would claim that Covingtons Home for Wayward Youths was the warmest place on Earth. Not only because the flamboyant proprietor had a disdain for children, merely doing the job for the money and the free labour. But the place was also a drafty, cold house, in ill repair and with thin, ragged blankets all the children had to protect them from the wind some days.

This meant there was always someone who was sick due to the temperatures, and the doctor was too pricey an expensive to waste on them, or so Mr. Covington claimed. They all figured it would go triple that if any of them were arrested and expected him to bail them out.

So when Alex got sick, Willie knew his options were limited. "We need to get you warm," he said.

"How?" Alex sniffled. "You already gave me your blanket, and I'm wearing my only coat."

"I don't think your ripped denim jacket is offering much in the way of warmth," snarked Carrie from the corner.

"At least he has a jacket," Flynn grumbled.

"Sister Alvarez is coming with more clothing donations next week," Julie offered, though her teeth were chattering as she said it.

"Next week isn't good enough," Willie resolved. "I'm gonna see if I can get a fire going, warm us all up."

"With what firewood?" Luke asked. "It's not like we have a forest nearby to chop some."

"I mean there's always the Christmas tree," Reggie said, gesturing to the dried bit of pine that was starting to turn brown in the corner, but no one had bothered banding together to get it out of the common room.

"Setting the Christmas tree on fire doesn't count as a way to get warm, ok?" Carrie said. "It's a way to set the room ablaze that thing is so dried out."

"Well I'll see what else I can find," Willie resolved.

In the end he got a pile of old newspaper from the trash, the broken wooden train that only hadn't been thrown out since their toys were limited, but Willie decided it was a worthy sacrifice, plus a small book of matches left behind by one official or another that Mr. Covington had swindled to look the other way about the delipidated state of the place.

There was a small grate in the room, so Willie prayed the flue wasn't blocked as he started the small flame. Since the smoke went upwards and didn't flood the room, he figured luck was on their side for once.

He moved Alex close, even if the fire was small and weak, Willie decided it would have to do. The others came closer too, their body heat mingling so it almost felt cheery.

"Pity we don't have marshmallows," Reggie quipped.

"We could always sing campfire songs anyways," Luke suggested.

"Do you know any campfire songs?" Carrie asked.

Luke had a befuddled expression on his face then shook his head. Everyone else exchanged glances, but no one seemed to have any ideas.

Until Alex, his voice croaky and weak started singing a song he vaguely remembered from church, Julie taking up the lyrics soon after, the rest of them humming along as best they could.

Sure their lives were miserable, and the fire would soon die out, but right now, looking around at all his friends faces? Willie felt well and truly warm.

[walnutcookie]

you should infodump about misfortune like. now /nf

SIR YES SIR . SALUTES.

im not sure how to tag all of this, doing my best but some of it Might be a little disturbing (with cartoony visuals). if you need it tagged with something specific please ask !!

(reblogs ok !)

misfortune is this silly raven thing . it is the Embodiment of misfortune and misery and feeds off of it, which means it is often causing harm to others for its own benefit

Its like . Ten feet tall or something HVXKDBD it can shrink and grow as it pleases actually (so long as it has enough power). Since it wants to feed off of and make someone miserable, it tries to choose its victims to be the most vulnerable people it can find. people who are isolated and dont have much support mostly, but also people who already have a lot of trauma and people dont know how to manage their emotions very well

Cappuccino was a perfect canidate !

i should give some more info about misfortune before i get into that though ,,, using its host/victims body, its able to cause things to happen (stack of papers getting scattered, bookcases falling over, lighting striking dangerously close, people around them getting hurt/even dying, generally unfortunate events). it tries to make things basically just The worst it possibly can be for the person it inhabits so it can achieve Maximum Misery (which is a tasty snack for it ! ). it can also do fun and silly things like cause its victims to grow bird parts - wings, talons, feathers, a beak, combinations of these things, etc - in a very Painful and grotesque way !! which also causes them to feel miserable! though it doesnt want to kill the host so it always makes these things temporary. additionally it can possess people and control their every move, causing feathers to grow from their skin the longer theyre posessed Which they will have to pluck later. also painful.

^ cappuccino growing wings

also Misfortune does not want its victims to die. if its victims die then that means their suffering is over - it would have to find a new host. So it makes the person suffer as most as possible while also protecting them and keeping them alive

that also includes keeping them from trying to kill themselves

using its previous host/victims body (my oc golden leaf cookie at the moment but that may change), it killed cappuccinos parents. For what reason im uh. not sure yet i still need to figure that out HDBFKH but it was Incredibly gruesome and uh. unfortunately little cappuccino was there to watch !

cappuccino's parents were Not nice people. they were incredibly abusive and neglective. cappuccino is like ,, age 5-10 at this time (another thing to figure out) and while her older sister latte was there she Got scared and ran away leaving cappuccino to fend for himself (latte is still fillwd with so much guilt over that bUT THATS A ramble for another time)

cappuccino is an Already traumatized young kid who just watched her parents die and is now all alone and an orphan . and is now going to watch as this giant bird thing claws through its host, causing them to scream out in pain and bleed out to death on the floor as the bird talks to little cappu !!! in spanish because for some reason me and my gf decided it speaks spanish but hey it works out cause so does cappu!

misfortune then crawls inside cappuccinos mouth. which again. is very painful. And very disturbing especially as a child

cappuccino lives with this thing for like twenty years, vaguely aware of its existence yet still filled with doubt. He knows she has bad luck either way and tends to isolate herself as to not harm others !!! all of the friends he made in school had bad things happen to them so hes become paranoid about getting too close to people. hes basically just accepted that shes not capable of doing good ,,, anything he tries to do just ends up going bad anyways. Which is why hes become a prosecutor !!!! you see Misfortune naturally gives her an advantage since giving innocent people (or anyone for that matter) lengthy sentences and other punishments causes a lot of misery and feeds Misfortune quite nicely ! it doesnt exactly Garuntee cappus win like. she still has to work for it. but he does get an upper hand (unknowingly) as misfortune encourages it. the reason she smokes a lot is because it helps him not feel so anxious and paranoid constantly that bad things will happen to everyone she cares about

theres a lot of habits hes picked up after dealing with this thing for so long. no cars/buses since hes been in FAR too many car crashes. keep pencils/writing tools dull as he tends to accidentally stab herself a lot. dont bother keeping places clean and tidy since theyll become dirty somehow anyways

cappuccino has a vague memory of misfortune. though since it was so long ago and also During a very traumatizing moment his mind has kind of distorted it to be some incomprehensible monster that appears in her nightmares. is it real? is he just imagining all of this? when wings grow from his back, is she hallucinating it? is something causing all of this bad luck, or is he just imagining everything? he cant tell if its real or not . she KNOWS something is wrong because it seems like life itself is determined to keep her from being happy. the thing is misfortune constantly lives inside of her ,, hes never seen misfortune aside from that very fuzzy (and distorted) memory from when he was a child. finally he Cant Take it anymore and just talks out loud to himself, trying to talk to whatever it is keeping him from being happy - again, not knowing if anything is actually there.

But there is !

And she is horrified as it starts to crawl out of his mouth!

theres a sense of relief and reassurance as At least now he knows its not all just his imagination but also. holy fucking shit. its not her imagination.

its all real. the memory from when she was a kid. hes being haunted by this Fucking Thing (which she realizes is a bird and not an incomprehensible monster) and its effectively ruining her life. it speaks to her - he figures out that it feeds off of his misery and that its been doing that for the past 20 years. And she just has to live with that

-

I could go on ,,, theres more to it actually but this post is getting Very long and i want people to Actually read it HXBDKHD

(UPDATE PART 2 HERE)

if you have any questions/comments PLEASE let me know i love talking about this thang !!!

[kootiepatra]

#FFxivWrite 2023 - Day 9: Fair

[slides this in just under the deadline like Indiana Jones under that big stone door]

Keimwyda stood nervously on the platform, with three very important documents on her person: two missives—one to be delivered to Limsa Lominsa, and the other to Ul’dah—and a pass that would allow her to board the vessel that was currently docked in front of her.

Her whole life, she had seen airships occasionally fly overhead, and they would be of Ixali make as often as Eorzean. She had never been close enough to one to touch it before, let alone to get on board. Logic told her that of course the things could reliably fly; else they wouldn’t be relied upon by the city-states like they were. Her instincts protested that the vessel sure looked too heavy to get airborne, and the balloons too flimsy to stay there besides. And the rarely-issued pass in her hands reminded her that such travel was only done by necessity, since a stray Garlean patrol would not hesitate to try to bring it down.

She wondered how long it might take to reach Limsa Lominsa by road and then by sea, and if she might not make a case for traveling along those more conventional means.

She had half-forgotten that Miounne had accompanied her to see her off, so she jumped when the woman put a hand on her shoulder. “Nervous?” Miounne asked with a warm smile.

“Oh, no,” Keimwyda replied quickly—less out of pride than sheer reflex, the impulse to convince everyone, including herself, that she would be fine. “I mean. Well. A bit, I confess.”

Miounne chuckled softly and gave Keimwyda’s shoulder a squeeze. “I should not blame you if you were. But believe me that neither would I sign off on this trip if I thought you in any real peril.”

Keimwyda smiled unevenly in an effort to look reassured. She turned her eyes back to the crew who were bustling around, lashing down anything that could move, and performing final checks. They looked bored enough that she could believe they were not worried. 

She tried pulling her mind away from the vehicle, instead fixing upon the destination. She could ever so vaguely remember a brief trip beyond the borders of the Black Shroud, just once, when she was yet a young girl. It was just to the outer edges of Coerthas, back when the terrain was still somewhat hospitable. Otherwise, her entire life had been spent in the forests she knew as home. 

Her father had been based in Limsa Lominsa before he and her mother settled in the Shroud. She remembered how he would talk about the city when she asked: sometimes with fondness and sometimes with chagrin. In any case, he had decided against moving back there after his wife passed away. It was not somewhere he wanted to raise his little girl.

But now as a woman grown, Keimwyda had entertained the idea of one day visiting. She had loose plans to do so at some point after she got established in Gridania and put a few gil away. Her father may have had mixed feelings about the place, but it was a part of his history. She thought of it as something of a pilgrimage, a way to remember the man who had also been taken from her life so long ago—perhaps even a way to gain some closure about his ship’s disappearance. At least it would be an opportunity to try and learn more about what his life was like before she had entered it.

She had definitely planned to go by boat, though.

And she had definitely not planned to be traveling under the auspices of the Elder Seedseer.

The past few weeks felt immensely surreal.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” shouted the captain from the deck of the ship. “Your attention, if you will. The Falcon’s Flight is now made ready for departure. A fair wind blows from the east, and in ten minutes we make for Vylbrand. Pray board promptly and have your pass ready to show to the crew at the gangway.”

Miounne squeezed her shoulder once more. “Good luck, envoy. Make us proud.”

Keimwyda’s smile was less forced at that remark. Miounne had been kind to her, and she was grateful for her guidance. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, and she boarded.

Her stomach lurched as the vessel took to the sky. She gripped the railing with whitened knuckles. She had never thought herself much bothered by heights before, but then again, she had never experienced them while not being somehow anchored to the ground. The velocity of the ship forward, or the rate at which it climbed, would each be dizzying on their own, but together… Twelve preserve.

Yet as they gained proper altitude and soared away from the Roost, she could not but forget her worry as the land unfolded before her. Within minutes, she could see the edges of Thanalan’s desert far to the south. Not long after, she could see the glimmer of the ocean on the horizon—her first time seeing it with her own eyes. The forest beneath her still consumed most of the landscape, but for the first time in decades, she bore witness to its edges.

The Shroud’s ancient, majestic trees still dominated the ground below, but for the first time, she could really marvel at the way their canopies shied away from each other in an organic, puzzle-like pattern. She could see the paths that the rivers carved through them, as if the drawings of maps she had seen all her life had leapt off of the page and gained life. Flocks of cloudkin swirled in formation below them—below them! Imagine!

The fragments of Dalamud, scars from the Calamity, were tragically and starkly visible from up here. But she could also see the way the forest was beginning to close around them, bounding back from the beating it had endured. The birdsong, the rustling of the trees, the roaring of the waterfalls—all sounds which she loved, to be sure—did not reach this elevation, and were lost under the whooshing roar of the skies through which they now flew.

The world at once felt far bigger and far smaller than it had ever seemed when she was on the ground. The horizon felt closer, more alluring, more exciting.

She could hardly believe she was actually contemplating it, but… she could get used to this.

See you soon, Papa, she whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear, as that fair wind carried them towards the sea.

[arrancxr]

👀 oke Wait but .... 👉👈how bout a prompt 33 where...after Reader-chan decided to neglect/briefly abandon Grimmjow for seeeeriously pissing her off...she cruelly makes him "earn" her back by acting as debased n pathetic and wanton as possible...😈 Maybe even has him transform into his Resurrección form and act like a cat in heat, presenting himself for fucking or mounting and hair pulling and all that jazz in order to win her over... 💅 He's so attention starved he'll probably do it after all lmaao...💃

33. “Show me how much you missed me.”

From the very start, Grimmjow knows he’s going to regret this. You’ve already ignored him for the better part of a week, though, and he’s getting desperate enough to forget about things like consequences. Patience has never been one of his better skills— and waiting for you to decide to forgive him on your own is getting unbearable, fast. 

“My release form, seriously?” he asks once more, in the vague hope you’ll decide not to make him go through with this, in the end. 

“Yep. You can show me how sorry you are, or we can go right back to how the last few days have been.” No such luck. Your tone is unamused, and as much as he wants to argue back... yeah, he’s not that stupid. 

So he complies. The release that’s not meant for fighting, that’s just his old way of being slipping back through the human form he was forced into, is comfortable to be in. It feels right to be a little closer to the way things were, even if this situation won’t be so nice for much longer. 

He hesitates. You just stare at him, expectant. With a scowl and some choice complaints muttered under his breath, Grimmjow complies. 

Dropping to his hands and knees on your bedroom floor, facing away from you, he stretches his arms out in front of him, arches his back, and spreads his legs. The position is already humiliatingly submissive, but the next part is much worse— he lets out a trilling sort of mewl, as pleading and needy of a sound as he can manage, and closes his eyes against the shame.

“Awwww, you actually did it,” you laugh. The next thing he knows, you’re kneeling on the ground behind him, inspecting the pathetic sight he presents. “Does my kitty want to be bred? Maybe I’ll indulge you. Shake your hips a little, c’mon. Show me how much you missed me.”

Biting down on an indignant retort, Grimmjow does as you say. The position leaves him horribly vulnerable— and it only gets worse when you give his exposed hole a quick, light slap. 

This time, the yelp that leaves him isn’t faked. 

Then, you’re working one spit-slick finger inside of him, where he’s tight and tense and sensitive, and crooking it down at an angle that leaves him seeing stars. His legs spread wider on reflex, arching into the touch even though it only gives you a better view. He’s starting to get hard, and the insistent rubbing against his insides isn’t helping. 

And, knowing already what you’re expecting him to do, he swallows his pride in favor of earning back your attention for good. 

He begs. Even though his pride may never recover from it, Grimmjow recites the filthy lines just like you told him to. His voice stutters when you get a hand around his cock and start to stroke, though, and by the time he’s loose enough for you to fit a second finger, he’s clawing at the floor. 

By this point, he’s drooling a wet spot under his chin, slack-jawed and dizzy with pleasure— shaking his hips like you wanted because it means you’ll keep touching him. He yowls when you give his tail a quick, sharp tug, but the roughness only leaves him clenching around your fingers. 

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Fire and Flame {Part 05 of 09}

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Henderson Reader

Chapter word count: 1.5 K

Summary: Being one of the best cheerleaders from Hawkins High, you never knew a day in which you weren't one of the most popular and wanted girls in school. So, when you get the eye of Eddie Munson and start to spend way too much time with him, the school starts to think you're crazy for hanging out with a Freak... And some people decide to do something about it.

<- Previous part (04)

Next Part (06) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

Ice Queen

“Is it true what they say?” Hailey asks as you walk through the hall after the last period. “That of all the guys in Hawkins, Eddie Munson was the one to break through the Ice Girl's heart?”

You haven't heard that nickname in a long time. People used to call you that because you only had one boyfriend, many years ago, and besides that, no other guy ever got too close, not romantically. You didn't mind it enough to hate it, so you just shrug. “People only say that because I didn't want to date any of the idiots from the team.”

“Hey.” She exclaims. “I date someone from the team.”

“Isn't he an idiot?” Glancing at her, you offer a smile because Hailey isn't one of the bad. She was the first to call you, right after you got home, apologizing. And she wasn't even one of the girls who were supposed to break your fall.

Hailey giggles, and nods. “Sometimes.”

“I thought so.” When you reach the hall that leads to the Principal's office, you stop. “I'll go in now. Talk to you later.” Waving, you go your own way, meeting Eddie by the Principal's door. “Didn't mean to make you wait.”

“I just got here.” He steps closer, placing a kiss on your cheek. “For luck.”

“I'll have you with me for luck.” Smiling, you softly knock on the door. “Principal Norton?”

“Come in, please.” The voice on the other side says and both you and Eddie go inside.

It takes some time to explain to Mr. Norton everything that happened because he has no idea of what happens in this school. But once he gets a grip of it, of course, he doesn't believe you. “Mr. Carver has always been a very good student, on behavior and grades both... More than I can say about Mr. Munson here.”

“Ouch,” Eddie exclaims.

You gasp. “Are you saying you don't believe Eddie because he has bad grades? Excuse me, Mr. Norton, but were your grades always exceptional?”

He shakes his head. “No, but they were never as bad as Eddie's are.”

“If his word and mine isn't enough, you have the doctor's papers. I had a concussion. My back still hurt, and I assure you those girls didn't look worried when I fell. They looked-”

“Terrified. And guilty.” Eddie adds, and you nod. “When they came back from talking with the guys from the team, their posture was different. I should have said something, but I'd never guess they'd so something like that.”

The Principal nods. “So you're also accusing the girls?”

“No. Jason is the head of this. Who knows what he told them? Jason is not the person he makes other people believe, Principal Norton.”

“I'm so sorry, but I don't see what I can do. The girls say it was a miscalculation, I can't proceed with just some speculations.”

As you expected. “Alright. I'll take this to the police.”

“You don't have to-”

“I'll take this to the police.” Repeating, you get up. “You have allowed bullying to roam free in this school. My brother was one of the many who suffered from it. And this is the result. When kids are allowed to call other kids funny names, laugh at their differences and go unpunished, name-calling becomes this.” You make a vague gesture. “I could have had some serious trauma, you can confirm that with the doctor. Thank you so much for your help, Principal Norton. You'll be hearing from me very soon.”

You're still speaking when the yelling starts, and just as Mr. Norton gets up, alarmed, Jason bursts through the door. “That Freak!” He says, yelling at the top of his lungs. “He screwed up my car! He-” His voice is cut short when his eyes finally acknowledge Eddie. Than you.

It's so freaking hard not to smile. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know you did it, Freak. You'll pay for it.” Jason steps closer to Eddie, but just as you'll move to stand between the two men, Eddie steps forward, pushing you behind him.

“Care to explain it, Mr. Carver, instead of making accusations?” Mr. Norton inquires.

“All the door locks of my car are screwed. This Freak shoved something in there and broke it. I can't open it.”

Mr. Norton gives Eddie a look. “Mr. Munson has been in here for over an hour.”

“Then one of his cult members did it.”

“The Club is off today. They're probably already gone.” Eddie says, and Principal nods.

“I will not accept false accusations, Mr. Carver. I get kids to have their... Enmities. But this has gone too far.”

“Then who? Who could have done it?”

“Anyone from this school.” You say, looking at Jason from behind Eddie's shoulder. “Or middle school. Or anyone from town. You have a lot of people who don't buy your good boy act, Jason. We're not the only ones.”

“You think I-”

“Enough!” Mr. Norton cuts off Jason's shout, raising a hand. “I'll try to find who did it, but it wasn't Mr. Munson. Now you will all leave and go home. If I hear of any fights, even outside the school hours or school grounds, I'll act upon it.”

With that, you all left the Principal's office. Jason went right out, walking fast, and you followed on a much slower pace with Eddie. “We did it.” You whisper, a smile on your face. “The very first blow, and we already cleared our names.”

“I would pay to have seen his face.”

“He probably got as red as a tomato.” Holding the laughter, you hold Eddie's arm. “His nightmare has just begun.”

•••

A week later, you're having lunch, your chair put next to Eddie's on the head of the table as you take this short time to help him with some last doubts about his coming Biology and Chemistry, books and notebooks spread on the table.

But then, Jason comes, causing everyone to go silent. You know it's him, without even looking. But you have to pretend you don't. “What's going on?” You ask, your voice just loud enough for some of the nearby tables to listen.

A lot of people start getting up, and you and Eddie do the same. “Holy shit!” He exclaims, getting an angry look from Jason.

The guy ignores the stares, and sit's down at this usual table. His hair is buzzed, almost all gone. This time is very hard not to laugh. But you hold it back, taking deep breaths.

Sitting back down, you bit your lip, and Eddie is trying as hard as you. Under the table, he takes your hand, squeezing it, and you do the same.

When lunch is over, you wish him good luck and go on with your class. By the end of the period, you join the cheerleaders, but the doctor asked you to take it slow, so you decide to let Hailey be the flyer this time, and dance on the ground. You don't mind. And to be honest, you rather not risk falling again.

Eddie stays in the bleachers, his eyes locked on you, much as he has been doing ever since you started training again. You told him many times he doesn't have to, but he insisted. And you can't say you don't like that he's protective.

An hour later, you come from the locker room, hair still a bit wet, jogging to him.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, my Lady.” He takes your arm on him, and you make your way to the parking lot. “I don't like that you're training. You should rest.”

“It's been a while and the doctor said I could train again, just keep it down a bit.”

“Just don't do any crazy jumps. They might still be up to do what Jason tells them to.”

Stopping by his car, you turn to look at him. “You know what they're saying? About me?”

“That I'm thawing a certain ice heart?” Eddie says with a smile.

“So you've heard it.”

“I did, and it made me happy.” He comes closer, closer than before, and you have to raise your head to look into his eyes. “The Crazy Farmer and the Ice Queen...”

“I like how it sounds.” You admit, biting your lip.

@browneyes528 @sophiaj650

[lizhly-writes]

cnovel shenanigans: the actual beginning of the plot, from our og fmc's perspective.

Chen Lihua didn’t expect to run into Jiang Mingxi, which made a decent amount of sense.  Chen Lihua never really expected to run into Jiang Mingxi, not even when they had been back in college.  Their majors had been drastically different; Chen Lihua did theater and film, Jiang Mingxi did business.  There was no real intersection between the two.  The fact that they’d landed in the same classes anyway had to have been sheer, dumb luck.

Fascinating, considering Chen Lihua’s luck was so very bad.

Case in point: Chen Lihua runs into Jiang Mingxi.  Literally.

If Chen Lihua was a physics teacher, she’d slow this down for the sake of her students, add some labels and arrows for clarity’s sake.  Look at this freeze-frame: two forces, A and B, coming at each other from opposite directions.  What exactly happens here?

Force equals mass times acceleration.  Force A, Chen Lihua, was going faster than force B, Jiang Mingxi.  Assuming the same mass, then the collision would result in B being diverted from her course.  However, this assumed same mass; Jiang Mingxi was in fact, twice Chen Lihua’s size, and a solid wall of muscle, whereas Chen Lihua was mostly made of skin and bone.

End result: Chen Lihua bounces off Jiang Mingxi and ends up sprawled on the ground, a victim of physics.  How tragic.

“Ow,” said Chen Lihua, just a little late.  This was one of the occasions she really wished she liked skirts less, because that would’ve meant she would have been wearing pants, and thus, probably would have avoided the skinned knees.

Jiang Mingxi glared back at her, angry as always.  “Chen Lihua.” 

The anger was maybe a little bit warranted this time, because Chen Lihua had been carrying a coffee – really just her luck – and it had splashed them both.

Chen Lihua looked mournfully down at the fallen cup.  She’d barely gotten a few mouthfuls out of it before all of it had ended up on their clothes.  It had been a shame; she didn’t buy lattes like this very often, they were expensive and the caffeine hit wasn’t high enough for her to justify it as the energy boost she needed to get through the day.  She’d gotten one this week as a little treat for herself.

“Hi,” Chen Lihua said apologetically, grabbing the cup and straightening to a standing position.  “It’s been a while.  I never thought I’d see you here.  Sorry about…” she gestured at the coffee covering both of them.

Vaguely, she contemplated whether she needed to grovel for forgiveness.  She probably wouldn’t have needed to back in college.  The fact that they had been students meant that they weren’t expected to command the same kind of dignity as a true adult, and besides, Jiang Mingxi had liked her in college.  She never said it, but Chen Lihua had a brain; if she hadn’t liked Chen Lihua, there was no way that they would have spent so much time together.

Now, though.  Chen Lihua was honestly a little surprised that Jiang Mingxi still remembered her name.  Relationships weakened if they weren’t kept up, and Chen Lihua absolutely had not been doing any kind of keeping up with anyone.  It was quite possible that Jiang Mingxi didn’t think anything of her at all, now.  

Chen Lihua felt a tiny bit of regret at that thought.

Then she decided to grovel.

“Begging Young Mistress Jiang for her understanding,” Chen Lihua said.  “I really didn’t mean to spill coffee on you, is there anything I can do…?  I’m really, really sorry!”

Jiang Mingxi stared.  Her face was stuck in dignified incomprehension.

Chen Lihua got a solid ten seconds in about how Jiang Mingxi shouldn’t wreak unholy vengeance upon her.  More nicely worded, of course.  She didn’t really think Jiang Mingxi was actually going to wreak unholy vengeance upon her, but a lot of things never actually went the way she expected, so groveling was a good idea.  If Jiang Mingxi made her pay up to get replacements – well, there was no way.  That blouse Jiang Mingxi was wearing looked simple enough, but she was a rich girl, through and through.  It was entirely possible that the blouse cost more than Chen Lihua’s rent for the month.  Or the year.

Ah.  That got her heart racing. She really couldn’t afford to pay that.

“What are you doing?  Shut up, have some dignity,” Jiang Mingxi hissed, and the response was so much like what Chen Lihua would have expected in college that Chen Lihua… acted accordingly.

“Dignity is something for rich people, Jiang Mingxi.  I’m too poor to afford something like that, I already sold mine away.”

“What,” Jiang Mingxi said flatly.

Wow.  Chen Lihua hadn’t said something that shameless in a while.