#this fic is so scuffed i have to come up with everything as i go

[puhpandas]

fleshing out tttb chap 16 more (its about mike and gregory a LOT) and man. it fits so perfectly with the next arc. i think i fixed the pacing issues i was worried about. lets go dude. i was alwyas worried about how i was gonna do their relationship but i think i got something im happy with

[bloodlust-1]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Soaked .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Wyll x fem Tav — fluff, Explicit 18+

Summary: Tav's tent is leaking from the heavy rain, leaving her completely soaked, and well - she has to share a tent with someone.

Notes: absolutely nobody asked for this. BUT! I've never read a Wyll fic and I wanted to change that for myself and maybe for some of you ;p Heavy Petting!!

Shit! Tav groggily opened her eyes, only to see the sight of her drenched tent. The rain had seeped through the flimsy fabric, leaving everything inside completely soaked. She let out a frustrated groan, cursing her laziness for not setting up her tent properly earlier that day.

The once comfortable bedroll of blankets and pillows was now a soggy mess, and Tav knew she would be shivering in her damp sleeping bag.

How could she be so careless? She puffed her cheeks out, where the hells is she going to sleep tonight? It was down pouring and Tav needed to get to somewhere dry so she wouldn't get sick.

"Damn it!" She stepped out of the tent, shielding her eyes from the rain. It beaded down on her skin like bullets.

Breathless and drenched, she burst into Wyll's tent, startling him from his sleep. His eyes widened in surprise as he sat up, trying to make sense of the sudden intrusion. But as he recognized her, he relaxed and a small smile crept onto his face, "Tav?"

"What brings you to my humble abode at this ungodly hour?" he rubbed his eyes with a small yawn.

Tav sighed as she pushed back the wet strands of hair that were sticking to her forehead. She half smiled for awkwardly bursting into his tent. "Looks like my tent couldn't handle the rain," She joked shallowly, "and now everything inside is pretty much ruined."

Leave it to Tav to have the worst luck when it comes to camping.

"Do you mind if I bunk with you for the night?" The rain beat against the ground with such force, that it was almost intimidating.

Wyll's tired eyes scanned Tav up and down. Exhaustion and concern were etched across his face as he quickly rummaged through the corner of his tent. Without hesitation, he grabbed one of his own shirts and tossed it towards Tav.

"Here, take this," he said with a hint of urgency in his voice. "I can't have you getting sick in those wet clothes." Wyll's protective nature kicked in.

Tav's fingers tightly gripped the shirt, her eyes fixed on Wyll's stunned expression. It was almost comical how his mouth formed a perfect 'o' shape as the realization dawned on him. "Oh!" In a split second, he spun around, giving Tav a chance to change in privacy.

Tav chuckled at Wyll's reaction. She always found his dramatic responses amusing. But now, as she stood there clutching the shirt, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness. After all, Wyll was someone she thought attractive.

Even in this sorry state, Tav still managed to look pretty damn cute. He couldn't believe she was in his tent, wearing his shirt and changing right behind him.

"Okay, I'm done," she announced, tapping on Wyll's shoulder. He couldn't help but admire her, even in this awkward situation. The way the shirt hung off her curves that stopped at her mid-thighs was quite the sight.

"Sorry about that," Tav said, biting her lip as she tried to contain her awkwardness. "Thanks for letting me borrow your shirt. It's much appreciated." Tav slowly sank onto the floor, trying to get comfortable.

"Wait -" Wyll spoke out instantly.

"Hm?'

He squinted his eyes toward the floor. “Where’s your bedroll?”

Tav scuffed sarcastically, “Soaked.”

Sure, this wasn't the most comfortable situation for her, but it was dry and warm. But this was not good enough for Wyll, he would never let a lady sleep on the floor.

"That's not happening." He sighed and shook his head. Wyll lifted up the covers to his bedding, nudging his head at Tav, "Climb in."

Tav signed in relief, quickly hopping into the bed with Wyll. Her skin lit up with a tingling sensation from the unexpected contact of his skin. It was a bit nerve-wracking, to be this close to him, but she couldn't deny the butterflies that bubbled up inside her.

Just as Tav climbed in Wyll's horn accidentally got caught in her hair. He tried to pull away when he noticed. In a panic, he tugged harder, which only made Tav wince in pain.

"Ouch!" Tav winced, her hand going to her hair as she felt the sudden tug. But before she could even say anything, Wyll was already apologizing profusely.

"S-Sorry!" Wyll stammered. And in that moment, he noticed how close their faces were, their breaths hitting each other in the air.

Tav blushed, She quickly peeled off the strands from Wyll's horn, trying to untangle them as gently as possible. "You're okay, Wyll," she reassured him, "I'm sorry for this nest on my head right now."

Once untangled, Tav squished against Wyll. They both laid silently, trying to shake off their racing hearts. How in the hells were they supposed to sleep now when all they could think about was how closely their skin was touching right now.

"I think you look lovely." Wyll suddenly spoke into the air as he laid on his back.

Tav tilted her head towards him, "Huh?" Her face felt hot for a second, "Oh! You're talking about before..." She felt shy and chuckled amusingly, "Thank you, Wyll..."

He nodded his head in contempt. But Tav spoke up too, "You look good too...I don't think I've ever seen you look bad though when I think about it."

Wyll twisted his body to face Tav, his eyebrow slowly arched upwards "Even with these hideous horns and eyes?" He seemed skeptical.

"Yeah, I never thought of you ugly." Tav was being honest with him and it felt - nice.

Wyll's soft smile twisted into a scowl. "What’s wrong?" Tav asked with concern.

"Zariel. I could hear her in my head." He closed his eyes tightly, and let out a frustrated sigh before responding, "And you'd think she'd be off doing something better than to tease me."

"What is she teasing you about..?"

Wyll's eyes crinkled with a soft smile and giggle, "Ahh..That's a conversation for another day."

Tav brought herself closer to him, she gave him a playful nudge, "What? No - don't be such a buzz kill." she puffed out her cheeks like a child.

"You're too cute." Wyll's eyes softened as she looked into Tav's sincere gaze. "If you really must know, she was making comments about me looking at you."

Tav rolled her eyes sarcastically, "Pfft, why would she make fun of that?"

A smirk spread across his lips, "Well - if I was admiring your beautiful face, then it would give her lots to insult me on."

Tav felt a bit flustered by his comment, but she quickly regained her composure. With a sly smile on her face, "You obviously have good taste. You're quite the charmer, Wyll."

Tav booped his nose, "But don't worry, I won't tell the others. Your secret is safe with me."

Wyll's smirk turned into a genuine smile as he took in her boldness. "I like the way you think."

She felt a sense of pride at his reaction. Tav was used to being the one to surprise people, but it was refreshing to have someone catch her off guard in a good way. "I always speak my mind," she replied confidently.

Wyll chuckled.

Tav gently traced her fingers along his jawline, causing him to shiver in response. "Now tell me - what's really on your mind?"

"Those soft lips, and that little frame," Wyll said, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled her closer.

Her heart beat faster with each passing second. They were already so close, and it was like an invisible string was pulling them closer and closer. Tav's eyes fluttered close until the warmth of her lips was met with his. It was gentle and soft. Pulling back slightly, she looked up at him with big eyes.

"Is that your way of saying you like what you see?" she teased, her confidence growing by the second.

He chuckled and pulled her in for another kiss, his hands gently caressing her petite frame. She melted into his touch, enjoying the grip of his large hands.

"I more than like it," Wyll replied cockily. "I'm completely captivated by you."

Tav's blood rushed to her face. Everything felt like a dream because just yesterday Wyll was just another attractive man. But now - it felt a little more complicated than that.

Wyll's hand rested on the curve of Tav's lower back. His fingers dipped into her back dimples with gentle strokes, "Even now, I can't help but want to kiss you more."

Tav's fingers traced patterns on Wyll's chest while she gazed into his eyes. Here she was, laid next to the city's righteous rich boy: The Blade of Frontiers. He surely wasn't a disappointment.

Wyll's lips met Tav's in a passionate kiss, their bodies pressed together close-knit. Tav's heart fluttered as Wyll's hand moved from her back to cup her face, deepening the kiss even more.

Their breaths mingled between kisses, and his grip became tighter and possessive. Tav's tongue graced his in a steady motion and her hands clutched the shirt of his back.

Wyll's hands roamed eagerly over Tav's body, his touch sending shivers down her spine. He seemed to put most of his attention on her ass. Wyll actually spent quite some time looking at Tav's body and her bottom was his favorite feature of hers. He filled the palms of his hands with her curves.

He kneaded and groped the pudge of her hips and ass. Tav's body responded instinctively, pressing closer to him, her own hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

With each kiss, the intensity grew, and their bodies molded together. Wyll's hand traveled, his fingers gripped Tav's thigh possessively and pulled her leg up to rest on his hip.

Their hips clashed, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through their bodies. She could feel Wyll's hard length poke at her stomach.

Tav's grip on Wyll tightened, her breath coming in small gasps as she lost herself in the moment. Every touch, every movement, was a desperate attempt to get closer, to feel more of each other.

As their kiss deepened, their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, lost in a dance of passion and desire. Tav's moans mingled with Wyll's, their lips never breaking contact as they explored each other.

Wyll tightly shut his eyes and let out an airy gasp, "You have no idea how much I've been wanting to do that. And now that I have, I can't get enough of you."

Tav planted a single kiss on his cheek, "I never knew how good of a kisser you were.." Her head rested on the nape of Wyll's neck. "I want to keep experiencing that if that's something you want with me?"

a smile spreading across Wyll's face. "Of course. I knew I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you."

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[oneforthemunny]

cowboy!eddie ask:

OH MY GOD THESE COWBOY EDDIE SMUT FICS!!!!!

horny hours ahead.

Just think about this. At the first stage of their relationship, eddie and reader had a thing going on, a situationship but not an official relationship, so reader is head over heels for eddie, and eddie is smitten too but their pride gets in the way. So one night reader is having fun with her girlfriends at some town gathering ??? ( i don't know how they're called) and she wants to make eddie jealous. She wears her favourite sundress, red with spaghetti straps and lace and all and she flirts with other boys from town ALL NIGHT LONG. So our cowboy gets furious and wants her to himself and just needs to make it clear to her.

You can take it from here with your absolute best taste in smut writing.

this was so much longer than I meant it to be holy fucking shit.

18 + MINORS DNI

he really just enjoys the banter the two of you have, but honestly, he thinks the two of you are exclusive. he thinks it's so cool how you're not super clingy and will let him work, and then he picks you up and you guys chill.

that's never the case now is it?

you're convinced he's just fucking with you. playing a sort of cat and mouse game that you have no interest in partaking in. he rarely calls you, usually only comes by to take you out and then fuck you, leaving your apartment early saying something along the lines of "gotta get back to the horses, baby, they don't care that I'm sleeping in. they wanna get fed." in reality, it's the truth. he's not one to hump and dump, but he's gotta take care of his animals. still, you're furious.

the flower festival, to welcome in spring, is always downtown. most of the town shows up, there's a parade, and lots and lots of booze. more importantly, there's a band and you show up, wearing your favorite little red number (eddie's fave too) one that always catches between your ass cheeks when you walk, holding your cleavage up and sitting pretty on your chest.

eddie's drooling when he sees you, grinning over at you when you catch his eye. the only thing is, there sits lynette, the town whore that's always had a thing for eddie. she's a regular buckle bunny, who's pined after him for years. she's tried everything.

you're seeing red, and it's not just your dress. furious, you go up to chris, grinning and placing your hand on his bicep while he escorts you to get a drink. you don't look at eddie but you can feel his gaze on you.

the whole night goes like that too. eddie watching you flirt from boy to boy to boy, giggling, batting your eyes, twirling your hair. what does it for him is when harrison plucks his hat off his head, placing it on yours with a wink. eddie's had enough.

"'scuse me." eddie grins, calloused hand wrapping around your upper arm. "'m gonna take this little lady from ya for just a second."

you don't protest, letting him drag you, boots scuffing against the cobbled ground of the street. eddie is taking long, striding steps towards the parking lot, unrelenting in his grip on your arm.

"eddie, let go of me! I'm not done hanging out with my friends!" you huff.

"friends?" eddie scoffs, jaw clenching in anger. "fuckin' friends, yeah, they seem like they wanna be your friend." he seethes.

you scoff, rolling you eyes. "oh, don't tell me you're jealous, cowboy." you snap. "we're not anything special anyways. you're too busy with all your other little ladies aren't you?" you challenge, eyes squinted at him.

eddie blinks, scanning your features. "have you lost your mind?" he asks.

"no, but you certainly have. now let me go." you snap, wrenching your arm out of his grasp. "go talk to lynette or-or alice. I don't want to distract you."

"why the fuck would I talk to either one of them?" eddie throws his hands out. "why would I -hey, I'm talkin' to you." eddie grabs your arm, spinning you around to face him. "you gonna walk away from me when I'm talking to you?"

"who do you think you are?" you scoff. "you don't get to talk to me like that. not when you ignore me all week, and then think I'm gonna spread my legs and be on your booty call rotation with those other bitches. I'm not interested in that."

"what the fuck are you talkin' about?" eddie huffs, jaw clenched. "I told you, I had auction all week, and I was gonna take you out thursday, and you said you were sick!"

"because I'm not going to be played by you, eddie!" you shrill in the parking lot, uncaring of the people around you who might hear. "I'm not going to be competing for your attention with these other girls-"

"-goddamit!" eddie yells, slamming his hand in frustration on the metal of his truck. "I don't want any of those other girls. I want you." his eyes are intense, fierce, chest heaving hard under his band tee. you swallow thickly.

"I don't know who's told you I've been with other girls, but I haven't alright? when I'm not workin', or sleepin', I'm trying to be with you." eddie huffed, moving so he trapped you against the car, tattooed arms caging you. "I want you, you little brat, not anyone else but you."

your bottom lips quivers, flushing under his sweet gaze. your lips are on his in a moment, hands raking through his curls in an intense kiss that lead to the two of you fumbling around in his back seat of his truck.

eddie's belt buckle pressed against your thigh, the imprints of whatever saying or figure onto the soft skin while he thrusted into you, hard and unforgiving. his hand cradled the back of your neck, holding you close to his chest, while his other gripped the headrest for balance.

he was abusing that spongey spot inside of you, sure you'd be gushing soon. his thrusts were hard, breath heavy in your ear, curls falling loose from his bun and tickling your neck.

"you ever act like that again, and I'll use this belt to blister that cute little ass, you hear me?" eddie sneered, grunting when you clamped and gushed over his cock, strangling his thick member around your velvety walls.

"and you ever put on another man's hat, darlin', and you'll be in real trouble. don't you ever do that again." eddie growled.

"'m sorry, 'm sorry." you whimpered, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt, balling it between your fists.

eddie pounded you out, leaving you filled and flooded at the same time over his seats. good thing they're leather, eddie thought when he saw the mess you'd left behind.

he took you back to his place that night, pounding you out all night until the roosters were crowing, making you wear his hat while you rode him until your thighs were trembling and giving out.

eddie watched you, tangled under his sheets, the golden light of the morning sun on your skin, your parted lips puffing out air against his inked chest. he knew the horses would be waiting, but he couldn't bring himself to get up just yet. to leave a sight as precious and perfect as this. he knew you'd be around for a while, he'd make sure he could keep you around, keep you happy and all his for the rest of his life.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey so i was wondering if you had any Kid!Fics that weren’t Mpreg or omega verse more like there is a child and now Dean and Cas are taking care of the child together and fall in love in the process. I love your page thank you

Hey! Glad you're enjoying our blog🩵 Here are a few we could remember:

A Fine Romance by DragonSgotenks (Explicit, 54k words)

Castiel was one of those Parents the other teachers referred to as a "hot mess" but Dean just thought he was hot, even if he did come off as kind of a dick sometimes. When an accident lands him in the ER Dean comes face to face with his biggest crush when he discovers Cas is his nurse. It seems like fate that he manages to strike up a friendship with the father of some of his favorite students. But with Castiel still bitter over the way his ex used him up and then left him with nothing but 3 young kids to raise on his own he may be guarding his heart with too much caution to let someone new in. Dean will have to find a way to thaw the ice around Cas' heart or risk letting his chance at happiness slip through his fingers.

Baby Whispering by EllenOfOz (Mature, 9k words)

When Castiel's babysitter falls through, he has no choice but to take Claire to class with him. But as it turns out, Dr. Winchester isn't so upset about a disruption to his class.

life as we know it by yolock (Explicit, 92k words)

The first time Dean and Castiel ever agree on something happens when when their shared best friend Kelly asks them to be the godparents for her baby. Being a godparent is mostly babysitting occasionally and buying gifts on birthdays, but then Kelly dies on a car accident, leaving her three year old son Jack with no one but his godparents to take care of him. Despite not liking each other at all, the two men take the responsibility left for them on paper, and find themselves on a situation neither of them had prepared for, co-parenting a three year old. As they learn to take care of a toddler together, they learn a lot about themselves and about each other. It's definitely not an easy ride, but it eventually leads to something neither of them saw coming: a family.

let's take a drive by sobsicles (Explicit, 121k words)

Dean takes a really, really long drive to kick fear in the ass. It might just be the best thing he ever decides to do. ~~~ The seat squeaks, and Dean follows the sound, his gaze trailing down. There—where Jack sat moments ago—is a much tinier version of him. He looks mostly the same, just...smaller and more dimply and cuter, if that's possible. His clothes have shrunk to fit him, so he's casually sitting in a t-shirt, jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes. He swings his feet from side-to-side over the edge of Baby's seat the same way Sam used to in the back, and he stares up at Dean with clear eyes.  "Oh," Dean blurts out, eyes bulging, "Cas is going to fucking kill me." 

Light Me Up by tricia_16 (Explicit, 195k words)

Five years after participating in a life-changing threesome with his then-girlfriend and her friend Cas, Dean's single, comfortably bisexual, and has everything he's ever wanted except for that special someone to share his life with. When tragedy strikes, he and Cas are reunited in an unexpected way, and a split-second decision entangles their lives in ways neither of them could have predicted…

Surprises by TessAlyn (Explicit, 32k words)

Castiel and Dean don't have much in common. Dean plays football; Cas watches nature films. Dean wears jeans and flannel; Cas prefers button-ups and waistcoats. Yet somehow, they become friends. And when Cas' brother suddenly leaves an unexpected surprise on their doorstep, the strength of their friendship, and what they mean to each other, is tested like never before.

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (Explicit, 174k words)

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

The guy next door by Castielific (Explicit, 61k words)

When Dean Smith quit his job at Sandover, he had no idea what he was going to do with his life. He definitely didn't plan for his hippie neighbor and his four years old kid to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself. The neighbors to friends to lovers fic you never asked for, along with some cute baby!Jack

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 (Explicit, 166k words)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

We Are by lotrspnfangirl (Explicit, 50k words)

When Dean broke things off with Castiel, right after graduation, he hadn’t anticipated the long term effect it would have. He’d done this, he ruined things, and he deserved to be punished. Despite trying to move on, he found himself at the bottom of a bottle more often than not. When Lisa took their son, Ben, away - well, he had nothing to keep him going. Castiel packed his broken heart across the country, swept up with a woman who only loved him for what he could give and another who treated his friendship as gold. When Kelly left him, leaving him broken once more, he threw himself into raising his son, Jack, and letting him know how loved he was. When a broken teenager came into his life, he absorbed Claire into his family and took a chance, moving back home to the small town life, for a better chance for them all.

Also, the Dadstiel Bang starts posting on August 26th, so you might find more fics there. And we also have a "as parents" tag that might interest you.

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

before - part one

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

it’s summer in austin, and you and joel meet for the first time.

a/n: the joel miller brain rot is real and your advocate is here to help! masterlist will be up shortly, special thank yous and shout outs to @psychedelic-ink @allfoolsinluv and @gnollengrom for letting me scream about this fic in your dms 🤍 I have thought of little else for the last 48 hours

word count: 3.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI - this part is not explicit but other parts will be, masterlist has further warnings, but no real warnings for this part except a lot of fluff?? and banter?? and I’m obsessed kthanksbyeeeee

✨I no longer have a taglist - if you’d like to be notified of new works/chapters, follow @friskito-library and turn notifications on!✨

You meet Joel Miller long before the world implodes.

It’s 2001, you’re fresh out of college, relocated to Austin, Texas where your parents have taken over an old hardware store that once belonged to your grandfather. Nowhere else to go and nothing else to do for the time being, you spend most of your time in the store, stocking shelves and chatting with customers, learning the different things the store keeps on hand, what has to be shipped in special order. It’s not much, but it’s something to do; you’re just happy to be back with your family after four long years at college. Sure, you came home for holidays when you could, but it wasn’t the same.

It still isn’t the same, not really.

The house you live in is foreign to you, not the same roof you grew up under. The people are the same, your parents clearly happy to have you back, your little sister overjoyed to have someone in her corner again. Austin is nice, the weather warmer than you’re used to after four years in Michigan, but it’s a welcome change. Summer seems to go on forever, and your weekends are spent basking in the sun, finding new places to explore, wandering the shops that neighbour the hardware store and beyond.

And then one day, everything changes.

You’re stood at the end of one of the aisles, fixing a stubborn display of plaster tubs that won’t stay upright, when you hear the bells over the door chime, announcing the arrival of a customer. You don’t stray far from the display, calling out a good morning! and returning to your work. Your sister is perched behind the register, flipping through an old magazine, and you hear the tell-tale squeak of work boots on the linoleum, the sound now all too familiar to your ears.

The boots move in your direction, but you pay the sound little mind until it grows closer. Most people who come into the store know what they’re looking for, and your parents had been careful to keep everything in the same aisles and shelves they’d been on for the past decade, so as to not disrupt the regular customers. From the corner of your eye, scuffed, dark boots step a little closer, and your eyes drag over from the display, taking in the man before you.

You try really hard not to let your eyes linger everywhere, but it’s hard. He’s…well, he’s hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, patchy facial hair that really shouldn’t work as well as it does. Long legs covered in dark jeans, a t-shirt that’s definitely seen better days and is straining against his broad shoulders and thick arms. It’s a classic look you’ve come to associate with every guy who works construction in Austin, but right off the bat, you know there’s something different about this one.

“Hi there,” he says, his southern drawl not as intense as some other folks you’ve talked to, but still there, coupled with a little quirk to his lips, an almost-smile that makes you instantly desperate to see the full thing.

“Hi,” you breathe out, curling your fingers around the metal shelving in front of you, abandoning the plaster display.

“I’m lookin’ for a quarter-inch drill bit,” he spits, nearly stuttering the request out. You’re stuck still for a moment, absolutely enamoured by the man before you. And it makes your own lips twitch, the way his cheeks flare red and he drops his gaze after a moment, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m also assuming you work here but I now realize you don’t have a name tag or anything so I’ll just—”

You clap a hand over your chest dramatically. “Shoot. Must have left the stupid thing in the back.” He lifts his head, eyes going wide, the almost-smile returning. “Follow me.”

He follows you like a little lost puppy a few aisles down from where you were standing. He’s taller than you, by nearly a head, those broad shoulders almost blocking out the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. You may or may not let your hips swing a little harder as you walk.

“Any specific brand you’re looking for?” you ask over your shoulder, coming to a stop in front of the pegboard that holds bits of all sorts of sizes. “Or just a quarter-inch?”

“As long as it fits in my drill,” he answers, and you turn to the board, scanning for the right size. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, and you’re basking in it. When you find the right one, you pluck it off the hook and hand it to him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, shoving your hands in the back pockets of your jeans after he takes it from you. “If it doesn’t fit, just bring it back and I’ll make sure you get the right one.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he looks between you and the little package a few times, tapping it against the flat of his palm. His lips part, like he’s about to say something, but then your sister calls your name and your head snaps up.

“Come on up to the front when you’re ready,” you say, feeling a little bold and touching his arm as you step past him, “and I’ll cash you out.”

He watches you walk away, too.

“I need coffee,” your sister declares as soon as you’re within view of the front counter. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you reply, stepping behind the register, righting a cup of pens that’s fallen over. She slips down from the stool, flipping her magazine shut, and brushes past you, just as a now familiar deep voice reaches your ears.

“Thanks again,” tall, dark, and handsome says, approaching the counter with the drill bit and a tub of plaster from the display you’d been fixing in his hands. Your sister steps around him as he walks up, and turns to look at you over his shoulder, her jaw dropped, giving you two thumbs up. Your cheeks flare with heat, but you ignore it, taking the bit and the plaster when he sees them on the counter. “Are you new here?” he asks, and then rubs his hand up the back of his head, turning sheepish again. “Here being Austin, I mean. Haven’t seen you around before.”

You can’t help but grin back at him. “New-ish. Moved back at the beginning of the summer after I finished college. My parents took over this place after my grandfather died, and I can’t afford rent in the city, so here I am.” You ring up his purchase, tell him his total, and he fishes for his wallet, digging in the front pocket of his jeans. “For now, anyway.”

He presses his lips together as he pulls a twenty out of his wallet and hands it to you. “Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime.”

You punch in the right amount, letting the register drawer hit your hip as it shoots open. “Maybe you will.” You hand him his change, and as you press the bills and coins into his waiting hand, you offer your name with it.

“Joel,” he says by way of answer, and your chest puffs a little with the knowledge. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your grin widens. “Well, you have yourself a good day, Joel Miller. Hope I see you soon.”

He takes the bit and the plaster and takes a step backwards, walking directly into a display stand holding rolls of bright green and blue painters tape, sending it toppling to the floor. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry,” he grumbles, and you step around the counter, dropping to your knees, catching the tape as it rolls in a million different directions.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him earnestly, righting the stand and getting back to your feet. “Now I have something to do.”

“You sure?” he asks, straightening, his cheeks burning red. “I’m sorry, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, again,” you laugh, gesturing towards the front door. “I’ll see you, Joel.”

“See you,” he replies, tacking your name onto the end, and you have to ignore the way the sound of your name on his lips sends a prickle up the back of your neck.

You watch as he walks out the door, the bell ringing again as he departs, getting into a pick-up truck that has definitely seen better days parked at the curb. He scrubs a hand over his face as he starts the engine, and then turns and looks at you through the glass, lifting a hand in a wave before he pulls away from the store. You lift your hand to return the farewell, and your sister walks through the door a moment later, two coffees in her hands, pushing one into your grip even though you said you didn’t want one. You sip it anyway.

“Who was that?” she asks, bumping her hip into yours.

“Joel Miller.”

+

He comes into the store nearly every day for a week. Always looking for something new, another drill bit or packages of nails and screws, a hammer, rolls of tape. He’s a carpenter, you learn, and goes bright red when you hint that must mean he’s good with his hands.

Your conversations are always brief, but sweet. He asks what you went to school for, admits he never got past a high school education, laughs when you tell him he seems to be doing pretty well for himself despite that. He shows up one morning with coffees for both you and your sister, and a box of doughnuts, earning a squeal from your sister and a bright thanks Joel from yourself. One afternoon, he’s in a hurry, having run out of drywall screws, cursing that he left his wallet at the job site, and you wave him off, all but pushing him out the door with a new box.

Then Monday rolls around, and you find yourself watching the door, waiting for the bell to signal his arrival. Every time the bell does ring, you jump, stepping out of whatever aisle you’re in, checking to see who’s walked inside. 

“I’m sure he’ll come by tomorrow,” your sister says when the clock hits two and there’s still no sign of him. “He’s probably just busy.”

“I know,” you say, brushing it off best you can.

The rest of the day passes like molasses, the minutes ticking by so slow you’re half sure the clock on the wall is broken. You even go so far as to check the batteries, earning a laugh from your sister. You curse yourself for flinching every time the door opens, doubly so when your father arrives to take over for the evening and you jump so hard you drop the stack of sandpaper boxes in your hands. “Sorry, honey,” he laughs, helping you pick up the boxes. “Long day?”

“Something like that,” you reply, putting the sandpaper on the right shelf before heading for the counter to grab your bag. “See you at home!”

Your father waves without looking, but calls your name before you can walk out the door. “Someone’s at the house, just so you know. Your mother’s home, of course, but I hired a guy to look at the back porch, asked him to fix the light in the hallway too.”

“Shouldn’t you be able to fix that yourself,” you joke with a smile, “since you own a hardware store and all?”

He just waves you off. “Get outta here.”

You laugh, pushing the door open, the bells jingling above your head as you step through. It’s just before dinner time, the sun starting to hang a little lower in the sky. The inside of your car feels like a sauna when you slide into the driver’s seat, and you blast the air conditioning, turning up the radio loud enough you can hear it over the noise. It’s a quick drive from the store to your house, and you’re too distracted by the song that’s playing on the radio to notice the rusty pick-up parked at the curb.

If it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.

Your mother is sitting in the kitchen when you walk through the door, calling her hellos, and you dump your keys and bag before bee-lining for the bathroom. The house is all one level, one bathroom shared between the four of you, and you flick on the light, turn on the shower, strip down quickly. The warm water is a balm for the long day, the tension that had been sitting between your shoulders melting away beneath the spray.

You wrap yourself in a towel afterward, collecting your clothes from the floor before flicking the light off again. You’re still humming the song from the radio as you open the door, wiping a drop of water from your cheek and—

“Joel?”

“Shit!” he mumbles, dropping the screwdriver in his hand. He’s standing right outside the bathroom, balanced on a step-stool. Fixing the light; you remember what your father had said. You’re instantly flushed, starkly aware of the fact that you’re basically naked except for a towel, dripping water and your underwear is basically dangling from your hand. “I’m sor—fuck!” The stool wobbles and out of instinct, you grab for him, planting your hand on his stomach. He’s reaching over his head still, and the bottom of your hand meets bare skin, his t-shirt riding up slightly.

“You good?” you ask, pressing your lips together as he balances himself. You move your hand, carefully bending your knees and picking up the screwdriver from where it landed on the floor. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, taking it from you, jaw working as he chews the inside of his lip. His cheeks are as red as your whole body feels. “Sorry, I’m—”

“I should go!” you say quickly, and side-step him, bolting out of the bathroom doorway and straight into your bedroom, the door slamming shut behind you. Your clothes tumble to the ground as soon as you’re inside, clapping a hand over your mouth as the towel nearly slips off of you. “Oh my god.”

+

You open the store by yourself the next day, your sister claiming she has the flu, your father with a golf game he can’t miss, and your mother with ‘far too many things to do around the house’. You don’t mind it; it’s usually quiet in the mornings, with the exception of the week of Joel, where he’d shown up at nine o’clock nearly on the dot each day.

Once your father got home last night, you’d all but interrogated him. Turns out, Joel had stopped by the store late the night before, walking in just before closing, and he and your dad got to talking. When the subject of the creaky back porch and the broken hallway light came up, Joel had offered his services, and your father had accepted.

A minute after you’ve flipped the sign from closed to open and unlocked the door, a now-familiar pick-up truck pulls up to the parking spot outside the curb. You inhale sharply, nerves and embarrassment in your gut, and you turn away from the door, heading towards the counter, you back to the door as it jingles open.

Joel Miller calls your name. You nearly freeze, but continue your steps until you’re safely behind the counter. You hear his boots squeak on the floor as he approaches, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head until he’s standing right in front of you, saying your name again.

“Morning, Joel.”

“About yesterday,” he says instantly, a hand reached into the space between you, landing in a loose fist on the countertop. “I had no idea that you were—that it would—” He blows out a breath, ducking his head before meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry, is what I’m tryin’ to say.”

“Y’know, I usually make a man buy me dinner before he sees me half-naked,” you say, the line rolling off your tongue before you can stop yourself. Joel balks, and you clap a hand over your mouth, nervous giggles pouring out of you. “Oh my god, that was cheesy, I’m sorry. And it’s okay, for the record. I should have checked the hallway before I walked out.”

He laughs, you laugh, and the idea sparks in your mind. Your hands move of their own accord, reaching for a pen and a scrap of receipt paper. You scribble out your phone number, accompanied by a little smiley face after the last digit.

“Here,” you say, pushing the paper across the counter, nudging his hand with your own. “Why don’t you take this, and maybe we can see each other someplace besides the paint aisle or outside my bathroom.” When he doesn’t answer right away, that sick feeling of rejection crawls up your throat, and you nearly snatch the paper back. “Or we could just pretend it never happened.”

“Can’t do that,” he murmurs, and his voice is so low and inviting you can’t help but lean across the counter slightly. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall and he curses under his breath. “Shit, I’m gonna be late.” He grabs the paper, folding it up and tucking it into the pocket on his t-shirt. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, nodding, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as he touches his hand to yours, fingers glancing over your wrist before he pulls away. He steps backward again, eyes not leaving yours. Thankfully there’s no display in his path for him to topple over, but he only looks away when he reaches the door, that almost-smile you’ve been chasing since the first day you met spreading into a full-blown grin that sends butterflies shooting through your stomach. “Bye, Joel.”

“Bye,” he replies, your name a near-whisper afterward.

As soon as the door shuts, the tinkle of bells echoing, you slump across the counter with a squeal. The bells ding again a second later, and you shoot upright, schooling your face into a normal-looking smile and greeting the customer that’s just walked through the door.

+

It’s nearly ten o’clock that night, when your phone rings.

You’re lounging in bed, a book propped against your knees, Sheryl Crowe crooning out of your stereo. The robotic ring makes you jump, and you hit the answer button quickly, lifting the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, I know it’s late,” Joel says, and you smile, sinking deeper into the pillows. “Had a long day, and I almost didn’t call, but I really wanted to.”

“I’m glad you did,” you reply, letting the book fall shut on your lap. “What made your day so long?”

It’s easy conversation, the two of you chatting for a good hour. He talks about the job site he’s been working at, his brother that works with him, how his truck nearly broke down when he went to leave, making him late to get home. The call only comes to an end when you’re both making each other yawn, mumbling apologies every time.

“I should let you get some sleep,” Joel nearly whispers, his voice so soft through the phone you barely hear it. “Didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” you quip, rolling onto your side, keeping the phone pressed to your ear. “But I like talking to you, just for the record.”

“I like talking to you, too,” he replies, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Just for the record.”

“Are you making fun of me?” you ask, faking shock. He laughs.

“Nah, I just like the way you talk, darlin’,” he says, and the pet name makes you shiver. “I’ll let you go.”

“You didn’t ask,” you say quickly, and he pauses, dead air on the line for a moment.

“What?”

“I said you could make it up to me,” you tell him, rolling onto your back, glancing out the window at the moon, big and white in the dark sky. “That was your opening to ask me out.”

Another pause, and you’re holding your breath, chewing your lip.

“Have dinner with me on Friday?”

You hum, beaming into the phone. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Joel barks a laugh, the biggest one you’ve gotten out of him yet, and you smile harder. “You’re trouble.”

“You’re the one having dinner with me,” you shoot back, and he laughs again, softer this time. “Goodnight, Joel.”

You can tell he’s still smiling. “Goodnight.”

NEXT

[velvetures]

*Peeks from a corner*

Merry Christmas!

Hi um...can I just say your comfort fluff fics have made me realize just how touche-starved I personally am. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So, if I could be so bold as to ask for a fic with Soap or Gaz or Keegan with that same theme? Making sure they're taken care of, or make them feel safe enough to let their guard down for a bit?

Again, totally fine if you have other things to do, but it would really male my day if you did. Thank you and have a nice day!

- 💀

Fall Back

a/n: thank you for the request babes... I'm sorry Christmas is just now here in mid-fucking May :( I'm ashamed. Additionally, this is my first time writing for Keegan... and I'm still working out the specifics for my interpretation of his character and behavior. So this is a bit different from what I've written before. Hopefully you enjoy it. summary: Keegan's worn down to the bone. And you're there to help him. t/w's: none.

his eyes are almost identical to my husband's... why didn't I notice until now...

He only comes to you when things get too heavy to bear.

And not in the way a refrigerator empty of food, or a late rent payment would weigh on your mind. You’ve not seen the same things he has… and fuck, he’ll do anything to make sure you never do. The mere thought that any of the nightmares and constant PTSD triggers that make him jumpy could touch your conscious would send him into an entirely new mental warfare, impossible to win. No, he shows up when he needs it most. No matter what you might be doing, or how it could appear, he’s crawling on his belly with a broken look in his eyes. Pride bruised, strength dissolved, and voice rough with more pain than you thought he could ever survive.

You tried keeping the back door unlocked for him. Thinking he’d take it as a sign that your home is always welcome. It resulted in him forcing you to lock the doors and make him a key. That lasted a couple of months, and then he lost the key somewhere in Cuba. Something about a guy ripping his chain off his neck and subsequently the key to your door that he wore alongside his dog tags. He’d been quick to change all of your locks after that. And since then, he’s decided that crawling in through your bedroom window is the only way he’ll enter your house unless you’re formally inviting him in.

Maybe it’s the anti-social part of him that believes he can’t come and go as he pleases. Spending precious time sneaking into your little house instead of doing what he came for in the first place. Getting close to you. Sometimes he won’t wake you up. Just taking off his bloody-soaked gear and taking a quick wash in the shower before curling up to you in bed. Tucking you under him, and breathing in the soft smell of your soap and fresh sheets. Other times, you’ll stir away when you hear boots scuffing heavily against the floor. Hearing heavy breaths and his tac vest thumping to the floor. Witnessing what it’s like when a ghost finally runs out of hatred and cold-blooded determination.

“Are you hurt?” It’s almost always your first question. After so many missions, he’s almost always got something that needs looked at. And while you never thought that tying stitches or cleaning shallow stab wounds would be a common occurrence in your life, Keegan has made it so that your medical kit under your bathroom sink is always stocked and ready for emergency-room worthy injuries.

He’s not going to talk much, even if he’s in good shape. It’s not in his disposition. More like a shelter dog sent back too many times for growling or bearing his teeth. Wary of everything, yet so desperate for touch that he’s willing to show you exactly where a bullet grazed his thigh. About eight hours old and weeping blood, staining a pair of pants that you’ll spend time scrubbing out in the morning while doing laundry. But if you’re worried, he’s going to hide just how badly he’s hurting… if for nothing than your sake.

He’s already broken into your house again… and now bleeding all over the bathroom rug with pretty flowers you bought after the last time he made a mess in there. Constantly reminding himself it’s selfish to demand you care for him. To show up with a shitty fucking attitude and guilt you into licking his wounds when he can’t bear to do it himself, or admit to the medical staff on base that he needs it. You’re too kind for this kind of bullshit. Too sweet to run him off though. And it’s why he keeps crawling back. Greedy… hungry… insatiable… he’s always admonishing himself for just how little control he possesses when there’s an opportunity to leave you alone, or place himself right in the middle of your life again.

“Everyone come back alive?”

Keegan has a love hate relationship with that particular question. Debating on whether or not he likes that you worry for his teammates in such an honest way; or if he’s so jealous of your mind wandering to them, and what fucked-up things they do during missions that it’s almost unbearable to hear you ask it.

“Alive.” He breathes out steadily as you thread your stitching through his skin for an eighth time, tying another knot over his twitching and aching muscles.

You’re always asking questions about the missions. About what he had to do, if he got hurt, where they went… it’s innocent enough. You mean well. But he never can tell you much. Protective instinct and top secret red tape make much of the details not worth the risk of divulging. But he’s patient with you. Giving away small hints maybe by saying a few words in a native language, or talking about a particular landmark that might’ve been close enough that you can make a guess from there. At this point, you’ve learned at least a few words in: German, Russian, Thai, and multiple hispanic dialects. A smart woman, of course, but he’s always surprised when you connect his work to something you’ve seen on the news.

It’s like you’re always watching for him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Maybe you do look out for him in more ways than one. Not bothering with the fact that you’d already completed your nightly routine, just to strip down and get a shower running. Rubbing out strained shoulders with soft hands, and gently thumbing out the thick knots in his lower back. It’s the only pressure he’s willing to accept in this state. Merely breathing just to live for more of your touch. Keegan can’t even bother with soap, and had it not been for you, he wouldn’t have at all. Feeling you scrub down every inch of him. Much more like a maid than… well… he still didn’t know what kind of label to put on this relationship.

There were too many variables and more questions than he could answer. Sure it was… transactional at times, but he’d be remiss to ignore all of the ways you occupied his thoughts when it wasn’t appropriate to. And you always do more than you’re supposed to. Just like now. Wrapping your arms around him for behind and kissing over his shoulder blades. Humming a soft tune and letting your fingertips trace over his stomach. Any man should be able to admit that he’s weak for it… but Keegan can’t readily do that.

Fighting his own heart pounding in his chest as you sway him back and forth. Wishing he could let this feeling go. Be a stronger man. Be a better ghost and lock himself away behind the gear and guns. Fuck. You’re so good at it though. Stripping him down to nothing, even when he thought there wasn’t anything else left. Soothing aches and kissing away pains he blocked out for so long that he felt like had disappeared. You are smarter than that. You know how his mind works whether he likes it or not. How willing he is to go from hell and back so many times that he’s unsure of what kind of being he truly is. Caught between worlds of warfare and the softer one where you always welcome him back, knowing that within a few days the gore will call him back for service.

“Sleep on the couch…” He mutters, standing with a towel slung around his hips and a bleary look in satin light-blue eyes. “Don’t wanna stain your sheets.”

He’d seen them upon arrival; crisp white and hundred-dollar softness he didn’t want to touch. Between the blood and feeling of getting spoiled to them, it wasn’t worth it to him. He’d done it before without much thought, but this time something was making him attempt responsibility.

“Then I’m coming with you, Russ.”

You’re smiling that damned smile he dreams about. That one where the gap between your front teeth shows and the dimpled skin on your cheeks shadows just enough to make him forget that you’re human. Angelic. Teasing… Gracefully not leaving him room for an argument. Simply turning around and headed towards the bedroom without another word as to if he’d be choosing to lay cramped on your couch. Hell, it’s four in the morning, and your mind is sharp enough to play with him just enough that he’s stalking back into the dark room and watching you crawl into the bed with an expectant, innocent look directed at him.

Keegan can’t help it.

He’s under the sheets and unceremoniously reaching for you without hesitation. Feeling his callouses catch on your skin and wincing when he hears his rough palms scratch at you. No matter how rough it feels, you’re still sliding closer. Careful of bruises and cuts, tucking yourself against him and using one arm to guide his head against your chest. Laying just above him. Incentivizing him to hug tightly to you and tuck his head under your chin. Allowing this unfeeling soldier to hide in the temporary shelter of your heartbeat.

You rub his head, and feel short, clipped, hair tickle your fingertips. Soft from a shampoo and condition after weeks away in sand that made the bathroom floor feel gritty. You’re almost always pressing kisses to his forehead and using your other hand to rub over his brow bone and bridge of his nose. Seeing in the nighttime shadow where his face paint has settled into wrinkles that you didn’t manage to wash off in the shower. Looking at long, black eyelashes that flutter a bit when you scratch up and down the back of his neck.

“You’re so pretty…” You always talk to him like this. Unable to keep from spouting praise that wells up after long periods of not knowing if he’s alive, let alone safe.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s dangerous. Maybe even a monster in some people’s eyes. But it’s a necessary evil, and it’s something you came to terms with easily. Because you didn’t just see him for the guns and direct orders. You got to witness moments like this where he’s nothing but a man in desperate need of humanity. Hungry for connection. Soft touches… and whether he liked it or not, the praises that you whisper against his pink-tipped ears.

“You’re the pretty one, dollie.” He grumbles back, squeezing your hip in a big hand.

It makes your face heat up just ask quickly when he pulls that one out. Almost always with a nickname up his sleeve that just makes it all that much more worth it. But being anything other than your own name to him… it’s a different kind of reward. One that has you smiling like a fool as you get sleepier. Nearly petting him to sleep, and hoping to god you can stay awake longer than he does just to prove you’re willing to. Maybe willing isn’t even strong enough…

Any way you think about it, there’s a sense of duty you hold much like his to a career as a ghost. Yours stemming from love so deep for this man that it’s painful watching him crawl to you as a last resort. Despising what or whoever made him feel like wanting a warm bed, and someone to look after him when he’s weak, is wrong. God it’s enough to make you angry. Looking down at a man who could make anyone tremble, and seeing him curled up against your chest like he’s clinging to a shred of comfort. If you thought picking up a gun alongside him would change things, you’re certain you’d have done it years ago. Right when all of this started and Keegan was much more proud. Unwilling to relent as easily as he does now.

But it took that long because there wasn’t another option.

He wouldn’t have allowed it if you were any different of a person, or hadn’t possessed the patience for him to let go like this. You’re positive no one knows that this is where he runs to when things get too hard. None of his team, and with no family to speak of, you’re left as his final resort, but the only one he trusts. Unlike Keegan who avoids his medal pinnings with sheer hatred, you wear your designation proudly. You’re always shining it… polishing it… looking for the first opportunity to show just how willing you are. Just for the chance to hold him. Anything to feel his breathing even out after weeks of holding it. Anything to clean him up. Put him back together.

All while silently praying that it’ll be the last time. Wishing he’d see that you aren’t a last resort, and that he can lay here as long as he wants without losing the worth he assigned to himself after becoming a ghost. Wondering when it’ll come to an end where he can come back and hang up the guns laying on your bedroom floor, forever. Patiently anticipating the day you can not have to wait until he’s asleep to say exactly how you feel.

“I love you, Keegan…”

comments & reblogs are always appreciated 🤎

[heyiwrotesomethings]

HELLO HOPE UR HAVING A NICE DAY! i would like to request a shinobu x fem!reader(she/her) :) ok so, this is when shinobu is in her past personality and kanae is still alive, reader has a crush on the grumpy shinobu and tries to court her but, shinobu denies all of the reader’s confessions because shes scared to be in a relationship considering the world theyre in. (obv reader doesnt give up but i wouldnt either) fast travel to kanaes death and reader tries to cheer shinobu up but suddenly shinobu just snaps at the reader (due to stress and overwhelmness) and tells reader to leave her alone for good and reader does just that. reader stops with trying to court shinobu and shinobu will lowkey miss the readers shenanigans and shinobu deeply regrets yelling at reader, so shinobu goes to reader and apologizes and they live happily ever after! I HOPE THAT WASNT TOO COMPLICATED! I TRIED TO MAKE IT SIMPLE BUT MY BRAIN IS IMAGINING SO MUCH AND I HAD RO GET THIS ONE OUT 😍 I LOVE ALL OF YOUR FICS AND YOUVE BEEN MY FAV SHINOBU WRITER IN TUMBLR! HAVE A NICE DAY/NIGHT -⭐️

A Trade of Equal Value

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: I had a pretty good time writing this one (even if I was still working on it at 2am last night lol)! The timeline is also kinda scuffed because I didn’t want to write in the four years between Kanae’s death and where Shinobu is mentally by the time Tanjirou and Co come around, but I still imagine her at the same age she is when the boys are introduced. I also got pretty angsty with Kanae’s death and Shinobu lashing out, but as usual, it turns out alright in the end.I feel like I should also note that Shinobu has a panic attack which I have bracketed with ‘~~~’. Shinobu even gets a little Gomez Addams-y at the end which I think is pretty nice if I do say so myself. Thanks for the request, I hope you like the result! Word Count: 4,906

“Shinobu, wait up!”

Shinobu exhaled audibly and Kanae giggled beside her, hooking her arm with Shinobu’s so that she couldn’t escape the other demon slayer quickly catching up to them.

“Be nice,” Kanae advised her.

“I’m plenty nice.” Shinobu whispered defensively. She enjoyed (Y/n)’s company more than most of the other people she had to deal with on a daily basis, but she was just getting back from a mission that lasted all night and she was too tired to cater to whatever scheme (Y/n) was cooking up this time.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n) caught up to the sisters and hugged Shinobu from behind, “And hello to you too, Kanae-san!”

“Hello, (Y/n)-chan, how was your night?” Kanae asked, nearly smirking as her rosy-cheeked sister attempted to free herself from (Y/n)’s embrace. (Y/n) showed Shinobu mercy by letting her go and walking at her side instead.

“Pretty quiet. Everything went alright on your end?”

“Just fine.” Kanae confirmed.

“Good! So, um, Shinobu,”

Oh gods, here she goes again… Shinobu braced herself.

“There is a street festival going on in downtown Tokyo tomorrow. Want to go check it out with me? As a date? Or not… whatever you are more comfortable with.”

“What a fun idea!” Kanae spoke on Shinobu’s behalf, “She’ll be happy to go with you!”

“Neesan!” Shinobu objected.

“Am I wrong?” Kanae pouted, “would you not like to spend time with (Y/n)? Should I maybe go with her instead? I wouldn’t mind getting out for the day.”

Shinobu turned her head so (Y/n) couldn’t see her face and scowled at Kanae. Never let it be said that Kanae couldn’t be as conniving as she was kind.

Shinobu had met (Y/n) during Final Selection. They had spent most of that hellish week together, quickly forming a rapport that continued even after they made it out of the wisteria forest. They went on missions together often and spent a lot of off time together too.

They grew very close, close enough that Shinobu’s mood would sour when (Y/n) wasn’t around. Close enough that Kanae felt the need to tease her about how close they walked together in the halls. Close enough that (Y/n) had confessed to Shinobu a few weeks ago and was now trying yet another courting attempt.

Shinobu enjoyed spending time with (Y/n), but if they became any closer than they already were and (Y/n) went out for a mission and never came back, Shinobu was afraid of where that would leave her. It was hard enough to lose people she had met in passing, friends, family… she didn’t want to know what it was like to lose a romantic partner too. She had already witnessed such a thing a few months back.

There was a fiancée of one slayer Shinobu had known in passing since she was a Kakushi. She had been sent to clean up a location before another demon was discovered in the area. Woefully ill-equipped to deal with the situation, she had lost her life.

When the slayer who was her betrothed had received the news, he deteriorated over the next three weeks before finally passing away in his bed at the Butterfly Estate. Shinobu had fumed over the loss.

“There was nothing wrong with him!” She had exclaimed heatedly, angry at the situation. She had been unable to find anything physically wrong with the young man in all the tests she had done.

Kanae smiled sympathetically and put her hands on Shinobu’s shoulders as they watched the Kakushi remove the covered body from the infirmary.

“Sometimes there is just no curing a broken heart,” She had replied.

“I’ll go.” Shinobu gave Kanae a warning glare when her lips split into a larger smile, then she turned back to (Y/n), making the girl jump at the intensity of her stare, “But it is not a date.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes briefly and exhaled softly through her nose before giving Shinobu a small shrug and a relaxed smile, “Understood.”

That’s how it always went. (Y/n) sweetly telling Shinobu she loved her with little gifts and proposed outings with intentions clear. It became as normal a part of their relationship as anything else they did together.

Time and time again, Shinobu would deny her, but always kept her close. She would never admit it, never give herself a moment to reflect on it, but every time (Y/n) expressed her interest in courting her, although Shinobu denied her at every turn, she always felt a sense of relief that (Y/n) was still interested in her.

There had been a few occasions where (Y/n) had gotten friendly with other people and put Shinobu on edge. These instances made her feel jealous and more irritable than what was common for the younger of the Kochou sisters, but (Y/n) always came back to her in the end, even if Shinobu had to do a little prodding behind the scenes.

Kanae had noticed one such occasion and gently scolded Shinobu for it.

“If you are not intending to pursue a courtship with (Y/n), you really mustn’t sabotage the potential for her to find someone who wants to do what you will not. That wouldn’t be fair. Don’t keep her heart if you are not going to share yours in return. Regardless of what you decide, you must treat (Y/n) well. Friend or lover. Do you understand, Shinobu?”

To be lectured by Kanae was truly humbling and even embarrassing to an extent. If Kanae actually scolded someone, one would assume they must have really deserved it. Which is why Shinobu grunted a quick, “yes”, with her eyes cast shamefully to the floor before all but stomping away.

So maybe she had gone a bit overboard interfering with (Y/n)’s sparring partner’s recovery training schedule, but in her defense, (Y/n) was her partner first. Even if she had been okay with back to back sessions, Shinobu didn’t want anything less than (Y/n)’s best when they sparred so that meant nameless-sparkly-eyed-touchy-slayer had to find something else to occupy their time.

Turning the corner after exiting Kanae’s room, she found (Y/n) waiting for her. Leaning against the wall with a couple of wooden swords in her hands, she offered one to Shinobu with a inquisitive look.

“Want to let off some steam?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Shinobu managed a small grin at the offer, taking the sword and ignoring the tingles that traveled through her body when their hands touched.

This was what she wanted, the same steadfast compatibility they had when they met in the forest. Nothing scary, just them in their most pure and uncomplicated form. Was that so wrong? Kanae shouldn’t judge Shinobu for wanting this… the only opinions that mattered in this instance were her own and (Y/n)’s, and perhaps that was true to an extent, but Kanae’s wisdom about treating (Y/n)’s heart with care should not have been so easily pushed to the back of Shinobu’s mind… because it would be the last time such advice left Kanae’s lips.

The preparations for Kanae’s funeral had simultaneously happened agonizingly slow and all too fast. The most time Shinobu had to process her sister’s death was probably in those moments holding her beaten and bloodied body waiting for the Kakushi to collect her from the battlefield. She had held her long enough to notice how her skin had gone cold as the sunrise broke over the hills much too late to save the Hashira from her unforgiving fate. The emptiness she felt when the Kakushi finally arrived and gently took Kanae’s weight off of her almost felt worse than the initial death.

But there was no time to dwell on that. There was work to do. Cremation, service, paperwork, becoming the head of the mansion and taking on all of the duties that entailed. Meetings with Oyakata-sama himself and his condolences and hopes for her moving forward. She had already been close to becoming eligible for a Hashira position herself, but she hadn’t thought she would soon be replacing her sister instead of sitting beside her.

~~~

When she could finally be alone, Shinobu collapsed onto the tatami floor of her bedroom and wept, Kanae’s haori tightly wound within her grasp. What would she do? What would she do without her? Her sister, who loved and understood her more than any other, gone with one last, rattling breath that even now echoed within Shinobu’s ears. Her own breathing now was too shallow, her eyes stung and she couldn’t see. Her stomach felt cold and heart twisted so viscously in her chest that she felt physically ill.

Hands suddenly wrapped around her biceps and she tried to pull away, still struggling to breathe. The hands left for but a moment before they returned, fingers touching more cautiously than before. Slowly running up and down her arms to her hands and then back up to shoulders and the back of her neck, continuing the motion repeatedly.

Over time, the static in her ears dissipated and she was able to hear a soft voice, urging her to breath. She suddenly felt so exhausted that she couldn’t keep herself upright and fell forward, but instead of the floor, forehead fell against something more solid, but not hard. The arms wrapped around her and the voice continued to coax her to breathe, now gently swaying her from side to side.

~~~

Shinobu had no idea how much time had passed when she finally had the strength to pull away, seeing (Y/n) looking over her with worry. It made her feel so small and powerless and… and angry.

“Why,” Shinobu rasped sharply, “are you here?”

(Y/n) flinched backward at Shinobu’s tone, swallowing a lump in the back of her throat before answering.

“With everything that happened, I was worried about you. I could hear you from the hall, you scared me.”

“So?” Shinobu spat, trying to get up, but her legs weren’t cooperating. (Y/n) reached forward to help her, “Don’t.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed.

(Y/n)’s hands returned to her lap, tightly clasped. “I’m sorry. I’ve never seen you like this before. Please, tell me how I can help.”

“I don’t want your help.” Shinobu growled. “Why, why can’t you just leave me alone? You just can’t take no for an answer, can you?” Shinobu wasn’t yelling, but the harshness of her tone was just as sharp in (Y/n)’s ears. “Help me,” She scoffed, though it sounded more like a whimper in her ears, making her more angry, “unless you can bring the dead back to life, stay the hell away from me.”

“Shinobu, please—“

Shinobu was so full of rage and anguish, her misdirected anger only became more pointed. The lack of control was eating at her, she felt like she was lost on treacherous seas, trying to stay afloat by dragging (Y/n) under the churning black water so that she could maybe get just one full breath without swallowing the salty brine. It would be so easy. The one thing that she could control.

“This isn’t something you can fix! This isn’t a fairy tale where you get the girl by saying a few sappy half-baked sentiments. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want you?”

The words struck (Y/n) deeply, but she tried to power through, “That’s not why I’m here, Shinobu. I swear I’m not expecting anything to change. You’re hurting, and as your friend I—“

“You aren’t my friend!” Shinobu shouted. “Time and time again you ask to court me. Time and time again I refuse you. Your narcissism knows no bounds... The kindness you are attempting to show me is a forgery! A means to the end you keep badgering me for! You are reprehensible, a thorn wedged in my side, I can’t stand you, can’t you see that?! Leave!”

Shinobu’s heavy breathing was deafening in the quiet left behind by her words. Glaring down at (Y/n), she felt no lighter. No weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. In fact, as the sound of silence grew, the air around them only seemed to become thicker.

After stewing in the silence, (Y/n) attempted to speak. Her voice cracked on the first word and with it, Shinobu’s heart. She slowly got to her feet as if she had been physically beaten, avoiding Shinobu’s eyes as she turned away to wipe at her own.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through a hitched sob that made Shinobu’s blood chill, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that.”

Tell her you don’t. Take it all back, hurry. Try to make it better. Don’t let her slip away too. A hurried whisper within Shinobu’s mind pleaded, but she found herself mute, still and rigid as a statue. Her mind was fuzzy, yet somehow working in overdrive, but she appeared to not have the means to do anything about it.

“I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable. It was hard enough asking the first time, I wouldn’t have asked again if Kanae-san,” another choked sob, “if she hadn’t encourage me to keep trying, if she hadn’t sounded so sure that you felt the same, I wouldn’t have bothered you after that...

Even so, I should have noticed how you really felt. I didn’t pay close enough attention, yet I still claimed to love you. I really am the worst, huh?”

Shinobu could see the terrible false smile (Y/n) wore as she slowly slid the door open and shuffled into the hall. The voice in Shinobu’s head screamed at her to move, to speak, to stop (Y/n) from slipping out of the room completely, but she still stood stubbornly frozen.

“I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

The door closed, furthering the chasm between them and casting Shinobu’s room in darkness once more. She could hear (Y/n)’s footsteps fading, but instead of following, she slid back down to the floor in a strange state between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Not quite grasping the gravity of this event until much later when the other girls finally had her eating and sleeping properly again and she had some time to reflect.

(Y/n) had made good on her promise to leave Shinobu alone. When Shinobu had worked up the courage to find her and apologize for all the awful things she said nearly a month ago, the room that was all but officially (Y/n)’s was uniform with the other empty rooms spread across the mansion.

Kiyo had found her standing in the doorway and timidly approached.

“(Y/n)-san told us that she was going to ask the Stone Hashira if he was willing to take on another Tsuguko. Her crow sent us a letter a couple days later. She was accepted. The Kakushi helped relocate her belongings.”

“Oh.” Shinobu softly exclaimed, because what else could she say? It was either that or sink to the floor like a slug and Shinobu wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet.

“But now that you know, you could go talk to her. If you wanted to.” Kiyo cautiously added. She and the other girls may or may not have caught wind of what had happened, but were too nervous to try to interfere before now.

“Thank you, Kiyo. I think I will do just that.”

***

“Himejima-san, please.”

Shinobu couldn’t believe that Gyomei of all people was getting in her way of speaking to (Y/n). The man who had saved her and introduced her to a cultivator had been a father figure to her for years now and to have him standing in her way like he was now stung.

“It is not my decision to make,” Gyomei shook his head, still standing firm, “She does not wish to see you. Why that is, I do not know, but it is the decision she has made and one that I must honor.”

“I need to see her, it’s urgent.” She insisted.

“Is her health failing?”

“No.”

“Does she have a mission?”

“…No.”

“Then I see no reason to yield, young Kochou.” Gyomei shook his head woefully, “But I can tell this is important to you, if you have a message for her, I shall relay it for you if you are comfortable.”

Shinobu stared past Gyomei, looking longingly at the towering fence that enclosed his estate. She honed in on the sound of slayers training beyond the walls, hoping to hear (Y/n)’s voice among the shouts and grunts and clacking practice swords, but heard no such sound in the commotion.

“Can I write it out myself?” She asked Gyomei. He nodded.

“I will allow it… Again, I don’t know what this is about, but take time and care in writing what you want to say. You can send En by when you’ve completed your letter or hand it off to myself.”

“Very well. I shall do that.” With one last look at the tall fence, Shinobu turned to leave and Gyomei spoke up once more.

“Do not get disheartened if you do not get the results you hope for right away. Find a happy medium between patience and persistence and perhaps she will come around.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

As soon as Shinobu got home, she locked herself in her office for hours and every attempted draft of apology could not even begin to touch on all she regretted. Her waste bin was overflowing by the time she had something that didn’t immediately make her want to rip the offending paper in two. Before she could change her mind, she sent En off with the letter and waited anxiously for a reply. Hoping beyond hope they could go back to where they were before. Shinobu needed that familiarity and stability. She craved it. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait terribly long for a reply, but unfortunately it read,

I’m relieved to hear you are in a better place, but just as you have had time to reflect on that night, I have as well.

Your words that night hurt me in a way that I’ve never been hurt before, made worse by the fact that it was you who had said them to me.

Part of me wanted to be furious with you, I thought that I should be, but I wasn’t. I was empathetic to your loss and the new responsibilities that were thrust upon you. But even though I tried to convince myself that you lashed out because of the pressure, I believe there was some truth in what you had said.

If I could go back in time, I would have just kept my feelings to myself to spare us all the trouble. Despite this, I am happy that you hope to patch things up between us.

However, in my reflection, I came to the conclusion that even after all of this, I am still hopelessly in love with you despite everything. In the interest of preserving my heart, and saving you from the discomfort of my affections, I do not think it wise for us to reconnect. At least, not until I manage to get over you. I don’t know how long that will take, but given that not a waking hour passes that I don’t think about you, it probably won’t be any time soon.

I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable to read this, I’m just trying to be honest. Tell the girls I said hi, and please take care of yourself.

Wishing you the best,

(Y/n)

“Wishing you the best?” Shinobu hissed under her breath, the paper crinkling between the harsh pinching of her fingertips. “There is no best of me without you, idiot.”

Shinobu allowed herself time to cry, but not a lot. Gyomei’s words were still on her mind. If she wanted (Y/n) back, she wasn’t going to get her by crying, but now she needed to make a very important choice.

Continue to push for friendship, or confront the romantic feelings that she had fought like hell to keep hidden. Was accepting those feelings and the vulnerability the would bring worse than not having (Y/n) in her life at all?

“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” Shinobu softly pondered the old proverb. Kanae had been a fan of the saying and Shinobu had never really understood the sentiment until now.

Though she was going to fight like hell to be worthy of the love she had lost and reclaim it once more.

***

“Another letter? En, that’s three just today. You don’t have to bend to her every whim.” (Y/n) fussed over the bird, setting her up with fresh water and seed.

“It is important to Shinobu, so it is important to me.” The loyal crow proudly stated, though she was very grateful for (Y/n)’s continued hospitality.

“Just try not to over do it.” (Y/n) sighed and unfurled the letter, quickly catching the pressed flowers within and quietly cursing as bits of the brittle plants flaked off and fell to the floor. She carefully paced the dried flowers on her desk and scanned over the letter, finding it to be another poem. “What is she trying to achieve here? Why is she doing this?”

“To win back your trust, your heart,” En cocked her head left and then right, “Is it not obvious? Should I suggest being more direct?”

“Why does she want my heart so badly all of the sudden?” A bit of irritation slipping into her tone, “Is it something she wants to seal up in a jar? Bet she’d enjoying having it up on a shelf in the lab. Maybe a paper weight on her desk.”

“You humans vex me,” En’s feathers ruffled, “just give each other something shiny and make up.”

“If only it were that simple.” (Y/n) murmured, finishing her curt response to Shinobu’s poem, denying her a visit once again. She then placed the letter beside En. “You can take your time heading back, and if she tries to insist on a fourth delivery today, turn her down for the good of your health.”

En released a low caw that could only be interpreted as a scoff. Promptly scooping up the letter and taking her leave, passing Gyomei in the hallway.

“(Y/n), is all well? You are late for training.”

(Y/n) winced, “I’m so sorry Master. I got distracted.”

“Kochou-san again?”

“Yes…”

“And you still will not see her?” (Y/n)’s silence was answer enough. “Why?”

“I guess when it comes right down to it, I’m scared. Whether it’s me putting my own heart out there, or her actively trying to obtain it, I feel like it will inevitably end the same and I don’t think I could go through that again.”

Gyomei hummed thoughtfully, “I think I understand your concerns. Matters of the heart are certainly not easy. Especially when it has already been hurt before. I’m sure you will make your peace with her soon, but I pray that peace and satisfaction will find you sooner.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Can I expect you to join the rest of your peers for training now?”

“Of course!”

“Wonderful. I expect you to have two boulders beaten down to gravel by nightfall.”

(Y/n)’s shoulders slumped and she suppressed a groan.

“Yes, sir.”

This would be a long day…

***

Shinobu halfheartedly paged through the new medicinal tome that had arrived the day prior. She had been eagerly anticipating its arrival for months, but now with En’s latest return proving she had failed to entice (Y/n) once again, she hardly had the motivation.

She was surprised when Gyomei’s crow, Zekka, came to perch at her window some hours later. She took the letter from his beak and he quickly flew off. He was not expecting a reply, she supposed. She unfurled the textured paper and scanned the punched message which simply read,

The best way to receive what it is you are looking for, is to give something of equal value in return.

Himejima Gyomei

“Really, Himejima-san, is this supposed to be a riddle?” Shinobu shook her head, but a determined spark lit up her eyes and she got to work.

***

(Y/n) slumped to the ground, uncaring that she was resting in a pile of rubble. She had destroyed the boulders just as the sun had sank behind the mountains, but at what cost? Himejima seemed nice, but his training was beyond brutal. If the secret of Stone Breathing was to make one’s arms as heavy and stiff as stone, (Y/n) was surely going to be a Master in no time. Her eyes drooped shut. It wouldn’t be the first time she took a dirt nap after training, but an insistent voice was preventing that.

“Hello, hello, please don’t fall asleep out here, (Y/n). I could probably name ten different reasons why it would be a horrible decision.”

Cold hands prodded at her face and sore arms, making her groan in protest and try to shimmy away.

“If you don’t massage and stretch now, you are going to be completely immobile tomorrow. Which may be helpful actually, at least then you won’t be able to run away from me.”

(Y/n) heard her arm crack and pop, which would have have alarming except it felt like a relief. She cracked opened her eyes, soon blown wide open when she realized who was busy cracking and rotating her aching wrist. If her heart had ever raced when she saw Shinobu (which it did) it was sprinting now. Damn traitorous organ never learned.

“What are you doing here? How are you here?” She whispered, not even because she was pretty sure she was dehydrated, but because it just felt appropriate to whisper.

“Jumped over the fence.” Shinobu answered casually, taking her time cracking (Y/n)’s knuckles and massaging her palm now, “Though I’m sure Himejima-san is well aware of my presence and wouldn’t have minded me using the front gate this time around. And for your first question, I’m here for you.”

“Shinobu, I told you that I—“

“—I have something I want to give you formally. What you decide to do from there is completely your choice. I know I have always asked a lot of you, but please allow me this once more.”

“…Okay.” Even after nearly four months of separation, (Y/n) found herself still unable to deny her. In her mind, this did not bode well for what little progress she thought she had made.

“Thank you.”

Shinobu stoked her thumbs over the palm of (Y/n)’s hand before bringing it to her chest, placing it over her heart and holding it there with both hands.

“Wh-what are you doing?” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to inch her palm higher, somehere above Shinobu’s clavicle and not quite so close to the swell of her chest, but Shinobu held firm.

“Do you feel that?” She asked.

“What am I supposed to be feeling?!”

“My heartbeat, of course. Can’t you feel it? It’s beating rather hard right now.”

It was hard to pay attention to anything other than her own racing heart if she was honest. Besides, a hand to someone’s chest wasn’t the best way to find a pulse. Shinobu of all people should know that.

“Maybe this will help.”

(Y/n) let Shinobu shift their positions around, mostly because she was still stiff and her body was refusing to cooperate with her own wishes. After a bit of maneuvering, she found her cheek resting on Shinobu’s chest instead, a speedy and strong drumbeat pressed against her ear.

“Is that better?” Shinobu asked.

“Why are you doing this?”

“To show you that you are not alone, that this is the power you have over me. My heart is yours, it always has been, but I’m giving it to you formally now.”

“Shinobu, I can’t—“

“I don’t expect you to give yours in return, I know I don’t deserve it yet, but I hope to one day. Will you allow me the honor of courting you. You owe me nothing, but I beg of you to allow me the chance to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because losing out on the moments we could have while living together is more frightening to me than death itself. I don’t know how much time either of us has, but I want to spend it all with you.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes began to water. A quiet sob shook her shoulders and she felt Shinobu’s arms tighten around her. She was so doomed. Try as she might, her heart was very clear. It belonged to Shinobu, no matter what she decided to do. That didn’t mean she couldn’t make her really work for it though.

“Alright, I accept,” (Y/n) sniffed, “you may court me.”

Shinobu gasped softly then took (Y/n)’s hand from her lap, kissing the back of it while locking eyes with her. The intensity of her stare sent a shiver down (Y/n)’s spine.

“I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. The same one I had denied you of several times in the past. The goddess my heart is devoted to is a merciful one. How unworthy I am of your blessing.”

“I think you have been reading too much poetry.” (Y/n) spoke in a strained whisper, flustered by Shinobu’s intensity. She had never imagined she could be like this.

“Oh this is only the beginning,” Shinobu declared, a purple flame burning in her eyes more vibrantly than any chemical reaction could produce, “You best prepare yourself.”

[gangplanksorenji]

Good _arts (When everything feels lost but I am—)

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM Chaewon x Male Reader

Word Count: 3353

A/N 1: Hellow Orenjideul! This will be my year-end fic and Happy new year to y'all! Thank you for following the journey I had been into and I hope you'll like this piece of mine! Stay safe y'all!

—---------------------------------------------------

“I just wanna love myself

난 좋을 때도 나쁠 때도

Love my weakness

화려했던 기대와는 

달리왠지 볼품없다 해도

Find the good parts, the good parts—”

---

Breathe in; breathe out. 

Just take a deep breath and you’ll be fine—just don’t overthink about it and you’ll be fine.

It doesn’t work—nothing seems to be working in the first place. 

One more try. Calm yourself and relax your mind—feel the euphoric essence and not fall to the dark abyss lurking down.

“Hah…” you let out a deep sigh and smiled right after, knowing that you did what you could—your utmost performance. Gaslighting yourself that you did everything flawlessly isn’t gonna work and it never will.

“Ohh… I shouldn’t have gone over the limit, how stupid of me!” Another blame onto yourself for an unfortunate mishap leads you into losing your confidence. You frowned in frustration as the post-realization of your embarrassment is inevitable—you wanted to forget what happened but simply can’t.

Letting it slide off your mind wouldn’t help if you keep on thinking on how to forget it, and it shows. You puff your cheeks and let out a long breath, wanting yourself to ease the pain you’ve been feeling.

*phone vibrates*

You don’t want to answer it first as you—wait, what if it’s someone? Well, you don’t want to even put up a fight of your own demons on just a simple decision of answering a phone call, right? So, without a doubt, you picked it up without even looking at who it was and you were surprised by the voice on the phone.

“Hello Oppa!”

Your eyes widen; cheeks forming a shade of red as your lips involuntarily form a smile. You just can’t help but feel the ultimate delight whenever you hear her saccharine voice—even her scuffed voice on the phone can’t deny how sweet her voice is.

Chaewon. Kim Chae-won. The sweetest girl you’ve ever met; the cutest girl on the whole planet; the person that you can always lean on and trust—she just has everything a man wants and you’re lucky you’ve met her. Nothing in this world is perfect, but she’s the literal living embodiment of “perfection” and no one could change your mind with that—she’s your everything.

“Yah, Hello Chaewon-ah. Why did you call me?”

“Ahh, I called you to ask you how things went…”

“Huh, what do you mean by that?” you played dumb and oblivious on the phone, hoping that Chaewon would change the topic but her curiosity is inevitable—you don’t want to talk about the performance earlier as you wanted to forget what just happened.

“Hmp, don’t play dumb Oppa. I’m talking about your performance today! Did it went goo—”

“No.”

A cold, unnerving tone breaks Chaewon's sentence and the radiant energy that she emanates. Even though the both of you are just in a phone call, she can feel how spine-chilling your tone is. You don’t want to scare Chaewon in any way, it’s just the fact that you don’t want to talk about what happened earlier but she doesn’t seem moved by your sudden change of demeanor.

“Oh… I’m sorry for asking that, Oppa.”

“Uh-ahh, it’s a-alright, Chaewon. It’s just…”

“It’s just?”

You paused, pouting your lips, uneasy on what you’re going to say but you will, for you trust Chaewon with all your heart and you know how she’ll understand you.

“It's just—can I just come over at your place?”

“Ohh… Sure, Oppa. It's just that we're in a cafe with Kazuha and Yunjin, so maybe I'll come home later than expected.”

You frantically nod as you smile, knowing that you'll meet her again.

“Ohh, alright… Uhm, can I just come and fetch you on your way home? So you don't need to bother calling yourself a taxi. Just say where the cafe is and I'll go there—”

“Oh, it's alright Oppa. I'll just call a cab on my way home so you don't need to bother—”

“Please, Chaewon-ah?” your tone is reassuring and sincere, letting Chaewon know how much you trust her and how you wanted to mind fetching her in the first place.

Chaewon was having second thoughts at first as she thinks that you’ll be bothered enough but her heart says the opposite—she wants to meet you and is unhesitant of thinking about denying it.

“If you insist, Oppa… Sure thing.”

“Thank you, Chaewon-ah. Just call me if I’ll fetch you, I’m in my car right now, okay?”

“Okay Oppa, bye.”

“Bye Chaewon.”

You ended the call right after and let out a deep sigh. The sigh wasn’t anything near of stress but rather, a sigh of reassurance knowing that your day is getting a little brighter after talking to Chaewon on the phone.

Ah, she’s really a gift from above and you’ll forever cherish—

*phone rings*

Your eyelids slowly open; your eyes adjusting from the bright light your car screen (the touchscreen device or basically a screen that can be called as an ‘infotainment system’) is emanating. Suddenly, you come back to your senses and the phone rings echoes around the vehicle.

You slept without even knowing that you actually did. It’s must be the pent-up stress earlier but the phone is still ringing, maybe you should answer it—

“Hello? Chaewon?”

“Oppa! I already texted you on where the cafe is. Meet me there, right near the benches, okay?”

“Okay, Chaewon. I just slept all of a s-sudden. *yawns* I’m sorry.”

“Oppa, it’s alright. You’re not sorry; I understand how tough your day must be.”

“Thank you Chaewon-ah—” you smiled through the phone, enamored by how thoughtful and understanding she is—you’re always grateful for meeting a girl like her.

“—for understanding me. Uhm, I’ll come to the cafe as soon as possible, okay? Bye, see ya’.”

“Bye Oppa, see you too!”

You hung up the phone call as you rushed-not-so-rushed out of the parking position you’re in, ready to fetch Chaewon on the cafe she texted. You’re grateful that the cafe wasn’t really far from where you are right now—not even exceeding two kilometers according to the navigation system you’ve searched on.

“Bingo. It's not that far away, gladly.”

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

Slowly dancing your head alongside the beat of the song from the radio, you feel a hint of delight and satisfaction—it may not seem to do something but it’ll do. Not so long after numerous songs, you finally arrived at the cafe she texted and thanked yourself for not getting lost on your way here, even though you almost did.

*horns blaring*

As soon as she saw the familiar color and plate number of your car, she waved goodbye to her friends, Kazuha and Yunjin as they exchanged smiles between the delightful blabbering they had earlier. A black-haired girl with her faint white highlights waddled her way onto your car and as soon as you saw it, you hopped out of the car and opened the door for her. 

“Aww, you’re so sweet, Oppa. Thank you…”

“It’s no big deal, Chaewon-ah.”

You also insisted on waving goodbye to her friends as they responded immediately. With your not-so-awkward meeting with Chaewon, you laughed it out as she smiled endearingly to you. You made eye contact with her as you awkwardly looked away right after, feeling something’s uncanny and off at this moment. Not so long after, the both of you hopped into the vehicle.

“Yah, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uhm, I’m just worried about you earlier, what seems to be the bad thing that happened?”

Her eyes switched demeanor as it fixated towards you as her eyebrows scrunch in curiosity, expecting an answer uttering from your lips.

“O-o-ohh, t-that? Uhm, it’s just noth—”

“Stop with this Oppa, I’m here to help. So please—” her gaze locked onto yours again, her eyes reassuring and endearing for you to tell the truth. She further reassures you by caressing your right thigh as her thumb fidgets around the cloth.

“—tell me the truth.”

You're skeptical, your lips sighed in defeat as you looked right into her eyes, her captivating eyes—stare on those soulful, hazel-brown eyes—and finally, said what you've been keeping.

“I didn't deliver my best performance and I was ashamed of myself for being such the weakest link…”

Chaewon's eyes were in the mix of concern and distraught, unsure of what could happen next. She caressed your left cheek, cupping it gently right after as she reassured you.

“Oppa, you were never the weakest link. We may all have flaws but it doesn't mean it's always negative. We also have our own strengths too—”

“Yeah, but—I messed up pretty badly.”

“How bad?”

You clicked your tongue and faced away from her and to the window, being embarrassed as you gained enough strength again to open up to her.

“Really bad… I just—there’s just a lot to tell you.” 

Chaewon's eyebrows furrowed in dismay, frowning right after as she felt sympathy for your maybe-your-worst mistakes. 

“It's alright, Oppa. We'll continue this later, okay?'”

“Alright…”

Before stepping on the gas pedal, you thought of one thing and asked Chaewon something.

“Aren’t Kazuha and Yunjin going to come home? I mean, I can escort them on their way home—”

“Oh, them? They said that they’ll still stay and I decided to go and meet you earlier than expected because of you Oppa.”

You're in shock, eyes wide open from her statement. Did she really did that for you? Well, that’s really sweet. You had never thought that Chaewon would be this serious just to meet you—maybe your wretched state earlier is enough for her concerned heart to act up.

“Oh wow Chaewon… Thank you, I owe you so much—”

“Come on Oppa, it’s alright; the feeling is mutual too. I owe you a lot too…”

Her smile exudes sweetness and vibrance, making it brighter than any star on the cluster of systems known to mankind. That smile of hers. It is one of the reasons why I love her with all my heart. 

After a small, affectionate talk with her, you then stepped on the gas pedal and drove your way onto Chaewon’s place.

*car vrooms*

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

“Yah, Oppa! That was so awkward!”

“I know right? Like we just stared at each other and thank God, he talked first.”

“Oh wow. *giggles* Oh, we're at our place now.”

Chaewon hurriedly readied herself as you parked the car and turned off the engine. You unlocked the doors and both of you got out of the car and initiated to carry Chaewon’s bag in order to ease the burden that she’s carrying even though she doesn’t have any—you’re repaying her kind heart with your gentlemanly actions.

Chaewon unlocks the door of her house and you were surprised with the new ambiance—organized shelves alongside the new T.V. setup and new pillowcases and carpets, and the strawberry scent by the diffuser serves as the cherry on top.

“Wow, a lot has changed here since my last visit.”

“Yeah, I tend to organize stuff in my free time and I thank Kkura-unnie for helping me out in organizing things.”

“Wow, that’s great to hear.”

Chaewon then rushed to the refrigerator to get some water and glasses on the shelves. You wander down around the living room and smile seeing the pictures of her friends, family, herself and the both of you lying around the cabinet.

“You want some water, Oppa?”

“Oh, I’m pretty good right now—”

“Food? We got some leftover ‘kimchi jjigae’ (kimchi stew) and some ‘jjajangmyeon’ (black bean noodles) here. Don’t you want some?”

“Nah, I’m good Chaewon. Thanks anyways.”

“Uhm, now talk to me, Oppa.”

Oh yeah. You suddenly forgot the reason why you’re at her place and you wouldn’t dare to lie in front of your teeth with such a plethora of excuses. 

“Oh, that…” your face suddenly vexed, remembering the grasps of such an embarrassing act in front of the audience. You just thank god no one laughed hysterically on your mistakes or unless you could’ve lost your confidence there and there.

“I don’t know what to really feel. I feel like all my practice has gone into dust after that mistake. I just hate myself after that.” you sighed deeply, feeling the regret and dismay of what happened earlier.

“I don’t even know if the mentors and my professors were amused by my performance, I forgot a couple of my lines and I’m glad I made some impromptu to slide it off but it just doesn’t seem right.”

You brought your right hand onto your forehead, closing your eyes as disappointment dominated your emotions. 

“It was your last, graded performance, right, Oppa?”

“Yeah, and I fucked up bad.”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that Oppa—” Chaewon then went and sat right beside you as she held your hand, making you reassured by her touch. “—you didn’t mess up anything and you said you said some impromptu to cover it up, right?”

“Yes, but here’s the worst thing: I went blank multiple times and stuttered too. I just feel fucked at that moment—shit…” 

“Oppa…” Chaewon’s face is now closer against yours, staring endearingly with those puppy eyes. “Have you ever considered looking at the brighter side?”

“How come there’s a brighter side, Chaewon? I messed up and thank god no one noticed yet only the smallest details.”

“There can be, Oppa.”

You always know how optimistic Chaewon is—how she often cheers you up and makes your day brighter. You always know how she can make you laugh even in your all-so-serious mood, she just knows how she can make you in awe and let down your defenses for her—she’s your kryptonite. 

You half-expected her to tell things like this before you fetched her and you’re right. You feel skeptical with her persuasions but you can’t help but think of the brighter side of this. 

“Hah… Alright, Chaewon, enlighten me then.”

“Have you ever thought that the impromptu you made could be actually better than the script?”

“B-But I wrote the script, and I don’t think it’s better—”

“Oppa, even the simplest of actions can impact something so vastly. Maybe, just maybe, your professors or mentors can even applaud or complement your performance despite something lacking, yet I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing bad.”

You paused for a moment, contemplating Chaewon's reassuring and optimistic words. Maybe she can be right. 

“Tch, I don’t know Chaewon but—”

Chaewon anticipates. Her idyllic yet worrying expression—her furrowed eyebrows matched with her saccharine smile—painted all over her face expects something following your conjunction.

“But?”

You hugged her. Without any second to waste, you didn’t hesitate to kiss her cheeks and thanked her for her thoughtfulness and the time to listen to you.

You owe her so much and you feel like, you didn’t deserve her—

No. Stop with these intrusive thoughts and look to the brighter side—like how Chaewon would say to you. 

The hug lasted for only a couple of seconds and you could tell how Chaewon was flustered at that moment—her cheeks tinted a rosy pink as well as her ears getting red at the moment. 

“Chaewon, thank you so much for these.”

Your genuine tone makes Chaewon in awe, her eyes pleading as her smile exudes vibrance and you can't help but fall into the contagiousness of it—smiling too as soon as she smiles.

“It's just a small thing, Oppa. I'm always there for you, don't you forget it.”

She then hugged you tightly and you didn't hesitate to accept her affection—accepting it with open arms. She deepened the embrace with her face resting on your chest as she murmured, “Thank you too, Oppa. I’m so thankful to meet you. So so thankful…”

Your eyes involuntarily teared-up, touched by her short yet sweet message as you didn't hesitate to let out your true feelings too.

“I could never ask for anything more in this world because of you Chaewon. Thank you for everything.”

The embrace was full of affection as you pushed her gently against you—the both of you meeting eyes to each other—breaking the embrace in exchange for a kiss. A kiss to remember.

The next thing Chaewon saw is just your lips latched onto hers as you taste the faint of the vanilla lip balm. You kissed her a little bit more before detaching, your animalistic urge wanting more but you resisted.

“I love you, Chaewon.”

These simple words are enough to make someone's heart flutter. These simple words are worth remembering for a lifetime. These simple words that can make thousands and thousands of memories worth cherishing.

“I love you too, Oppa.”

The both of you locked eyes and exchanged smiles, feeling reinvigorated than before.

“Just to hope they would be pleased, at least.”

“I believe that they will, Oppa. Also—” Chaewon got off on the couch as she hurriedly got something on the shelves. 

Wires with the colors of blue and black is all you can see as she set-ups the conglomeration of wires near the T.V. and with that, you insisted to help yet within a blink of an eye, she already finished wiring anything up.

“—do you wanna play some games, Oppa?” she asked you with a controller in her hand.

You would be lying if you don't want to. How can you resist playing with a puffball like her? With that being said you nodded and got the wireless controller from her hand as you started grasping the controls of it.

“Try and be relaxed, Oppa. We'll play some chill exploration games if you want to so you won't be stressed.”

Another nod, agreeing on her actions. 

“Ahh, the things you do to me, Chaewon…”

And now with a simple click, the game starts as the adventure begins…

—-------------------------------

Seconds become minutes. Minutes become hours and so on. Time really went fast as you didn't see the dark aura of the sky outside—signaling that it's already nighttime and the both of you didn’t notice because of how busy you were on the game.

“Wow, *yawns* —we really did a lot of this game, Oppa. I’ll just harvest the rest of the crops and maybe explore more on the other side.”

“Yeah, sure, Chaewon, I’ll go and do some fishing then.”

You focused on going near the pond as you suddenly felt a weight on your left shoulder. You looked to your left, Chaewon silently snoring; her eyes shut; sleeping soundly. 

You tucked her white-highlighted hair behind her ear, taking a look at her beautiful and pristine features: her cute, boopable nose; her faint eyes, innocent from her sleeping and her soft, plump lips.

You took a sight of her impeccable features and kissed her cheek. You smiled right after as you exited the game from both controllers and turned off the T.V. right after.

Such epitome of perfection she is. You're in awe seeing how beautiful she really is. Even with the simplest outfit and faint make-up, she stands out, exceeding any criteria of beauty—she's the real epitome of it.

You lay her down on the couch and took the nearby blanket on the coffee table, wrapping it around her as she didn't seem to be bothered by your actions—still sleeping peacefully.

“Good night, Chae.”

Give her a quick peck on the forehead, you smile as you sit beside her, caressing her hair and cheeks.

“Thank you for everything, Chaewon. Thank you for guiding me on the times I feel lost. Thank you and no words can explain how much I love you.”

The vast night sky has countless stars that seemed endless, but you could only see one, and that's Chaewon.

You leaned next to her, trying to sleep as you, not so long after, you gave in to your drowsiness.

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

Text Message from “yurii the hamster”:

“Oppa! I have some good news for you! Our professors commended our performance earlier! They also said you performed well and your acting is great! Thank you again for all of these, Oppa, everything isn't possible without your help and everyone of us. Thank youuu! ;)”

Well, this will be great news for you when you woke up.

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

All The Kings [Joel Miller] 01

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

a/n: my first Joel Miller fic. It was never my intention to write it, but the other day, I just sat down and started writing, and voila, this came out. this is also the first part of two. please, read and enjoy, and feedback is very welcome in every shape and form. cheers! the title and inspiration for the story comes from one of my favorite songs All The Kings by Editors. big thanks to @avastrasposts for inspiring me to post this.

wordcount: 4.5K

warnings: as it is mainly angst, there are some hints about readers mental health, memory repression, mentions of loneliness, death in family and isolation.

You don’t really remember much from those other, happier times, when the world around you was alive, vibrant and overflowing with promises that no longer were. The memories of those days have faded, turnimg into mere echoes, like bits and pieces of a dream slipping through your fingers upon waking up, leaving you lost in a sea of confusion. 

Yet, sometimes—if you focus hard enough, that is—some of the fragments of memories flutter back to life. 

Rays of sunlight filtering through the branches and casting patterns on the sidewalk in front of your family home. Fleeting images of friends laughing. Sneaking out through the window. Scraped knees. Trampled grass. Silly crushes, and kisses stolen when no one was watching. First taste of alcohol. 

There were family gatherings and family trips, soda cans, plastic bags and coffee cups, brimming and steaming. 

There was a smell of bread fresh from the oven, burnt mouths, brain-freezes and ice cream melting between your fingers—an universe that was stitched in a mosaic of flower-adorned dresses and white, scuffed sneakers. 

There was the warmth of your mother’s embrace, your brother’s beaten-up car, and his mock impatience as he waited to give you a lift to school.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, and with your eyes still shut tight, you let your head fall forward, resting heavily on the unsteady surface of your old dining table. 

You didn’t like to think about those other, happier times, because going back meant more than reminiscing. It meant yearning. Wishing that things were different. Same as they used to be. It meant longing for a life when everything felt right. Life that was so unlike the one you lived now. 

Most of the time, you simply locked those thoughts away in your chest with a key you pretend to have lost, burying it deep within, hoping perhaps that out of sight would also mean out of mind. 

It rarely did, though—

A brisk rap at the door shattered the silence, echoing briefly before fading as swiftly as the curse you muttered under your breath. You straightened up, surprise and curiosity melding together and knitting your brows as you paused — a moment of hesitation visible in the slight scrunch of your nose.

For a brief second, you remained still, caught in the unexpected interruption. Then, with a fluid motion born of a mix of alarm and intrigue, you rose to your feet. The floorboards groaned, protesting the sudden movement as you navigated toward the door — confusion clouded your thoughts about who it might be.

Guests had become a rarity these days, becoming just an echo of a time when the outside world hadn't yet forgotten the path to your doorstep.

Oh.

Your reaction, a mix of surprise and inquiry, hung in the air as you faced the unexpected visitor—a man whose presence seemed almost surreal against the backdrop of your isolated existence. As he took a hesitant step up to your porch, your gaze involuntarily dropped to the frayed doormat beneath your feet.

The irony of having a doormat in the first place was laughable, considering everything. But once one’s life gets stripped bare of comfort, every sad attempt at homeliness makes a difference. 

“Hi!” Tommy started, his voice threaded with a note of uncertainty as he absentmindedly fiddled with his moustache. His other hand was buried in the pocket of his sherpa jacket, seemingly searching for the right words.

You observed him for a brief moment — the silence weaving its weight around you both.

Tommy Miller was a known figure in town, yet not someone you knew intimately. An influential presence, always at the forefront of community meetings and patrols — his voice resonating with a confidence that had long since ebbed from your own life.

“Can I help you with something?" your question finally broke through, tinged with doubt.

Tommy nodded, his gaze briefly shifting away before locking back onto yours. 

“Yes,” he began, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. Then, with a half-smile that wove together threads of embarrassment and sincerity, he dove straight into his request. “I was hoping you’d consider cooking for a small get-together we’re having.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, adding, “Maria’s hands are full with the baby, and she didn’t want to cancel the plans. We both remembered how amazing that meatloaf you made for the town meeting was, back when you first moved here.”

His words, earnest and slightly rushed, seemed to hang in the air between you, taking you aback. As you stood there, blinking in surprise, memories of that time—a chapter from what now felt like another life—began to resurface.

Jackson was supposed to be a beacon of hope, a place to start anew, filled with the promise of stability after a life spent drifting. It was supposed to be your slice of normalcy, a dare to dream of piecing together a life from the remnants of what once was. 

However, dreams—and people—are fragile, easily shattered in a world that often leaves very little room for them. 

That’s why you had found it so hard to try and fit into the Jackson community — a place so different from any you’d known before. And despite throwing yourself wholeheartedly into trying to meld with the locals, the sense of belonging you so deeply had craved had remained perpetually beyond your grasp.

Polite smiles and courteous small talk had come in abundance, but the deeper, more genuine relationships—the feeling of truly being part of something—always slipped through your fingers. And as friendships and social circles solidified without you, you found yourself on the periphery, like a shadow lingering just beyond the light, always observing but never participating.

So, eventually, you stopped trying, settling into a solitary existence that was often too heavy to carry, yet oddly comforting in its own way.

Tommy’s earnest appeal snapped you back to the moment. “It would mean a lot to us if you could help out. We can’t offer much, but you’re welcome to use whatever supplies we have.” 

As his words settled in the air, you paused, blinking away the remnants of a daydream before responding, “Sorry, but you want me to cook… for your gathering?” There was no sharpness in your voice, only a hint of bemusement mixed with a trace of optimism, long buried under layers of solitude. “I wasn’t sure anyone even remembered that I used to bring food.”

“I can’t speak for everyone, but I definitely haven’t forgotten,” Tommy said, his laughter tinged with a self-deprecating note, as if he were recalling culinary attempts that were perhaps better left in the past. “That meatloaf of yours—every time I try my hand at cooking, it comes to mind. And your carrot cake? I still can’t figure out how you—”

His rant was abruptly sliced by a sharp voice, one that hadn't been part of the conversation until now.

"—Tommy, you done yet?"

The sudden interruption made you realise Tommy hadn't come alone. Your gaze shifted, trailing past him to land on an imposing figure leaned against Tommy’s truck, parked against the curb. 

Arms crossed over a broad chest, stretching the fabric of his jacket, stood Joel Miller—another face you recognized but didn’t really know. A man as intimidating as he was enigmatic.

With a resigned sigh, Tommy glanced back, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and patience. "Just a minute, Joel!" he exclaimed, louder than before, before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that. You know how Joel can be," he said, his grin sheepish as he acknowledged Joel's stubbornness.

You responded with a shake of your head, your tone laced with a playful curiosity. "Can't say that I do, but I'll take your word for it." 

Your words seemed to ignite a spark of realisation in Tommy, his expression shifting as if a new awareness had dawned on him. He paused, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than expected, perhaps reconsidering the extent of your interactions with the townsfolk. And then, as if your exchange had unveiled something previously unseen, Tommy turned around to face his brother.

"Joel, get over here," he urged, his command softened by a newfound understanding. "Come say hello, don’t be rude." 

You smiled a small and tentative smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. It was a mask worn too often, a shield against the realization of your own isolation, now reflected in Tommy’s eyes.

Joel Miller’s approach was measured, his posture shifting from the one of guarded stance to a more relaxed one as his arms fell to his sides. Crossing the distance, he cut an imposing figure that effortlessly dominated the space around him with his mere presence. As he neared, you managed only to offer him a muted greeting — your eyes having difficulties to hold his gaze. 

Still, he responded with a nod that was brief and somewhat brusque, offering a slight hint of recognition but little in the way of warmth. Stopping just short of the porch stairs, he tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans before looking around.

You observed, almost in spite of yourself, as Joel’s attention methodically surveyed your surroundings, taking in details: from the neighboring houses shadowed in the dimming light to the promise of growth in your greenhouse, where the early shoots of peppers and tomatoes promised a future harvest. His scrutiny paused there, a silent acknowledgment of the small life burgeoning under your care, before shifting to the pile of wood designated for chopping, a chore left in anticipation of winter's departure.

When his eyes met yours again, they were piercing, unsettling in their intensity, almost as if he could see through the facade everyone else seemed to accept. This moment of connection, fleeting as it was, coupled with the fact that Joel Miller was undeniably an attractive man, sent an involuntary shiver through you. 

Thus, you quickly looked away, striving for composure— Joel’s eyes still locked onto you.

"Seems a bit chilly out here for standin' around, don't it? She’s probably cold, Tommy.” Joel's voice cut through the quiet, his statement more an observation than a question.

"Just a bit," you answered, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. “But it’s alright,” you quickly added, offering a dismissive half-smile to downplay your discomfort.

Joel then turned his attention to Tommy, his tone suggesting a mild impatience. “Think it’s about time you wrapped this up?” 

Tommy seemed caught off guard, his gaze flitting from Joel to you, as if weighing his next move. “I ain’t quite done here, Joel,” he responded after a brief pause, his attention momentarily shifting to a folded piece of paper he pulled from his jacket, scanning what appeared to be a list or some hastily jotted notes.

The air was growing heavier with silence; the kind that filled the gaps of unfinished conversation, and before you could stop yourself or second-guess your decisions, you ventured, “Why don’t you come in for a bit then? It’s warmer inside.”

Tommy seemed to be very eager to agree — his legs already moving forward in agreement, but Joel paused, a clear reluctance written across his features. He then opened his mouth, perhaps to voice his objections, but the look Tommy gave him—a mix of brotherly insistence and mild warning—cut him off. 

Despite his imposing stature, Joel navigated the threshold with a grace that seemed at odds with his size, deftly avoiding the door frame with a practiced ease.His shoulders came perilously close to the frame, yet he avoided it without seeming to try. There was a deliberate, almost respectful manner in the way he occupied the space, a silent recognition of his own bulk in the small, crammed interior.

Feeling a need to anchor yourself in the sudden closeness of the room, you rolled your shoulders, gently closing the door behind them. With a gesture towards the kitchen table, you offered a wordless invitation for them to sit, and Tommy, with a nod of thanks, took the seat you’d vacated as you pulled a chair next to him.

Joel, however, hesitated. Stood there for a moment, taking in the room with a thoughtful look, as if assessing its every corner and crevice. “I reckon I’ll stand, if you don’t mind,” he voiced when you shot him with a questioning look, his tone carrying a tone of politeness. “Don’t feel right settlin’ in when we won’t be staying long.” 

The moment he declined your offer to sit, Joel's attention wandered through the room — his focus soon zeroing in on a kitchen cabinet, its door slightly askew, betraying a battle with gravity and time. With a careful approach, he scrutinized the misaligned hinge, his touch deliberate yet tender, as if to reassure the inanimate object of his intention to do no further damage. 

Amidst this, you found yourself caught between two points of focus. Next to you, Tommy was speaking while going over the list, scribbled on sepia-toned paper, yet you couldn’t help but be drawn to Joel. His interaction with your lived-in kitchen space added a layer of warmth to its familiarity, making the room feel even more enclosed, more personal. 

Tommy, catching the shift in your attention, sighed—a sound tinged with resignation—and resettled in his seat, the wooden frame protesting with a creak.

"Joel, with your knee acting up, maybe you could lend a hand with these hinges instead of walking the beat?" Tommy suddenly suggested, glancing between you and Joel, a half-smile forming. “Seems like a fair exchange for a good meal, don’t you think?”

Your reaction was instinctive, fueled by a blend of pride and a deeply ingrained sense of independence. "Oh, that's not necessary at all," you found yourself saying quickly, the words laced with the kind of stubborn reluctance born from a long-held reluctance to depend on others.

Joel, a man whose economy of words often spoke volumes, didn't pause in his inspection of the cabinet. "I suppose I could swing by next week,” he responded gruffly. He didn't frame it as a question, but rather as a quiet declaration of intent, a commitment made without waiting for your consent. Turning to look back at you, his brown eyes searched for yours. "If you're up for it, that is."

You didn’t reply, just nodded, your gaze drifting back to the paper.

—

In the days after Joel and Tommy Miller's visit, time seemed to meld together, distinguishable only by the gentle shift from dawn to dusk and the routine movement of a red plastic marker across the grid of your wall calendar.

However, despite the blur of days, you found a way to push through, each task serving as a mere interlude to the anticipation of the weekend. And while Saturday had nothing particularly exciting to it, it was usually a day when you ventured out into town for supplies, this time not only for your own needs but also for Tommy’s get-together. 

Navigating the last icy patches on the sidewalks with a practiced ease, you turned onto your street where the familiar sight of Mrs. Clarke leaning against the fence her husband was mending greeted you. None of them was someone you interacted with, but you still offered a quick nod and a half-hearted smile, which Mr. Clarke returned with a courteous nod of his own, while Mrs. Clarke's eyes narrowed slightly in your direction as if you were a stranger. Which, in all fairness, you still were.

With your focus fixed ahead and the weight of the grocery bags shifting on your shoulder, you pressed on—only to come to an abrupt halt at the unexpected sight of Joel Miller in front of your home. Busy with an axe, he was rhythmically cutting the firewood you diligently ignored — the sizable, well-organized pile beside him signalling that he had been at it for quite some time before you arrived.

"Joel?" you called out, your voice a mixture of surprise and a faint nervousness. "Wasn't expecting you today."

Or at all, to be entirely honest.

He stopped his work, placing the axe against the ground as he turned to you. There was a moment of awkwardness flickering in his posture at your evident surprise, but he covered it up with a clear of his throat. 

"Yeah, well, was just passin' through," he replied, his voice a deep, familiar rumble, softened slightly by that southern lilt that seemed to ease the harshness of his appearance. "Thought I'd check on those kitchen cabinets for you."

His offer, made a week ago, had seemed inconsequential at the time. Yet, seeing him there, ready to help, only reinforced the idea that Joel was a man more of action than words.

Approaching him, the bags suddenly felt heavier, anchoring you to the ground. "You really didn't have to do this," you admitted, your voice revealing the turmoil within. "I had planned to deal with it later today, actually."

Joel leaned back against the axe handle, his gaze locking with yours. "Don't worry 'bout it," he offered. “Ain't no trouble at all, and I like stayin' busy. It’ll give you time to focus on other things."

You swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words, and it was only when Joel returned the axe to its resting place against the log pile and straightened up that you blinked back to reality, motioning for him to follow you. As he ascended the few steps to your porch and trailed after you inside, his shadow stretched over you, and for a second you found yourself wondering about just how tall and broad was he, really?

Once inside, you went straight to the kitchen table, setting the bags atop of it—eyes widening at the sight of a mess of blankets, pillows, and clutter around the room that had accumulated over the few days — an inevitable result of your habit of living most of your life in one room to conserve wood.

The panic rose inside of you, and you quickly moved in front of the small couch you called your bed, as if your frame itself would cover the chaos of your existence. 

Luckily, Joel didn’t seem to notice any of it. Or at least, he was gentleman enough to ignore it.

"Where do you need me to start?" He broke the silence easily as you nervously scratched your forehead before pointing to the cabinets hanging slightly askew, the wood swollen from years of neglect and moisture.

"Those have been giving me trouble the most. At some point I should probably tear everything down, but for now, it’s as good as it gets.”

Joel nodded, setting his tool bag down with a clunk, before beginning to inspect the cabinets — his fingers tracing along the wood, assessing each hinge and panel.

Folding your bedding, you walked to a small storage chest to Joel's left, setting it inside before closing it gently with a glance towards Joel.

"Would you like some coffee?" You asked, hoping to dispel the growing silence, but much to your disappointment, there was no answer.

Joel had already zeroed in on the cabinet, his focus entirely on the stubborn hinge.

Despite the lingering, unanswered offer and the faint echo of rejection, ringing inside your head, you went ahead with brewing the coffee, despite often preferring tea.

You didn’t dislike coffee, but you knew how scarce and difficult it was to source it.

Soon enough, the rich, comforting scent filled the kitchen, and without much effort, you poured the steaming dark brew into two mugs before walking over and quietly setting one of the mugs next to him. There was a second where you simply hovered around, like a fly on wall, observing as his gaze shifted with a momentary glance towards the warm beverage before his attention was pulled back to the cabinet. Though he didn’t say a word, the brief pause and a barely noticeable nod served as his silent gratitude.

Not wanting to dwell too much on his silence, you turned your attention to the groceries — the clicking of cans and jars, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the occasional squeak of hinges being expertly tended to.

Then, out of the blue, Joel’s gruff voice cut through the silence, causing you to startle slightly.

“So, what's it gonna be?” he asked, still not looking at you—face contorted in concentration as he tightened a screw with practiced precision.

“Huh?”

“Tommy’s and Maria’s party. What are you cookin’ up?” he clarified as he opened and closed the cabinet door, testing his work.

“Oh,” you breathed out, rolling your shoulders in a nervous gesture. “Supplies aren’t too plentiful, what with winter and all. I’m thinking a stew and nice bread would do,” you replied, then added with a hint of uncertainty and a quick glance towards him. “Still not sure about the dessert though.”

For a moment or two, you hoped that he would say something, give his input, but when he didn’t, you nodded to yourself, finding a loose piece of yarn on your pullover before wrapping it around your index finger.

Joel worked for another few minutes before straightening up and stepping back to inspect his handwork, wiping his hands on his jeans — a look of satisfaction briefly crossing his features.

Clearing your throat, you decided to break the silence, yet again, “Looks like you´ve fixed it. Thank you.”

“No problem at all,” he replied smoothly. “Just need a bit of tweakin’, is all.”

Before you could stop yourself, you spoke again. “Care for a refill?” you asked, lifting the pot with a somewhat trembling hand, not expecting to see Joel nod. Filling up his mug, you hesitated for a moment before speaking again, “Perhaps you’d like to sit down for a bit?”

Joel’s silent agreement and decision to sit down took you by surprise. His long legs stretched out slightly, relaxed in their posture as he got comfortable. You, on the other hand, was all but relaxed—posture ever so rigid, cradling your coffee mug on your lap so tight that you thought you’d break it.

An awkward silence filled the space between you as you scolded yourself mentally. You had invited him to sit, yet now, faced with his quiet presence, you were at a loss for words.

The quiet stretched to the point that it felt like it was the third person, sitting between you, until Joel shooed it away with a question, “You live alone?”

His gaze was steady as he watched you over the rim of his mug, taking a sip.

“Yeah,” you replied, feeling slightly exposed under his straightforward question.

“Any family?” he prodded gently.

You hesitated, feeling the bitterness lace your tongue before the words even left your mouth. “Had a mother and an older brother. They both passed away, ten years ago.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he responded, his voice softening, infused with empathy.

It wasn’t solely the memory of your family that stirred emotions within you, but also the unexpected warmth in his words. Attempting to stifle this feeling, you shrugged, uncertain how to accept his condolences or the surprising familiarity of his tone.

So, you kept sipping your coffee, your mind struggling to find the right words, but only for a while because Joel suddenly continued.

“Life's been full of tough turns. Lost my folks young, too, around the time everything changed… you know, with the outbreak and all.” As he spoke, his gaze seemed to drift to a place far away, and you suddenly remembered the fleeting stories you’ve heard in passing, some weeks after Joel made his appearance in Jackson.

“At least we’re here and still alive.”

Joel hummed in agreement. “And what did you say, how long have you been in Jackson?”

The question hung in the air as you looked at him, both of you aware that you hadn’t mentioned it before, but his curiosity seemed genuine. So, with a glance at the calendar next to the door, you did a quick mental maths. “It was four years last week,” you responded.

“Four years?” Joel echoed, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. “Somehow, I don’t remember seeing you around much before.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t remember seeing me either, so it's okay," you replied—lips curling into a faint smile before continuing, “I tend to keep to myself,” you admitted quietly, not quite ready to venture into the reasons behind that decision.

Joel nodded slowly. “Guess that makes two of us then,” he said with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of how handsome he was when he was smiling.

His appearance, much like his demeanor, was rugged and weathered but there was a certain kind of comfort in it. His eyes, a soft brown, held a depth that suggested that he was someone who had seen much and lost more.

Startled and ever so ashamed by your own wandering thoughts, you looked away as you placed your mug on the table, instead reaching for a torn kitchen towel before proceeding to fold it in your lap.

And it was only when you felt a weight in the air shift subtly that you looked up only to find his eyes on you.

He was observing you—gaze intense and searching, as if trying to read you, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over you.

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, yet there was gentleness there; a quiet understanding that seemed to reach out to you. His broad shoulders, the result of years of physical labor and survival only added to his imposing presence.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze, you shifted in your seat — the kitchen towel in your hands now a convenient excuse to look away.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the unease his attention had sparked in you.

“No, nothin’s wrong,” he answered in a reassuring tone — the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, softening his rugged features. “Just thinkin’, is all.”

The nervousness that was building up on the inside, suddenly resurfaced, pushing you to your feet in an abrupt, restless motion that seemed to bring Joel back from his thoughts—his eyes tracking your movements as you began to fuss over a spotless table with your kitchen towel.

Without much ado, he also rose from his chair—the action effortless despite his solid build that quickly filled the small kitchen. “Well, I think I should be headin’ off,” he said in a low, even tone.

You nodded briskly, following after him as he made his way to the door — the floorboards creaking under your steps.

"Thanks again, for the wood chopping and fixing the cabinet," you said, once Joel stepped out on the dimly lit porch.

He gave you a nonchalant wave, dismissing the thanks with an ease. "It was nothin'," he assured you. Then, after a short pause, he added, "Might want to keep warm inside. Nights are still cold."

His concern, lightly voiced but sincere, brought a small, involuntary smile to your face. You nodded, feeling a warmth that had little to do with the temperature. "Will do. Take care, Joel.".

He acknowledged your words with a quiet nod and turned away, disappearing into the evening shadows. You lingered for a moment, watching his retreating figure before stepping back into the warmth of your home, closing the door gently behind you.

[hard-core-super-star]

Hi, may I please request Reader is Australian and is a judge on the Voice, Australia. Hailee (Steinfeld obviously), with the other judges help to surprise Reader by 'auditioning'. (Reader obviously turns her chair. They've been dating for a couple of years.)

keep on coming back for more [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x musician!reader

summary: you don't really like surprises...unless they involve a certain brunette and your favorite song.

warnings: none, just fluff; me pretending like i know what i'm talking about when i really don't; R is technically a guitar player but that's not expanded upon; like two seconds of nervous hailee

wordcount: 1k

a/n: messed around with the pov on this one again so...yeet. i also did the most scuffed research on the voice, australia so forgive me if it sucks/if things are too vague. this fic was also just an excuse for me to scream into the void about rock bottom because it's one of hailee's best songs, argue with the wall. [but not the version with dnce because...men. do i have to say anything else?] hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee knows being nervous about this is ridiculous but that doesn’t stop her heart from thundering in her chest or her hands from growing clammy. Usually, those things are a sign of excitement but today, the butterflies in her stomach feel a little more uneasy than usual.

It’s been more than a few years since the last time she performed this song live and, if she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s worried about what you’ll think.

Surprises aren’t her strong suit, especially not when they involve your work but it’s been a few months since you left L.A to start working on The Voice, Australia and she hasn’t had a chance to come see you until now.

She was originally just going to visit you on set and let that be the surprise but she may have texted Rita Ora about her idea to fly to Sidney to see you and then one thing led to another and now she’s here. Minutes away from pretending to be yet another blind audition for the show.

Everyone had agreed it would be a great way to get more people to watch the show, or at the very least the clip that would be posted on YouTube later, but she didn’t care about any of that. She just cared about getting to see your smile again. 

“You’re on in five.”

The brunette nods in response, practically counting down the seconds until the two of you are finally reunited. Dramatic, sure, but also sweet in a way that makes you melt every time.

While Hailee’s getting ready for her surprise performance, you are doing your best to act like you’re paying complete attention to whatever ‘argument’ Rita and Jessica are having to convince the most recent auditioner to join their team. 

You’ve been a witness to these ‘arguments’ a couple of times since filming started but you always stay out of them. Mainly because they’re fun to watch but also because you’re technically the new kid on the block and you have some massive shoes to fill. Keith Urban-sized shoes to be specific. 

You still don’t know how you went from playing the guitar in your room to being a professional musician to being a judge on The Voice but you’re not about to complain. That doesn’t mean the job isn’t tiring but you can’t afford to look like you don’t know what you’re doing. 

The young singer ends up choosing Rita’s team and you’re given a quick break as the crew gets everything ready for the next contestant. You resist the urge to check your phone, knowing all it will do is make you miss your girlfriend. This wasn’t the first time the two of you were doing long distance but it never gets easier. 

You don’t get the chance to dwell on your thoughts too long since filming resumes. You straighten your back in the surprisingly comfortable chair and prepare yourself for the next blind audition.

A few seconds go by before you hear the beginning notes of a song you know like the back of your hand. The smile on your face gives away your growing excitement at getting to hear someone cover a song you love so much. 

You're honestly a little surprised it's taken so long for someone to audition using one of Hailee’s songs. It’s a shock but a welcome one for sure. Just because they're using one of your girlfriend’s songs doesn't mean you'll go easy on them, though. You’re easygoing but extremely picky when you want to be. And you’ll be extra picky just to honor the one you love more than anything else. 

“What are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun…” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of that voice. 

For a second you think you’re imagining things but there’s no possible way you could be wrong. You could be underwater with a bag over your head and still manage to recognize your girlfriend’s voice.

“Breathe deep, bottle it up…”

You don’t waste another second in pressing the red button that allows you to turn around and see Hailee in all her glory. Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sight of her and suddenly, everything else around you disappears. The lights, the audience, even your fellow judges, all you can see and hear is her.

Her brown eyes are trained on you and you have no doubt she’s feeling exactly what you’re feeling. The smile on her face tells you all you need to know about where her mind is. “Oh, we’re on the right side of rock bottom…”

She can’t hold herself back any longer and she takes a few long strides, walking down the stage steps and reaching your chair with a smile so bright it rivals every star you’ve ever seen. Her hand reaches out toward you and you take it without hesitation, allowing her to pull you toward her.

The moment might go viral later but neither of you is focused on anything except the other.

“You’re the best kind of bad something,” she sings, her face mere inches away from yours. “‘Cause we keep on coming back for more.”

This time, you’re the one who can’t hold back. You wait for her to pull her microphone away before you lean in and capture her lips in a kiss filled with all the love you’ve had to keep inside since you left L.A.

You have no doubt the studio probably wanted more words exchanged and overly dramatic shocked expressions but all those complaints will come later. Hell, you’ll even reshoot the whole thing if it means getting to spend time with Hailee on set. But all of that can wait until later.

“Warn a person next time,” you whisper with a grin once the two of you part for air.

“Where’s the fun in that, babe?”

You playfully roll your eyes at her, pretending to be annoyed when you’re truly overjoyed to hear her teasing remarks in person again. “You’re the worst.” 

“You love me,” she replies with a shrug.

She starts to move away but you pull her back in for another quick kiss before she can get too far.

You hear the commotion that comes with getting ready for filming to resume but you’re too busy giving Hailee all your attention to care. You’re incredibly grateful for the opportunity to be here, and you absolutely love your job, but your girlfriend will always come first.

[faeriescorpio]

resisted writing my time travel peter maximoff fic for one singular day WIP

A/N: For the purposes of this fic i am ignoring Dark Phoenix because this is based off a really detailed dream i had

When Magneto had joined the X-Men (as coined by Raven) after the events of Apocalypse, Peter had thought “this might be my chance to tell him”. But as the weeks passed, and Erik stayed, Peter’s confidence plummeted. He stopped thinking, “is this the right moment to tell him?” and started thinking “what if he asks why I waited so long to tell him?”. Ororo and Raven both tried to nudge him into action, but their pushes only made him curl up tighter into his metaphorical shell. It didn’t help that Erik signed up to be a teacher, and help out with the children, and Raven must have told Charles something because Peter found his schedule included Erik’s class. He hadn’t even agreed to go to school there. As far as Peter was concerned, his days of school were over. He’s just a grown man living in his mom’s basement, occasionally saving the world. Except now he had a class schedule where his father was his teacher, he had a room of his own at Charles’s mansion, and someone must’ve told his mom because she actually called him to let him know that she was so proud that he was “pursuing further education”.

Great. Just great.

Having Erik as a teacher was surprisingly…. normal. Erik was teaching history, of all things, but Peter held back from cracking any joke relating age to knowledge of history. He was trying to make his dad like him, first. And Erik was a good teacher; he was encouraging, he didn’t lash out, though he rarely gave much more than a tight-lipped smile when anyone answered a question right.

Peter soaked up any time with Erik like a sponge. He didn’t attend the X-Men training, so all Peter had was class and the times after class, during mealtimes that Peter normally would’ve rushed off after cleaning his plate. Instead, Peter found himself even loitering outside Erik’s class during study hours, scuffing the ground with his shoe. If the wooden floor was worn down outside Erik’s door, no one would know it was because of Peter. Except, you know, Charles. And probably Raven. And maybe Hank because Raven told Hank everything. And Ororo. And Jean. And Scott because Jean tells Scott everything. And Kurt because Scott can’t keep his mouth shut. And-

The point was, if Erik had any suspicions about Peter spending a lot of time outside his door, he didn’t let on. He treated Peter almost like any other student, save for more tight-lipped smiles. It was probably because he remembered Peter broke him out of the Pentagon, or something, but the almost unnoticeable special treatment gave Peter hope. Not enough hope to do anything about it, though.

Peter kept loitering around Erik. Raven kept pushing him. Nothing came out of Peter’s mouth.

They were fighting a villain when it all came to a head. It was a dangerous mutant, more powerful than the average mutant, one who had been attacking other mutants in some sort of lashing-out moment, furious at their own differences and taking it out on their people instead of the humans. It wouldn’t have mattered who the mutant was lashing out about, as the X-Men would’ve come to save the day either way. But the mutant was strong, strong enough to take out Scott in a single hit, so Magneto and Raven were even on their side to help take down the villain. Or “A misunderstood, hurting individual,” as the Charles in Peter’s head chides. Not the real Charles, mind you, just Peter’s interpretation of what Charles might say in this moment. God, he must drive Charles up the walls every time the telepath takes a peek inside the speedster’s head.

They were fighting the villain, Scott was down and thus Jean was preoccupied. Ororo was cooking up a storm and Raven was planning something with Hank, but whatever their plan was, it wasn’t happening fast enough. It was essentially Erik and Peter alone against the villain.

“What a duo we make, huh?” Peter tried to say as he dodged the mutant’s blows with ease. He wasn’t really sure what the mutant’s powers were. Super strength, for sure, but there was something else there that made the telepaths useless. 

“Less talking, more taking down the threat,” Erik snapped back, summoning metal to throw at the man with a curl of his fingers. Right. Right right right.

Peter threw a hit at the mutant and then bounced away as the mutant released some sort of force field that would’ve blown him backward if Peter hadn’t been out of range already.

“We’ve got something, just buy us some time!” Raven shouts into the earpiece over comms. What were they even doing before then, if not buying time? Peter wonders sarcastically, but keeps the snark to himself. He lands another two hits on the mutant, but it’s hard to get up close to the villain as Erik is shooting metal from all directions at the mutant.

“Got it!” Raven barks, and the mutant jerks his head in the direction of the blue duo. Peter takes advantage of the distraction to leap forward and land another hit.

“Peter look out!” Erik barks suddenly, and Peter turns to see Raven pointing some sort of mechanical contraption, no doubt built by Hank, at the mutant. Which means, by extension, it was pointed at Peter. He steps backward, alarmed, but he trips over some debris and goes down.

“Are you fucking kidding me-” Peter starts to say, just as the machine blasts a beam that surrounds him. It’s bright, too bright, and he closes ihs eyes against the blinding light as pain consumes him. He lets out a shout, and Erik lunges forward, but Peter is already gone.

[lillylvjy]

So I made a promise.

a/n// hello! So I kinda just grinded this out in two hours because I had a lot of brainrot over this and shit. So this fic is based of Promise by Laufey. Love that women. But it’s kinda shit, so please be nice to me. I haven’t wrote in so long and shit so- here’s this. Enjoy!

Warnings// yelling, overthinking, wil and readers relationship is- rough, big used as a nickname, and if there’s anything else, please tell me!

wc: 1.3k

Not edited.

It’s been 16 days.

Two weeks and two days.

23,040 minutes.

Without him.

And you both thought this was for the better. At least you did. To break up and just leave each other. Wil was never home because he was always picking up gigs and shows to do. Which never made you mad but, you needed your partner at home sometimes too. You needed someone to hold you and tell you you’re ok and that they love you.

You never got that.

And you barely called him unless it was late at night when you came home, exhausted from your shift. And he’d be in America, getting ready for a gig, laughing and joking around with the band as he called you. The video scuffed and audio cutting in and out, but it was good enough. For now.

But every other time you tried to talk to him or ask how he was doing, he’d ignore you. He’d look at the message, and ignore it. And you’d wait all day for a response until it gets to that time to call him and he’d just ignore you then too. Too worried about what Joe was saying or what Mark was doing.

And you were happy he was having fun.

But it felt like you were nothing to him

And that- that’s worse than anything possible to you.

So when he got back to Brighton, made himself at home and pulled you into an hug, you could tell you needed to do it.

“Hey Wil, we need to talk.” You begrudgingly said to the man in front of you. With tired eyes from jet lag and doing so much in the last couple months, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong love.” He placed a hand on your cheek as he leaned down to look at you. When you made eye contact with him, you saw his eyes fill with care and alarm. You frown up at him as you lean into his hand.

“We don’t work Wil. We can never work. You’re going to be traveling the world all the time because of your music and I’m so happy for you. But I’m stuck here. And I need you at times I can’t have you. And it hurts. A-And it feels like we’re slowly slipping apart because of everything and I don’t like the feelings I have right now, so. Wil- we need to break up-“ Wil’s hand slipped from your cheek as his face fell. He walked over to the couch and placed his face in his hands. “Wil it’s nothing you did! We just don’t see each other anymore and it feels like I don’t know you anymore or I’m just like- a being that you only know when you’re home! And I hope that’s not it. And the thoughts I have at night when you don’t answer me make me hate myself for thinking them-“

“So you think I’m cheating? You think I forget about you? You think I don’t know how you feel?! I need that too! I think those thoughts too! I need you! I-“ Wil cuts himself off with a choked sob. Quickly gathering himself, he stands up. “I agree. We need to break up. It’s only for the best.” Wil said in the coldest tone he could possibly muster while wiping his face.

“Wil-“

“No! No it’s fine. We both agree on this yeah? I already a have some clothes packed so I’ll stay with Tom and James for a couple days and then come for the rest of my things. See you soon, bug.” Wilbur whispered the last part as he leant down and kissed your forehead.

Holding back tears, you watched him walk out the house hesitantly, not wanting to leave you like this. Wanting to make up for all he hasn’t done for you. And you vise versa.

Once he closed the door behind him, you went up to it and placed your head on the cold wood, letting out endless amounts of sobs and cries as you slid down the door. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you hid your face in the fabric of your sweatpants, scared that someone could see you and scrutinize you for crying.

But you came to the realization that, this is for the best. It will get better and you’ll learn to live without him. Right?

It’s been 16 days.

And you promised yourself you wouldn’t call him. Wouldn’t seek him out and hold him. Wouldn’t ask Tom how he was doing. Nothing. He’s gone. He doesn’t need you anymore.

He forgot to pick up his clothes. The ones that smell like him still. The ones that you’d always steal and wear around the house. The ones that he’d always tell you not to wear but secretly laid them out in places for you to pick up and wear, loving the way you look in his clothes.

You still wore them. It helped.

And at night it was scary. In your head.

Overthinking everything.

Did he actually cheat and that’s why he was so willing to agree? No. No it’s wil! He wouldn’t do that.

Did he fall out of love? No. No his words were genuine.

Why did he say ‘see you soon’ and not ‘goodbye.’?

Now that was a question you couldn’t answer.

But that’s when you realized. Realized that you’d rather be something with Wil than nothing to him. Even if it hurts you both in the long run.

It’s been 16 days.

16 long days of looking at his contact and not calling him.

16 days where you had so much restraint that it almost hurt you. But each day, that wall slowly crumbled.

You knew you and Wil could never work. It was common knowledge. The constant moving around, longing to be with each other, and slowly killing yourselves with how much thinking you both do about each other. Hurtful or not.

Nothing added up. There was no solution.

So you kept that restraint up as much as you could.

But.

After 16 long days.

You called him. That night. After walking through the town, needing some air and to get something to drink.

You swear you saw him. It had to be him. He was smiling and laughing with a group of people that you’ve never seen before. But as your got your hopes up and walked closer to the group, you realized that wasn’t the man you hoped to see.

You rushed home and sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. Looking down at your phone, you let the barrier break and pressed the call button.

After the first couple rings, you gave up. He wasn’t going to answer. Why did you think he would? He’s probably so much better without you-

“Bug?” You heard a groggy voice ask you over the phone. You’re held your breathe as you heard the name. The name he gave you.

“H-Hi, Wil.” You whispered out as you exhaled the breathe you were holding for too long for your liking.

You heard him let out a shakey breath and some shuffling, most likely blankets. He sniffed before he started speaking again. “H-How are you? What’s up?”

“I- Nothing much.” You said as you played with your hands, hesitating to get your next words out. “Hey, do you maybe, wanna come over?”

“Yes! Uh, yeah. I’d love too.” You could hear the smile start to grow on his face as he talked. A small one started to appear on yours.

“Ok. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

So, you broke the promise. But whether it hurts you in the end or becomes a beautiful thing. You’ll at least be something to him. And he’ll be something to you.

taglist// @wiipes @frogwithashotgun @mysticalsoot @kit-is-a-weeb @athenaisaflower @gaytoadwithapopsicle @anon-duck @lotusanonymouse @art3m1s-adelia (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask!)

[kikidoesfanfic]

Melancholy March

KikiDoesFanfic on ao3

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV) Fluff, Pining Rating: T No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 675 Chapters: 1/1 On Ao3

Summary: Every year they part, and every year Jaskier seems more grim the closer they arrive to Oxenfurt.

Geralt doesn't understand, until he does. Fic below the cut

He watches his bard walk, head forward, mouth set in a grim line that only gets more severe the closer they get to the crossroad.

Every year his mood worsens around the lead up to Winter truly setting in.

Going from bubbly babbling with excitement that first parting, to nervous babbling, to subdued babbling, to falsely cheerful babbling, rather a lot of babbling as Jaskier is want to do. Geralt had assumed he just hated the weather, they had cut it close a few times, Jaskier almost not making it to Oxenfurt before the snow set in.

But this year is different.

It's the silence that has Geralt worried, out of everything, the resigned acceptance in the slump of his shoulders and the occasional perfectly mundane sighs, so far from Jaskier's usual performative dramatics. It all paints a picture that's far from promising, but the silence? On a scale of Jaskier's usual moods, silence indicates a level somewhere between devastating and catastrophic.

Geralt wracks his mind for something that could have happened before Jaskier's mood took a turn, to sour it, but can't come up with anything. They'd had a perfectly lovely day together, and they're making even better time than they usually would.

Now Jaskier would get to go to Oxenfurt, back to his students and luxury living for the Winter, while Geralt made the trek to see his brothers and rest, well before the weather truly turned and made his journey up the mountain miserable.

They reach the crossroads, and Jaskier looks up only after scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot.

"I suppose I shall see you in the Spring, then?" He says, smile small, but eyes tight with an emotion Geralt can't quite parce. He doesn't ask.

Instead Geralt nods, places a hand on his shoulder, squeezes, "be safe, bard." Jaskier ducks under his arm, squeezes him back, but with a hug, not a hand.

"Be safe? You're the one heading up 'The Killer," and Geralt can hear the air quotes in his voice, "alone. I'll be in Oxenfurt, there's nothing to worry about there."

"Dont sell yourself short, I'm sure you'd find yourself some trouble somehow, it's your greatest talent after all." Jaskier pulls back with something that sounds alarmingly close to a sniffle, and slaps at Geralt's shoulder.

"Oh you are terribly rude to me, I don't know why I'm missing you already when you treat me so horribly." He says it with fondness, a more genuine smile curling at his mouth, so Geralt shifts ready to move lest he change his mind and walk with Jaskier a while longer.

"I'll find you in Spring, Jaskier." He says, long past pretending he doesn't look out for the bard each year, knowing Jaskier does the same.

"I'll find you first, just you wait and see." Jaskier replies, staring at Geralt a moment before decisively turning and walking off down the road, humming as he goes.

Geralt waits, looks after him, and just as he does every year Jaskier turns and seems pleased by Geralt's watching him leave, before continuing on his way with an extra bounce to his step.

It takes years for Geralt to understand, until he comes to realise while standing in that very same spot and waiting for Jaskier to walk away, that the reason for Jaskier's melancholy upon their parting each year isn't something mundane as disliking the weather. That Jaskier is increasingly upset, of all things, for leaving him and being left in turn.

"Jaskier," He says, and Jaskier cocks a questioning eyebrow in the pause it takes him to gather his courage, "come with me?"

While Jaskier's eyes widen in shock, Geralt has time to panic at his incoming rejection. Why would Jaskier give up his months of luxury and teaching for a crumbling keep in the cold.

His worries are unfounded though, Jaskier reaches him, reals him in for a soft kiss that tastes of his sweet smile and happy laugh, and merely says:

"Why Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

On Ao3

[honeybeefae]

Valentine's Mini Fic // Rhysand

Please idk why these fics have started off with angst but I guess im just a sucker for a little hurt and comfort. Either that or I enjoy the drama lol! Enjoy the second mini-fic featuring our favorite High Lord! < 3 

WARNINGS: None

Trope: Fling Turns Into Something More

Sneaking around with a High Lord’s son was thrilling and dangerous, never knowing what exactly you would get led into but always willing to jump head first. Rhysand and you had met during a night out in Velaris, with both of you being almost too drunk to remember going home with each other. 

However that next weekend you both ended up in the same bar, with the same people, and for the last two months you’ve been seeing each other almost every other day. He had made it clear that it was a fling, never staying the night and never crossing the line from casual to something more.

And you couldn’t lie…the longer you saw him, the harder it got. You knew, you knew, you couldn’t have him. He was the next ruler of the Night Court, destined for greatness, and you were just one of his subjects. Your family wasn’t affluent in the political world, you held no real power.

It was doomed from the start but you couldn’t resist him. He had you from the moment he called you “Darling” in that deep, smooth tone. You were head over heels for a man who would forget you as soon as he ascended to his full potential. Reality was a hard pill to swallow but you’d rather have small moments than nothing.

Tonight was no different as you waited at the bar, swirling a cocktail around and around as your eyes kept glancing to the entrance. He was late but you didn’t stress, finishing the rest of your glass while making small conversation with the bartender.

But after your third drink and still no signs of him, you got worried. Had something happened? Was he in trouble? The questions were swirling around in your tipsy mind as you slid out of the barstool and manuevered through the crowd to get outside.

The cold air wrapped around you like a caress, sobering you up some as you started to look around for Rhys. There were small groups scattered across the road and alleyway but none of them had him lurking within them. You frowned and continued down the street, trying to convince yourself that everything was okay.

“Oh come on Rhys, you wouldn’t have entertained me this long if you weren’t interested.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard the sultry voice say his name, a terrible feeling growing in your stomach as you continued to listen.

“Sarra, darling-” Rhysand grunted, trying to get around her as you got closer. You could make out two figures, one much smaller than the other, pressed against a brick wall. The lamplight above your head provided just enough light to watch as her long, red nails ran down his chest.

“Don’t give me that look, darling. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you…I know you’ve missed me.” Sarra purred, molding her body against his. It made you physically sick.

Rhysand wasn’t yours, he never was, you told yourself that every single night…so why did it feel like your heart was bleeding out onto the wet cobblestone? 

A sob was trying to work its way out of your throat as you stepped back, scuffing your shoe and drawing the attention of the male who, for the first time since meeting, you did not want to see.

“Y/N?” Rhys called, furrowing his brows. You drew in a shaky breath and shook your head, cursing as a tear fell while you started making your way back home. 

“Damn it, Y/N! Y/N!” He shouted, pushing off the woman without a care and following after you. The people in the streets were watching, whispering to each other, but he didn’t care. “Y/N, stop!”

You ignored him, the image of the two of them burned into your eyes as you picked up the pace. It was only a few more steps to your door and luckily the streets were becoming more crowded, making losing him easier. 

But just as you unlocked your door and slipped inside, you felt a cool breeze wisp past you at the same time the smell of citrus hit your nose. A loud sigh blew past your lips as you shut the door, turning to glare at the next High Lord with all the contempt you could muster. 

However, when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the back wall, you looked pitiful instead. 

“What you saw out there-” Rhysand began but you held up your hand, closing your eyes briefly to take a deep breath.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Rhys.” You whispered, removing your shoes and coat. “I mean, you said from the start that this was casual. It’s silly of me to expect loyalty for a casual fling, right? We were always both free to do, to see whoever we wanted.”

His jaw was clenched as you brushed past him to your kitchen, grabbing a glass of water to calm down your racing heart. This was probably the last time you were going to see him and despite your true feelings, you didn’t want to end this on a bad note.

“Y/N…” He tried again, frowning as your hand shakily brought the glass of water to your lips. “That woman was someone I used to see, I was on my way to you when she stopped me.”

“Rhys, please,” You asserted, staring down at the counter. “I told you I understood. You can go back to her, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Are you?” 

The question, the sincerity in his voice, it broke what little resolve you had left. Why did he care? What did it matter anymore? You should’ve told him to leave, should’ve never gotten so involved with him.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as wave after wave of emotions washed over you. Rhys knew, his concern growing as the silence stretched and you didn’t so much as blink. He cautiously walked over to you and gently grazed your shoulder, calling out to you, and the dam holding everything back cracked.

“Why do you care?” You snapped, whirling around with hot tears stinging your eyes.  “This entire relationship you made it clear it was never more, that it could never be more. What do my feelings matter to you?”

“They have always mattered to me. How could you think they didn’t?” He insisted, pinning you between the counter and his body so that you couldn’t escape. “Do you think me that cruel?”

“I think of you as a High Lords' son, the future ruler of the Night Court. I think of us, of all the nights where you’ve left me alone after we’ve had our fun, and I think of how naive I am to wish for more.” You replied, the truth heavy on your tongue as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. “My feelings shouldn’t matter to you. I knew what this was when I got into it. I knew one day it would come crashing down, that it might destroy me, and I thought I could handle it.”

Rhysand’s eyes filled with pain, his thumb brushing away a tear that was rolling down your cheek. You wanted to push him away, not wanting to fall any deeper in love but your heart knew you were already at rock bottom. 

“I wish I could say this was a mistake but despite how much I’m hurting…I know I will never regret knowing you, Rhysand. If this is how our story ends, if this is goodbye, please end it happily.”

You steeled yourself for the goodbye, biting down on the inside of your lip to try to keep yourself from breaking until he was gone, but were taken off guard when he bent down and claimed your lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

His hands landed on your waist, his chest warm against yours as your lips molded perfectly against his own. You couldn’t stop your arms from wrapping around his neck, savoring his unique taste and the comfort his embrace brought you.

The two of you stayed locked together for several moments, time seeming to stop around you until he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Do you think I could kiss someone like that if I didn’t harbor feelings for them as well, Y/N Darling?” Rhys breathed into your ear, drawing small circles into your hips. “What we have between us…it has grown into something that has consumed my every waking moment. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you but I was afraid…”

“Afraid?” You questioned, your heart soaring at his words. It felt like this was all a dream but if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. You would gladly stay in this dream world with him forever. “Afraid of what?”

“What being mine would entail, the danger of my world.” His breath was warm against your cheek, those violet eyes staring into your soul. “I had half convinced myself you were better off without me…until I realized that I have been falling for you since the night we first met.”

Your hand came up and cupped his cheek, a small laugh bubbling out of your chest at the absurdity of his statement. Rhysand, the next ruler of the Night Court, was in love with you? You were truly going to have to pinch yourself all over.

“You cruel thing, do not laugh at me.” He smirked, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. 

“I’m not laughing at you, my lord.” You teased, gazing up at him through your lashes. “I’m laughing at this situation, I feel like I’m in a dream.”

“Well, I can promise you that you are not. Perhaps we can go upstairs and I can show you just how awake you are?” 

You grinned, rolling your eyes at his antics. The rollercoaster of emotions you had just been on had you feeling fatigued but you couldn’t resist his offer. There was just one thing you needed to hear again.

“Perhaps…but I want to hear you say it again.” You asked softly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

Rhysand smiled lovingly, lifting you onto the counter so you were eye to eye. “Y/N Darling…I love you.”

Your heart was on its way to bursting out of your chest as you captured this memory in your brain, knowing you would replay it for the rest of your life. You kissed him fiercely, mumbling the same words back to him between kisses, as he carried you up the stairs and into bed.

[evesaintyves]

for @remadoramicrofics October 4th prompt, "don't look now." 608 words. Read it below or on AO3 🎡

Seven years on, it hasn't gotten easier not to follow Nymphadora when Andromeda sees her in her little red mac, being led off by the hand with strangers, but she has gotten better at it. It's happened at Sainsbury's, and in the evening crush of the tube, and today it happens in the itchy drizzle on the Brighton pier with Teddy. He's tugging her toward the arcade, she's trying to steer him clear of the candyfloss stand lest he get it in his head to match the colour with his hair, and there she is. She comes into view for a moment, like always, and then slots back into the crowd. The hood of the raincoat covers her head—that was what it was for, as much as to keep her dry: she couldn't be trusted not to change herself in front of a throng of muggles; loved to do it, actually—and she is five, maybe six, skipping in her scuffed-up mary janes.

The last time Andromeda saw her she was in a floppy white t-shirt and jogging bottoms, trainers crammed on her feet with the heels smashed down, holding out the baby, unintelligible through tears. Her wet hair had soaked dark patches down her shoulders and back. She was screaming, Teddy was screaming, a car alarm was wailing outside. It was one in the morning. Andromeda was half-awake, still in one sleeve of her dressing gown. They'll be needing every wand—I can't just sit here, her Nymphadora was saying. She was so hysterical that Andromeda reached for the baby on the instinct that she might drop him, and as soon as Teddy was in her arms there was a smacking pop and Nymphadora was gone.

But just as Ted only comes to her dreams twenty years younger and in his full head of hair, broadshouldered, seizing her about the waist the way he used to do, the Nymphadora in the crowd is still always five. If she turned around, she'd be worming her tongue into the space where her front baby tooth used to be. But she never turns around.

"Nan," says Teddy, pulling on her sleeve. "Did you bring coins?"

She pries her change purse open with fingers that are starting to look like they belong to someone else: knobby at the joints, brown spots and squiggling veins. Time is spoiling her just as as it's spoiled almost everything else. Teddy bounces off to the game that has him stomp the floor tiles as they light up in blue and pink. His mother would have loved it. It's still a plummetingly wrong feeling to watch the kaleidoscope-haired child play, to open the door on him in Nymphadora's old bedroom, and to have him turn to look at her with the long solemn face of the man who led her into the trajectory of a killing curse.

Chin up, 'Dromeda, her Ted has said in dreams. In dreams, they are together at school behind the greenhouses, where it is overgrown with angel's trumpets which whisper and give off their funeral cologne in the breeze. It's all temporary, even this.

It's not as reassuring as he seems to think.

Outside the arcade, which is humid with popcorn-breath and ringing with tinny music and bells, the rain has started coming down in sheets. A young couple stop to share a kiss in it, gripping each other with all the never-enough desperation of new love, before they run for the shelter of the photobooth.

Stay where you are, Nymphadora, Andromeda thinks. It's bucketing down. You'll catch a chill.

But still she looks out into the rain until it's time to go.

image from the Criterion cover for Don't Look Now (1973), dir. Nicolas Roeg, from which i've shamelessly lifted a few elements of this fic.

[faegoddessog]

Fantasy Come True CH 1/8

Chapter  1: Lumber Jason

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, sexual discussion, relationship troubles

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on. 

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

Chapter 1: Lumber Jason

You were having a hard time with your relationship. You loved him, sure, trusted him 100%, he was nothing if not honest with you, sometimes brutally so. All good things, to have in a relationship. But there was one thing that just didn’t click all the way. Sex. You loved sex, you even had it often with him. But he couldn't make you orgasm to save his life. Ok, maybe ‘couldn’t’ was a bit harsh. He just wasn’t interested in putting in the time and effort to get you off. For a long time you had been content to just do it yourself after sex. 

Recently though, you had heard about overstimulation and had become deeply intrigued. You knew he wouldn’t be willing to try it, but in the spirit of honesty and communication, you talked to him about it. He joked and blew it off. It’s hurtful, but you are an accommodating partner, even if he isn’t, so you dropped it. At least to his face. It’s been tormenting your mind of late. You’ve read online fics about it and you are just starting to daydream about what else may be out there for you. Would you leave the security and safety of your relationship over something like this? Your practical mind says definitely no. You had no real interest in trying to find someone else and you know there is only one circumstance that would make you leave this relationship, and that’s your Hall Pass contingency: Austin Butler. 

You walk into your Saturday afternoon improv class. Wearing your favorite sandals,  jeans and a women’s cut generic Disney shirt in black .   There are 3 people there, one you know, two are new.  You start off, as you do every class, with round robin stretches. Each person introducing themselves and saying one thing they did that week. 

“Hi I’m Rob,” says one of the new guys, pulling his leg up in a balanced runner's stretch. He went on a couple auditions this week. He is average height  blonde hair with jeans and a t-shirt, he’s average build, average voice, pretty average. 

The next person is a regular, Peter,  he does side stretches (as per usual) and says “I learned to cook salmon on the grill at my girlfriends’ parents house.” 

“Howdy, I’m Jason,” he has a nondescript midwestern accent, reaching down for his toes “I had a meetin’ this week about a new project that I got hired on for.” 

You assume it’s some kind of construction project or something, he is in scuffed up work boots, jeans and a flannel buttoned up, and rolled at the cuff. Jason rocks the lumberjack vibe, beard and everything. Although he looks a little too lean to go full-on lumberjack. There is something… familiar about him.

You introduce yourself and windmilling your arms, you are tempted to say ‘I learned what a pleasure dom is’ but that wouldn't be professional. “I um…went to a movie , actually in a theater. It’s been so long! I really missed it”. 

You notice that Jason seems to really pay attention to whomever is talking. It seems his eyes linger on you, casually looking you up and down, a fraction of a second longer than the others.  

You move into some warm up exercises.  Zip, Zap, Zop is about energy and eye contact. The name game is where everyone has physical gestures that go with their name. Jason swings an imaginary axe, Peter hops on one foot, you do sassy cross snaps, Rob tosses his hands in the air. 

You notice the intensity Jason is putting into the games, how when he passes to you, a little shiver makes you clench. You are almost taken aback, you just don’t react to people like this, and beards aren’t usually your thing. Weird.  Again you feel like you’ve seen him before, but can’t quite put your finger on it. 

At the break, Jason comes up to you while you are drinking water. 

“Hey, ya’ll did great on that last one,” he says, a bit nervously. 

“Thanks,” you tuck a stray hair behind your ear a little shyly,” you did great too, have you been acting long?” 

“Yeah, since I was kid… uh back home,” he seems to falter a bit in his response. “Do you come to this class often?” he asks, putting the focus back on you.

“Yeah, almost every week, I really like how it stretches me,” you smile. The teacher claps their hands for the break to be over. 

“Huh, I might start coming more often then,” he winks at you as he turns around to walk back to his seat. 

You can’t help but watch him walk away. Wow, he is pretty from this angle. 

Wait a second, did lumber-Jason  just flirt with you? Holy Crap. Did you lead him on somehow?   He jets out at the end of class, on his phone, before you can talk to him again.  Maybe it was in your mind, weird. You try to shrug it off, but deep inside you just can’t. Something wasn’t quite right. 

He was already there when you walked in next week. He waved you over the second he saw you. 

“Howdy! Did you have a good week?” he asks warmly, shuffling his feet a little. 

“Yeah, you?” It's uncanny how you feel comfortable around him.

“Yeah, I have a lot going on and I just needed…. I’m really looking forward to class today.” He smiles. 

All class he situates himself next to you, partners with you. It’s fun and easy and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear there were sparks between you.  You really liked going to improv class, but it’s never filled you up like this before. 

The next week, you came to class early,  telling yourself  you are not looking for Jason to show up and no you did NOT wear your cute black wonder woman t-shirt on purpose. You just like how it hugs your curves perfectly and shows off your girls. You are starting to feel disappointed and your practical side is shaking its head at you when, two minutes before class starts, Jason walks in. 

You thumb your nose at your practical side and sit up straighter. 

He is wearing black jeans, his scuffed work boots and a black t-shirt with an open flannel. He has on a trucker hat with some sort of horse logo on it. He looks around, catches your eye and makes a bee line to the spot next to you, murmuring apologies for being late. 

In each warm up exercise he sends nearly everything to you.  He treats you like a friend, making side comments and laughing with you. It’s weird, but interacting with him feels really natural and that’s not… natural. You end up getting paired with him in one game. He picks Rhett Butler and Scarlet O’hara you say cooking breakfast, he says in a closet. 

“Is touch ok?” he asks, you nod.

You squish your back up to his side dramatically. He begins a pantomime of stirring a bowl over your head. He’s roughly 6’1”, you are, with your sandals on, about 5’8”.

“Scarlett, pass the eggs will you” he says in a passable Rhett Butler voice. 

“But Rhett, darling,” you turn awkwardly, taking tiny steps in a ‘cramped’ space, making it funny with his arms in your face. You grab his shirt front and lean dramatically into him “I’m sorry we… we don’t have any eggs left, the soldiers took them all, the chickens too!” you fake cry into his front. You feel his breath catch as you bury your head in his chest. 

Holy fuck he smells really good, like trees and lavender and amber. His long fingers  wrap around yours, and he tilts your chin up to look at him. As your eyes meet, something jolts your stomach.  He is staring intensely into your eyes and it’s like he’s staring into your very soul.  He is saying something… you can’t concentrate. Why? Because being this close you notice the freckles on his left cheek and forehead and just how blue his eyes really are. 

For a split second, your eyes widen in recognition. You know exactly who this is, and his name isn’t Jason. You almost melt into him, legs going weak. Oh well at least it’s in character.  Thank god you’ve been doing this improv class for long enough that you can hold your shit together enough to finish the scene. They all applaud  as ‘Jason’ ends with “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about the pancakes,” pantomimes opening the closet door,  and walking away with his bowl. 

You go back to your seat. You aren’t even paying attention to the next scene as your mind is racing.  It all falls into place. You covertly watch him next to you. He is watching the scene. You feel almost stupid that you didn’t see it right away, his eyes, his hands, the fullness of his exposed bottom lip. Clearly he doesn’t want to be recognized, the accent, the beard, the darker than usual hair. But once you see it, it’s all so clear. 

You decide to be a good human and leave him his anonymity. Maybe he really misses being a regular actor in classes. I mean, you think about how much you enjoy coming to class, he must as well. Maybe you can ask him for his number before he leaves. You can just chalk it up to industry connections. Maybe then you can somehow let him know that you know, without it being weird. 

On the break, ‘Jason’ saunters up to you getting a drink of water. He is exceptional at masking his natural gait. This is not surprising, you know how good he is. 

“Hey, that was great, ya’ll really have that southern bell thing down. I thought you might faint right in my arms,” he takes a pull on his water bottle. 

“Yeah you too, So very Rhett  of you,” you smile, not daring to tell him that you almost did pass out, ”you did great with his voice.” 

“Thanks, hey, um… what are you doing after this?” he locks eyes with you again. 

“Oh… just going home,” you almost say something about your partner.

“Want to get a bite?”  he says before you can say anything. 

What? Wait… did he just ask you out?

“Yes, I’d like that,”  you try to stay chill. “I’ve been meaning to try this little place nearby.” 

You are sitting in the corner of the overwhelmingly green dining room of Chifa. It kind of reminds you of a rich girls 1995 Jersey boudoir but with Chinese and Peruvian food. They are moderately busy. 

“So tell me about yourself,” he starts in before you can let him know that you know who he is. Yup, still the midwestern accent. 

You smile, knowing that it’s all fake but wanting to tell him about yourself too. You figure it's only fair that he learns about you, since you know ALL about him. Well, everything that is public anyway. As you start to talk, again you get that feeling of perfect naturalness in being around him, like you’ve been friends  for years. 

You talk about how you are trying to break into acting and how you know you have an uncanny ability to spot talent in people. He is laser focused on you, leaning forward and nodding. Just as you are about to talk about your partner. The waiter comes to the table..  

“Oh I haven’t looked at the menu!” ‘Jason’ says,  picking it up.

“May I? If you are good with sharing a few things,” you inquire, holding your hand on his menu. Your fingertips touch his briefly, it’s like lightning.  He waves you on with an interested look on his face. 

“Any allergies I should know about?” you ask. He just shakes his head. 

You open the menu, you’d checked it out before and had a good idea of what they had. 

“First for drinks, I absolutely HAVE to get the Yo Yo Good4U on my tastebuds. I love sparkling anything,” you say as an aside to ‘Jason’, “ also I want to taste the Chichi Morado and the Lai Chai. Do you want anything alcoholic to drink?” 

“Sure, you pick,” he waves his hand again.

Your tail is almost wagging in your seat as he puts his oral satisfaction in your hands. 

“How about a Drunken’ Yuzu?” your eyebrows up in askance. He nods. 

“We will have the Lomo Soltado,  the Brule Char,  and the Siu Anticucho,” your eyes expertly glide over the menu, “Ooo and the Traditional Zongzi, Tiradito and um… the Dan Dan Mien. And,” you take a big breath, “for dessert, let's try the Alfajores,  oh I have to get the Black Sesame Cheesecake Tart  and the Taro Coconut Cake Bar. And of course  we need the ice cream, “you look over your menu, “as a palate cleanser of course.”

“Of course” he says slowly, wondering what on earth is happening. 

“Which flavors Miss,” asks the waiter.

“Hmmm, fior di latte,  almond jelly, and  black tahini, please.” 

“Oh silly me, we need to get our veggies in! Let’s round this out with Wok-Hay Vegetables.”

“With the lap chueng?” he asks. 

“Yes please,” you hand the waiter your credit card immediately, considering your huge order. 

“Very good,” says the waiter, taking the card and walking away. 

“I’m a growing boy, but whoa, you really meant it when you said ‘try’ the restaurant,” ‘Jason’ is looking at you like you are a little crazy ordering all that food. 

You giggle at his look

“What, we aren’t going to eat ALL of it right now, I just have slutty little taste buds,“ you wink playfully, “plus I freakin’ love lots of leftovers,  it’ll keep my partner happy too, for being out later.” 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a partner…” he tries not to look crestfallen. 

“Yeah, I was getting to that…  but we are in a weird spot right now. Or at least I am.“ you smile reassuringly. 

“Can I ask what’s going on?” he says with concern in his eyes. Fuck how is it that he barely knows you, but can convery more care for your well being than your partner of years. 

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I care about him and I trust him,  but he just..” you wonder if it’s TMI, but you are too far in now to change the subject. Plus, if not now, when? “he doesn’t act like he cares about me sexually, Austin,” you say without even realizing you said his name until it was too late. His eyes go wide and he nods. You just wait to see how he reacts.

“Well, there’s a lot to unpack in that sentence” he says low and quiet but without missing a beat. His midwestern accent slipping by the wayside. 

“Mm hmm,” you press your lips and your thighs together, not able to think straight when you hear his sultry baritone voice waft across the table. You fear that things will change now. 

“Let’s start here: Tell me why you feel he doesn't care about you, is he not interested in sex with you.” He takes another sip and settles down to listen. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

“Well, no, we have a decent amount of sex. I’m very accommodating, it’s sort of like a love language, I guess. But he’s like… not.”  you say, trying to be tactful. You don’t really like to smack talk your partner, you’d not want him to talk bad about you. But on the other hand, truth is truth. 

“Hmm,” Austin is leaning on his fist, a little frown on his face and lips pursed together. His long legs crossed under the table. You can see his natural mannerisms coming out now. Damn he is amazing. 

“Ok,” he leans back, hands threaded into one another on the table, “second: How long have you known?” 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow and nod your forehead to him. 

He nods back. 

“Today, during the closet cooking scene, I’m sorry my almost fainting wasn’t acting,” you laugh. “although, I thought you looked a little familiar. I thought maybe someone from college or something.”

“Wow, I made almost three whole classes!” he says laughing and leaning back towards you. 

“I haven’t told anyone, I figured you were trying to be incognito to enjoy class,  so I didn’t want to ruin it for you. I’m good at keeping secrets. I think you could keep going.” 

“Well thank you kindly ma’am.’ he says with his accent back and touching the brim of his hat, “I may just do that.”

He doesn’t ask you anything else about your bedroom problems, in fact doesn't address your partner at all. Instead he treats you like a great friend, and you, grateful that he didn’t bolt or put a wall up, treat him the same. Honestly, it’s a dream come true. You talk about the love of acting and why you both are into it. About why LA is home and what about it has shaped you. 

When the plates and plates of food arrive, you two treat it like a wine or whiskey tasting. Each of you tries a little of the same thing. There is a lot of passionate talk about what you are eating, you use words like smoky, earthy, robust, pungent, acidic, umami, and delicate.  You talk about texture and mouthfeel, aromas and memories that are brought to the forefront. Together you don’t eat a quarter of what’s in front of you. You send the rest to be boxed up. 

Then the deserts come out. You bite into the cheesecake and your eyes flitter closed. Appreciative noises float from your throat as you roll the flavors around your tongue, taking your time to really taste.When you open your eyes, Austin is watching you with a tinge of lust in his eyes and his mouth slightly open as you unwittingly sexualize cheesecake. He blinks and blows out an almost whistle.

“Damn, that must be one helluva tart,” he says almost under his breath. 

You cock one eyebrow, lick your lip and look him right in the eye, “Oh, it is.” 

His hand slides from resting on his thigh to pulling the inseam of his jeans, creating some suddenly needed space. He covers his squirming by adjusting in his seat. Well, he thinks he does. You notice every minute detail and heat rises to your face directly from your core. 

He nods his chin towards the plate, his fingers doing a little ‘come on’ curl. 

With a forkful, you reach over the desert laden table. He opens his mouth and looking you in the eye, lets you place it on his tongue like a communion wafer. The sexual tension is thick between you. He closes his eyes with an audible  Mmmm, of pleasure, nodding in agreement. You rock forward in your chair,  wondering if you are going to cum in your panties right there. By the time he opens his eyes and looks at yours, you hope your face is some semblance of ‘normal.” He just smiles at you like he knows exactly what he just did to you. 

By the end of the dinner, You have several boxes to take home, Austin has a couple sample type boxes. And somehow ends up paying for all of it despite your attempt to thwart him earlier, damn sexy gentleman. He puts your phone number in his phone and says he’ll text you. You hope to god that it’s not just a brush off. 

You drive home on fucking cumulonimbus cloud nine. With a story you’ll likely never fully tell your partner, several boxes of delicious food and a promise that ‘Jason’ will show up next week. 

Your partner is so giddy that you brought home food, that he barely hears your story about how you were out with someone in the industry that you met at class and how you were talking shop. He liked that you were making connections. You didn’t DARE tell him it was actually Austin, not yet anyway.